Faye Kellerman - Decker 04 - Day of Atonement

by Day of Atonement

  Decker grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and came back on the line. 'What's going on?'

  'I heard from Noam,' Miriam said. 'He was hysterical. Crying... sobbing. He was talking about something bad that he did. A terrible, terrible aveyrah. Something he did to a man he met in a bar. He was talking so fast, I don't think I got it all down. I didn't know who to call—'

  'You did the right thing by calling me,' Decker said. 'Slow down a moment, Miriam.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  A male voice in the background said, 'Did you tell him about the gun?'

  Miriam said, 'Not yet.'

  Decker said, 'Wait. Slow down, Miriam, and listen carefully. I'm going to take you over the conversation step by step. OK?'

  'OK,' she said. 'I'm sorry—'

  'You don't need to apologize,' Decker said. 'You did the right thing. First, when did he call?'

  'I just hung up with him.'

  'OK,' Decker said. 'Did he say where he was?'

  'I asked him,' Miriam said. 'First thing I said is "Noam where are you?" But he didn't answer. All he did is talk. More like rambling. He didn't make much sense. He was talking so fast, I could barely get a word in edgewise.'

  'Like he was talking on the run?' Decker asked.

  'Exactly.'

  Sneaking away from Hersh to make a telephone call. The two of them must still be together. Damn, damn, damn. He should have had answering machines hooked up to all the relatives' phones. Most have recording devices. Press a button, the entire conversation would have been taped. A stupid slipup on his part.

  Miriam said, 'I guess I should have pressed him on his exact location. But you told us he had checked into a motel in Los Angeles, so I guess I assumed that's where he was. I was so shocked and he was talking so fast. It was five in the morning—My goodness! it must be two-thirty for you.'

  Two-thirty-six to be exact. Decker said, 'At least we finally have proof that Noam's still alive. That's really good. Now sit back and relax, Miriam. I'm going to ask you a lot of questions. OK?'

  'OK.'

  'First thing,' Decker said. 'The phone rings, you pick it up.'

  'Yes.'

  'What's the first thing Noam said?'

  'Uh, something like "Tanti Miriam, it's me and I'm in terrible trouble." '

  'He didn't identify himself?'

  'Uh, no,' Miriam said. 'No, he didn't. But I recognized his voice. He used to come over here a lot. He likes my cooking.'

  'He must also trust you to call you,' Decker said. 'OK, Noam says he's in trouble and what do you say?'

  'I asked him where he was.'

  'And he didn't answer?'

  •No.'

  'Then what did he say?'

  'He said he was in big, big trouble. Worse trouble than I could imagine. He did something terrible - a big aveyrah, one that even Yom Kippur couldn't take care of. I asked him what the aveyrah was and he said that he did something terrible to... to some queer man he met—'

  'Hold it,' Decker said. 'Noam said the words "queer man"?'

  'Uh, I believe so.'

  'Or did he just used the word "queer"?' Decker said.

  Miriam was hesitant. 'Maybe he just said "queer".'

  'As in homosexual?' Decker said.

  'Maybe that was the meaning,' Miriam said.

  Decker said, 'What were Noam's exact words, Miriam?'

  'Uh, "I did a terrible aveyrah to a queer I met in a bar." '

  •In after?'

  'Yes,' Miriam said. 'In a bar. I thought that was very odd, too. I asked him what did he do, but he wouldn't tell me.'

  'Did Noam say, "I can't tell you," or did he just ignore the question?'

  'He just ignored the question. All he said was that he did something terrible to this queer man he picked up in a bar downtown—'

  "Downtown?" Decker asked. 'Noam used the word "downtown"?'

  'Yes,' Miriam said. 'Yes, he did. He said he picked up a queer man in a bar downtown. Does that help you?'

  'I don't know,' Decker said.

  Downtown Los Angeles was not a place to find gay bars. Downtown San Francisco was. Maybe the two of them hopped a plane north. Or it could be Noam was in West Hollywood - the primary bastion of the L.A. gay community. It had some tall buildings. Maybe it looked like downtown to Noam.

  Miriam said, 'He kept saying he did a terrible thing. My mind was racing so fast. What would Noam be doing with a... homosexual and how did he get into a bar? Then, he said he had this gun, but he didn't use it. But he still did a terrible aveyrah. Again, I asked him what did he do? But he didn't answer me.'

  'He said he had a gun?'

  'Yes,' Miriam said. 'Then he said he really didn't use it. I don't know what he meant. I don't know if he tried to rob this poor man or... or force him to do something... or...'

  Or even worse, Decker thought. He was writing as she spoke. 'Goon.'

  'He asked for my forgiveness,' she said. 'Begged for it. I said everything would be all right, he would be OK, but he needed to go to the police, right now Whatever he did, he should go to the police. Then we could help him.' She began to cry. 'That was the wrong thing to say. He hung up. I should have told him I love him. I should have told him how much we miss him and how much his parents love him. I should have told him that no matter what, he was forgiven. I should have told him a dozen things... and now it's too late. I'm such an idiot—'

  Decker said, 'It took you by surprise. You did great.'

