by Sanctuary
“Nope. You’re daring me. I like that even better.”
“I’m glad I’m making you happy. And if it motivates you to go out and solve this case…find some bodies, more power to you. But no more sucking on the department’s tit, you hear? A couple of hours a day on it, the rest is your own time.”
Decker stood. “Fair enough.” He held out his hand. Davidson stared at it for a moment, then took it.
13
Despite what was printed, Decker knew the LAPD wasn’t vilified by all. Still, both he and Marge were pleasantly surprised by the amount of support given to Devonshire by the people it served. The squad room was made up almost entirely of community-donated items, from the furnishings to the high-tech hardware. Not to mention the push-button phones. Decker had used a rotary for years at Foothill.
The work space itself was generic LAPD squad room. The desks were grouped according to detail with Homicide located in the back adjacent to CAPS—Crimes Against Persons. The walls held the requisite blue file notebooks, the lockers, the division maps, and the emergency mobilization plans. But the Dees had done a little of their own homespun decorating. Decker’s favorites were a poster of David Mamet’s movie Homicide, and a large colored drawing of pigs wearing police hats as they snuffled for truffles.
Bending a gooseneck lamp over his notes, Decker sat at his desk, reviewing his court case, waiting to see if the analytical office in CAD—Crime Analysis Detail—could pull from the computer any prior family disappearances. He knew computer information could take a while. It depended on how the questions were phrased and entered, on who else was on-line. He probably wouldn’t have answers before he left for court.
Not that Decker had to appear in court. Since the passage of prop 115, it was now permissible for uniformed officers to present the detectives’ evidence to the grand jury, thus freeing up Dees to work in the field. But Decker preferred to state his own case if time permitted. Years of law school die hard.
Marge walked in and sat down at her desk across from Decker. He looked up and placed his briefs on his desk.
“How’d it go?”
Marge grimaced. “What a waste! And I don’t mean a waste of my time. I mean a waste of human life. Guy got pissed at his girlfriend so he shot her. Now he’s all remorseful, bawling like a baby, hovering over the body. He was actually giving her CPR when the blues arrived, do you believe that? Like that’s the treatment of choice for a thirty-two slug in the brain.”
“He was packing a thirty-two?”
“Pulled it out of his satchel.” Marge shook her head. “They never learn.” She paused. “Well, I did my job, made Tug happy. Can you believe him? Aren’t you outraged about his blatant anti-Semitism?”
“Nah.”
Marge stared at her partner. “How can you not be? Jews as spies. The way he says your people.”
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Just what does it take to rile you up?”
Decker thought a beat. “If you were anti-Semitic, then I’d be outraged. We need to talk about Yalom.”
Marge stared at her wristwatch. “Okay…go!”
“What are you doing?”
“We’ve got one hour, fifty-nine minutes, and fifty-six seconds left.”
Decker smiled. “I’m leaving for court in a few minutes. Though I don’t expect anything, I’ve spoken to CAD. See if they can come up with any past abductions that resemble the Yalom case.”
“What an idea. I’m sure there must be a slew of open files on family kidnappings.”
“You got a better approach, I’m all ears, Marge.”
Marge was quiet. “Sorry. I’m just angry. Angry at what I just saw, angry at Davidson.” She turned to him. “Aren’t you pissed at him? He dared you.”
“I don’t get pissed, I get even,” Decker said. “Guy’s going to eat his words with shit on top. What say you and I get together here around four o’clock and go over Yalom, bit by bit.”
“We’ve done that.”
“We might have missed something. Let’s do it again.”
The notes and charts covered both desks. It had taken them over an hour to review, classify, sort, and resort. At five, most of the other thirty-odd Devonshire detectives were calling it a day. At six-thirty, Davidson walked out of his office and over to their table. Old Tug had on his jacket and was carrying his briefcase. He looked embarrassed to be leaving before them.
He said, “You’re doing this to spite me.”
Decker threw a look to Marge that said, “Let me take this one.” To Davidson, he said, “Like I told you, I’m just doing my job.”
Davidson said, “Don’t you have a baby at home, Decker?”
“Yep. A little girl—a real cutie. She looks like her mom.”
“Don’t you want to see her?”
Decker glanced up from his charts. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were sabotaging my efforts, Loo. Lucky for me, I know better.”
Davidson glared at him. Then his expression suddenly eased. “We’re on the same side, Decker. I’d like to find this family, too. I know something’s hinky.”
Decker said nothing.
“Unfortunately, hinky’s not enough.” Davidson shook his head. “Look. I know you’ve had experience in Homicide. But I’ve had more experience. These kind of cases eat up hours and I can’t afford to have two of my Dees punching in useless time, get it?”
“I get it.”
Davidson said, “Of course, you and Marge find bodies…a body—one’s enough—now that’s a different story. Then I can justify the hours.”
And then it dawned on Decker. Tug wasn’t a bad man. Tug wasn’t even a bad cop. Tug was just an administrator. The position had turned him into a bureaucrat. He was forced to evaluate cases in terms of hours clocked, and dollars and cents, instead of good guys versus bad guys.
