Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

  Marge raised her eyebrows. “What do you think you’re doing, Rabbi?”

  “Old Chuck is doing his job. But I’m doing mine.”

  “Pete—”

  Holmes knocked, then walked through the cubicle door. He smiled at the detectives. “All done?”

  Decker spread out his arms and smiled back. “All done.”

  20

  The Rosh Yeshiva invited Rina to sit in the chair opposite the desk. Unlike his study in the yeshiva, the home office was smaller and plainer. It was walled in bookshelves, filled with sepharim—religious books. His desk was an old one and Rina suspected it had sentimental value. It was scarred, carved mahogany, its top covered with books and writing material. The only concession made to ornamentation was an old-fashioned sterling inkwell and a set of fountain pens encased in semiprecious stone—malachite, lapis, tigereye, and garnet. He kept the door ajar, but not wide open as he had done earlier in the afternoon.

  Rina was exhausted. After she had dropped the boys off at the yeshiva, she had raced back to her parents’ house to put Hannah to bed. Once the baby had fallen asleep, she had made another trek out to the yeshiva to say good night to the boys and to talk to the Rav about Honey. She must have put another hundred miles on her aged Volvo. But Rina felt she had no choice. Her family was safe and sound. How could she sleep soundly when Honey and her children were missing? Where were they now?

  Rabbi Schulman went over to a shelf and pulled out a bottle of schnapps. “An old man must do many things to keep a sound mind.” He smiled, but Rina felt he looked troubled. She said nothing, biding her time until Schulman finished his drink.

  Finally, the old man put down his shot glass and sat down at his desk chair. He stroked his beard. “I spoke to the Leibbener Rebbe. I’m afraid I have nothing elucidating to add.”

  Rina waited. Schulman took his time.

  “Of course, the Rebbe is shocked and saddened by Gershon Klein’s untimely and violent death. And he is very upset about the disappearances of Honey and her children. However, he is also concerned for your family’s welfare, Rina Miriam. He wishes no hurt or harm to come to any of you.”

  “He thinks we might be in danger?”

  “If you investigate Honey’s disappearance, yes, he feels you may be endangering not only Honey and her children, but you and your family.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not certain. But for your protection, he has recommended that the matter be left up to the police in New York. That neither you—nor Akiva—conduct any independent investigation.”

  It took a moment for Rina to digest what Schulman had told her. “He doesn’t want Akiva to at least look for the family?”

  “It appears that way.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Schulman raised his eyes. Rina caught it. “You’re as puzzled by his request as I am.”

  “Indeed, I am, Rina Miriam.” Schulman took a moment to choose his words. “Though you did not hire me to be Akiva’s advocate, I took the liberty of extolling your husband’s exceptional talents as a policeman. The Rebbe still held firm to his request. Let Manhattan worry about Gershon’s death.”

  “But what about Honey—and the children?”

  The old man sighed, his shoulders hunched by the burden of life. “The Rebbe…seemed to feel…that they are best left in the hands of Hashem.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “I don’t understand,” Rina whispered. “Does he mean that they’re…dead or that they’re okay?”

  The Rav began to curl the tip of his beard around his index finger. “Again, I’m not certain. Perhaps I should recall our conversation for you. According to the Leibbener Rebbe, Gershon had been a troubled man for many months. His business had been flagging for over two years. The Rebbe felt Gershon may have become involved with unscrupulous people.”

  Rina thought of the phone calls Honey had reported. “Who?”

  “He wouldn’t say.”

  “Did the Rebbe tell the police that?” Rina asked.

  “He has been in close contact with the Manhattan police.” The Rav continued to curl his beard. “Though he said nothing overt, the Rebbe…suggested that Honey and the children, after hearing about the death of Gershon, might have disappeared to escape, not because of foul play.”

  “But how could she have known about her husband’s death before I did?”

  “The Rebbe felt that Honey might have come to you because she knew something was amiss.”

