Stone Kiss

18

You were restless last night.” Rina buttered her toast. “I didn’t give you enough of a workout?”

Decker lifted his eyes from the paper. “If my heart had been beating any faster, I would have had a coronary.” He rolled his shoulders. “It’s the darn bed. It’s the size of a matchbox with hay for mattress stuffing.”

“You know, Peter, I have the plane reservations on hold. Ephraim’s funeral is scheduled for three in the afternoon.”

“Today?”

“Yes, today. Apparently, the body was released last night. We could pay a shiva call afterward and be out on a flight to your parents by ten tonight if we start packing now.”

Decker dropped his voice. “I need to stick around for another day.”

Rina was holding toast. Her hand froze somewhere between the table and her mouth. “You’re on to something.”

“Could be.”

“It has to be strong to keep you here. You couldn’t wait to go.”

“You’re right.”

“Can I ask what it is?”

“Not yet.”

It was Donatti, of course. But Rina couldn’t say anything. She sipped coffee and picked up a copy of Agudath Yisroel’s Guide to Kashruth.

Decker put down the newspaper. “I’m not cutting you short. I’m just trying to be cautious.”

“Of course.”

He took her hand. “Look, darling, why don’t you and Hannah leave for Florida tonight-”

“No.”

“My mother would be thrilled. We both know she likes you better than she likes me. And she likes Hannah better than both of us.”

“Peter, I’m not leaving without you. We all leave tomorrow morning. One more day won’t hurt. As a matter of fact, why don’t you call up the station house and just take the whole week off. We can spend more time with your parents. We won’t have to rush things. Rush, rush, rush. And what is the hurry? To solve one more case that’s going to be processed through the overloaded justice system? We’re not getting younger.”

“You mean I’m not getting younger. You’re still young.”

“I’m almost forty-”

“Oh please!” Decker glared at her. “You’re thirty-eight and you look twenty-two. I’m fifty and look every inch of it.”

“Well, I think you’re very handsome.”

Decker smiled. “That was sweet. Thank you.”

Rina said, “There are loads of things to do in this city. I can take Hannah to the zoo or the Botanical Garden or the Met. I can go over to YU and bug Sammy. I can shop. Things are much cheaper here. Just tell me for what time should I rebook the flight. Tuesday morning? How about Tuesday night-just in case?”

“Tuesday night is fine. And you’re right. I’ll call up the station and take the entire week off. It’ll make my parents happy, and we’ll be able to relax. We’ll fly back from the Gold Coast on Sunday.”

“Wonderful!”

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Decker picked up the paper.

Rina said, “I can’t believe you’re actually listening to me.”

“I throw you a bone every once in a while. Keeps you grateful.”

Decker had learned that many Jews held their funerals in two stages. First there was the hespid, or memorial, where the closed casket was brought into a hall or synagogue and eulogies were given. Then the coffin was transferred to the grave site and buried by friends and family. Since there was no synagogue in Quinton big enough to hold all the mourners, the hespid was done in the Community Hall in Liberty Park. But even that building couldn’t contain the thick black swarm of people that spilled out the door and onto the parkway lawns.

Rina had gone into Quinton earlier with Jonathan and Raisie. They had asked Decker to come along, but he had declined because of obligations: He was still trying to locate the address that Donatti had given him. He had told his wife and his brother that he’d meet up with them later. He’d drive to Quinton in his own car. (Sora Lazarus’s car, but who’s counting?) Decker hadn’t figured in “heavy, heavy traffic and getting lost” time. He was a half hour late, and not only couldn’t he find a seat, he couldn’t even get into the structure. Because he was technically “family,” he could have muscled his way inside, but he decided not to bother. He and the Liebers weren’t on solid territory. He’d stay in the background.

The outside air held imminent frost, the ground beneath Decker’s feet cold and hard. The skies were a lighter gray than yesterday, the tufts of clay-colored cotton drifting through the ether, muting glare from the sun. All day, blue was on the verge of breaking through but never made it past the cloudy barrier. He rocked on his toes, trying to get circulation into his bones. His shoes had worn soles, and his dress socks were California thin. Hands crammed into his pockets, he gave a quick glimpse to his surroundings.

