Stone Kiss

31

Despite the cold weather and the threatening clouds, there were more than a few joggers in Liberty Park, men and women in sweatpants and jackets, exhaling rapid puffs of mist like fire-breathing dragons. Beyond them lay the steel and glass structure of the Quinton Police Station, all sparkles in the dull sunlight, but as welcoming as a computer chip. Though the van’s motor had been turned off for only a minute, the interior temperature was dropping quickly. Decker wrapped his fingers around the chilled metal door handle. He paused before tugging it backward.

“So you have my cell number, and I have yours.”

“Yes.” Jonathan rubbed a stiff neck. “I don’t feel good about this.”

“Don’t do anything to your relatives that you can’t live with,” Decker told him. “I’ll understand.”

“I’m not worried about myself. I have concerns about you.”

“Me?” Decker furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“You didn’t leave the police chief under ideal circumstances.”

“I’m just going to talk to the man.”

“Akiva, if he’s crooked, he’s not nice. You’re in his territory. That puts you at risk.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

Decker mentally summarized the events of the past few days. It was more than a casual question. “I’ll be careful.” Then he opened the door and was out, waving to his brother as the van pulled away. He fast-walked toward the station, hands in his pockets-he had yet to pick up his gloves from Luisa-dodging the runners and the rollerbladers, wondering if he’d ever own the capacity to kick back and let go. It wasn’t just this case-although this was personal-it was any case he was on. After turning the big five-oh, he kept waiting for the inevitable diminution of drives. Yet, as much as ever, he was still a slave to his twin obsessions, sex and work, both keeping him vital and sharp witted, but no doubt fueling his overheated engine. It was only a matter of time until he hit maximum burnout.

Precipitation had begun to moisten his nose, dotting the hard ground with distinct wet circles. He put some speed on and made it to the station house before the sky decided to open up. It wasn’t warm inside, but the temperature was livable. Better still, it was dry. He went through the usual channels to get to Merrin, but because the town was so small, the red tape didn’t take very long. To his surprise, Merrin was in. To his greater surprise, the chief agreed to see him-a promising start considering that Decker had acted like a fool the last time the two had met up.

As he waited, Decker worked on his excuses, playing with the fine points and the details of what he should say and how he should act. When the big man appeared-bulging stomach leading the way-Decker had not only perfected his defense but had also attained, in his mind, the ideal humble look. A glance at the face, then the eyes-an expression that didn’t confront, yet held some dignity. He held out his hand as a peace offering. The big man took it, pumped it, then nodded for him to follow. The chief went over to the elevator and pushed the up button. Decker remembered that the office was on the third floor.

Merrin was dressed conservatively-blue suit, white shirt, blue-and-brown-striped tie. His platinum hair was slicked back off his forehead, his ruddy face had that wet look of the recently shaved. Underneath Merrin’s belly, Decker could make out the chief’s gun harness-a waist holster.

They strolled through the hallways silently, Merrin waving to his officers and detectives as he passed them. His secretary was on the phone, but he nodded to her as he took Decker into his office, closing the door behind. Because of the expanse of picture windows, the room was chilly, actually drafty in spots. Only half of the glass panes had been double hung. But the nip in the air was offset by the perfume of brewing coffee, sending up an aromatic steam that made Decker’s mouth water. To distract himself, he looked outward, at the rain pelting the hard brown earth of the pathways, drenching the loose soil of the flower beds. The surface of the lake had become pitted silver. The corner suite afforded Merrin a good view of the park. It was not only pretty, but also allowed the chief to take in most of the area in a single glance.

“Coffee?” Merrin asked.

“If you’re taking, so will I.”

“Black, white, sugar?”

“Black.”

He pressed the intercom on his desk and requested two black coffees. A moment later, his secretary came into his office, went over to the gurgling coffeemaker, and poured two cups for the chief-one in his ceramic mug, the second in a paper cup. Why the chief couldn’t go over and pour his own coffee was left to speculation.

“Have a seat,” Merrin told him.