  “Honey knew that something was going to happen to her husband? So why didn’t she get him help?”

  “Perhaps she tried. But Gershon was troubled, Rina Miriam. It could be he refused help for himself, but sent his family away.”

  “So that’s why Honey came out here?” Rina made a face. “To escape Gershon’s enemies?”

  “You seem skeptical.”

  “It just seems illogical.”

  “Perhaps not, Rina. It might be Honey sought you and Akiva out because she felt Akiva could protect her family.”

  “It didn’t help. Her van was found abandoned.”

  Again, the room became still.

  Finally Rav Schulman said, “Didn’t you tell me that the van was rented under a false name?”

  Rina nodded.

  “Then perhaps the Leibbener Rebbe is correct. If Honey had been acutely aware of her husband’s nefarious associates, it would have made sense for her to use a false name. And it would have made sense to hide herself and her children after she’d heard of her husband’s demise. If we find them, Rina Miriam, we may be doing more harm than good. We could be leaving a trail for the gangsters to follow.”

  Rina shook her head in confusion.

  Schulman said, “I know what preys on your mind, Rina Miriam. What if they aren’t in hiding? What if they were abducted? Should we not intervene just to be certain?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t have a satisfactory answer for you. I’m simply interpreting the Leibbener Rebbe’s wishes.”

  “And he wants us to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “Apparently.”

  “And what do you think, Rav Schulman?”

  The old man appeared very thoughtful. “Personally, I am concerned for the children. Yet, there was…something in the Leibbener Rebbe’s voice that told me the kids were safe.”

  Rina thought about that. The Rosh Yeshiva’s intuition was not to be taken lightly. “Rav, maybe Honey and the kids have returned to the village. Maybe the Rebbe is hiding them until Gershon’s murder has been solved.”

  Schulman paused. “I don’t think so. If only because Manhattan police have been investigating the village extensively, have been knocking on doors and questioning the people. Yet you bring up a very important question. If they are hiding for fear of their lives, and they couldn’t go home, where would they go?”

  “Well, she took them here,” Rina said. “Maybe it wasn’t far enough away. Maybe she took the plunge and went to Israel.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “But what if the Rebbe’s wrong, Rav Schulman. What if they’re waiting for somebody to save them? I can’t get the faces of the children out of my mind.”

  Schulman looked pained. “Yes, the children come first. As this is not a halachic issue, I am no maven. So I suggest we apprise Akiva of the situation, of our concern for Honey and her family, and let the expert decide.”

  “Shit!” Decker rubbed his face with scratchy palms. “I forgot to call Manhattan. God, at forty-three, I’m going senile.”

  “It’s called preoccupation with a double homicide,” Rina said.

  Decker sank down on the guest bed. It was after eleven and the rest of the household was asleep. He was weary, hungry, and mad at himself for not calling New York earlier. Both cases were weighing heavily on his mind, because both cases involved missing kids. He wondered if, by working the two cases simultaneously, he was doing justice to either case. Probably not.

&nb
sp; Rina bit her nail. “Can’t you call New York now? Police stations are open all the time.”

  “Not the Detective Bureau. Everyone wants a gold shield because the hours are good.”

  “Maybe someone’s working overtime, Peter. Maybe someone out there is as dedicated as you.”

  “Yeah, that’s me. Supercop.” He rubbed his eyes. “What the hey. I’ll give it a whirl.”

  He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. The phone rang and rang and rang and finally the line was answered by a man calling himself Romero. Decker introduced himself officially and asked for a Detective Dintz.

  “Dintz went home hours ago. You know what time it is here?”

  “Close to two in the morning.”

  “The man can add. Nah, nobody’s here except me. That’s because I just got divorced and I’m drowning my sorrows in my job.”

  “It doesn’t work.”

  “You’re right about that. It only makes you more pissed at her. Whatdaya want with Dintz?”

  Decker updated Romero.