In the distance was a playground with toddlers climbing on gym equipment or running in bulky sweaters and coats, frantic nannies and housekeepers jogging to keep pace with the rambunctious youngsters. There were more nannies and housekeepers pushing strollers along the undulating paths that cut through the park. Children were trekking through the park on their way home from school. The baseball field was empty. The basketball courts held a couple of lively games.

Idyllic in a way, except Decker knew teenagers: For them, peace and quiet were code names for mind-numbingly boring. Adolescents needed action, excitement, and stimulation. When the hometown didn’t provide it, kids went elsewhere. Even a parochial kid like Shayndie found herself sneaking out at night to attend “forbidden” parties.

Not that it was relevant now. From the closed religious community of Quinton to the predatory claws of Donatti, it had been one hell of a downhill ride for the young girl.

Decker’s chest was still tight from last night’s confrontation with the Young Turk. But even the gun to the head was easier to deal with than Jacob on a bad day. His stepson, several months shy of eighteen, had given him excellent training in self-control. All Decker wanted was to bring the girl back and get the hell out of here. What started out as excitement had quickly turned to a gladiator fight of wits and wiles with a psycho. It would be round three tonight… another round or two before he could secure the girl.

What would he have to give Donatti to get Shaynda?

Standing fifty feet to his left was a trio of Hispanics. There were two somber, dark-eyed women, their faces slathered with makeup, their hair coiffed with lots of air and teasing. Both of them were garbed in black pantsuits and overcoats. With the two ladies was a mustachioed man with slicked-back hair. The gent was about fifty and had donned an out-of-date black suit, a white shirt, and a narrow black tie. Clearly, they had come for Ephraim’s funeral, but who were they?

Decker went over to find out. As he approached, the buzz of undertone Spanish disappeared until he was left with intruded-upon silence. He thought about speaking in their native tongue, but nixed the idea. He didn’t want to appear like the know-it-all, condescending Anglo.

“I’m from out of town,” Decker tried out. “Are you friends of Mr. Lieber?”

“I work for him,” answered the older man. He was heavyset, his black hair streaked with gray. His accent was thick.

“Ah,” Decker said. “You work for Mr. Lieber. The older man? Or the son?”

An indeterminate shrug. “For the family.”

“You all work at the stores?” Decker said.

“Why you ask so many questions?” one of the women wanted to know. She appeared middle-aged with thick hips, a broad behind, and a generous bosom-all stuffed into a package less than five feet tall. And that was with heels.

“Just trying to make conversation.” Decker smiled. “I’m from out of town.”

“So what you doing here?” the miniature woman asked.

“I’m a relative of a relative,” Decker explained. “Mi hermano es el esposo de la hija de Señor Lieber.”

They looked at him with suspicious eyes. “¿Que hija?” the older man asked him.

“Raisie,” Decker said. “Jonathan… the rabbi. He’s my brother. My half brother, actually. It’s a long story.”

Silence.

“So why you out here?” the short woman demanded. “Why you not with your brother?”

“Good question.” Decker appeared to give it some thought. “I don’t know the Liebers really. I don’t want to violate their privacy, even though my brother asked me to come. Heck, you all probably know way more about the family than I do. You work with them every day, right?”

No argument there.

“Darn shame,” Decker said. “Que dolor. To lose your son so terribly. I heard that they were very close-father and son.”

Silence.

Decker shrugged. “Maybe not.” He looked away.

The short woman said, “Mr. Lieber loves all his children.”

“Of course.” Decker smiled at her. “He was very happy when Ephraim came to work for him at the stores.”

No response.

Decker said, “Well, that’s what my brother said.”

“He was a good man, Mr. Ephraim,” the short woman answered. “Always feliz… happy, happy, happy. Big smile on his face.”

“Big smile,” echoed the second female. She was younger, thinner, and taller, but not by much. “He likes to joke-Mr. Ephraim. Always with the jokes.”

“Different from his brother, no?” Decker added.

