by Stone Kiss
“Thanks, Lieutenant, but I think I’ll pass. You all are too tan and thin for my taste. And way too passive.”
“We call it ‘easygoing.’”
“That’s a buzzword for apathy. One thing New Yorkers aren’t, and that’s apathetic. Not your fault, Decker. It’s all the sunshine out West. It cooks the brain.”
15
She was behind schedule. Rina knew she shouldn’t have attempted shopping this late in the day, but the prices in Brooklyn were so much cheaper than in L.A., and if you knew where to look, you could find true one-of-a-kind things. Not that she was shopping for herself. Her bags were filled with dresses, coats, hats, shoes, and play outfits for Hannah—half the price of the department stores and some of the ensembles were imported from Europe. Hannah was such a pretty girl, and Rina loved to dress her up. Having a daughter, after two boys, was a new experience, and she savored every minute of it. She adored seeing Hannah preen in front of the mirror on Shabbat morning. Rina knew that showering her with too much attention for superficialities wasn’t a good thing, but what good are kids if you can’t spoil them every now and then! Children were not toys—her teenagers had proved that with a sledgehammer—but sometimes it was fun to pretend.
At least, Rina had dressed for tonight before she went out, although she knew she’d have to reapply her makeup. Her skin just ate up the chemicals. Her clothes were comfortable but very nice—a black sweater set over an ankle-length black skirt that had a midcalf side slit. A little pizzazz, but still appropriate for a religious woman. Her oversweater was long and red and cashmere. It made her feel elegant and very posh. A spray of Chanel No. 19; hers and Peter’s favorite perfume. After all, they were going out tonight after dinner. Her shoes didn’t have particularly high heels, but they were still dressy.
Not sneakers, though. She had walked until her feet and legs were sore. She did have the good sense to send Hannah with Sammy and Jacob, knowing that the little girl couldn’t possibly keep up with her. Her children went into town to see the Museum of Natural History. They’d meet her at the steak house.
Peter’s whereabouts were a mystery.
She checked her watch, swearing that this was the last store. It was getting dark, and her arms couldn’t carry any more packages anyway. She was next in line, but the woman in front of her kept arguing over the price of a sale item. Rina tried clearing her throat, she tried tapping her foot, but nothing seemed to work. The woman was determined to get a further reduction on a reduced price.
Rina looked around, arms folded across her chest, her bags dangling from her hands. Scanning the area, checking out the crowd because it was better than being aggravated.
The first time around, she barely glanced at him.
The second time around, she realized he was looking at her… staring at her. Hard, penetrating blows that were so unnerving, she almost dropped her bags.
He was tall and muscular, exuding strength. Dressed in black jeans and a black ribbed crewneck sweater under a brown cord jacket and combat boots, he kept leering at her with cold blue eyes.
Who on earth?
And then sudden recognition sparked in her brain.
What on earth?
She should have felt immediate intimidation because he was so big and powerful. But big and powerful didn’t scare her. She’d been married to big and powerful for over ten years. She had dealt head-to-head with big and powerful. It was no big and powerful deal.
What she felt was fury. Who did he think he was!
She dropped out of her place in line, leaving behind an adorable navy dress with white trim and a matching coat and hat. It would have been a perfect Pesach outfit for Hannah if he hadn’t come along!
She marched up to him and looked him square in the eye—the battle of baby blues. “Care for some coffee? I’ll buy. You carry the packages.” She shoved them into his chest and stomped out of the store. She could hear him chuckling with amusement while keeping pace behind her. She brought him into a nearby Starbucks, where she bought him a cup of plain coffee and bought herself a Caffè Latte. Then she took him to a local park—not much more than a patch with swings and slides—but it would serve the purpose. She chose a bench that was off the beaten track, but still visible enough to see people walk by.
She sat down first. He had the good sense to sit on the other side and place the packages in the middle. She watched his jacket fall open. She saw the gun, tucked into an internal pocket. She knew that he was very aware of her eyes on the piece. Something had clicked in those icy orbs.
They sipped coffee.
It was obvious that her edginess was pleasing him. Still, she waited for him to talk. She’d wait as long as he wanted. She was good at staring contests.
Finally, he spoke. “Don’t you Jewish women cover your hair in public?”
“I’m wearing a wig,” Rina answered.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a good one.”
“And an expensive one, too. It’s made out of human hair.”
“Really?” He swallowed coffee. “Now how does that work? Do they scalp someone for it?”
“No. They buy the hair from women who grow their own hair long and harvest it. It’s a very time-consuming process. I think my wig probably comes from Asian women. It’s very straight, and it doesn’t frizz up in the fog.”
“What’s your natural hair look like?”
“Mine?” Rina touched her bangs. “This is my natural hair.”
“That dark?”
“Yes, it’s almost black.”
“Wig’s a good match.”
“Very good match.”
Silence.
“Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose?” He gave her a hungry stare. “If you’re trying to be unattractive to other men, you’re doing a poor job.”
Rina met his eyes with her own. “The reasons for covering your hair go beyond physical attractiveness. I have some sweet rolls in the white waxed bag. Help yourself, Mr. Donatti.”
