Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

  “Rina, if you want to go back, I can manage on my own. Lord knows you eased my way. I can take it from here.”

  Rina bit her lip. “I would except I can’t get Honey Klein and her kids off my mind.”

  “We could look for Honey, too,” Decker said. “Depends how long you want to stay here.”

  “I want to go home,” Rina admitted. “I’m exhausted and I miss the kids. But I also want resolution. I’m torn.”

  “Well, right now we’re not going anywhere. We don’t have our passports.”

  “When do you think we’ll get them back?”

  “I’m sure you could get yours back anytime you wanted. As for me, they may take longer to check me out.”

  “You’re going in for questioning this afternoon?” Rina asked.

  “Looks that way. Kreisman isn’t done with me.”

  “He doesn’t trust you.”

  “I know. Frankly, I don’t blame him. I’m here for a couple of days and all sorts of bombs start exploding—”

  “Peter, you saved the Bursa from blowing up. You’re a hero!”

  “I’ll let you in on a clue, Rina. Police are suspicious of heroes.”

  “What does he want with you?”

  “To go over my case, bit by bit. Frankly, I welcome some fresh input. My main concern right now is finding Dov Yalom. But I sure wouldn’t mind finding Milligan as well.”

  “What about Shaul Gold?”

  “Yeah, I forgot about him. Where the hell is Gold in all of this? And why was Milligan looking for him?”

  Rina paused. “Peter, I have a thought.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What if Yalom found out about Milligan’s plan to blow up the Bursa? Wouldn’t that be a reason to want him dead?”

  Decker waited a beat. “Absolutely.”

  “Suppose Milligan thought that maybe Yalom had told his sons…or possibly Gold…about the terrorist plan. Couldn’t that be the reason why Milligan was looking for Gold…or the boys?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So maybe that was the reason why Milligan was dealing with Yalom directly. Maybe he was blackmailing her over the Bursa plans.”

  “But you can’t blackmail someone for something that hasn’t happened.”

  “Maybe she murdered him so she could make it happen. And maybe Arik’s sons found out about it and that’s why they ran.”

  Decker ran his tongue in his cheek. “There’s one way to find out. While I’m at the police station, I have a job for you if you’re interested.”

  “What?”

  “Find Gil Yalom…talk to him.”

  “Talk to him about what?”

  “See if you can get him to tell you what’s going on.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Decker shrugged. “It’s intangible. Each person’s different.” He paused. “Hell, even if you can’t get him to talk about the case, just go visit him. Give him some sympathy. The kid’s parents were murdered, he’s scared shitless. He’s a sensitive kid, Rina. Did I tell you about the poetry he wrote? Full of longing and hope for a better world.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Last night he was in terrible shock. Maybe he’s been that way since his parents were murdered. It was Dov who had made the phone calls to his cousin and grandparents. Find Gil. If for no other reason than to tell him he’s got people on his side.”

  Rina nodded. “How?”

  “You might try calling up the Yaloms. They might know which hospital Gil was admitted to. They might tell you.”

  “They’d tell you as well as me. After all, you were the hero yesterday. You’re in today’s paper, you know.”

  “I am?”

  “The Jerusalem Examiner here. Someone showed me a copy while you were with Kreisman in the Bursa. Apparently, you were here with your wife on vacation, and you just happened to be visiting Or Torah Yeshiva. Suddenly you noticed a suspicious man.” Rina sang out. “Duh-da-duh-duh.”

  “I never talked to any reporter.”

  “Then someone talked for you. They didn’t quote you. So maybe they got the story from Moti Bernstein.”

  “We’re here on vacation, huh?”

  “Must be true,” Rina said. “I read it in the papers.”

  Decker frowned. “Maybe the Yaloms consider me a hero. Or maybe they’ll blame me for the bomb in the yeshiva, that my investigation put their grandson at risk. If I were you, I’d call them up acting as a concerned citizen. They like you. You speak their language. You’re not an outsider like I am.”

  “And if they don’t tell me anything?”