  “Yeah, Klein’s the diamond dealer. I know the case.”

  “What’s the scoop?”

  “Nuttin’ so far. But Klein was in a high-cash business. Plus, he was also a member of that weird cult.”

  “By cult you mean the Leibbener Rebbe?”

  “Yeah, that weird place upstate—Leibbentown. You ever been there?”

  “Nope.”

  “You ever been to Plymouth Rock, how the guides dress up like Pilgrims and act like they was on the Mayflower?”

  “Haven’t had the pleasure,” Decker said.

  “It’s the same at Leibbentown. They dress up like they’re livin’ in an old Polish village. Only they ain’t doing it for a skit. It’s their life. Now I work Manhattan, I used to work Brooklyn. I’m used to your garden-variety Chasid. But these guys are beyond that.”

  Decker noticed how Romero had pronounced Chasid, gutturalizing the ch.

  “This woman,” Romero said. “The wife who was staying with you. She seem normal?”

  “I’m no psychiatrist.”

  “Meaning she was a psycho, too.”

  “I’m not a psychiatrist,” Decker repeated.

  “So the family was staying with you when the old man was popped.”

  “Yep.”

  “And then they disappeared?”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “Something’s off.”

  “That’s a fact, too.”

  “Lemme call up Larry for you. Even if it is two in the morning, I think he’d want to hear about this.”

  “’Preciate it.”

  Romero said, “Yeah, Larry would definitely want to hear about this. Let me see if I got all your numbers right.” He repeated Decker’s phone numbers over the line.

  “You got it.” Decker hung up and turned to Rina. “He described the Leibbener village to me as a cult. From what I’ve heard, I think that’s an accurate description.”

  “It’s not coercive.”

  “That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.”

  “So just what are you saying, Peter?” Rina said, angrily. “You think the murder was an inside job?”

  “I’m not saying anything because I don’t know anything.” Decker paused. “I’ll tell you what I do know. If this Rebbe cared about Honey, he wouldn’t be telling me to back off.”

  “He’s concerned for our welfare.”

  “You know, Rav Schulman is a very wise man. He said Honey Klein isn’t a halachic issue. It’s a police matter. He’s right.”

  Reluctantly, Rina nodded in agreement. The phone rang. Decker picked it up.

  “This is Detective Dintz,” a low voice announced. “I’m looking for a Sergeant Decker.”

  “You found him.”

  “Man, I wish you’d called earlier. I got all my notes in my desk.”

  “Wish I could have. I’m on a double homicide out here.”

  “Yeah, a diamond dealer and his wife. It was on the news. You think there’s a connection between them and Klein?”

  “So far the only connection I’ve found is me.” Decker brought him up-to-date on the Kleins—the abandoned car on the shoulder of the freeway, Honey’s claim about receiving crazy calls, Gershon Klein’s strange behavior.

  Dintz listened without interruption. When Decker was through, he said, “So first you found two Israeli stiffs. Now the Klein family has disappeared. And you don’t think there’s a connection?”

  “If I find one, you’ll be the first to know,” Decker said. “Right now we’re still trying to determine if the Klein family is in hiding or if they were abducted.”

  “And you’re assigned to investigate Klein’s disappearance?”

  “Yes. Can you tell me something about Gershon Klein’s murder? Something that might help me figure out what happened to the wife and kids?”

  “All I got so far was a prelim on the coroner’s report. Klein was shot, but that wasn’t the cause of death.”

  “What was?”

  “Drowning.”

  21

  Lying in bed, Rina had the book in front of her, but had read the same page for the last fifteen minutes. Peter was still on the phone, saying a lot of uh-huhs, and taking a lot of notes. She was dying to look over his shoulder, but didn’t. Finally, he ended the conversation with a “thanks a heap, I’ll call you tomorrow,” then hung up the receiver. He plopped down on the bed. Rina put down her book and waited.