“You can call me Chris.” He moved his eyes up and down her body, slowly and with purpose. “After all, I’ve called you Rina many times in my fantasies.”
“You may call me Rina in real life. I have no problem with that.”
Neither one talked.
Chris ran his tongue in his cheeks, his eyes never leaving her face. “You know, I’ve had lots of girls, Rina. Lots and lots and lots of them. When girls literally fall in your lap, it gets a little old. It gets harder and harder—no pun intended—to get excited about someone. That means forbidden fruit begins to look very attractive.”
Silence.
Rina became aware of the children at play—such sweet, sweet sounds. Before she said anything, she made a point to formulate her thoughts. Then she spoke in a clear, steady voice. “Were you raised with any organized religion, Mr. Donatti?”
“Chris, please.” A slow smile. “We’re all friends here.”
“Certainly. Were you raised with any organized religion, Chris?”
Donatti continued to look her over. “Catholic.”
“So you know a little bit of Bible, maybe?”
Chris smiled. “I wasn’t a very good Catholic, Rina.”
“Do you know about Yaakov and Aesav? Jacob and Esau in English.”
“It’s been a while.” A predatory smirk. “Why don’t you fill me in?”
“Jacob and Esau were brothers… twins by birth, but that’s as far as it went. They were very different. Jacob was a quiet, learned man— ish tam as we say in Hebrew. He studied; he behaved well; he did what his father instructed him to do; he didn’t cause any problems. Esau was very different. He is described as an ish sadde—a man of the field. He was a superb hunter, a fine warrior, masculine, probably handsome, too. He was very charming, and his manners were beyond reproach.
“It has been said by the Jewish sages that Esau was born with a full set of teeth and a beard. It could be taken literally, but I choose to take it metapho
rically, Mr. Donatti. Teeth and a beard represent a mature man. What it says to me is that Esau was born as exactly the man he was destined to be. His entire childhood—all the learning experiences and growth that one gets from childhood mistakes—was irrelevant to him. He remained unchanged from infancy until the day he died.
“Now, the parents loved both of their children, but the father, Isaac, loved Esau more because he brought him fresh meat, and because Esau had excellent derech eretz. That means manners; that means he showed his father respect. Also, I believe that Isaac admired Esau’s ability to hunt, so different from Isaac’s own strengths. Sometimes you place a lot of value on tasks that are beyond your abilities. But the mother, Rebecca, who was more worldly, she loved Jacob more. She admired his quiet, pious demeanor.”
“Jacob sounds like a wimp.”
“No, he was not weak. His strengths were less overt.”
Donatti thought a moment. “You know it’s not good to play favorites with your kids.”
Rina smiled. “You’re absolutely right. That was part of the problem.”
He leered at her. “Do you know that you’ve got a beautiful smile, Rina?”
Rina ignored him. “There was lots of sibling rivalry. Eventually, it reached a flash point. There was a confrontation between the two brothers, and Jacob was forced to flee from Esau’s wrath.”
“I told you Jacob was a wimp. What happened?”
“First Jacob tricked his brother out of his birthright. Then Jacob bamboozled his father into giving him the first blessing—the blessing that Isaac had planned for his elder son, Esau. Under the law of primogeniture, the older should have had dominion over the younger. But Rebecca, the mother, felt that the blessing should go to Jacob. Because of her wile and deception, Isaac wound up blessing Jacob first, giving the younger son, Jacob, dominion over Esau, the elder.”
“How’d she trick him?”
“Like any good mystery, it loses something in the translation. Read the book if you’re curious. But there is a point to this story, like there is a point to everything in the Bible. Esau did not deserve the blessing. Not because he was a hunter, a murderer with bloodstains on his hands. Esau didn’t deserve the blessing because Esau was an adulterer—a taker of other men’s wives. Not that I speak for God, Mr. Donatti, but in my religion, taking a married woman is a very odious thing.
“Now, I know how you feel about my husband. And you may want revenge. I hope not, but I can’t stop you if you’re set upon it. And, perhaps, you may succeed. But I will tell you this. If you ever, ever so much as lay a single finger on me in an inappropriate way, I guarantee that you—and everything you hold dear—will be cursed by God, by Satan, and by every living and dead creature in this universe. Not only in this lifetime, but in all lifetimes to come.” She glared at him. “Eternally, Mr. Donatti. In lay language, that means forever!”
The silence hung in the air for several moments. Then Donatti forced out a laugh. “Am I supposed to be nervous now?”
“It’s fair warning. And you’re blushing, by the way.”
Involuntarily, Donatti averted his eyes. As soon as he realized it, he stared at her again. “So what happened to Jacob?”
“Happened to him?”
“You said he had to flee from Esau. If I were Esau and somebody stole something from me, I’d go after the son of a bitch with everything I had.”
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Donatti, the two did meet up again. And Jacob was very afraid of his brother. Terrified that he’d steal not only his property but also his wives and children. Especially his wife, Rachel, because she was very beautiful. As I said before, Esau prided himself on stealing married women. When it was clear that the two men had to cross paths, Jacob made elaborate plans on how to deal with his vengeful brother. But in the end, it is written that Esau wept with emotion, threw his arms around his brother, and kissed him on the neck.”