“Psss…” Munchkin woman wrinkled her nose. “He’s good man, Mr. Jaime, but not with the jokes. Muy grave. And he watch you like you’re a bandida, he es so afraid you steal. I don’ steal nothing. It es estúpido to have big TV set in my apartment. If the others on the street find out I have big TV set, they break into my apartment and steal it. Then they steal other things because they es there. I only have lee-tle TV set in my bedroom. Mr. Lieber, he give it to me for Christmas two years ago. It has remote control and cable. I happy.”

“You no need nothing else, Marta,” the other woman spoke up. “TV is better than the mens.”

Both women laughed. The man shook his head in disgust.

“Mr. Lieber gave you a TV?” Decker said. “That was very nice.”

“He is a berry nice man; I am good worker. Seven A.M., I am there. One hour lunch. Then I come back, I work till six. Every day for five days. The store no open on Saturday, and I don’ work on Sunday. I go to church. Then I get my nails done.” She showed him red talons. “Acrylic. Berry hard.”

“Very pretty,” Decker complimented.

The woman actually blushed. “He berry good to me, Mr. Lieber.”

“What trabajo do you do?” Decker asked.

“I do everythin’. I do the register. I stock the shelves. Berry, berry tall shelves. The store es berry big with tall shelves.” She held her hand way up in the air. “They have big ladder. At first, Mr. Lieber don’ wants me to climb, but I wear berry good shoes. Is no problem. I am berry strong.” She made a muscle.

A smile crept to the man’s lips. He fired off Spanish that intimated that she had gotten her muscle from jerking private things up and down. She glowered at him in return, then blushed when she realized that Decker understood him. They were about to exchange words, but Decker broke in.

“What about Mr. Jaime? Is he a nice man, too?”

“Berry nice,” the shorter woman said. “But not with the jokes. Not like Mr. Ephraim. He’s with the jokes. And Mr. Ephraim always gives me mucho ayuda.”

Ayuda meant help. Decker felt the air turning even colder, his breath a wisp of mist in front of his nose. Daylight was receding quickly. Within a couple of hours, it would be dark. “You two work together.”

“Sí, sí. We stock the shelves together. Sometimes I go on top, sometimes he go on top.”

The man said, “You can go on top of me, Luisa.”

Luisa shot back a gesture that was less than kind. Then her face saddened. “He talk to me, Mr. Ephraim. He ask about my children. He once give me money for a parking ticket. Fifty dollars. I pay him back, but he don’ ask me for the money.” Her eyes watered. “Es berry sad.”

Decker nodded his agreement.

Luisa rubbed her hands together. “Es cold, no?”

“You want to borrow my gloves?” Decker asked. “I have pockets.”

She looked at the leather accoutrements enviously.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” He gave them to the woman.

Reluctantly, she put them on. “Gracias.”

“Por favor.” Decker stuck his hands in his overcoat. “That was Mr. Ephraim’s job? To stock the shelves?”

The man spoke up. “Mr. Ephraim? He do everything. He stock the shelves, he work at the cash register, he sweep the floors. I see him two, three times cleaning the toilets. Nothing is too small for him. He is berry nice man. He never complains. He don’ yell. Every time I see him, he es happy. Big smile.” He looked down. “I will miss him. It is terrible.”

“Yes, it is terrible,” Decker said. “Was Ephraim resentful to be doing all the small stuff?”

All of them shook their heads no.

“Ephraim was happy for any job,” the man said. “He es lucky the old man loved him so much.”

Marta burst into tears. “It is berry bad! Poor Mr. Lieber.”

“It is terrible!” Luisa concurred.

Decker nodded, then waited before he spoke again. “Did Ephraim seem preoccupied lately? Preocupado?”

The trio exchanged innocent glances.

“No’ to me,” Marta said. “He same to me.”

But the man was looking somewhere over Decker’s shoulder. “Señor?”

Luisa said, “Teddy, he is talking to you.”

“Me?” Teddy answered.

“Did Mr. Ephraim seem preoccupied?”

“He is beeg man with responsabilidad.” Teddy pulled a cigarette pack out of his pocket. He lit up. “I thin’ maybe he worried that Mr. Jaime don’ think he’s doing a good job.”