“Thank you, sir.” He waited for Merrin to sit, then followed suit. “I appreciate your seeing me.”

“My imagination, Lieutenant, or do I detect a serious change in attitude?”

“I… believe that’s an accurate assessment.”

“That’s a good start. An even better start would be an apology.”

“I was embarrassed. I was an idiot. Does that suffice as an apology?”

Merrin smiled, his watery blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His mouth held bruised banana-colored teeth. “I accept.” A sip of coffee. “Now, what do you need, Decker? You wouldn’t come here voluntarily eating shit unless you required something in the way of help.”

Decker raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I ain’t as dumb as I look.”

“I’m from Gainesville, Chief Merrin. You know we’re not all that different. Matter of fact, I use it all the time.”

“Use what?”

“The accent,” Decker said. “Whenever I’m with a highbrow-someone I perceive as a slicker-the drawl gets thicker and thicker. The things people try to pull once they hear that twang in your voice.”

“Then you shoulda known better. Whaddaya need?”

“A girl’s been murdered. Brutally.”

“Brutally, yes, but in New Jersey.”

“I think the reason for her death originated here.”

“Go on.”

“Her death was a side effect of her uncle’s murder. And I’m not willing to rule out the family-yet.”

“You want me to investigate the family based on… what?”

“Sir, I don’t expect you to do anything. You’ve got a town to run. I, on the other hand, have a few more empty days to play with. If possible, I’d like the names of the north side kids whom Shaynda Lieber used to hang out with. Maybe she confided in someone outside of her community.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’re probably right. Nevertheless, I’d like to give it a shot.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t give you names. They’re minors. While I feel very bad about that girl’s death, I believe with all my heart that it had nothing to do with Quinton or its citizens. Sorry, Charlie, can’t let you disrupt my town just on a hunch.”

“Well, how about this? Through my wiles and resources, I managed to land a couple of names. Would it get your nose out of joint if I paid them a call?”

Merrin’s eyes narrowed, staring at Decker over the rim of his coffee cup. “What names?”

“Just a few local Quinton kids who were hauled in for possession of ecstasy down in Miami. Correct me if I’m wrong, but some of them might even be eighteen by now.” Decker maintained eye contact as he sipped. “Of course it’s up to you, sir.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you found out about it.”

“We all have our ways, right?”

“You are one sneaky bastard.”

“Coming from you, I’m sure it’s a compliment.”

“Which ones do you want to talk to?”

“Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell. Both of them have reached their majority.”

“What do you know about them?”

“Nothing.”

“Then I’ll tell you something.”

“Please.”

Merrin sat back, eyes on the ceiling, hands resting on his belly. “Every town, every city has its share of bad boys. For Quinton, it’s Anderson and Caldwell-two nasty little pricks who think it’s a hoot to throw shit in their hometown and watch with glee while someone else cleans it up.”

“The parents have money.”

“Yes, they do, and we both know that money can buy a lot of janitorial work. But even money can’t clean everything.” He put the coffee cup down and leaned over. “This stays between the two of us, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Those two have done some edgy things in these parts as juveniles. Things I don’t need to go into. When they came back from Miami-after I heard what happened down there-I put the fear of God into them and into their families. I do b’lieve we came to a mutually satisfactory agreement.”

Decker waited.

“It goes somethin’ like this,” Merrin said. “I don’t poke my nose in their affairs as long as they keep their mess outside my jurisdiction. That don’t mean they can get away with murder. If I seriously thought those two dogs had anything to do with the death of that little girl, I’d have their dicks in a vise so fast, they’d be talking like Alvin and the Chipmunks. But short of the biggies-murder, rape, assault, robbery-I don’t want you messing with their heads. Simply because I don’t want those two bothering me or the fine citizens of Quinton. If that seems selfish, I can live with that.”

“Can I talk to them?”

“No, you may not go to their houses and interrogate them. But if you give me a couple of hours… well, maybe I can set something up here in the station house. Nice and clean and officially sanctioned.”