Decker said, “I see your position, Loo. That’s why Marge and I are doing this on our own. Maybe we’ll get lucky, maybe we won’t. Anyway, it’ll be our problem, not yours.”
Davidson evaluated Decker’s words. “Just don’t wear yourselves out.” He paused. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Decker said.
Davidson turned to Marge. “Luck to you, too.”
Then he was out the door.
Marge was quiet. Then she said, “God, he’s a wily bastard. Notice how he manipulated the whole thing. Like he was doing us a big favor by letting us work on this case on our own time.”
Decker said, “Did I tell you I checked him out?”
“And?”
“People say he’s a hardworking cop. Lots of folks had good things to say about him.”
“So what the hell happened?”
“What do you think? He got promoted. They cut off his balls and turned him into a pencil pusher. Now he’s got to look at what’s expedient rather than what’s right. I think deep down inside he wants us to win. So let’s find something and prove the motherfucker wrong.”
Marge sat down dejectedly. “Find what? We’ve been over our notes a dozen times. Nothing’s clicking.”
Decker sat next to her. “We’ve got to start somewhere so let’s start with the obvious. The boys’ passports are gone, and the parents’ passports are still here. How about we check out some airline schedules. International flights. Why else would the boys need their passports?”
Marge knew that could take days without the proper papers and warrants. But Pete was right. They had to start somewhere. “What’s Israel’s official airline?”
“El Al,” Decker said. “But lots of others fly to Israel as well.”
Marge looked at her watch. “It’s too late to call the corporate offices. We could go down to the airport and try their computers.”
“All right, let’s do that. But before we do, let’s get a time schedule for the boys.”
Marge nodded. “If we heard from Dov around five from the shopping center, when do you figure the boys arrived at the airport?”
Decker
was quiet for a moment. “Margie, how did the boys get to the airport? Gil’s car was in the garage.”
“You haven’t heard of cabs or a bus?”
“But why not take the car? Gil was old enough to drive. Why didn’t they just grab a car and hightail it off to the airport?”
“You’re getting at something.”
Decker raised a finger in the air. “The car was a marker. Gil and Dov didn’t want to use it, because they didn’t want to be followed. They didn’t want anyone to know who they were and where they were going.”
Marge was silent.
“So the question is, how did they get to the airport?” Decker paused. “Let’s start with a simpler question. How’d they get to the shopping center? It’s about a five-minute car ride, a twenty-minute bike ride, and about a forty-five-minute walk. Say they walked home from school around three-thirty. Next time we hear from them they’re at the shopping center around five. Indicates to me, they walked.”
“Then what?”
“Then Dov made his phone call.”
“Then what?”
Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Then I don’t know.”
The room fell quiet.
Decker said, “Okay. Let’s back it up. The boys get home at around three-thirty. Something’s real wrong. They know they have to get out of the house. They have to…hide out for some reason. What would they need to go underground?”
“Cash,” Marge said. “They’d need cash.”
“Okay. That brings to mind the mezuzah case that was posted on the inside of the doorframe. It was empty. Yalom knew how to post mezuzah cases correctly. He posted it the right way in his office. So why post such a big, expensive-looking case on the wrong side of the doorframe only to leave it empty? Answer: Because normally it wasn’t empty. I say it contained valuables—money, maybe stones.”
“Lam money,” Marge said. “Arik Yalom knew he was doing funny business and kept quick cash in case he had to take off suddenly. Okay. Go on.”
Decker said, “So the boys have their money. And they have their passports. They’re prepared to split.”
Marge said, “Except an hour and some odd later, Dov called his cousin from a shopping center. If I were on the run, I certainly wouldn’t walk to a shopping mall and make a phone call. I’d go directly to the airport.”
“Agreed,” Decker said. “So why did they bother stopping off at a shopping mall?”
“To buy clothes.”
“They could buy clothes with their money when they arrived at their appointed destination. Besides, you’re on the run, you don’t shop.”
“To buy airplane tickets.”
“They could buy tickets for cash at the airport.”
Marge looked at Decker. “Okay, why did they bother stopping off at the shopping mall?”
Decker said, “For transportation. They walked to the mall and found some other way to get to the airport from the shopping mall.”
Marge nodded. “You mean like they caught a cab or took a bus from the shopping center. I can buy that.”
Again, the squad room became silent.
Marge said, “It’s going to take hours to check out all the bus schedules and taxicab fares.”
“This is true.”
“We might as well skip over the transportation and go directly to the airport terminals. I’m game if you are.”
Decker stood and stuck his notepad in his jacket. “Let’s go.”
Nightfall had brought another storm into the Southland. Between intermittent downpours, Decker and Marge walked from terminal to terminal, battling not only bureaucracy and security but dank air thick with humidity and jet fuel. The runways were awash with rain and grease forming a mirrored surface that reflected the jets like a bad Impressionist painting. After hours of questioning personnel, and squinting at lists of passengers’ names printed on dot-matrix computer readouts, Decker rubbed his eyes and decided to call it quits.
