Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 09

by Prayers for the Dead

  He broke into a spasm of hacking. Rina banged his back. “Are you okay?”

  “S’cuse…” The two maids were holding large platters of cookies. Coughing, Decker moved out of their way.

  “Gracias.” They walked out of the kitchen.

  Decker coughed, held up a finger. “Your…mother…”

  “I’d be happy to introduce you to her,” Bram said. “Let me get you something to drink.” He walked over to the counter and began to pour punch into glasses. The kitchen door opened yet another time, reminding Decker of the old Ernie Kovacs skit…person after person coming out from the bathtub.

  It was Paul and he was fuming, eyes going a mile a minute. So focused on his ire, he didn’t notice Decker or Rina, just headed straight for his brother.

  To Bram’s back, he shouted, “He’s drunk! He’s saying vicious things! And I’m about to lose my cool! Rein him in now, Bram!”

  Eva barged in. “Bram, you’ve got to do something about Luke. He’s upsetting Mother!”

  Pink-cheeked, Bram said, “We’ve got company, people.”

  Paul pivoted, eyelids fluttering like wings when he spotted Decker. Eva’s pale face had reddened. Bram walked back to Decker, handed him a glass of punch. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

  “Of course.” It came out a hoarse whisper. Decker drank and cleared his throat. “I’ll just wait outside.”

  “Thank you.”

  Decker smiled, took Rina’s arm, and led her back into the living room. He cleared his throat again. “Well, that was pretty ugly.”

  Rina said nothing.

  Decker’s eyes scanned the room. Casually, he said, “Do you know the family, too?”

  “No, just Bram.”

  “Never met any of his siblings…his parents?”

  “Once.” Rina hugged herself. “Before Yitzchak became ill Bram invited us to his twenty-fifth birthday party—he and his two brothers, Luke and Paul. You know he’s a triplet?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s also an identical twin with Luke.”

  “Yes, I know that as well.”

  The one who’s drunk and is saying vicious things and is upsetting Mom.

  Decker prodded. “What was it like? The birthday party.”

  “I don’t remember too much. I do recall sticking out rather pointedly among all the church ladies. I didn’t talk much.”

  “Where was Yitzchak?”

  “Talking to the men. Not that there was a formal mechitza. But there was an invisible one.”

  “The sexes were separated?”

  “Informally, yes.”

  Offhandedly, he asked, “You recall any of his siblings? Surely he introduced you to them.”

  “I’m sure he did. But I don’t remember anyone too well except Bram…and Luke. And that’s only because he looked like Bram.”

  “Did you meet the doctor?”

  Rina thought. “Yes, I remember his father. A very…dignified-looking man. Very regal. But stiff.”

  “Goyishe?”

  “You said it, not me.” Rina looked up. “I owe him big, though. When Yitzchak fell ill, he gave us referrals. I never spoke to him directly. It was all through Bram.”

  “Bram set up the appointments?”

  “No, I set up the appointments, but Bram gave me the numbers. Looking back, Dr. Sparks must have made some prior phone calls. Because we got red carpet treatment.”

  “What about Bram’s mother? Did you meet her?”

  “I suppose I did although I don’t have a clear memory of her. I believe she, like most women, spent most of the time in the kitchen, supervising the food and help. There was a ton of food, none of which we could eat. Too bad because it looked good. And it was also a topic of conversation. ‘You’re not eating, dear? Are you feeling all right, dear?’” Rina smiled. “They all thought I was pregnant.”

  Decker smiled back. “Everyone seem to get along?”

  “I wasn’t paying any attention. Too busy being painfully uncomfortable. Can we stop talking about the past?”

  Decker was quiet. “I’m treading on sensitive ground here.”

  “Yes. It brings back memories that I’d just as soon forget.”

  “I’m sorry, Rina. Inconsiderate of me.” Decker rubbed his neck. “Although I am curious how a yeshiva bocher like Yitzchak hooked up with a Catholic priest.”

  Rina pretended not to hear, spotted Bram, his eyes searching the room. Once they found their target, Bram moved swiftly through the crowd, stopped at his twin’s side.

