The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  I lit a cigarette, and grabbed a tighter grip on my frustration. Maybe Simon was right and this wasn’t Spy vs. Spy. Maybe the attempted hit had left me susceptible to Cheryl and Julie’s flights of fantasy. But there was no maybe about Father Collins’s artificial friendliness, the professional way I’d been run off the road, the small sleek pistol in Deirdre’s apartment.

  “I only have to be right once to make my paranoia worthwhile.”

  “I didn’t call you paranoid,” Simon quickly interjected. “I don’t know how I would react if a couple of thugs ran me off the road and took shots at me. I’m just saying that something like that tends to skew your thinking.”

  “Okay, Simon, say I’m skewed about the IRA. You don’t think I’m skewed about Reb Yonah, do you?”

  He hesitated a long time before he responded. “Truthfully, no. I think you’re onto something. Rabbi or not, I don’t like or trust him.” Simon leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. “But it’s a long spit to tie him into a conspiracy with the White Avengers or the IRA. Personally, I like your idea about blackmail. The Avengers get something ugly on Reb Yonah and hit him up. He pays off with diamonds.”

  “With Rabbi Dov dead, the Never Agains waltz through open doors.”

  “Shit happens,” Simon agreed.

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  He swung his feet down and rolled his leather chair out from behind the desk. “I know exactly what you mean and I think it’s crazy. Reb Yonah might be a Never Again groupie, but a Hasid doesn’t kill a Rebbe. They don’t pay to have it done either. I have to call you on this one. Hell,you’ve always been phobic about religion and right now you’re grabbing a face to hang it on.”

  “I don’t feel good sending the boy back home without knowing the truth.”

  “Matt, get real. You don’t feel good about sending the boy home, period.”

  Everything he said seemed sensible. I’d fallen off enough bar stools to know that truth rarely comes wrapped in a tightly ribboned package, all questions asked, all answered. But I had seen the gun, believed Blue, and worried about sending Yakov home. I might not find all the answers, might end up agreeing that IRA footsteps were a product of overheated fear. But I couldn’t quit until I resolved my concern for Yakov; I still clung to a world of real people.

  “Let’s find out.”

  “Find out what?” he asked with exasperation.

  “Let’s find out about our Reb Yonah. Let’s see if he knows something that clears things up. At least we can learn whether I sent the kid back to a safe situation.”

  Simon shook his head skeptically. “This isn’t a detective talking, Matt. You’re back to social work.”

  “So what? I don’t believe you’d feel real comfortable hearing something happened to the boy. I’m not talking about his father hurting him, I’m worried about the Never Agains. If they believe he knows something damaging…”

  “No one from the Never Agains is going to harm Reb Yonah’s kid.”

  “I’m not arguing the odds, just the possibility. Let’s make sure. Simon, I’m not going to rest easy until I know what really happened between Kelly and Yonah.”

  “And how are we supposed to find all this out?”

  “We’ll ask him. I have enough information to lean pretty hard.”

  Simon looked amused and interested. “And if he doesn’t talk?”

  “Then we’re in no worse shape than we are now.”

  He placed his hands on either side of his head. “You aren’t paranoid, you’re completely crazy. You want us to toast a Hasidic Rabbi and hope he has something to hide. If he does, we learn what and he keeps quiet. But if he doesn’t break or has nothing to hide, you say we’re no worse off.”

  Simon groaned again. “You’re no worse off. It’s my ass that gets hung from a tree. The second we leave, Reb Yonah screams persecution, and every Jewish organization lands on me like I was a fucking airport. My name will be Judas.”

  “I know where you can get new business cards.”

  “I like my cards. I like having a business. All Reb Yonah has to do is say you’re crazy. He’d be right.”

  I shrugged. “If you don’t help you’re fucked anyway. I’ll go to the cops and they’ll work on him. Believe me, Reb Yonah will know who sent them. If it’s us and not the police, you can always say we were clearing up loose ends and Yonah misinterpreted. But if Downtown asks the questions, you’ll be dealing with more than miscommunication. I don’t think the organizations that are squeezing your chops will distinguish between you and your trusted employee.”

