Stone Kiss

21

He was operating on overdrive, pure speed and adrenaline tearing out of upstate, hitting the city by eleven, and getting off the parkway at 132nd. He found parking a block away, then ran over to the building. Punching the button. This time, it was Donatti’s voice from the intercom, annoyance in the bastard’s voice. Breathing hard, Decker announced his name and was buzzed in. The reception area was empty-no guard, no secretary-and that made sense because it was lunchtime. Decker marched through the metal detector, setting it off with his keys. He didn’t bother to retrace his steps because Donatti had opened the inner door. The kid was wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt over jeans. Decker stomped past him, into the studio.

Donatti’s irritation turned to anger. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dozens of pornographic photos were spread out over a large conference table-snapshots of teenage girls with pursed lips and bedroom eyes doing things to gray-haired, potbellied men. Obscene pictures made even more outrageous because Donatti was a hell of a photographer. Rage boiled over in Decker’s gut, turning his face into something feral. Donatti caught the look, his eyes equally furious.

“Who the fuck are you to judge me?! Get the fuck out-”

Decker caught him by the throat and threw him against the wall. Using his body weight, he leaned his knee hard against Donatti’s groin, tightening his fingers around the son of a bitch’s throat, trying to pin his hands with his shoulders. The harder Donatti struggled, the more pressure Decker applied to the windpipe. He pressed his kneecap harder against the kid’s crotch.

“What did you do to her?” Decker growled out.

Red-faced and flushed, Chris managed to shake his head.

“Talk to me, dammit!” He gripped harder and spoke louder. “What did you do to her?”

“Who?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Shayndie! She’s dead! What did you do-”

“Noth-”

“STOP LYING, YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?”

“I can’t talk…”

His eyes rolled back in his head. Decker loosened his fingers, giving him enough air to breathe and speak. “Answer my question, or I’ll kill you.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I just saw her six hours ago,” he choked out in a whisper. “She was fine. Let me go!”

Decker gave a final squeeze, then abruptly pushed him away. Donatti fell down to his knees, holding his throat, gasping for breath. Decker paced with hard clomps against the wooden floor.

“You said she was safe with you! You said she’d be okay! You told me you’d take care of it, and I trusted you, Donatti. Either you were lying or you fucked up. And by fucked up, I mean fucked up big time!”

Still red from oxygen buildup, Donatti could only stare at him. He panted like an overworked bulldog, then abruptly broke out in a ripe, rich sweat, drenching his face, shirt, and pants. His mouth began to spew froth, and for a brief moment, Decker thought he was going to have a seizure. Instead, Donatti got wide-eyed, stood up, and kicked the underside of a conference table so hard that the pictures flew up, wafted in the air, then rained down. Another kick and the table fell over.

From that moment on, every item in the room became a projectile-articles from his prop box, his tripod, stands, chairs, lamps, the coffeemaker, the mugs, his booze, his glasses, whatever Chris could lay his hands on-except his cello. Objects whizzed by at Mach speed-the kid had an arm-and although nothing was deliberately directed toward Decker, it didn’t matter. So many things were flying rapidly and with such force. Solid objects hurtled across the room, crashing and smashing, splattering shards and blades of ceramic and glass. Decker couldn’t step or move anywhere. He balled himself up in a corner.

“Donatti, stop!” he ordered.

But Donatti didn’t stop. A decanter was pitched in Decker’s direction, missing his head by inches. A quick sidestep had saved his skull from massive injury.

“Donatti-”

CRASH!

“Chris…” Decker inched his way over to him, using his arms and jacket for protection. “Stop it, dammit! Chris!”

He touched Donatti’s shoulder. He should have known better. Even so, he would have successfully evaded the blow.

Except he had forgotten that Chris was left-handed.

Decker took the clip full-faced, staggering three steps backward before he hit the wall and collapsed. His vision was starry; his head felt as if broken into a million pieces. When he could see again, he realized-with some minor satisfaction-that his jaw was whole. His nose might be another story. It was bleeding profusely, as was his lip. He could see and hear, at least well enough to realize that Donatti had moved on-from throwing to ranting.