  Decker straightened up, observing. Neither he nor Rina spoke.

  Bram threw his arm around Luke’s shoulder, began to steer him toward the kitchen. Luke staggered as he walked, got sidetracked with people, giving them overstated hugs and big loopy smiles. But otherwise he made no attempt to break away from his brother.

  “The roping of tranquilized steer,” Decker said. “Rein him in, he did.”

  Rina said nothing.

  “Guy has a bad chemical problem, doesn’t he?”

  Rina shrugged ignorance.

  Decker tried to appear casual. “Yesterday, Luke admitted having a past problem. Yesterday, he also claimed he’d been sober for three years. Obviously, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Wonder what else he’s been lying about.”

  “Maybe the stress brought about a relapse.”

  Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Did Bram tell you that?”

  Rina’s eyes met her husband’s. “No. Any more questions, Lieutenant?”

  Decker held up his palms. “Okay, I’m pumping you. I’m just trying to get some insider background.”

  “Peter, I wish I could help you solve this. I wish I could tell you more about the family’s dynamics. But honestly, I didn’t know them. Just Bram. And since he’s not a suspect, I don’t see how I’m of any use.”

  Decker was quiet.

  Rina said, “He’s not a suspect, right?”

  “Right now I have no suspects. So everyone’s a suspect.”

  “C’mon—”

  “I’m serious—”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Rina, you’re entitled to your privacy. I won’t put you in the middle. But if something should happen, and your friend suddenly finds himself involved in this case, I don’t want you interfering on his behalf.”

  “Bram can take care of himself.”

  “No matter what, Rina. I’ve got a job to do. Which means I don’t want you talking to him until the case is resolved. Otherwise, my investigation will be tainted.”

  “You’re right. I understand.”

  Decker paused. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  Decker was in awe. “You’re being so reasonable.”

  “It happens. But don’t get too used to it.”

  “Nah, don’t want to spoil myself.”

  Rina smiled, hugged his arm again. Bram was trying to come their way, but kept getting waylaid by grim ladies in gray suits embracing him. If he was annoyed by the interruptions, his face didn’t reveal it. He had almost made it over when an attractive but anorexic blond woman with a severe haircut grabbed his arm, yanked him to her. Rina couldn’t tell what she was saying, but she was giving him an earful. His expression grew impatient…drained. The woman, dressed in black, seemed vaguely familiar.

  Dana?

  They looked funny together. Probably because his hair was so long and hers was so short. Within minutes, she broke down, wept on Bram’s shoulder. He held her, but wasn’t happy about it.

  “Who’s that?” Decker asked.

  “I thought you weren’t going to put me in the middle.”

  “Simple identification question,” he scoffed.

  “Peter, you’re being bad. But I’ll answer you anyway. I think she’s Luke’s wife, Dana. But I’m not positive.”

  Bram was trying to direct the woman away from the crowd, but he was less successful with her than he had been with Luke. Feet rooted on the floor, she kept clingin
g to him, sobbing and talking at the same time.

  Decker said, “He’s uncomfortable with her. Animosity, or is he like that with women?”

  Rina stroked her husband’s cheek. “Do I look like Freud?”

  Decker laughed. Rina hit his good shoulder and smiled.

  But it was an astute observation.

  Bram had always been reserved with women, including herself. He had only opened up after misfortune and grief had thrown them together. Rina had always chalked it off to his disastrous relationship with Dana. Her eyes moved away from Bram and landed on a well-dressed man talking expressively with his hands. Way too showy to be a member of the Sparks’s Fundamentalist Church.

  She said, “Do you know who that man is?”

  “Which man?”

  “All the way back and to the left. The one in the three-piece, pinstriped suit.”

  Decker’s eyes skied across the room. “You know, I bet that’s…excuse me, darlin’.”

  Decker walked away, leaving Rina alone. Her eyes went back to Bram and Dana. Amid the adult bodies, a little boy of around three pushed through everyone, ran up to Abram shouting, “Uncle Bram, Uncle Bram!”

  The woman turned fierce, screamed loudly, “Can’t you see that I’m talking!”

