Stone Kiss

20

Decker awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat and shaking. It was eight in the morning-Rina had already left the bed-and since sleep was out of the question, he decided to grab the day. Knowing that Shayndie was alive and relatively safe, he could concentrate on the murder. Since Chaim had shown only scant interest in his brother’s homicide, Decker was forced to interview the only person who had truly felt every inch of the loss. Emmanuel Lieber was sitting shiva at his house in Quinton. The idea of intruding upon an old man’s sorrow made Decker feel queasy, but if it brought results, perhaps it would be worth it. After a quick recitation of the morning prayers, he mentally planned his day. First he’d pay the shiva call, then he’d contact Micky Novack, hoping that the detective had made headway on the case. By then, maybe he’d hear from Donatti.

Maybe.

Decker didn’t want to change his ticket a third time. But if Donatti didn’t deliver the girl today, Decker would be forced to rearrange his flight. His conscience wouldn’t let him do anything less. Shaynda’s safety was paramount.

The trick was how to explain it to Rina.

His wife was sitting with Hannah at the breakfast table, the little girl garbed in a new red wool sweater and pleated red-black-and-white houndstooth check skirt. There were sneakers on her feet, and her nose was buried in a book. Decker kissed his wife, then his daughter.

“You look like you’re ready to play the bagpipes,” he quipped.

Hannah didn’t answer him. Absorbed in her book, she didn’t even hear him.

Rina smiled. “I like bagpipes.” She looked her husband up and down. “I’ve got a brilliant idea, Peter. I’ll play the bagpipes if you wear a kilt.”

“My legs are private property.” He poured a big bowl of Cheerios and put two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Where are you and the little lassie off to today?”

“Hannah’s going to play with her new New York best friend. I’m going shopping.”

“What a shock!”

“Make fun all you want. The bargains are too good to resist.”

“I begrudge you nothing. Are you taking the car?”

“No, I have a ride into the city. I figured that you’d need the car.”

“You’re right. I’m going over to Quinton.” He filled a mug with coffee, then buttered his toast. “How was the family last night?”

“As expected.” Rina sighed. “How was it for you?”

“As expected.” He turned to his daughter. “Hi, Hannah. Remember me? Your father? The tall one?”

She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, Hannah. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She put down her book. “Do you like my sweater?”

“It’s a beautiful sweater.”

“Eema bought it for me.”

“Eema has good taste.”

“I’m going to play today with Leah Sora Estee Beryl. She should be in school, but she has the chicken pox. But I don’t have to worry about the chicken pox because I already had the shot.”

“That’s good.”

“Kenny Talbot, a boy at my school, he had the chicken pox. After he came back to school, he brought a picture with his face all full of poxes. It was yucky. I hope Leah Sora Estee Beryl is not that bad.”

“Is that one person? Leah Sarah-”

“Sora,” Hannah corrected.

“Is that one girl?”

“Yes, she’s one girl with lots of names,” Rina said. “Are you ready, Chanaleh?”

Hannah nodded, got up, and kissed her father’s cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t name me four names. It wouldn’t fit on my math sheets at school.”

Rina took her daughter’s hand and helped her on with her coat. “You like the coat?”

“The coat is lovely.”

“Thirty dollars.”

“That’s a good price.”

“No, it’s a steal. Learn your shopping lexicon. Come along, sweetheart. Let your father eat breakfast in peace.”

Decker bid them good-bye. Fortified with Cheerios, two pieces of toast, a large glass of orange juice, and four cups of coffee, he felt ready to fulfill a mission.

Emmanuel Lieber lived in a one-story white clapboard house with a wraparound porch and a wood-shingled roof. The front lawn was dead from winter fallout, but several large trees hinted green-bud teasing of spring renewal. A stone walkway led up to an old oak door coated with peeling varnish. As Decker climbed the three steps up, he could hear the clatter of conversation-low, deep voices. Standing on the porch, he peeked through the window and saw swarms of men dressed in black Chasidic garb. No shtreimels however. That could be significant.

He was about to lift the knocker, but then the door opened and three Chasids flew out, eyes turned downward, hands behind their backs, their payot flying as they fast-walked past him.

Decker went inside.

The crowd was so thick, so without light and air, that he felt as if he were in the middle of a twister. The sheer density made it hard to move. Eventually, he was swept toward the front, into the grief-stricken family that included three sisters, one brother, and a father steeped in abject tragedy. They were seated on pillows that rested on the floor, their eyes saturated with deep despair. Mr. Lieber and Chaim wore black pants, black shoes, and white shirts that had been intentionally ripped directly under the collar: the indication of mourning. Atop their heads were large black yarmulkes. The three sisters wore somber-colored skirts and blouses also torn near the collar. Two of the three women had on wigs; Raisie had elected to wear a scarf.

Jonathan was at his elbow. He guided him into a corner and offered Decker some coffee.

“I’m fine.”

“Soda, water?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Thanks for coming down,” Jonathan told him. “Especially since you must be on a very tight schedule.”

“Not too bad, actually. The plane doesn’t leave until nine tonight.”

