by Stone Kiss
The hostess, whose nametag said BUFFY, offered them a wide smile of capped teeth and a chest of cleavage and silicone. After seeing Donatti’s pieces of work, Decker delighted in seeing a healthy, clothed—albeit scantily—woman who was clearly out of her teens. Because the uniforms lacked a lot of fabric, the temperature inside “the gentlemen’s club” was turned up to sauna level, encouraging the patrons to remove jackets and ties. Someone wanted the guys to feel comfortable. It probably made for better tips.
Decker slipped the hostess a twenty. “A private booth in back.”
She averted her eyes—probably because he looked so disheveled— but still managed a sly smile. “Anyone in particular, sir?”
While he had out his wallet, he showed her his gold shield. “Anyone who can bring me a large pot of strong coffee and make herself scarce.”
Immediately, the woman was all business. “I think we can help you out, Detective. This way.”
She led them past the stage spectacle: three topless women in thongs gyrating under multicolored klieg lights. Men were hooting and cat-calling, egging the girls to do lewder and lewder things. They were prevented from doing even ruder things by a sign that stated ABSOLUTELY ,POSITIVELY NO TOUCHING!
Jonathan looked away, but Decker took them in, his eyes moving up and down their perfect bodies. They were young, beautiful, and energetic. They probably made good money, more bucks than working on circuit boards or changing hospital bedpans. Not to mention all the attention they got. The scene was pure circus, lacking only the big top.
Not that Decker was offended or surprised. In a Donatti society that emphasized outcome rather than process, and stardom was worshiped above all, in a country where porn stars were trophies for rock stars, and people confessed to adultery and incest on national TV, well, then, why the hell not?
Except that Rina still ascribed to this outmoded concept of modesty as dated as Mayberry, USA. Over the last ten years, he guessed he had become an old-fashioned guy, and outmoded was just fine by him.
As requested, Buffy gave them a hidden booth in the corner, away from the flesh display, more like a peep show from where they were sitting.
“I’ll get you the coffee, Detective.”
And she did… right away. “Anything else?”
“Jon?”
The rabbi shook his head, keeping his eyes off Buffy’s ample bosom.
“A bagel if you have it,” Decker answered.
“We have a bagel, lox, and cream cheese platter.”
“That’s fine. And I’d also like a cup of ice and a napkin.”
Buffy nodded. “Does it hurt?”
“Not too bad.”
“I’ll place the order and get you the ice,” Buffy said. “Ambrosia will be your server.”
“Thank you.” When she was gone, Decker said, “Where do they come up with these names?”
Jonathan attempted a smile, but his eyes were glued to Decker’s bruises.
Decker ignored the unstated question mark. “When I worked Sex Crimes, I used to come to places like this all the time. Sleazier places, actually. Real down-and-dirty stuff. The girls were older, much more shopworn, perfect fodder for psycho bullies who liked to punch and rape. It was very sad.”
Jonathan nodded.
“These girls look healthier.”
“But for how long?” Jonathan asked. “They’re all under twenty-five, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
“It’s only a matter of time before their looks go. Then what?”
“Well, if they haven’t sucked it up their veins or blown it up their noses, they might be okay. There’s money to be made here. It’s not as if they lost their opportunities to become rocket scientists.”
Buffy came back with the ice and napkin. “I have some aspirin.”
Decker reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of Advil. “Thank you, but I’m fine.” He poured the cubes into the napkin and placed them on his face.
“What happened?” Jonathan finally asked.
“Some street psycho took an instant dislike to me.”
“That’s awful!” A hesitation. “He just punched you?”
“I probably shouldn’t have made eye contact. At least, he didn’t jab any lethal bacteria up my veins.”
“Good Lord, don’t say that!” Jonathan shook his head, rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “I am so sorry. Are you in pain? I could probably get you a prescription for something stronger.”
“I’m fine. How bad is it?”
“You haven’t looked in a mirror?”
“I’ve avoided it.”
“The entire right side of your face is reddish purple.”
“I’ll just tell people I got hit in the face with a blueberry pie.”
“This is all so horribly depressing!”
“We’ve both had better days… better years.” Decker poured two cups of coffee. “Anyone say how she died?”
“She was shot.” Tears in his eyes.
“Where?”
He shuddered. “Why?”
“I’m just curious to see if there are any similarities to Ephraim’s murder.”
“I would think it’s a given—the same people who murdered Ephraim murdered Shayndie.”
“That’s logical, but you can’t assume anything.” The ice felt soothing. “Are you ready to tell me what you were holding back this morning?”
The rabbi fiddled with his napkin and doused his coffee with cream and sugar.
Decker said, “Just start talking, Jon. It’s easier after you get the first few words out.”
“Chaim called me around seven, seven-thirty. He told me he needed to talk to me in person.”
“You came out to Quinton?”
“Immediately,” Jonathan answered. “His voice sounded agitated, but at least it was animated. As soon as I got there, he brought me into the basement so we could talk alone. He swore me to confidence. And that is why I didn’t tell you, why I couldn’t tell you.”
“I understand.”