  Simon’s face broke into a sardonic smile. “I knew it was coming. You always hold an ace, don’t you?”

  “This is the only one I have. From here on in it’s a bluff.”

  “Blind man’s bluff, you prick.”

  “So you’ll help?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Simon. You don’t cave this easy unless you want to.”

  Simon rolled his chair slowly back behind his desk. “I already told you I despise the Never Agains and I don’t like Reb Yonah. I’ll take some heat for holding their feet to the fire, but I think you are going to come up short and foolish.”

  “I’ll break him.”

  Simon ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’ll do, but even if he gives you what you think you want, you’ll end up frustrated and dissatisfied. That’s my Matt.” He pushed his hair away from his eyes but this time smiled mischievously. “Now what is it you want me to do?”

  After I told him, his smile turned sour. “You don’t want the kid there?” he asked

  incredulously. “Why not? He’s your crowbar.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t worried about him. I’m not trying to ruin his fucking life.”

  “Maybe you care about the boy but this ‘ruin his life’ routine is rationalized bullshit. A minute ago you were threatening to send troops. How would that have helped the kid? Call it the way it really is: you don’t quit until you’re good and ready. You were the same way with your first goddamn marriage and the same way about everything that happened between us.”

  “I wasn’t going to call the cops; I knew you were going to help.”

  “Damn right you knew. And, I’m sure you have some real feelings about the boy. But don’t lie to yourself about you.” He lifted the phone but kept his hand on a button. “You’re absolutely certain you don’t want Yakov there? It’s the best chance of getting Reb Yonah to talk.”

  “I’m sure.”

  It took about a half hour of telephone calls, call backs, and heated discussions before a meeting time was finally arranged. We would gather at Reb Yonah’s house after nightly prayers, a time when the Yeshiva students ate dinner. Simon didn’t mention me throughout any of the conversations. Given the heated exchanges, it seemed like a wise omission. Once I arrived Yonah would find it impossible to slam the door in my face.

  After Simon finished the setup he sent me home. He was angry, already regretting his participation. We were better off by ourselves. I agreed to meet him in front of the Rabbi’s house a couple of minutes before the meeting.

  It wasn’t a triumphant ride back to my apartment, but it had its moments. Though I was still flying blind, there was a smell of finish in the air. I had to be careful not to allow that smell to slow me down or drag me back to the couch.

  As soon as I got home I went upstairs. Lou glanced up from the kitchen table when I entered his apartment. “You look better than the last time I saw you, Matty, but not by much. You could use three more days of solid sleep.”

  “That bad, huh? Well, do you have any caffeine?”

  “The water is hot for tea.” He bustled about adding a piece of his pie to the offer. I sat quietly, trying to maintain the satisfaction I’d felt while driving home. But the heady hint of finish kept slipping away, obscured by pangs of doubt. I told myself that doing right by me meant doing right for
Yakov, only the mantra didn’t work: I felt like shit, and it showed.

  “What’s the matter, Boychik?” Lou asked once he was seated. “This is more than tired.”

  I tried a smile but quit halfway through. Instead, I hurriedly recounted Yakov’s visit.

  Lou’s face sobered but he waited for me to continue.

  “The boy was sick about it. Really trapped. He didn’t know what to do, keep it a secret, tell, or what.”

  “He trusted enough to come to you?”

  “Sort of. It was like he was committing patricide. I tried to calm his fears and make it possible for him to return home.”

  “Do you actually think Reb Yonah had a hand in the Rebbe’s death? Or in what happened to you the other night?”

  “I don’t know, Lou. He had something working. At the very least he’s a pulling guard for Never Agains. I keep wondering if I did the right thing by sending Yakov back.”

  Lou grunted, refilled our cups with more hot water, dipped the used teabags, and returned with the cups to the table. I didn’t say anything about the three squares of sugar he dropped into his tea.

  “But you don’t really believe Reb Yonah was involved in the shooting, do you?”

