Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 14

by Stone Kiss

“Yeah, I know you can. You’re a strong girl.” Donatti kissed her cheek, then stood up, his eyes fixed on Decker’s face. “Make it quick or we’re both gonna have problems.”

  “Can you tell me what happened to your uncle, Shaynda?”

  She muttered something, but Decker couldn’t make it out.

  “I can’t hear her.”

  Chris sighed with exasperation. He bent down a third time. “C’mon, honey. Whisper it in my ear.”

  She did as told. Donatti nodded as she spoke behind a cupped hand. He said, “Someone grabbed him as they were walking to the museum. She got away.” To Shayndie, he said, “Did you see who did it?”

  “Men,” she muttered.

  “How many?” Decker asked.

  “Two… three. They were frum. They wore kapotes.”

  “Lubavitch?” Decker said.

  A shake of the head told him no.

  “Satmar?”

  Again the answer was negative.

  “Breslav.”

  “No. I mean I don’t know. They wore… shtreimels.”

  “Shtreimels? In the middle of the work week?”

  She nodded yes.

  “And they were dressed up in silk kapotes or something?”

  She nodded.

  Donatti said, “Can you translate this for me?”

  “The men who took her uncle wore Chasidic garb. There are many different Chasidic sects. The Liebers are a certain sect, and I’m trying to find out if one of his own whacked him. She thinks it might be another sect because they wore Sabbath dress in the middle of the week. A shtreimel is a unique broad-brimmed fur hat worn only on Sabbath and special occasions.” Decker made a face. “Something’s off, Donatti. Sounds like someone was playing dress-up.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “I wish.” To Shayndie, Decker said, “ Did you recognize any of the men?”

  A quick shake of the head.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “It happened very fast,” she mumbled. “I was scared.”

  But Decker felt certain that the girl was holding back. “Have you talked to your parents since it happened?”

  Wide-eyed, she shook her head furiously. Then she grabbed on to Chris. “Can we please leave, Mr. Donatti. I’ll do anything you want. I swear I will. Anything! Just don’t make me go back with him.”

  At that moment, the little girl meant her every word. For Donatti, she would have spread her legs in an eye blink. It made Decker sick to the core.

  “Please, Mr. Donatti?” Shayndie begged.

  “Sure. You did a good job.”

  “Thank you!” She burst into tears.

  “Wait here a moment, Shayndie. I want to talk—”

  “Don’t leave me!” She glommed on to his body. “Please, don’t—”

  “Stop it!” Donatti plucked her off his body, as if he were dusting off a piece of lint. He spoke low and menacing. “You wait here, understand?”

  “Don’t make me go with him.” “Did I say that?” He took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “Did I say that?”

  “No.”

  “You shut up, you stay put, and let me get rid of him! Then we can both go back.”

  Tears were pouring down her cheeks. But she nodded okay.

  Donatti took several large strides forward, looped his arm around Decker’s back, and drew him out of Shayndie’s earshot. With her protector at a distance, Shayndie started to move toward him. Immediately, Donatti warned her back with a look. To Decker, he said, “She’s a virgin.”

  Decker regarded Donatti’s face. “How do you know?”

  “Because I asked her.”

  “And you think she’s telling the truth?”

  “I know she is. Before I nailed her, I asked her. I told her it was very, very important that she tell me the truth. I told her I didn’t care a rat’s ass one way or the other, but it had to be the truth. Because the one thing I hated was being lied to. She swore. She wasn’t lying. She was a virgin.”

  Decker took in his eyes. “A few seconds ago, you said she is a virgin. Present tense.”

  Donatti looked at him in mock confusion. “Did I say that?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Chris smiled enigmatically.

  Bastard. Decker said, “Okay, Donatti, where do we go from here?”

  “I’ll contact you.”

  “What about her parents?”

  “Nothing until I contact you. You tell her parents, all bets are off. You tell her parents, that also means you broke your word. That means you’re a dead man.”