“Did they fight?” Decker inquired.

“No’ too much. No’ too loud. Sometimes he don’ like Mr. Ephraim talking to the womens.”

“Mr. Ephraim likes all the womens,” Luisa stated. “He nice to the girls, but he was berry nice to the old womens. He makes jokes with them, and they laugh. He es berry nice to everybody. Always with a smile… big smiles.”

“Did he have a girlfriend?” Decker asked. “Ephraim?”

Luisa thought for a moment, then shrugged ignorance. She turned to the other woman. “¿Que piense, Marta? You see Mr. Ephraim with a girlfriend?”

“No, never. I don’t see him with a girl. Es berry sad that he don’t have a wife. Mr. Ephraim loved the kids.”

“Yes, I heard he was close to Shaynda-his niece,” Decker said. “La hija de Señor Jaime.”

“He nice to all de kids from Mr. Jaime,” Marta answered. “If Mr. Jaime… If he bring the kids to the stores, Mr. Ephraim plays the games with them. He likes Street Fighter Two.”

“It sounds like he was a nice man,” Decker said.

“Berry nice.” Luisa’s voice cracked. “It is no good for the father. My heart is very heavy for him-Mr. Lieber. Ten years ago, his wife… she died.” She leaned over and whispered, “Cancer.”

“Oh, he cry and cry,” Marta answered.

“Berry sad,” Luisa concurred.

Decker turned to Luisa. “You said that Mr. Jaime watches you like a hawk.”

“He don’ mean nothing bad.” She furrowed her brow. “There es lots of stealing in the stores. We have alarm… a sensor with the bars that you stick on the packages. Then you swipe the bars at the cash register, and that turns off the sensor. But bad people don’t care. They run into the streets. It is berry bad.”

“Very bad,” Decker agreed. “But why would Mr. Jaime watch you, Luisa? You’ve worked for Mr. Lieber… how long?”

“Twelve years.”

“Exactly. Why would he think that you would steal from the store?”

“I don’ think he think I steal,” Luisa clarified. “He is just a careful man.”

Or the store was having a big theft problem, Decker thought. Maybe that’s what the fights were about.

Teddy was talking. “… worked for Mr. Lieber for seven years. I never take nothin’. Not even a battery.”

“No one say you steal,” Marta said. “Why you get so excited?”

Teddy took a deep breath. “Mr. Jaime talk about inventory to Mr. Ephraim. I hear them say that someone was stealing. It’s not me.”

“Not me, either,” Marta said.

Decker remembered the boxes of inventory lists found in Ephraim’s apartment. Was Ephraim checking up on someone, or was he covering his tracks? Decker said, “Any idea who was stealing?”

Teddy shook his head vehemently. “Mr. Lieber gave Mr. Ephraim the inventory because Mr. Jaime hated to do it. It is boring, counting this and that. Ephraim don’t mind it. That was Mr. Jaime. He always gave Ephraim the long and boring jobs.”

“Why not?” Marta questioned. “Mr. Ephraim only work mebbe two years. Mr. Jaime worked years and years when Mr. Ephraim was… well, you know.”

“He do the drugs,” Luisa whispered to Decker.

Decker nodded. “Was Mr. Ephraim angry about doing inventory?”

Just then, the Community Hall doors opened, the black glob of human mass splitting like a dividing microbe. From the opening yawn came the pallbearers, lumbering through the crowd, hoisting a pine casket on their shoulders.

Decker pointed to Jonathan. “That’s my brother. The one in the far left corner.”

“Vaya con Dios,” Luisa whispered. Then she started crying. “Vaya con Dios.” She found Marta, and the two of them hugged each other as they wept together.

Decker spotted his wife, sobbing into a handkerchief. “I’d better go to my family.”

“Your gloves, señor.” Luisa began to peel them off her hands.

Decker stopped her. “You can send them back to me when you get home. Mr. Lieber will send them to my brother. He knows my address.”

“You are berry nice.”

He thanked her, then thanked them all. He pushed his way through the thickness and went over to comfort Rina.