  •I didn't—'

  'You did,' Decker assured her. He heard her sniff over the line. 'You did great.'

  'He was talking so fast,' she said. 'And I was so confused...'

  'Miriam, did Noam mention any names of people? Any streets, establishments, landmarks?'

  'Just the bar.' ,

  'He told you he picked up the homosexual in a bar?'

  ?Yes.'

  'Did he tell you the name of the bar?'

  'No.'

  Decker asked, 'Did he call the bar just a bar? Or did call it a queer bar or a gay bar? Or a lounge? Did he mention eating there?'

  'He just called it a bar,' Miriam said. 'He was talking so fast. Just that he picked up a...queer... I hate that word. Why do the kids use it?'

  Because kids can be little bastards, Decker thought. He said, 'How did he know the man was gay?'

  'I don't know,' Miriam said.

  'OK,' Decker said. 'When he called, did you hear any background noises?'

  'Uh, maybe there were some,' Miriam said. 'I wasn't really paying attention to any other noises.'

  'That's normal,' Decker said. 'Let me ask you this. Could you hear his voice very clearly? As clear as my voice, for instance.'

  'Your voice is clearer,' she said. 'Maybe I'm more awake.' She pause. 'You know, he might have been calling from a phone booth. When I think about it, it sounded like a phone-booth line. There was traffic in the background. You know, the sound of cars passing by.'

  •A lot of traffic? A little?'

  'Medium.'

  'Whooshing sort of sounds?'

  'Exactly.'

  'Did you hear any sort of a siren?' Decker asked.

  'No.'

  'The traffic sounds you heard,' Decker said. 'Any of the sounds rumble, seem to shake up the line?'

  A long pause. 'Yes,' Miriam said.

  She sounded impressed.

  'Good,' Decker said. 'How many times, Miriam?'

  'Urn... maybe three or four times.'

  'And how long did you talk to Noam?'

  'About two minutes.'

  Three to four rumbling sounds in two minutes. Trucks roaring by. And a medium amount of whooshing traffic noise at two-thirty A.M. A concentration of cars driving fast. It seemed logical that Noam had placed the call close to a freeway. There were no freeways in West Hollywood or in the heart of downtown San Francisco. No thoroughfares or highways in either location. But there were plenty of freeways in the downtown L.A. area.

  'Noam said he had a gun,' Decker repeated.


  'Yes.'

  'But he didn't use it?'

  'Exactly.'

  'Did he mention any shooting?'

  'No... no shooting. Just that he had a gun and he didn't use it.'

  Decker stopped a moment. Sounded to him like Noam and Hersh had rolled a gay. Used a gun as a prop and robbed him. With any degree of luck, it was just a simple robbery. But Decker was dubious. Noam kept using the phrase 'a terrible aveyrah' - a grievous sin. Would a kid like Noam consider simple robbery with no one getting hurt a grievous sin?

  'Did he mention blood?'

  'No, nothing like that. Just that he did a terrible aveyrah.' Miriam stopped talking. Then she said, 'I haven't called my brother yet. I called you first thing.'

  'You did right,''Decker said. 'I'm going to work on it right now.'

  'Should I phone my brother?'

  Her voice was very hesitant. Decker said, 'I'll make the call if you want. But Ezra's going to call you anyway. He'll want to talk to you directly.'

  'You're right,' Miriam said. 'I'll call him myself. I dread it but I'll do it. Why didn't he call his parents?'

  'He was probably too ashamed,' Decker said.

  'Why me?' Miriam was talking more to herself than to Decker. 'Why mel Oh well. At least he called someone. If only I would have handled it right...'

  'You did fine,' Decker said. 'Miriam, I want you and all your family to go out and buy a phone machine that can record conversations—'

  'Oh, my goodness!' Miriam exclaimed. 'We have that kind of machine! I didn't even think of it. How stupid!'

  'Well, I forgot to tell you to use it,' Decker said. 'So I won't berate me if you don't berate yourself, OK?'

  'OK.'

  Decker then gave her very specific instructions on what to do if Noam called again. What to say, what to ask, what to listen for. How to calm him down. Then he told her to pass all the information on to the rest of the family. He also suggested that the family consider consulting with an attorney. Those words of advice were met with silence. Finally, Miriam agreed it was a good idea.

  When Decker was done, she said, 'Akiva, I can't tell you how much my family appreciates—'

  'My pleasure,' Decker said, cutting her off.

  'No,' Miriam said. 'No, it isn't your pleasure. It isn't the way anyone should spend their honeymoon. Yesterday, Shimon said what you were doing was the highest form of tzedakah and all of us agreed with him. Real charity is not just giving money. It's not just giving an hour here or there for an organization. Real tzedakah is giving... is giving of yourself.' She started to cry again. 'Thank you so much.'

  'It's OK—'

  'It's not OK.'

  'Really, it is.'

  'Please thank Rina, too,' she sobbed.