“… know what this is going to do to my reputation? Do you know what this is going to do to my bitches? If I don’t find this motherfucker and fast, you might as well put a fucking bullet through my fucking head because I’m as good as fucking dead!”

Donatti was frothing at the mouth. He was shaking so hard his teeth were clattering. His face was dripping like a window in a rainstorm, sweat just pouring off his forehead. He was stomping back and forth, the heels of his boots stamping dents into the floor. Muttering, swearing, sweating, spewing. Then he punched the wall, knocking a hole in the drywall.

Still winded from the slam in the face, Decker continued to sit, hunched up on the floor. He wiped his nose on his shirt. “Help me up.”

Donatti whipped around and glowered in the direction of the voice, his eyes searching the room. When they found Decker, they regarded him as if he were a stranger.

“I said, help me up, dammit!” Decker ordered.

Donatti stopped pacing, still staring at Decker’s face. But he extended a hand and hoisted Decker back on his feet. Then he took two giant steps backward, shaking with rage and neurotransmitters. “Are you going to coldcock me if I turn my back?”

“Don’t tempt me!” Decker growled. He smoothed out his clothing and gingerly touched his face. “You need a drink. I’m going to get you some booze. Keep your friggin’ hands in your pockets!”

Donatti’s voice was still hoarse from being choked. He cleared his throat. “Get your face some ice while you’re at it.”

Pulling out a single bottle of scotch that had managed to survive the onslaught, Decker gave it to the kid. Then he took out an ice tray and liberated the frozen cubes. He wrapped them up in a paper towel and placed it against his rapidly swelling face.

Donatti offered the bottle to Decker, who grabbed it and took a healthy swig. Then he returned it. Chris took another drink.

Passing the bottle back and forth for another fifteen minutes, neither talking, but both of them snorting and swearing. The room was a disaster area-hot and stale and reeking of male stink. Decker felt his stomach lurch, but refused to show weakness by sitting down.

Minutes passed-five of them, then ten. Finally, Donatti took out his keys and opened the door to his private, bug-free office. As soon as they were both inside-the door locked and the switches on-they both collapsed into chairs. Donatti draped his upper body down on the table, cradling his head in his arms. His eyes were closed. He was still breathing hard, still sweating, although not nearly as copiously.

“I gotta think.”

“You didn’t clean her-”

“No, I didn’t clean her. Why would I clean her?”

“Money.”

“If I wanted money, I would have sold her.”

Silence. Decker nursed his very sore face. The ice had turned to cold water, the towel clammy in his hands. “Any ideas?”

“Shut up and let me think.”

“Is it possible that someone found out-”

“No.” Donatti lifted his head, then sat up. “No! I’ve got people watching-”

“They were bought off.”

“It’s impossible. They would know what I’d do.” He shook his head with despair. “She must have left on her own.”

“After last night, I find that hard to believe.”

“After this morning, I find it impossible to believe!” Donatti reached into his file cabinet and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I gave it up for Terry.” He liberated a smoke. “Filthy habit.” He lit one up and exhaled a gush of tar and nicotine. “But right now, my nerves are shot.”

“Give me one.”

Donatti lit another smoke and passed it to Decker. Within moments, the room took on a chemical haze. “When I left this morning, that little girl was so clingy, I had nicknamed her Saran Wrap.”

“So what happened?” Decker took in deep puffs. He’d forgotten how wonderful a nicotine rush was.

“I don’t know.”

“Someone took her-”

“Impossible!”

“No, Chris. Nothing’s impossible!”

Donatti exhaled a plume of sour, booze-laden breath. “She left on her own.” He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out two water bottles, tossing one to Decker. “Something changed her mind.”

Decker drank greedily. “Any ideas what?”

“No.” Donatti looked at him. “I told you she was unstable. She was even more freaked after she met with you. You probably scared her away.”

“Me?” Decker answered.

“Yeah, you! You freaked her out.”

“Then it was up to you to calm her back down-”

“Fuck you, Decker!”