“I’m only telling you now because you’ve threatened to go to the police. Not that I’d tell them anything—I’m entitled to claim pastoral confidentiality—but it would open up wounds. I thought it might be easier to deal with you than the police.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe not.”
“Believe it or not, my purpose is not to give people a hard time.”
“I know that.” Jonathan sighed. “Now that she’s gone, I suppose it’s all irrelevant anyway.”
“Talk to me, Rabbi.”
“Chaim told me he had reason to believe that Shaynda was still alive. He said he had heard from certain people that she was okay.” He blinked back tears. “Obviously, someone was mistaken. Perhaps Chaim misunderstood or it was wishful thinking on his part.”
“Or whoever Chaim talked to was lying. Who are these people?”
“At the time, Chaim couldn’t or wouldn’t say. He said he only confided in me because he knew I’d keep a secret. And secrecy was very important. If word got out, bad things could happen.”
“Did word get out?”
“I don’t know, Akiva. I know that Chaim told me, but I don’t know who else he told. At some point, when things are quieter, I’ll ask him.”
“And that’s all Chaim told you. That he had reason to believe that Shaynda was alive.”
“No. He also hinted that maybe there was some kind of ransom demand in the works. And if things went as planned, and someone needed to do an actual exchange of money for Shaynda, would I be willing to help?”
“What did you say?”
“I said of course I’d help. Anything.”
“And Chaim gave you no hints about Shaynda’s location?”
“No.”
“So let me make sure I understand.” Decker took the ice off. “Chaim heard from some anonymous source that Shaynda was okay.”
“Yes.”
“And he thought that there might be a ransom demand. And if that happ
ened, he asked you to be a go-between.”
“Yes.”
“Did Chaim actually talk to Shayndie?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“So the source could have been lying or mistaken, or Chaim could have misunderstood.”
“Yes.”
“Is exchanging the money for Shayndie the only favor that Chaim wanted you to do for him?”
“No.” Jonathan rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. “No, there was more.” Tension had crept into his voice. “It seems that you’ve become an obstacle—a sticking point.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know, Akiva. I do know that Chaim said that the kidnapper or ransom demander or whatever… that he wanted you out of the picture. As soon as possible.”
Decker raised his brow. “Out of the picture in what way?”
“That you should leave the city, of course.” Jonathan’s eyes got wide. “That’s what it means, right?”
Ambrosia—a robust blonde wearing a bikini top and broad shorts—served Decker a bagel and lox platter. He gave her a twenty. “More coffee; then we’re fine.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Ambrosia frowned.
“It’s nothing personal,” Decker said.
“Hey, you think I’m complaining?” Her accent was as broad as a flatiron. She stuffed the twenty into her shorts pocket. “So far today, this is my best tip for the least work. ’Bout a half hour ago, another gentleman tipped me a fifty. But I had to bend over a lot and pretend I didn’t know he was copping a feel.” She looked at Decker. “You’re a cop. Why do they call it ‘copping a feel’?”
Jonathan said, “‘To cop’ means to steal.”
“Heh-heh, that’s funny.” Ambrosia tittered. “That ‘cop’ means to steal.”
Decker and Jonathan sat stone-faced.
“You don’t see the humor in that?”
“You keep talking, I’m going to take back the twenty,” Decker said.
“Gotcha.” She came back with a new coffeepot, then left.
Decker said, “Any idea who Chaim talked to?”
“No. Since Shayndie was fine, I felt it wasn’t my place to ask questions.” Jonathan looked down. “I’m sure they just meant for you to leave the city.”
“A strange way of putting it, then.” Decker shrugged. “‘Out of the picture.’ Has kind of a permanent ring, don’t you think?”
Jonathan broke out in a sweat. “I didn’t take it that way at all.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Decker smeared cream cheese on his bagel. “I don’t suppose this place has a becher for washing hands.”
A fleeting smile. Jonathan hid his shaking hands by clasping the coffee mug.
Decker felt sorry for him. “I’ve been threatened more times than I care to remember. I take them all seriously, but so far, it’s all been talk.” He plopped a sheet of lox over the bagel bottom, then put the top on. He bit into his sandwich. His lip and jaw hurt as he chewed, but not as bad as he thought. “You should eat.”
“The way Chaim said it… it sounded like that’s all they wanted. For you to leave the city.”
“Then maybe you’re right. Calm down.”
“Chaim asked me if I could get you to leave.”
“Get me to leave?”
“He wasn’t having much success.”
“He was that eager?”
“Yes, he was, Akiva. Why? I don’t know. Anyway, I told him it wasn’t necessary, that you were leaving in the afternoon anyway. He seemed satisfied with the answer.”
“Did he ask you for my flight number or anything like that?”
“No. Why would he—” Jonathan blanched. “What are you thinking? That he wanted to check up on you to make sure you left?”
“Maybe.” Or maybe Chaim was thinking about seeing me off in a more permanent fashion. Decker kept his thoughts to himself.
Jonathan dabbed his sweaty forehead. “This psychotic who punched you…Was it a warning from someone?”