  “Then do legwork. Check out the hospitals in Jerusalem.”

  “Just go in real casual and ask patient information for Gil Yalom?”

  “That sounds simple, but sometimes simple works.”

  After an hour’s worth of searching, Rina was certain that Gil wasn’t at Bikur Cholim, Hadassah, or Shaarey Zedek. Which meant he was at one of the smaller Jerusalem hospitals if he hadn’t been transferred out of the city. She checked her map against her list, and started with the closest address—in Emeq Refa’im just off the railroad tracks. Rina remembered the area as residential. Any hospital there was probably small, just a step up from a neighborhood clinic.

  She started the Subaru’s engine and took off, wearing the car’s shot-out window like a battle scar. She followed the road through a short business district. At a major intersection filled with stoplights, she turned left and continued, riding on a half-paved, two-lane road lined with apartment houses. When she got to the railroad tracks, the road ended. On her right stood a multistoried stone and glass building completely at odds with its surroundings. She parked the car, got out, and went inside.

  The lobby was spacious and flooded with light, the white marble floors gleaming in the sun’s rays. At the door, a guard checked Rina’s purse. She stepped inside, spotted an information booth, then hesitated. Behind the desk was a guard as well as a young woman in a white uniform. She had a pixie face surrounded by short black hair. Two sets of eyes looked at Rina, then peered with suspicion.

  Hospital personnel weren’t usually leery. The bombing had scared everyone to heightened awareness.

  The best approach?

  Rina lowered her eyes and put a slump in her walk. She approached the pixie woman whose name tag said Orly. Rina spoke in Hebrew. “My friend had a terrible miscarriage. I’m here to visit her.”

  Orly spoke with efficiency. “The name?”

  “Sarah Yardin,” Rina said. “Yardin spelled like the winery.”

  Orly consulted her computer. “There is no Yardin here.”

  Rina scratched the scarf covering her hair. “Are you sure—”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Can you check again?”

  Orly said, “G’veret, I don’t need to check again. There is no Yardin in the hospital.”

  “Maybe they accidentally listed her under Sarah.”

  Orly sighed. “There is no one here listed under Sarah.”

  “Can you just check one more—”

  “G’veret—”

  “She is my good friend. She was so excited about the baby. The miscarriage was just terrible. I need to see her.”

  The guard rolled his eyes.

  Rina pressed on. “Once more? Please?”

  Orly punched the name back into the computer. “There is no Yardin here.” She turned the terminal around—a list of names beginning with the Hebrew letter yod. “You can see for yourself.”

  No Yardin, but a Yalom…room 346. Rina looked upset. “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know, g’veret.”

  “Thank you,” Rina said, meekly.

  “What’s to thank me? I didn’t do anything.”

  Rina went back to the car, took off her scarf, and unpinned her hair. Layers of black satin fell down her back. To change her look even further, she untucked her blouse and hiked up her skirt. The final touch was the shades—Peter’s aviator g
lasses. They were too big for her face, but it gave her the look she wanted.

  She studied her reflection in the window of her car—a righteous woman posing as a floozy. She wondered if Tamar felt that way when she was picked up by her father-in-law, Judah.

  Coming back into the hospital lobby, she presented her purse for a second time to the same guard. First time out, he didn’t notice her. This time, he did. As he rifled through her purse, his eyes were on her legs.

  No wonder terrorists used women.

  She went inside the hospital and studied Orly and her henchman from a distance. The woman was good, doing paperwork but constantly scanning the lobby. Rina waited. A young man with flowers came up to Orly’s desk. At the same time, the guard had strolled over to the bathroom.

  An opportunity not to be lost! Rina took a deep breath and walked briskly over to the elevators. She was fast, but not fast enough.

  Orly shouted at her to come over.

  Rina turned around and lowered her shades slightly. She spoke in rapid English. “Areyoutalkin’tome?”

  Orly seemed perplexed. She attempted to speak English. “You get badge first.”