Neither one spoke as they gulped down water. Decker touched his nose. It was throbbing with pain. “Assuming she left on her own, where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know. There’s no place as safe as mine.” Donatti gritted his teeth. “I can’t imagine why she bolted! It doesn’t make sense. You gotta leave now. I gotta make some calls.”

Decker said, “You want to do me a big favor?”

“No. Get the fuck out of here!”

“Stop being so vile!” Decker finished the smoke and the water. “You want to make some headway, do yourself a favor and stay out of it. At least, for now.”

Donatti jerked his head up. “I think my fist scrambled your brains. Get out of here!” He pulled out a gun. “OUT!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Decker felt his lip. That throbbed, too. “What is that? A Walther double automatic? Twenty-four rounds, right? It’s a nice one.”

Donatti squinted at him, then erupted into laughter. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Put it down, Chris… please.”

“Since you said please.” He placed it on the table and picked up the booze.

“Donatti, let’s think this out logically,” Decker began. “I came to New York as this big-cop lieutenant to help out with a homicide. What happened? I fanned, kiddo. Zilch as far as Lieber’s murder, and now Shayndie’s dead. The local heat have got to be thinking that I’m a bust-this big, dumb lug from hick town L.A. who couldn’t detect his way out of a paper bag.”

He dabbed his face and nose with the wet towel.

“It’s not far from the truth.”

Donatti regarded the lieutenant’s face, then passed him the bottle.

Decker took a drink. “Right now, I’m a washout. No one’s afraid of me. Not the Liebers, not the cops, not you, and not the bastards who whacked Shaynda and Ephraim. I’m a steaming turd, my man. No one wants to get near me. But you… you’re different, Donatti. You’ve got the rep as a real nasty dude. If you start nosing around and the perps get wind of your involvement, they’re going to rabbit. Even worse, if you screw up, you’re dead meat. Me, on the other hand, I screw up, it’s par for the course. For the time being, it’s in both of our best interests to keep you a guarded secret.”

The room was quiet.

Donatti banged his fist on the table, wincing in pain. The gun jumped up and down, landing with the barrel pointed at Decker’s stomach.

“Get that thing out of here,” Decker groaned.

“Shit!” Donatti picked up the Walther and stowed it underneath his shirt. Rage invaded his face. “They got one of my girls, Decker. It’s personal!”

“But if she bolted, and they didn’t take her from under your nose, it isn’t personal. Think about it for a moment, Chris. Say I did scare her into bolting. Then whoever popped Shaynda didn’t even know she had an association with you. If that’s the case, you sure don’t want it advertised that she was one of yours, right?”

Donatti was silent.

“Talk to your people, Chris. Maybe they’ll tell you she simply rabbited.”

“Is it possible you were followed last night?” Donatti said.

“I don’t see how!” Decker said. “I took so many twists and turns, it would have been impossible to tail me. Not because I was so clever, but because I was lost.”

“Did you check for a tail?”

“Christopher, that’s offensive.”

He threw his head back and looked at the ceiling.

Decker said, “Talk to your girls.”

“Of course I’ll talk to my girls.” He ran his fingers atop his stubble of hair. “Man, there goes that trust. I was invincible to them. They’ll never feel the same way again.”

“I would think just the opposite, Donatti. If Shayndie ran away on her own accord, it’ll make you look stronger in their eyes. They’ll have to be thinking, ‘See what happens when someone tries to make it on her own. See what happens when I don’t have Mr. Donatti’s protection.’ That’s what I’d be thinking.”

Decker raised a brow.

“Am I right about this?”

Donatti didn’t answer. He picked up the bottle, then put it down, his face restored to its former expressionless self.

“You’ll have to trust me on this one.” Decker took the wet towel off his face. Now his nose was frozen as well as sore. “As tempted as you are, you’ve got to stay out of it. You’re an excellent hunter, Donatti, when you know who your prey is. But in this case, we don’t know the prey. That’s my specialty. Finding the bastards. Let me handle it.”

Again Donatti looked at him.