  “You keep asking me that,” I said. “He knew Kelly, he shot Kelly. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  Lou looked at me and carefully chose his words. “Are you going to tell me about the other night? The blood, the dirt?”

  “Sometime. Not right now.”

  Lou let it pass then trapped me with a right hook. “This friendship you have with the boy puts you in a difficult position, doesn’t it?”

  “Seems to. I thought I was finished mixing him up with Becky, but now I’m not even sure of that.”

  Lou smiled. “It’s never possible to be certain about something like that, Boychik.”

  I rubbed my face. “I’m finding out. So I run over to Simon and convince him we have to grill the Rabbi. He sets up a meet for tonight. Driving home I’m cheering. Now I’m thinking, what the fuck did I get myself into? If I break the Rabbi down and find out he’s been up to something, what’ll I have? If I do something I hurt the kid. If I don’t, I’m left with an unhappy me. The situation isn’t only difficult, Lou. The situation sucks.”

  Lou shook his head. “What’s the difference, Matty?” he said sharply. “You’re not going to stop. You won’t let it rest until you’re satisfied. It doesn’t matter who will be unhappy or who won’t be.”

  Lou’s echo of Simon’s earlier accusation stung. “Including the kid?”

  “Including the kid. Will he be there?”

  “No. At least I made sure of that.”

  “But Reb Yonah could go to jail?”

  “I’ll tell you something, Lou. I doubt I’d go to the police even if he was guilty.”

  “Because…?”

  “Because I don’t think I could take the kid’s father away from him and live with myself. Believe it or not, I have some limits.”

  “I don’t think you want to hurt the boy, Matty.” Lou sat thinking then said, “Anyway, why should you know now what you will do later? Find out what’s going on, then make your decisions.”

  “A little fast and loose, no?”

  “Everything in life is fast and loose, Boychik. We just pretend it isn’t.”

  “I could use a little help.”

  His eyes lit up. “What kind of help?”

  “First, you can tell me something. I found a couple of gray, I don’t know, stones I guess, wrapped in a lined origami-like envelope. They looked like dirty lumps of frosted ice. It would make case sense if they were diamonds, but they looked like dull pebbles.”

  “I can’t tell you for certain unless I looked at them, but they could be roughs. Before the gem cutters clean and shape. It’s possible you saw industrial diamonds, but those usually aren’t wrapped in diamond paper.”

  “Good. Could you call your friend in New York and see if he knows anything about Reb Yonah’s dealings?”

  Lou shook his head dubiously. “I’ll call, but don’t expect much useful information. People in that business keep their hands very close to the vest and their mouths sealed.”

  I chugged the rest of my tea and stood. “You don’t mind trying?”

  “Of course not. It will give me pleasure.”

  “Thanks, Lou. I’ll be downstairs. Give me a ring if you dig something up?”

  He didn’t bother to say goodbye. He just nodded while he hoisted himself from the kitchen chair and headed toward the telephone.

  I should have stayed upstairs with my father-in-law. As soon as I walked back into my apartment, the couch sang its siren’s song, seducing me horizontal. I resisted as long as I could by smoking in the kitchen but finally succumbed. Though the song whispered sleep, horizontal had me rolling around with fresh waves of doubt. I smoked a little dope and tried television, but things were heading south. I had time to kill but if I spent it like this, the time was gonna kill me first.

  Thankfully, a couple of television reruns, nicotine, and a little more marijuana later, Lou’s telephone call dragged me vertical.

  “Matty, I spoke to my friend.” His excitement eliminated any pause between words. “He took a while to track down but I finally caught him. I spent a lot of time shmoozing about the olddays, but whenever I brought up Reb Yonah he became very guarded. He told me everyone was still talking about Reb Dov’s murder and Reb Yonah’s reaction. But as hard as I tried, my friend was very reluctant to discuss Reb Yonah’s diamond dealing.”

  “Did he say anything specific? Anything at all?” I heard the bite in my voice and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, Lou. It’s already been a long day and it’s only late afternoon.”