  “Then it’s a good thing my will’s in order. When will you contact me?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to be patient.”

  “Patience is my middle name. Right now, I’m inclined to poke around closer to home. See if I can find out who these religious guys are, now that I know she’s safe with you. I’m assuming that my nosing about won’t step on your toes?”

  “Not at all. I don’t know anything about the hit. More important, I don’t care. If all the Jews in the world suddenly dropped dead, I’d be happy. More money for me.”

  “You’re a hopeless sentimentalist, Donatti, just like the Nazis.”

  “You know I’m not a big Wagner fan.”

  Decker said, “If I come up with some faces, I’ll want to talk to her again. What do I do?”

  Donatti said, “I’ll call you.”

  “And I can show her the faces?”

  “If you play by my rules, it can be arranged.”

  “Thanks.” Decker rested his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you this, Donatti, but you’ve been helpful.”

  “Good.” Donatti grinned. “I like doing favors.”

  “I’ll bet.” Decker started to walk away. Donatti caught him by the arm. “I fooled around with her, Decker, but she’s still whole. Out of respect for you, I didn’t fuck her.”

  Decker nodded. “I appreciate it.” He waited a moment. “Did she know anything sexually?”

  Donatti’s lips curled upward. “I usually charge money for details, Lieutenant.”

  Decker kept his anger inside. He spoke deliberately. “Should I be concerned about a molestation angle?”

  “You know, I don’t think I’ve been with someone that innocent since Terry.” Donatti let out a soft laugh. “Jesus, even Terry knew what a hard-on was. I’m sure last night was the first time that Shayndie had ever seen a cock, let alone touched one. That girl is from another century.”

  Decker was quiet.

  “She wasn’t being diddled,” Donatti said. “I’d stake my life on it.”

  “All right. That’s helpful.”

  Donatti looked upward. “Do you have any idea how much I could get for her in the white-slave trade? I have at least three Middle Eastern clients who’d give a fortune to rape a Jewish virgin. They’d whisk her out in a private plane, take her to their country, pass her around, then sell her to a brothel.”

  Decker blurted, “Whatever you’d charge, I’ll pay it.”

  “You couldn’t afford it.” Donatti bit his lip. “Maybe we can arrange a trade with your wife.” Immediately, he backed away, holding out his palms for a shield. “I’m kidding! Don’t worry. I’ll keep Shayndie safe. After you find out what happened, and it’s okay for her to go home, I’ll return her to you—unharmed and intact.”

  Decker was still breathing hard. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, Chris.”

  “That makes another favor you owe me.”

  “You’re keeping score.”

  “You bet your Jewish ass I’m keeping score.”

  20

  Decker awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat and shaking. It was eight in the morning—Rina had already left the bed—and since sleep was out of the question, he decided to grab the day. Knowing that Shayndie was alive and relatively safe, he could concentrate on the murder. Since Chaim had shown only scant interest in his brother’s homicide, Decker was forced to interview th
e only person who had truly felt every inch of the loss. Emmanuel Lieber was sitting shiva at his house in Quinton. The idea of intruding upon an old man’s sorrow made Decker feel queasy, but if it brought results, perhaps it would be worth it. After a quick recitation of the morning prayers, he mentally planned his day. First he’d pay the shiva call, then he’d contact Micky Novack, hoping that the detective had made headway on the case. By then, maybe he’d hear from Donatti.

  Maybe.

  Decker didn’t want to change his ticket a third time. But if Donatti didn’t deliver the girl today, Decker would be forced to rearrange his flight. His conscience wouldn’t let him do anything less. Shaynda’s safety was paramount.

  The trick was how to explain it to Rina.

  His wife was sitting with Hannah at the breakfast table, the little girl garbed in a new red wool sweater and pleated red-black-and-white houndstooth check skirt. There were sneakers on her feet, and her nose was buried in a book. Decker kissed his wife, then his daughter.

  “You look like you’re ready to play the bagpipes,” he quipped.