Which was fine with Marge. She’d been ready to fold up tents an hour ago. She looked at Decker. “Now what?”
Decker checked his watch. A little after ten. “Are you hungry?”
“Are you suggesting an airport coffee shop? Why don’t we skip the middleman and just inject the ptomaine poisoning directly into our veins.”
Decker smiled. “Grab a cup of coffee with me.”
“Axle grease.”
“But at least the water’s boiled.”
Marge rolled her eyes as they trudged to the airport cafeteria. A few minutes later, they were sitting across the table from each other, perched on lemon-colored plastic chairs, sipping bitter coffee out of Styrofoam cups. The lighting was harsh and Decker’s eyes were tired. He hoped the caffeine would fuel him up, keep him awake long enough to make the long drive home.
He said, “Just because we couldn’t find their names doesn’t mean they didn’t leave the country. They could have taken a domestic carrier to some other location and left through another city.”
Marge said, “Peter, even if you’re right, it won’t help us. Think of all the permutations we could have. All the different domestic airlines that fly into cities that have international flights to Israel. It will take weeks, even months, to go through the rosters. At this point, we’d be better off looking for bodies.”
Decker said, “So let’s start looking.”
Marge let out an incredulous laugh. “You say the most outlandish things so casually.”
“What’s outlandish about looking for bodies?”
Marge glared at him. “Where do we start, Peter?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Near their house, I guess. It’s not far from the mountain passes. Lots of dumping grounds. How about if you and I meet tomorrow morning before work and do a little hiking?”
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely,” Decker said. “I’ll bring Ginger. She’s not a scent hound but she’s got a good nose.”
Marge clucked her tongue. “What the hell? I suppose I can use a little exercise. Because that’s all we’re going to get out of this excursion.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What time did you have in mind?”
“Around six.”
“Peter—”
“I walk Ginger around six. She’s very alert in the early morning.”
“But I’m not.”
“Margie, combing the hillside means we’re working real low to the ground. Ginger’s real good at that.”
“All right.” Marge blew her bangs off her forehead. “Pisser that we don’t have the time to do both. That we have to do this with our own dogs, on our own time.” In a mocking voice she said, “Because Tug can’t justify department hours.”
Decker didn’t respond.
“You’re not pissed?” she asked.
“Nah.”
Marge watched as Decker smiled cryptically. She studied his face. “It’s a game with you, isn’t it?”
“Homicide is never a game.”
“Bullshit, Peter. You want to do this on your own time. You’re dying to prove the bastard wrong.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Marge thought a moment. “Nothing.”
14
Decker finally pulled into his driveway a little after eleven. He was surprised to find Rina not only waiting up for him but still in her street clothes. He asked her if everything was all right.
“Fine,” she answered. “We missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Everyone okay?”
“Dandy. Was it a fruitful night for you?”
“Not great. We’ve got one lead, Rina. A phone call made by one of the teenaged boys.”
“But that’s a lot, Peter. At least you know the boy is still alive.”
Decker didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t know if Dov was alive or dead. Dov had made a phone call three days ago. “Why are you still up? You need your sleep.”
“I thought we might go out for a walk.”
; Decker looked out his living-room picture window. It was pouring. “I think the weather’s a tad nasty.”
“Not up for a romantic walk in the rain?”
“What’s on your mind, darlin’?”
Rina did a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes brushing across the closed door to the guest room. She whispered, “How about we talk in the barn? Just you and me and the horses.”
Decker was tired. His head and neck ached, his shoulders were stiff and his old bullet wound throbbed. Weather like this sure didn’t help. But he tried to mask his weariness. “Sure, let’s go check on the horses and you tell me what’s on your mind.”
Rina put on her slicker. Decker hadn’t even taken his off. He slipped his arm around his wife, guided her through the kitchen, then opened the back door and a big, black umbrella. Huddled under a waterproof canopy with Ginger at their heels, they ran for the barn, their shoes muddied in the process. But once inside, the barn was warm and dry and smelled sweet from recently pitched hay. Decker turned on a hanging electric lantern which illuminated the ground with a halo of soft light. The horses were prone, surprised by the intrusion but not disturbed by it. Decker’s favorite mare, Beatrice, whinnied softly, the stray cats purred. Ginger nestled next to the tabbies and lowered her head to the ground. Decker folded the umbrella and pointed to a clean pile of hay.
“After you, madam.”
Rina took off her coat and plunked down into the hay. Decker sat next to her. “Well, it’s different.”
“I think it’s kind of romantic.”
“Ye olde variation of a roll in the hay,” Decker grinned. “What is it you don’t want Honey Klein to hear?”
“How did you know I wanted to talk about Honey?”
“Just call me Sherlock.” Decker pulled her down, then fell on top of her. “The barn does have its merits, don’t you think?”
Rina drew him into a kiss. “The hay is scratchy.”
“No prob, sugar, you can climb on top.”
Rina punched him lightly. Decker rolled her over until she was on top of his stomach and brought her into his arms. She was tense. He eased his hold.