“Yeah? I’m right? You know that.” Decker nodded. “You back off and you won’t be sorry. Because I’m going to find this son of a bitch and put him in deep freeze. Don’t worry. He’ll be taken care of.”

“Not the way I had in mind.”

“It’s true we have different styles,” Decker said. “This entire mess has to do with my business-my family. You owe it to me so I can redeem myself. Give me this one or we’ll both end up in deep shit.” He touched his nose and lip. “How the hell am I going to explain this to my wife?”

“Just tell her some random nutcase came up and slugged you. It’s New York. She’ll believe you.” Donatti rubbed his head and pushed the bottle over to him. “I don’t see what I missed… There must be something else going on.”

“Maybe there is.” Decker inhaled. It hurt to breathe. “If you give me a chance to figure this out, then maybe we’ll both know what happened.”

Silence.

Decker needed Donatti’s cooperation; he didn’t want to get in Chris’s way. Mistakes could be lethal. “So you’ll back off, right?”

“No, I won’t back off,” Donatti snapped back. “But since it’s your family, I’ll give you a twenty-four-hour head start. Then it’s everyone for himself.”

“Even I can’t work that fast. Seventy-two hours, Chris. At the end of three days-solve or no solve-I’m out of here.”

“Right.”

“Donatti, I’m not jerking my chain over this. No one has a one-hundred-percent solve rate.”

“What’s yours?”

“High enough. But it’s not one hundred percent.”

“Forty-eight hours.”

“Sixty hours, starting now. You broke my nose, you bastard. You owe it to me.”

Chris leaned over the desk and examined Decker’s features. “No, I didn’t break your nose. I just clipped it. I got you on the cheek-bone’s swollen, but not too bad. It wasn’t full force, Decker. If I had meant business, your face would have been a Cubist study.”

“If you’re asking me to thank you, forget it. Sixty hours.”

“This is stupid! You want me to back off until you leave town, I’ll do it. But I’m not paying for your funeral.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m serious, Lieutenant. You may be a good cop in L.A., but out here you don’t know horseshit.”

“So fill me in.”

“That’s impossible. Could you fill me in on what makes a good Homicide cop in Los Angeles? These kinds of things are intuitive. I’ve lived on these streets and with these people all my life. It’s just this… feel-this sixth sense. Here I can do in a day what you couldn’t do in a year. I’d actually be an asset to you.”

“I don’t think a partnership would enhance either one of us in the reputation department.”

“I’ve worked with cops before.”

“Not honest ones.”

“No such animal.”

Decker didn’t argue. What was the point?

“I could turn you into a homicidal maniac in a minute because I know your weakness. But why bother? Cleaning your family isn’t gonna solve my problems.”

“That is very true. Give me sixty hours solo, Donatti. I need to know I won’t be stepping on your toes.”

“All right.” Donatti threw up his hands. “I’ll give you till Friday, if you last that long. If you land on your ass, I finish up my business my way. Deal?”

Decker said, “You stay out of my hair-”

“I said, ‘Deal.’ ” Abruptly, Donatti jumped over the desk and planted his mouth on Decker’s bloody lip. “There. Signed, sealed, and delivered with a kiss.”

Decker grimaced as he wiped his mouth. “What the hell was that for?”

“I dunno.” Donatti was amused by Decker’s repugnance. “I’m used to kissing authority figures. I used to kiss my uncle on the lips all the time.”

“I’m not your friggin’ uncle, Chris.”

“You said you were my father figure. In therapy, they call that transference.”

“Then I take it all back.”

“You’re squirming, Decker.” Donatti licked his lips and wiggled a pierced tongue. “Could that be… panic raising its ugly head?”

“Christopher, for heaven’s sake, grow up! I don’t give a damn where you park it, as long as you keep your hands off my family and me. Why the hell should I care who you fornicate with?”

“You cared about Shayndie. You asked me not to bust her, and I didn’t.” Donatti was wistful. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t. She wanted me to do it, and I said no. I was wrong. I should have fucked her. No one should die a virgin.”