  Hannah didn’t answer him. Absorbed in her book, she didn’t even hear him.

  Rina smiled. “I like bagpipes.” She looked her husband up and down. “I’ve got a brilliant idea, Peter. I’ll play the bagpipes if you wear a kilt.”

  “My legs are private property.” He poured a big bowl of Cheerios and put two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Where are you and the little lassie off to today?”

  “Hannah’s going to play with her new New York best friend. I’m going shopping.”

  “What a shock!”

  “Make fun all you want. The bargains are too good to resist.”

  “I begrudge you nothing. Are you taking the car?”

  “No, I have a ride into the city. I figured that you’d need the car.”

  “You’re right. I’m going over to Quinton.” He filled a mug with coffee, then buttered his toast. “How was the family last night?”

  “As expected.” Rina sighed. “How was it for you?”

  “As expected.” He turned to his daughter. “Hi, Hannah. Remember me? Your father? The tall one?”

  She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, Hannah. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She put down her book. “Do you like my sweater?”

  “It’s a beautiful sweater.”

  “Eema bought it for me.”

  “Eema has good taste.”

  “I’m going to play today with Leah Sora Estee Beryl. She should be in school, but she has the chicken pox. But I don’t have to worry about the chicken pox because I already had the shot.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Kenny Talbot, a boy at my school, he had the chicken pox. After he came back to school, he brought a picture with his face all full of poxes. It was yucky. I hope Leah Sora Estee Beryl is not that bad.”

  “Is that one person? Leah Sarah—”

  “Sora,” Hannah corrected.

  “Is that one girl?”

  “Yes, she’s one girl with lots of names,” Rina said. “Are you ready, Chanaleh?”

  Hannah nodded, got up, and kissed her father’s cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t name me four names. It wouldn’t fit on my math sheets at school.”

  Rina took her daughter’s hand and helped her on with her coat. “You like the coat?”

  “The coat is lovely.”

  “Thirty dollars.”

  “That’s a good price.”

  “No, it’s a steal. Learn your shopping lexicon. Come along, sweetheart. Let your father eat breakfast in peace.”

  Decker bid them good-bye. Fortified with Cheerios, two pieces of toast, a large glass of orange juice, and four cups of coffee, he felt ready to fulfill a mission.

  Emmanuel Lieber lived in a one-story white clapboard house with a wraparound porch and a wood-shingled roof. The front lawn was dead from winter fallout, but several large trees hinted green-bud teasing of spring renewal. A stone walkway led up to an old oak door coated with peeling varnish. As Decker climbed the three steps up, he could hear the clatter of conversation—low, deep voices. Standing on the porch, he peeked through the window and saw swarms of men dressed in black Chasidic garb. No shtreimels however. That could be significant.

  He was about to lift the knocker, but then the door opened and three Chasids flew out, eyes turned downward, hands behind their backs, their payot flying as they fast-walked past him.

  Decker went inside.

  The crowd was so thick, so without light and air, that he felt as if he were in the middle of a twister. The sheer density made it hard to move. Eventually, he was swept toward the front, into the grief-stricken family that included three sisters, one brother, and a father steeped in abject tragedy. They were seated on pillows that rested on the floor, their eyes saturated with deep despair. Mr. Lieber and Chaim wore black pants, black shoes, and white shirts that had been intentionally ripped directly under the collar: the indication of mourning. Atop their heads were large black yarmulkes. The three sisters wore somber-colored skirts and blouses also torn near the collar. Two of the three women had on wigs; Raisie had elected to wear a scarf.

  Jonathan was at his elbow. He guided him into a corner and offered Decker some coffee.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Soda, water?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Thanks for coming down,” Jonathan told him. “Especially since you must be on a very tight schedule.”

  “Not too bad, actually. The plane doesn’t leave until nine tonight.”

  “Oh…” An uncomfortable pause. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”

  Decker regarded his half brother. “Tonight.”