  “I’ve already got my badge,” Rina fired out in a high voice. “I was here yesterday and I still have it in my purse.” She pulled out a piece of paper, held it up for a split second, and pushed the elevator button. “I didn’t want to wear it ’cause it punches holes in the clothes, you know. I hate that. But if you really want me to wear it, I can do it. Like if it’s really important to you.”

  The young man tapped his foot impatiently. Orly asked him if he understood her. The young man shook his head. The elevator dinged. Rina held the door and stepped in. “See ya.”

  The doors closed and that was that. Once inside, Rina lowered her skirt, folded her hair into a bun. She tucked in her blouse and got out on the third floor. Immediately, she saw the guard down the hallway, posted in front of a room.

  With feigned confidence, she went up to him, opting to keep the shades because it made her look official.

  “Police,” Rina said, in Hebrew. “I need to speak to the boy—Gil Yalom.”

  “ID.”

  Now what? Rina fished through her purse. Hoping the guard couldn’t read English, she brought out her rental-car contract. “My official papers to interview him.”

  The guard said, “This is in English.”

  Rina appeared exasperated. “Of course they’re in English. I’m the liaison between the American and Israeli police departments. Bomb division. Northwest—Tel Aviv. Sgan Nitzav Kreisman’s office. You heard what happened this morning at the Bursa, didn’t you?”

  The guard’s cheeks took a blush.

  “Ach!” Rina said. “You haven’t heard. No wonder you don’t know what’s going on.” She snatched the rental-car contract out of his hands. “These papers allow me to interview Gil Yalom and search his car. He has a Subaru. See here?” Rina showed him the contract. “Subaru. This is the model number and the license plates. Can’t go around searching cars without knowing which cars to search.”

  She shoved the contract back in her purse and snapped it shut. “I’m pressed for time. Shalom.”

  The guard let her pass.

  She stepped inside the room. Her heart sank. Another guard posted on the inside. He sat up when he saw Rina, started coming toward her, blocking her view of Gil Yalom as well as Moshe and Tziril Yalom, who were keeping vigil by their grandson’s bedside.

  “I have papers.” Once again, Rina took out the contract. The guard grabbed them and read.

  “Nice,” the guard said in accented English. “You rent a Subaru.” He grabbed her arm. “You’re under arrest.”

  Tziril Yalom stood and came to her defense. “Are you crazy? Let her go. I know her. She is a very nice young lady.”

  The guard continued to hold Rina. “My strict orders were not to let anyone in here other than relatives. Orders are orders—”

  “Orders are orders? So this is the Third Reich?” Tziril came up to him and whacked him on the shoulder. “I tell you I know this young woman. She came here to help. Let her go!”

  “Only relatives, g’veret. Sorry, but—”

  “She is my illegitimate daughter,” Moshe Yalom announced.

  All eyes fell upon him.

  “It happens to the best of us.” Yalom shrugged. “Just ask anyone at the Bursa. I took her there yesterday and introduced everyone to her as my daughter.”

  The guard laughed. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes, I do,” Yalom said gravely.

  The guard continued to hold Rina, but looked at Moshe. “Then why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

  “I should embarrass my wife by making such an announcement out loud?” Yalom retorted. “Let her go. She is a relative.”

  Reluctantly, the guard released Rina’s arm.

  Rina shook off her indignity. “Thank you.” She took off her glasses, went over to Gil Yalom’s bedside and hugged Tziril. “Thank you.”

  “I should thank you,” the woman said. “Moti Bernstein told us what your husband did yesterday at the yeshiva.” Tziril hugged her again. “You married a very brave man.”

  Rina swallowed dryly. “Mrs. Yalom, he sent me here because he was concerned about Gil.”

  “You need to talk to him, don’t you?” Tziril said.

  Rina nodded.

  Grandmother looked at grandson. Rina studied Gil. Peter had told her that Gil had been in a state of shock. But the teenager Rina saw was alert. He stared at her for a long time, intense eyes sizing up her worth. Rina smiled at him, but it failed to elicit a response.

  Finally, Tziril spoke, “Gil, this woman is here to help. You need to tell her what you know.”