  Peter stared at the ceiling, then at her. “How about a two-minute recap?”

  “That should tide me over, thanks.”

  “The official cause of death was drowning. So why was Gershon Klein shot in the head?”

  “A coverup.”

  “You’re good,” Decker said. “Dintz, the detective assigned to the case, is working on the assumption that the shooting was done afterward—to throw the police off track.”

  “The ploy obviously didn’t work.”

  “Autopsies don’t lie, and all homicide victims are autopsied. Death by drowning is a very easy thing to spot.”

  “I’m confused,” Rina said. “Are you saying that Gershon was drowned on purpose? Then someone shot him to make it look like a normal murder?” She frowned. “Normal murder. Now there’s a contradiction in terms.”

  “It looks that way.” Decker rubbed his eyes. “Seems to me, we’re working with amateurs instead of professional hit men.”

  “What kind of amateurs?”

  “Could be anyone—disgruntled friends…family…wife that’s pissed because her husband won’t make love to her anymore.”

  “You mean Honey?” Rina shook her head. “I don’t believe it! I refuse to believe that. Beside, Honey’s what?…five four. Gershon was a lot bigger than that.”

  Good point, Decker thought. Man, he was tired. His brain waves were close to flatlining. “I need some sleep.”

  Rina leaned over and kissed him. “You’re going to keep working on the case, aren’t you?”

  “Yep,” Decker said. “I don’t care what her Rebbe says. Something’s rotten in the state of New York.”

  “He seemed genuinely concerned about Honey’s safety, leery about the family’s whereabouts. He seemed to feel you could be endangering them.”

  “And just what is he basing his thoughts on, Rina?”

  She shrugged.

  “You know what I think?”

  “He’s holding back.”

  “Bingo, you win the Thanksgiving turkey. Either he knows something bad or he’s protecting somebody.”

  “Honey?”

  “Maybe Honey. Maybe someone in the community. Maybe even himself.”

  Rina stared at her husband incredulously. “Are you actually saying that the Rebbe had something to do with Gershon’s murder?”

  “I’m saying I have a trained nose and, baby, I smell a rat.” He turned away from her. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Rina waited a beat, then shut the lights off.

  At his d
esk at seven the next morning, the first thing Decker did was call up West LA. His intentions were to leave a recorded message for Detective Sturgis, the one who had been assigned to Honey’s abandoned van. But to Decker’s surprise, Sturgis was in.

  Decker filled him in. “Anything new I should know about?”

  “Not on my end.” Sturgis paused. “What’s your make on the drowning?”

  “Someone was working the guy over and didn’t want to leave marks. You know. Dunking his head in the toilet. Meanwhile, the wife was conveniently out of town. It could have been mob. But it sure could have been an arrangement made by the wife. But if she actually arranged the water torture, what was she trying to gain? To get any kind of renumeration like an insurance policy, her husband would have to kick.”

  “He did kick.”

  “A messy way to arrange a hit, don’t you think? Especially if you’re going to shoot him anyway. No, I’m thinking something got bungled. They were working him over but he wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Or could be someone meant to drown him. The head shot was done to confuse us. Which is precisely what it’s doing. Has anyone checked out the insurance policies?”

  “Dintz from Manhattan said there’s none to speak of. But Gershon Klein was a diamond dealer. I’m sure he has some fancy stones in inventory.”

  Sturgis said, “You want to know my take? She ripped off her husband, hired thugs to pop him, cashed out her stones here, then went underground.”

  “But, Sturgis, she didn’t go underground. She came out here, to LA with her family.”

  “To throw everyone off track before she made her big escape.”

  “She’s religious. She’d have a hard time hiding.”

  “Unless she decided to become un-religious.”

  Decker thought about that. Honey was a religious woman swathed in clothing and custom—a lady who covered her hair practically all of her adult life. To change her appearance all she’d have to do would be take off her wig, put on some tight jeans, and eat tref. No one would recognize her.