“Nah, that was pure bad luck,” Decker assured him. “It’s okay, Jon. I’m fine. Did Chaim ask any other favors from you?”
“Actually, he asked me to keep an eye on you,” Jonathan admitted.
“You mean to spy on me.” Decker took another bite. “What’d you tell him?”
“I told him it wasn’t necessary. It’s a complete mystery to me, Akiva. Why would Chaim ask me to ask you to come out—just to push you away?”
“Because I didn’t do what he wanted me to do. I didn’t do anything. He and Minda wouldn’t let me do anything. And maybe that was the whole point. To make a show of wanting something done, but not really wanting something done.”
“I don’t follow you,” Jonathan said.
“I was the poster boy, my man, something Chaim could point to and say he tried. But in fact, he didn’t try at all. And before you get all offended, I’m not saying that’s the case. I’m just making suggestions. That’s what I do. Suggest some theories and see which ones make sense after the dust settles.”
Jonathan was quiet. “I wish I had a response. Because it is strange, Akiva. Even in his grief, Chaim made it a point to ask me where you had gone after you heard the news. He seemed obsessed by your actions.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I didn’t know. Where did you go, Akiva? You left very suddenly.”
“I wasn’t wanted, Jon. It would have been inappropriate for me to intrude on their grief.”
“So where did you go?”
“Back into the city.”
“Why?”
“I figured maybe Detective Novack could fill me in on some crime details. He wasn’t in. I took a walk and got punched out for my efforts.”
Jonathan was satisfied with the explanation.
Decker said, “It might have helped me out if you had told me everything this morning, although I understand why you didn’t. You didn’t want to jeopardize anyone.”
“That, and I couldn’t break a confidentiality.”
“I wonder why the ‘source’ was so anxious for me to be out of the picture.”
“I can only assume that you were close to something, even if you didn’t know it.”
“So then I have to go back and figure out what I was close to.”
“No, what you have to do is leave, Akiva. Tonight. As scheduled.”
“What difference does it make now, Jon? She’s dead.”
“But you’re still alive. Now that I think about it, ‘out of the picture’ doesn’t sound promising. And I’m not sure if your punch wasn’t a warning, despite what you say. If something were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself. I think we should leave it up to the local police.”
“You’re right, but I’m not ready to let go. I’m sending Rina out, but I’m staying until Friday.”
“Akiva—”
“It’s decided, Jon. Don’t argue. You won’t win. You want to help me or not?”
“Of course I’ll help you. What do you need?”
“I need your wheels. As soon as Rina leaves, I’m going to find a cheap place in the city. Which means I’m going to have to give back Sora Lazarus’s car.”
“You will not find a cheap place anywhere in the city. You’ll stay with me. Don’t argue. It’s a done deal; I can be stubborn, too. And yes, you can have my car. But now you let me speak my mind. What you’re doing isn’t fair to Rina.”
Decker put another twenty down on the table. “Let me be the judge of that.” He got up. “Let’s go get the morgue out of the way.”
Jonathan rose from the table. “I suppose we should.”
“I’ll be with you the whole time.” Decker put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll get through it.”
“What choice do we have?”
Together they walked out, passing the stage production as they left. Same show, but different girls shaking tassels that hung from their nipples. Decker’s eyes went to the
patrons, flushed from sexual arousal and drinking, trembling hands and sweating palms stuffing twenties into the dancers’ thongs. Cheering the girls with each bump and grind, making kissy noises and obscene gestures.
Decker walked a few more paces, then did a double take. Sitting at a front table, drinking and hollering like an ace, was Quinton Police chief Virgil Merrin. His ultrablond hair was plastered wet against his pink scalp, his belly jiggling as he laughed and whooped.
Decker stopped moving. “Wait a sec, Jon.”
“What?”
“Just wait here for a sec.” Decker went over to Merrin. “Hi, Merrin, remember me?”
Merrin turned and looked up. He was in civilian clothing, his face and armpits wet, his body reeking of musty sweat. He stared at Decker, his pale eyes without recognition. It could have been the bruises.
“Lieutenant Peter Decker…LAPD. I asked you some questions about Shaynda Lieber.”
“Ah! Yeah, sure, I remember you, young man.” A stare. “What happened to your face?”
“Gotta watch those baseball bats.” He smiled. “I’m kidding.”
“I hope so.” A smile, but something behind it. “Have a seat.”
“No thanks. I was on my way out.”
The chief winked at him. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
Decker winked back. “How about this? You can tell—and I can tell.”
Merrin’s expression turned chilly. Decker continued to smile.
Locking eyes, but only for a few moments.
Then Decker left.
He glanced over his shoulder just the one time.
23
I know you’re upset—”
“Of course I’m upset! I’m very upset! This is horrible!”
Decker took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Rina wiped her eyes, then transferred the phone receiver to the other ear. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But still, I kept hoping.…”
“I know, honey, I know.”
“I don’t want to go to Florida without you, Peter. Why do you have to stay here? Can’t the police handle it?”
“Sure they can handle it.”
Silence.
Rina placed the receiver back on the original ear. Both ears were now hot. “You promise you’ll come out on Friday?”