  People around them stopped conversing, stared at the woman. The boy’s face broke. Red-faced, Bram scooped the child into his arms, comforting him, patting his back as the boy snuggled into his uncle’s chest. The woman started crying again. This time, Bram was more forceful. Without grace, he grasped her arm and led her straight to the kitchen.

  Five minutes later, the priest reemerged, still holding the child. He spotted Rina, came over. Rina smiled at the boy, brushed hair out of bright green eyes.

  “Luke’s son?”

  “Yep.”

  “He looks exactly like you.” Rina laughed. “I mean your brother.”

  “I’ve got a great setup. The kid looks like me. I get all the fun and none of the responsibilities.”

  “Does Uncle Bram baby-sit a lot?”

  “Uncle Bram does baby-sit on occasion. But Uncle Bram has his own life. Where’s your husband?”

  “Talking to that man over there.” Rina pointed. “Who is he?”

  Bram’s eyes followed her extended finger. “Reginald Decameron. One of my father’s colleagues.”

  “Snappy dresser.”

  “Indeed, especially in this conservative crowd.” He spoke to his nephew. “You okay, Pooch?”

  The little boy nodded.

  “This is Peter. Peter the Pooch. As opposed to Peter the Lieutenant. We call him Pooch because no one can bark like Peter. You want to show Mrs. Laza—…show Mrs. Decker your bark, Pooch?”

  The boy shook his head, nestled deeper into the priest’s chest. Bram shifted the boy’s weight in his arms.

  Rina mouthed, “How’s Luke?”

  Bram’s face fell, shook his head. “How about getting Uncle Bram a cookie, Peter. A chocolate cookie. Think you can do that?”

  He set the child down, kneeled to talk to him.

  “Here’s a dime. You get me a big chocolate cookie, I’ll turn this dime into two dimes. You know I can do that, right?”

  Pooch nodded somberly. Bram kissed his cheek. “Go.”

  The boy didn’t move.

  “Come on. I’ll time you.” Bram looked at his watch and said, “Ready, set…go.”

  The boy scooted off. Bram stood up. “Works every time.”

  Rina hugged herself. “I’m sorry about Luke.”

  “If he’s that selfish, getting drunk at a time like this, I’m not going to waste my energies on him. I’ve got my mother to think about.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Thanks for asking. Actually, she seems better. At least, she’s crying. I find that healthy.”

  No one spoke.

  Bram said, “These things are good for her.”

  “What things?”

  “People…gatherings. Keeps her occupied. When we were growing up, she was very involved with the church. She held some sway being Doctor Sparks’s wife. But she used her position to get people motivated. Raised money by doing bakeoffs and yard sales. She spent a lot of time visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved. I’ve always admired her charitable nature. She’d cringe to hear me say this, because she’s not fond of Catholics, but I owe who I am to her.”

  “Why doesn’t she like Catholics?”

  Bram smiled. “She thinks we’re a bunch of foppish, overindulged idol-worshipers whose rituals border on paganism. And compared to the spare Fundamentalist service I grew up with, she has a point. I see Catholic tradition as beautiful, she sees it as theatrical. And of course, Protestants don’t recognize the Pope as the supreme head of the Christian Faith.”

  Rina laughed softly.

  “What?”

  “I never thought about dissension among Christians.”

  “No, to our shame, we are not a unified bunch. Just look at the Reformation, Martin Luther seducing nuns from the convent. He married one, as a matter of fact.”

  “That lout.”

  “Indeed. Even closer to home, Rina, look at your own religious denominations, look at your Orthodox Jewish sects. Didn’t you used to tell me how the Satmar Chassidim hated the Lubavitch Chassidim who fought with the Misnagdim—”

  “You have a very good memory.”

  “For some things.” He grew distant. “That was a long time ago. Yet, at this moment, the conversation is fresh in my mind. Funny how that works.”

  Rina bit her nail. “Peter doesn’t want me talking to you until the case is resolved. You understand his position.”

  Bram sighed. “Unfortunately, I do. And it’s a very good idea. Besides, we’ve both got our own lives now…separate lives…best to keep it that way.”