“Oh…” An uncomfortable pause. “I thought you were leaving this afternoon.”

Decker regarded his half brother. “Tonight.”

Jonathan nodded. “Good. I mean, not good. I mean… I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to leave.”

“You’re looking tense, Jon. Anything wrong?”

Jonathan hesitated. “No… just. What can I say, Akiva? What can I say?”

“You can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Me, I just can’t… stop thinking about Shayndie.”

Guilt tugged at Decker’s heart. “It’s terrible.”

Jonathan nodded but didn’t add anything. His gaze wandered over the crowd, resting on Chaim’s face. The two of them locked eyes, but then Chaim turned away.

Jonathan said, “Let me introduce you to my father-in-law.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, no. I insist.”

Although Decker didn’t know Jonathan that well, he knew when someone was unsettled. Unsettled was a euphemism. If Decker were objective, he’d bet that Jonathan was sitting on something. But this was not the time for confrontation, especially since Decker hadn’t owned up to the truth last night. Maybe he could pull it out of Jonathan later on.

A moment later, Decker was standing in front of a beaten old man. Mr. Lieber’s eyes went to Decker’s face and failed to register any recognition. But then he noticed Jonathan… standing next to this strange large man in a brown suit. Quickly, the old man put two and two together. He acknowledged him with a nod.

Decker nodded back.

Lieber was a much bigger man than Decker had expected-wide across the chest and face, with a large, drooping nose and thick, prominent lips. Once he might have had a solid square jaw, but his jowls covered the bone structure. His eyes were hooded and multicolored, changing tint depending on the light and atmosphere-anatomical mood rings.

Chaim stood up, his eyes having darkened into black orbs of fury. Decker wondered what he had done to make this man hate him so much. It wasn’t as if Decker had hurt his daughter. On the contrary, he had actually found a link to the missing girl. He felt terrible about keeping the secret, and for one brief all-too-human moment, he thought about relating the wonderful news to Chaim. But if it got back to Donatti and if she was harmed because of his indiscretion, then who would be at fault?

No, it was better to be overcautious.

“I thought that you had left,” Chaim told him.

“Tonight,” Jonathan said.

“Why tonight? What business do you have here?”

Decker threw his head back. “Rina wanted to stay for the funeral. And I had things to wrap up, Rabbi Lieber. You don’t involve people in your affairs and then suddenly leave without saying thanks.”

“Are you admonishing me because I didn’t thank you?”

“Chaim,” Jonathan began.

But Decker held up his palm to silence him. “No, Rabbi Lieber, not at all. I meant the cops who had helped me. I’d like to remain on good terms with them.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about New York’s finest because they certainly haven’t helped much, have they?”

“I’m so sorry, sir. This must be agonizing for you.”

“Terribly agonizing.”

But he sounded more angry than despairing. His eyes narrowed, his body thrust toward Decker in an antagonistic pose. “You don’t know anything, Lieutenant. Go home.”

“Chaim!” a raspy voice chided. “Es pass nisht. Vus toost-du? Setz’ich avek!”

“But Papa-”

“Nisht gebst mir del Papa. Setz’ich avek non! Nisht dray mir a kop.”

Reluctantly, Chaim returned to his pillow. Mr. Lieber motioned Decker to a chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant. Do you want some tea?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Lieber. Do you want some tea?”

“No, I don’t want anything right now.” He looked at his son-in-law. “Jonathan, get the man some tea.”

“Really, I’m-” Decker stopped himself. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

“While you’re up, get some for Papa,” Raisie chimed in.

“I don’t want any-”

“Papa, you must drink!”

“I’ll have only if you’ll have,” Decker proposed.

The old man nodded.

Jonathan sighed heavily and went to the kitchen for tea.

The old man leaned forward. “You will forgive Chaim’s manners. He is under terrible, terrible stress.”

“Of course, Mr. Lieber. I’m sure my presence has added to it. I just wanted to pay my respects to you. Then I’ll go.”

“He expects miracles. For that, he must pray to the Abishter.”

“ ‘It is better to take refuge in Hashem than to rely on man,’ ” Decker quoted from the Hallel service.

“Yes, exactly.” Lieber’s eyes watered. “It’s so terrible.”

“Yes, it is. I’m so sorry.”

“Horrible.” Lieber wiped his eyes. “And you are leaving tomorrow?”

“Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.”

Donatti had told him to wait for his call, but how long could Decker be patient?

“At the hespid yesterday, I spoke to people who worked with Ephraim. I also spoke with others who knew your son. Ephraim seemed like a man who was full of heart.”

“Who did you speak to?” Chaim challenged.

“A woman named Luisa-”

“Ephraim gave her money,” Chaim sneered. “Of course she liked him.”

“And since when is tzedaka considered a bad thing?” Raisie asked him.

“Charity begins at home,” Chaim said.

“Don’t fight,” another sister castigated. “Don’t we have enough to deal with?”

Raisie regarded Decker, then pointed to her sisters. “This is Esther; this is Malka.”

Decker offered his condolences to them.

“And who were the others who knew Ephraim?” Mr. Lieber wanted to know.