  Jonathan nodded. “Good. I mean, not good. I mean… I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to leave.”

  “You’re looking tense, Jon. Anything wrong?”

  Jonathan hesitated. “No… just. What can I say, Akiva? What can I say?”

  “You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Me, I just can’t… stop thinking about Shayndie.”

  Guilt tugged at Decker’s heart. “It’s terrible.”

  Jonathan nodded but didn’t add anything. His gaze wandered over the crowd, resting on Chaim’s face. The two of them locked eyes, but then Chaim turned away.

  Jonathan said, “Let me introduce you to my father-in-law.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, no. I insist.”

  Although Decker didn’t know Jonathan that well, he knew when someone was unsettled. Unsettled was a euphemism. If Decker were objective, he’d bet that Jonathan was sitting on something. But this was not the time for confrontation, especially since Decker hadn’t owned up to the truth last night. Maybe he could pull it out of Jonathan later on.

  A moment later, Decker was standing in front of a beaten old man. Mr. Lieber’s eyes went to Decker’s face and failed to register any recognition. But then he noticed Jonathan… standing next to this strange large man in a brown suit. Quickly, the old man put two and two together. He acknowledged him with a nod.

  Decker nodded back.

  Lieber was a much bigger man than Decker had expected—wide across the chest and face, with a large, drooping nose and thick, prominent lips. Once he might have had a solid square jaw, but his jowls covered the bone structure. His eyes were hooded and multicolored, changing tint depending on the light and atmosphere— anatomical mood rings.

  Chaim stood up, his eyes having darkened into black orbs of fury. Decker wondered what he had done to make this man hate him so much. It wasn’t as if Decker had hurt his daughter. On the contrary, he had actually found a link to the missing girl. He felt terrible about keeping the secret, and for one brief all-too-human moment, he thought about relating the wonderful news to Chaim. But if it got back to Donatti and if she was harmed because of his indiscretion, then who would be at fault?

  No, it was better to be overcautio
us.

  “I thought that you had left,” Chaim told him.

  “Tonight,” Jonathan said.

  “Why tonight? What business do you have here?”

  Decker threw his head back. “Rina wanted to stay for the funeral. And I had things to wrap up, Rabbi Lieber. You don’t involve people in your affairs and then suddenly leave without saying thanks.”

  “Are you admonishing me because I didn’t thank you?”

  “Chaim,” Jonathan began.

  But Decker held up his palm to silence him. “No, Rabbi Lieber, not at all. I meant the cops who had helped me. I’d like to remain on good terms with them.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about New York’s finest because they certainly haven’t helped much, have they?”

  “I’m so sorry, sir. This must be agonizing for you.”

  “Terribly agonizing.”

  But he sounded more angry than despairing. His eyes narrowed, his body thrust toward Decker in an antagonistic pose. “You don’t know anything, Lieutenant. Go home.”

  “Chaim!” a raspy voice chided. “Es pass nisht. Vus toost-du? Setz’ich avek!”

  “But Papa—”

  “Nisht gebst mir del Papa. Setz’ich avek non! Nisht dray mir a kop.”

  Reluctantly, Chaim returned to his pillow. Mr. Lieber motioned Decker to a chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant. Do you want some tea?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Lieber. Do you want some tea?”

  “No, I don’t want anything right now.” He looked at his son-inlaw. “Jonathan, get the man some tea.”

  “Really, I’m—” Decker stopped himself. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  “While you’re up, get some for Papa,” Raisie chimed in.

  “I don’t want any—”

  “Papa, you must drink!”

  “I’ll have only if you’ll have,” Decker proposed.

  The old man nodded.

  Jonathan sighed heavily and went to the kitchen for tea.

  The old man leaned forward. “You will forgive Chaim’s manners. He is under terrible, terrible stress.”

  “Of course, Mr. Lieber. I’m sure my presence has added to it. I just wanted to pay my respects to you. Then I’ll go.”

  “He expects miracles. For that, he must pray to the Abishter.”