  “Don’t apologize, Matty, you have plenty on your mind. My friend doesn’t like the diamond people Yonah deals with. I’m sorry but that was the most I could get.”

  “That’s enough,” I lied. “Every little bit of information will help when I put on the screws.”

  “Boychik, stop goosing me. You were hoping for more details.”

  “Yeah. But I’ve been hoping for that ever since I got this damn case. You’d think I’d stop hoping already.”

  “Why? It doesn’t cost you.”

  “Says who? Damn, I wish I knew for certain I’d seen diamonds.”

  “Oh, Boychik, I nearly forgot. God, how I hate that! Promise me something, Matty. If I get too old to remember which hand I use to wipe my tush, you’ll shoot me.”

  “I’ll shoot you today if you don’t tell me what he said.”

  Lou chuckled, delighting in his usefulness. “My lanzmann said that lately Reb Yonah traded in New York but brought the stones home to get cut locally. He said it was unusual for people to front for something like that.”

  “What was he trying to say?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s when he clammed up. I’d guess the roughs you saw were on consignment.”

  “It makes sense. Listen, Lou, this helps, no bull.”

  “Matty, you still have a couple of hours until your meeting, don’t you?” His excitement was gone.

  “Yeah. Do you need something?”

  “No, I’m fine. But I can tell you need to get out. Come up here if you’d like. You’ll only make yourself miserable if you lay around your apartment.”

  “Thanks, Lou. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  But I didn’t. As much as I felt supported by Lou’s concern, the day already had too many ghosts. I didn’t want more stories about the old days. Instead, I debated visiting Deirdre and Collins. I had hoped that leaving little signs in Deirdre’s apartment would apply pressure; now I thought it a dumb do. A tip to simply remove the gun and gems. Sometimes I paid extra for buying my license.

  It made sense to crack the Rabbi before confronting Deirdre or the priest since I had no leverage to stop a simple stonewall. Problem was, I was impatient to push their side of the street. I called the question by getting to my feet a
nd strapping on my holster. There was no reason not to do a little leaning. Call it a short prelude to a real meal. Anyway, Lou was right; if I stayed home I’d make myself miserable.

  On my way to their neighborhood I realized fall’s brisk chill had aged into winter’s uncomfortable cold. The past week’s blurring of days and nights, its difficult emotional rollercoaster, had robbed me of my habituated certainties. No matter how many years slipped by, the oranges, yellows, and rust red leaves always held promise of change. Then, each winter, I would reluctantly discover there was nothing to the promise. This year I hadn’t even noticed the colors.

  Overcast and gray, the early evening darkness added a gloomy and desolate pall to the world outside my car’s tinted windows. Everything looked old and shabby and swiped at my energy. The grime reminded me of the first or second day on the case. The day I went looking for the White Avengers at Buzz’s.

  I drove past Deirdre’s house hoping for lights, saw none, and kept on driving. No way I was going to porch it in the wind and cold. I considered letting myself into her apartment, but instead drove to the church and parked up the block. I fished a cigarette from my pack and smoked. With half an eye I watched a couple of cars speed by, one parking behind a van close to the church. I didn’t pay much attention. I was too busy regretting that I’d finished all the coke.

  But finished it I had. Every little granule. I walked toward the church and planned my approach to Father Collins. Lost in thought, I didn’t even recognize the car I’d seen park until its passenger door slammed into my passing body.

  I doubled over with a grunt of surprised pain. Before I could resist, a hand groped my unzipped jacket and dragged me back toward the open door. I started to squirm away, but as soon as I saw who was attached to the hand, I stopped flailing. When he saw my nod of recognition, he let go, slid behind the wheel, and pointed to the seat. I reluctantly forced myself inside and closed the door.

  He didn’t give me time to buckle up. I grabbed the roof grip as he shot down the street a block or two before screeching to a stop, the car’s right front wheel scraping against the curb.

  “How you manage to stay alive is beyond me,” Washington Clifford said without hiding his disgust.