“I spoke to a man who met Ephraim in an organization called Emek Refa’im.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Lieber said. “The counseling place.”

“A place for drug addicts, Papa,” Chaim stated.

“A place to help them,” Mr. Lieber insisted. “He was doing so well, Lieutenant. Ephraim was.”

“So I understand.”

The old man sighed. “So well.” Tears in his eyes. “In the business, too.”

“How long had he been working with you and Chaim?”

Lieber didn’t answer.

“Two years,” Chaim said dully.

“Two years,” the old man repeated. “He enjoyed it. I could tell he liked the business.”

Chaim rolled his eyes, but the old man didn’t see it.

“I’m sure he loved being part of the business,” Decker said. “What was his job there?”

“What difference does it make now?” Chaim snapped.

“The man wants to know,” Mr. Lieber said. “He was a jack of all boxes-”

“Jack of all trades,” Chaim corrected.

“He’d work the register, stock the shelves, take inventory in the stores and in the warehouse, fill in if people didn’t show up.”

“Assuming he’d show up,” Chaim said.

“Chaim!” Raisie chastised. “Please!”

Chaim rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

Jonathan returned with the tea. He handed a glass to his father, then one to Decker. “Thanks, Jon.”

Chaim said, “I’m going upstairs for a moment, Papa. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan said.

“Sure. Come on.”

The two men trudged through the crowds, standing close to each other, an unspoken message between them.

Sitting on something.

Did the girl bolt? Had she made contact with them? Last night, she had been petrified to have anything to do with any of her kinsmen, but a new dawn often brought a new perspective. Maybe she had decided that the safest place was home.

Or maybe he was reading too much into the camaraderie. Maybe they both wanted to get away from the crowd-which was certainly understandable.

Mr. Lieber sipped his tea. “I thought things were working out.”

Decker returned his concentration to the old man. “I’m sure they were working out.”

“Then why? Why?” Watery, rainbow-colored eyes took in Decker’s face. “The police said that it was drugs. Why was he with the drugs?”

Decker didn’t answer, masking his silence by drinking the diluted brew.

Mr. Lieber shook his head. “The flesh is weak.”

“Mr. Lieber,” Decker whispered, “maybe it wasn’t drugs. Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt him?”

“No! No one!”

“I hate to ask you this, sir. But maybe you or your son have made someone angry?”

“Me?” The old man shrugged. “I make all my customers angry. Jews are impossible people to work with. Everyone wants a bargain. You don’t give them what they want, they complain. But no one would get mad enough to hurt me.”

“Can I ask you another personal-”

“Ask, ask.” Lieber put the tea glass down on the floor and took Decker’s free hand. “Ask.”

“Did you owe anyone money?”

“Just the bank… business loans. Nothing that would require Citibank to strong-arm me or my sons.”

“No individual loans?”

“None. I have money in a business account, money in a savings account. Nothing too big: Business hasn’t been so hot lately. My suppliers go under, lots of theft… always happens when times are tough. But not tough enough that I have to borrow from the loan sharks, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yes.” Decker placed his empty glass by his chair. “That’s what I was asking.” He formulated his thoughts. “What about employees? Any problems with any specific individual?”

“Not that I know of. Most have been with me forever. The part-timers… that’s Chaim’s job. Hiring and firing. We get some turnover with the shleppers, the men who load and unload the heavy boxes at the warehouse. You hire who you can get at minimum wage. Sometimes it’s recent aliens with green cards, sometimes it’s high-school dropouts, sometimes students looking for a summer job.”

“Whoever’s available.”

“Yes. If you have some questions about them, ask Chaim.”

“I would if he’d talk to me. And if he doesn’t want to, it’s understandable.”

“Yes, it is,” the old man agreed. “Maybe another time.”

“Maybe.”

Decker could see that others wanted to draw close to Mr. Lieber, to participate in the mitzvah of comforting the mourner-menachem avel. He got up and uttered the customary Hebrew words of comfort to Raisie and her sisters, then to Mr. Lieber. He nudged his way through the crowd to the back of the room.

Chaim and Jonathan weren’t visible anywhere. So be it. Without fanfare, Decker left. As soon as he was outside, he let go with a deep exhalation. It had been so stifling in there, he hadn’t realized how much his chest had been hurting. Walking down the pathway, breathing a bit easier, he heard a car screech as it pulled up to the curb.

Minda Lieber rushed out of the dented van, slamming the door behind her. Completely disheveled, she had improperly paired the buttons of her dress with the corresponding buttonholes. Her wig was messy and askew. She was flapping her hands and weeping hysterically. Decker grabbed her.

“What’s wrong?”

She tried to break free of his hold, screaming how dare he touch her-a married woman. But Decker only held on tighter.

“Minda. What… is… wrong?”

The woman broke into high-pitched screams. “They found her! She’s dead! Oh God, she’s dead. She’s dead-”

“What!” Decker’s heart was hammering against his chest.

“She’s dead! Can’t you hear! She’s dead! She’s dead! She’s dead!”

The woman’s knees buckled. Decker caught her as she passed out.