  'I will.'

  'Shana tova tikatevu ve teychatemu.'

  Decker thought about repeating the blessing back to her, but decided his mind wasn't functioning properly enough to get the Hebrew right. 'Same to you and your family.'

  Family, he thought. The woman was his half sister. He'd never had a sister. Of course, he really didn't have one now. He wished her well, hung up the phone, and gave Rina a synopsis of what had happened as he dressed.

  'Fllusethetelephoneinthediningroom,' he said. 'You go back to sleep.'

  'I'm wide awake,' she said. 'Use the telephone here.'

  'Nah, I'll probably be going out shortly.' Decker pulled up his trousers, slipped on a white shirt. 'When it's quiet you'll get sleepy.'

  'I wish I could help you.'

  'You could help me by getting some sleep.'

  'I love you.'

  'Love you, too.'

  Rina stared at him a moment. He appeared asymmetrical. 'Your shirt's cockeyed, Peter.'

  Decker looked down. His shirttail was two inches longer on the right. He'd missed a button.

  'I'll fix you up/ Rina said. She gave him a kiss on the neck.

  'I love it when you dress me.' Decker paused, then said, 'I love it better when you undress me.'

  Smiling, Rina finished buttoning his shirt, then gave him a light pat on his rear. 'You be careful out there.'

  It had been ages since anyone had said that to him. Ten, even fifteen years. Detective work wasn't dangerous. Still, he was touched that she had said it. It was nice to matter to someone.

  So far the night had buried six bodies, four of the homicides the outcome of gang warfare in Southeast Division. There had also been a fatal stabbing at a bar in Hollenbeck - all parties accounted for - and an irate wife had shot her cheating husband in bed with his lover in the Devonshire district. Which meant that either Noam's victim had yet to be found or Noam's aveyrah, his grievous sin - was not murder.

  The sin could have been assault or robbery. For such a religious boy, it could even have been anal intercourse with the man he supposedly picked up. Supposedly. Without hearing him directly, without talking to him, it was hard for Decker to assess the accuracy of the call.

  He called West Hollywood Sheriffs Station and asked about the nightly activity. A Detective Jack Cleveland reported no murders. There had been assaults but all the suspects involved had been apprehended. The rest of the roster was taken up by burglaries and robberies - none

  of the details seemed to match the information Noam Levine had given his aunt. It was useless to go down and start questioning the patrons of local gay bars. Nothing public was open at this hour. He'd come back to it if necessary.

  Next he phoned Central Substation. Downtown L.A. At last, he received some promising information. An ADW had gone down about four hours ago in an alley near the Hall of Records. The detective just assigned to the case was named Felipe Benderhoff. He reported that the victim - a six-one, two-hundred-pound, middle-aged WM named Thomas Stoner - was in serious but stable condition at Good Sam. Rather than get the details over the phone, Decker asked Benderhoff if he'd mind waiting for him to come down. It'd be easier to talk to him directly. Benderhoff said if Decker had some solid leads, he'd be happy to wait.

  Decker hung up and tiptoed into the bedroom. Rina had conked out, her body entwined with the bedcovers. He smiled and imagined her leg draped around him instead of the quilt. He kept that picture in his mind as he rode the freeway to downtown.

  Central Substation, on the corner of Wall and Sixth, was a block-long brick, windowless building fronted by an ornate mosaic of LAPD's finest at work. Catercorner to it was the Greyhound Bus Terminal, a haven for the homeless on a rainy night. The other two corners were occupied by parking lots. Upon first glance, they seemed empty. But Decker took a further look and before long all sort of furtive, feral things started darting through the darkness. Central was deep inside the mean streets, the surrounding blocks taken up by mental cases cursing at the moon, by drunks and addicts huddled under

  doorposts, shivering in tatters. Then there were the dealers. There was a watch spot right on the roof of the stationhouse. Officers would watch the buy go down with a telescope and swoop in for the arrest. But it was like an eagle going after an anthill. Mess things up for a moment, but come back the next day, there's another anthill.

  He parked the unmarked in the back lot, entered the reception area and was escorted to the detectives' squad room by a black plainclothes cop whose biceps were straining the sleeves of his shirt. The room was good-sized, much larger than Foothill, but it wasn't furnished any better. The desks were either metal or raw wood and none of the chairs matched. Decker did notice that they had computers at most desks and push-button speaker phones.

  Crimes Against Persons - CAPS - was situated against the back wall next to the lockers. A dark-complexioned man - the only person in the squad room - was seated at one of the desks, poring over some forms. He looked up when Decker entered. He was in his mid-thirties and had a long face capped by thick black hair. His nose was flat, his cheeks stretched over pronounced cheekbones. His eyebrows were bushy and topped startling bright blue eyes. He told Decker he was Benderhoff and motioned him over.

  'Take a load of
f, Sergeant.'

  Decker swung the seat around and sat with his chest leaning against the back of the chair. On top of the detective's desk was a placard that read 'LIFE'S A bitch,

  THEN YOU MARRY ONE.'