  Gil didn’t answer.

  “Gil—”

  “I heard, Savta,” Gil whispered.

  Rina sat by his bedside. Gil was more young man than boy. His full beard had yet to come in completely, but patches of stubble shadowed his lip and cheeks. His cheeks were gaunt, his eyes tired. Rina waited a moment, then tried another smile. He still didn’t smile back, but this time it got a response.

  Gil looked at his grandparents and spoke Hebrew. “I need to be alone with her.”

  Moshe Yalom stood and said, “I can use a cup of coffee.” He took his wife’s hand and they walked out the door. Gil watched them leave, then turned his eyes to Rina. In English, he said, “My savta tells me you’re the cop’s wife? The one who saved the yeshiva.”

  Rina nodded. The boy’s voice was low and soft. Rina could tell the guard was straining to hear.

  “How’d he know I was there?”

  “Luck. We were searching all the ba’alei tchuvah yeshivas. Actually, we were looking to find Dov. We were told he’d been frum a while back.”

  “Yeah, my dad took care of that one real quick.”

  The sarcasm was dripping. Rina kept her voice soft. “Is that why you sent your grandparents out? You didn’t want them to hear negative things about your father?”

  Gil didn’t respond, just peered at her. Then he said, “Am I going to be extradited to LA?”

  “I don’t know if extradited is the right word. Sergeant Decker was sent here to take you and your brother back to Los Angeles.”

  Gil looked at the ceiling. “In a way, it’s a relief. I shouldn’t have left in the first place. But in a panic you make bad decisions.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “I had reasons.”

  Rina moved closer and spoke softly. “Your dad warned you off with the porcelain dogs.”

  “Not my dad, my mom—” Gil stopped talking. His eyes widened. “Shit, you know everything, don’t you?” He waited a beat. “You know, your husband almost had me killed by finding me. They were following him to get to me.”

  “By they, do you mean Milligan’s men?”

  Gil whitened at the mention of her name. “They were using your husband to find me. He played perfectly into
their plans. Is he stupid or what?”

  Rina knew it had been the reverse. Milligan had located Gil before they had. She had planted the bomb in the yeshiva in order to draw Decker there and away from her intended target—the Bursa. But she played along. “Milligan was out for you because you knew too much.”

  Gil nodded.

  “We know a lot, too, Gil,” Rina told him. “We know about the stocks and land deeds in Angola that your father owned. We know Milligan wanted those assets and your father wouldn’t sell them to her at the price she wanted. So she had your parents killed, figuring you two boys might be easier to deal with. But you two escaped before she had her chance. She came here looking to find you.”

  The boy looked down and said nothing.

  “Honestly, we’re not as stupid as you think,” Rina said. “Do you know where your brother is? My husband’s really worried about him.”

  “He’s safe. But he’s homesick, too. Not that either of us have much of a home anymore.”

  Tears began to roll down Gil’s cheeks. He quickly wiped them away. “You don’t know as much as you think.”

  “So fill me in.”

  The room fell silent. Gil whispered and spoke to the ceiling. “Bastard was sleeping with her. She had him totally bagged, the stupid fuck!” He lowered his head. “Excuse my language.”

  “S’right.”

  Gil rubbed his eyes, slumped in his bed. “Dov and I used to do bullshit work at the office. Dad made us do it. ‘Turn you two boys into men.’ What a total crock! Anyway…you hang around a place long enough, you hear things. Whether you want to hear them or not.”

  Rina said, “Your father was going to sell Milligan his assets?”

  “He was going to give them to her! Anything to keep her on her back!” He covered his face, then let his hand drop slowly. “He stretched it out too long. She lost patience, the bitch.”

  Rina thought a moment. Was the exchange of all those hostile letters just a front? “He was going to give Milligan his stocks and land deeds?”

  “Yeah, can you believe that bastard?” Gil said. “Only problem was, half of the shit wasn’t his to give away. My uncle made him transfer it to my mom a while back.”

  “Your uncle?”