“So Esau forgave Jacob?”
“Looks that way.”
“So Esau turned out to be a pussy, too!” Donatti sneered with contempt. “Someone should rewrite the ending.”
Rina smiled. “Perhaps then I should tell you this. While outwardly there was some kind of reconciliation, Jewish rabbis and sages have a different perspective on the reunion. They say that when Esau kissed Jacob on the neck, he had actually tried to bite him. Not a little hickey, Mr. Donatti. Esau had meant to kill his brother—cut the jugular vein with his teeth. But God had turned Jacob’s neck to stone and instead Esau broke his teeth. Esau got the hint. Vengeance wasn’t the answer.”
“I like that ending better.”
“I thought you might.”
Donatti sipped his coffee. “Maybe vengeance isn’t the answer as a permanent thing. But it does have a soothing temporary effect.”
“Possibly.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Are you and my husband on opposite sides of the fence again?”
“Interesting question. What did your husband tell you?”
“Absolutely nothing! I had no idea you were even in New York. But by your being here, you must have known that I was in New York. This wasn’t an accident. You had to have been following me. So somewhere along the line you must have met up with the lieutenant. Are you two at odds again?”
“Actually, he came to me for help.”
Rina paused. Her first thoughts were that somewhere during the course of Ephraim’s homicide investigation, Peter must have suspected Donatti of being the hit man. But if that were the case—and Donatti knew that Peter was suspicious of him—why did Donatti approach her so brazenly?
Donatti seemed to read her mind. “It’s the truth. Ask the lieutenant if you don’t believe me.”
“Are you going to help him?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Rina felt the heat of his eyes. The warmth of embarrassment was flooding her own face, but she refused to back down. “I’m sure you’ll come to the correct decision.”
Donatti continued to study her face and body. “God, you are beautiful!”
“Thank you.”
“I’d love to draw you, Mrs. Decker. Or, at the very least, take your picture.”
“Neither is an option.”
“Must be hard being that good-looking. My son’s mother is a stunning girl.” He rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the park. “You must know Terry.”
“I don’t actually know her, but I’ve heard that she’s very beautiful.”
“She gets hit on all the time,” Donatti said. “She’s very serious— not unlike yourself—and all the male attention annoys her. Sometimes it even gets her into trouble. People make assumptions about her sexual habits just because she’s single and has a kid. Even her professors. Especially her professors. Especially the married professors.”
“She gets harassed?”
“All the time. It got so bad with one of them that I had to go over there and prove a point.”
“I’m sure your sudden appearance cooled his ardor.”
Donatti laughed. “Yeah. He calmed down pretty quickly after my visit. So what do you do when men get out of line? Do you sic the lieutenant on them?”
“No, Mr. Donatti, I’m a grown woman, and I choose to take care of my own problems. I have found in the past that involving the lieutenant makes matters worse.”
He sat back and stared at her. “Does your silence extend to this little tryst?”
She met his eyes. “It isn’t a tryst. On the off chance that you may actually help my husband out, perhaps it’s best if I don’t tell him. Because if I did tell him, he’d probably kill you.”
“If I didn’t get to him first.”
“If you had wanted to do that, you would have done it a long time ago.”
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“Still, I have no intention of telling my husband about our little chat, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking anything.”
“Okay. Then I’ll ask somethi
ng of you. It would make my life easier if you didn’t tell him about it, either. Because if he hears about it from you, he’ll not only be irate with you, he’ll get mad at me for not telling him. Can you do me this favor?”
“I like doing favors.” Donatti smiled. “We’ll keep it our little secret.”
Turning everything into an act of intimacy. A prime-time manipulator. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Donatti stood up and leered at her. “Hey, why spoil what could be a beautiful relationship?”
“We have no relationship, Christopher.”
“Not you and me, Mrs. Decker. The lieutenant and me.” Donatti handed her his empty coffee cup. “There’s a recycle bin over there. Toss that for me, please?”
“Not a problem.”
Again he gave her a hard, wolfish stare. “Maybe we’ll chat again someday.”
Rina raised her eyes to censure his. “And maybe pigs will fly.”
Donatti broke into laughter. “Mind if I give Terry your phone number, Mrs. Decker? If she’s gonna play chess with the big boys, she may as well learn from an expert.”
16
If anything seemed to fit, it would have been a drug deal that went sour. But then why would Ephraim take Shayndie with him, putting her in danger? Could the man have been that cowardly to use a young girl as a screen? And then there was Raisie, warning him that his investigation could be endangering Shayndie. That told Decker that Chaim was sitting on something. He considered calling up Novack, going over some ideas with the detective. But what if Raisie were right? If his probing lessened Shayndie’s chances even fractionally—well, then, what choice did he really have?
Maybe the girl had gotten away and was in hiding. Maybe she had contacted her parents but was tentative about coming home. Or maybe there was another reason for her disappearance. Maybe she was pregnant and the whole thing about her being with her uncle was just an alibi. Maybe she was holed up in some home for wayward girls, and maybe Chaim didn’t want Decker finding that out.
Maybe Decker’s imagination was swirling out of control.