  Rina nodded. “As sad as it was…as hard as it was, it was wonderful to see you again, Abram. May God be a source of solace for you and your family. May He shine His eternal light your way. I wish you and your family only the best.”

  Bram regarded her eyes, his own warm and moist. “Thanks for coming down, Rina Miriam. You know you own a special place in my heart.”

  “The sentiment runs both ways.” Rina rubbed her arms. “I’m going to leave now. Could you please tell Peter I took a taxi back to the yeshiva.”

  “Of course.” Bram stuck his hands in his pants pockets, leaned against the wall. “Take care, Mrs. Decker. I’d hug you if I could. But as someone once told me, people talk.”

  “Yes, they do.” Rina smiled at him. “Besides, Father, we have our proprieties.”

  “Absolutely.” Bram regarded her with loving eyes. “Consider yourself hugged anyway.”

  “Ditto.” Rina smiled back, then walked away.

  15

  Decameron said, “This man is Lieutenant Decker, Liz. He’s in charge of Azor’s investigation. Lieutenant, Dr. Elizabeth Fulton.”

  Decker shook her hand, noticing long, slender fingers. Her face was grave, but childlike—waifish with big brown eyes. Her hair was auburn and bushy. Little Orphan Annie had grown up to be a doctor. She wore a trim black wool suit, the short skirt showing long, shapely legs.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything,” Liz said.

  Decameron said, “Darling, even Sherlock needed a couple of days before he pronounced.”

  Liz said, “Don’t they say most homicides are solved within forty-eight hours?”

  “Then the man still has thirty to go,” Decameron stated. “No smoking gun?”

  “Wish it were so.”

  “Keep digging, Lieutenant. Everyone has a past.” Decameron smiled. “Would you like to hear about mine?”

  “I’m listening, Doctor.”

  “Reggie, don’t be tasteless.”

  “Two charges of solicitation, both over eighteen,” Decameron said. “I’m not a baby raper, I detest NAM-BLA and its perverts, disavow anything that harms children. I’m simply queer—”

  �
�Reggie—”

  “One charge was thrown out, the other stuck. Azor just about boxed me when he found out. But I ate shit and he relented.” Decameron looked away. “For all his rigidity and fanaticism, Azor was a soft touch.”

  “Court put you on probation, Dr. Decameron?”

  “Six months plus one hundred hours of community service.” Decameron grinned. “I worked in Boys Town.” He grew serious. “It wasn’t bad actually. The critters grew fond of me. This was back…maybe two and a half years ago. I still pop in about once a month. How’s that for being Joe Q Citizen?”

  “You read them alternative bedtime stories, Reggie?” Liz said.

  “Hansel and Hans.” Decameron cocked his hip. “Actually, I do bona fide patient care. You’d be proud of me, Liz. I’m very doctorly.”

  She looked at him. “That’s nice, Reg.”

  “What do you do?” Decker asked.

  “Not much. Most runaways are in deplorable health. Their bodies are battered from drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, malnutrition plus adolescent hormones. Basically, I put Band-Aids on surgical wounds. Give them medicine for the obvious infections and dispense words of Welbyan advice. Tell them there’s a better way, tell them there’s a life out there, tell them to be more cautious. It’s like telling me to be straight. One ear and out the other. C’est la vie. You can’t save the world. Speaking of miscreants, how’s your husband, Elizabeth?” He turned to Decker. “Have you met Drew?”

  Liz glared at Decameron. “Thank God you’re back to normal. For a moment, I almost liked you.”

  “Where is the little puppy?”

  “Reggie, knock it off.”

  “What about Myron Berger, Lieutenant?” Decameron asked. “Have you met the last of Azor’s three stooges?”

  “This morning.”

  “I suppose he brought up my tiff with Azor.”

  “I brought it up, Reg,” Liz said.

  Decameron’s eyes widened. “Et tu, Judas?”

  “You’re mixing your metaphors.” Liz paused. “As a matter of fact, the police brought it up to me. They said you told them about it.”

  “I did indeed…to head Myron off.” To Decker, Decameron said, “And what did Dr. Berger tell you? I was spouting smoke through my nostrils, ready to kill Azor for dressing me down in public?”