“More than fair, Chief. Thank you.”

“I suggest that in the meantime you go find yourself a nice, warm restaurant and nurse a long cup of coffee. Or… if your dick needs attention with the wife out of town, go on over to Tattlers and tell them that Virgil Merrin sent you. That way, you can have a good meal and some fine scenery on the house. Tattlers likes to cooperate with the law. It’s in their best interest.”

Decker tried to smile wickedly. “Sounds nice.” He took a calculated risk. “I wouldn’t mind some company. Wanna come with me, Chief?”

Merrin smiled with smoker’s teeth, but his eyes never left Decker’s face. “Now that’s kind of you to ask, but right now I’m backlogged. Another time, maybe.”

Decker nodded. “You got it.”

“Maybe I misjudged you, Lieutenant.” Merrin continued to study the face. “Or maybe I didn’t and you’re being cagey.”

“Innocent until proven guilty. That’s American jurisprudence.”

“Nah, that ain’t American jurisprudence.” Merrin unhooked his holster and pulled out a Beretta. “This is American jurisprudence.”

“Are you telling me something, sir?”

“I’m not a man to cross.”

“I figured that out.” Decker got up. “Thank you. You’ve been more than accommodating.”

Merrin rose, his belly straining the buttons of his shirt. From a wastebasket, he took out a pocket umbrella. “You might be needing this.”

“Great.” Decker took it, then extended his hand. “Thanks again.”

“Not a problem. Always happy to help out.”

They shook hands, extending the routine gesture just a little too long. Grip-to-grip and eye-to-eye, they were engaged in something more than a pissing contest, but hopefully less than mortal combat.

Tattlers wasn’t a bad idea. If he could catch a cab, Decker figured he’d be there around three-thirty-after the lunch trade but before the dinner hour. If he were patient and charming, maybe he could slip a few bucks to one of the girls for an interview. Not that they’d admit dealing, but things would come out if he were clever enough. And, if nothing else, it would eat up the time. Merrin had told him to check with him in a couple of hours. If he made it back to Quinton around five, perhaps the chief would have one of the boys waiting for him. Maybe both of the boys.

Or maybe neither.

Because there was something about Merrin that bothered Decker. Actually, there was a whole lot about Merrin that irked him, but specifically that one off-the-cuff comment-an obvious blooper: “If your dick needs attention with the wife out of town, go on over to Tattlers and tell them that Virgil Merrin sent you.”

If your dick needs attention with the wife out of town…

Now how had Merrin known that Rina had gone?

It was that kind of throwaway remark that made Decker stand up and pay attention, glancing over his shoulder, checking behind his back. It was that kind of wisecrack that made him wish he had a gun.

Cabs weren’t readily available in small towns: They had to be ordered. As Decker walked through the park, umbrella over his head, he found a phone booth under a pavilion and placed the call to the local dispatcher. Twenty minutes later, a taxi came by. Decker shook out the umbrella and slid inside the back. The interior was damp and slightly ripe, but the seats were whole and held workable seat belts. The windshield defogger was going full blast, stale air keeping the front window clear. Decker strapped in and told the driver the address. The cabbie-a thin young Caucasian with shorn hair, a pierced eyebrow, and a tattooed neck-turned around, his eyes dull and confused.

“Problem?” Decker asked him.

“It’s gonna cost about forty bucks.”

“That’s all right.”

“Okay, then.”

The driver pulled out onto the road, twisting through the rain-slicked streets of the main shopping district. Water was pouring off the awnings, rushing down the curbsides into the storm drains. Not a soul on the sidewalks, everything gray and deserted. Within minutes, Quinton was a dot in the distance. The cab was creeping down a two-lane highway sided by woodland foliage-heaping piles of naked brush, dripping pines and firs, and copses of leafless trees. Wipers, going full speed, were throwing water off the windshield as fast as the rain was dousing it. Decker felt his eyes closing, only to be yanked open at the sound of the cabbie’s voice.

“You going shopping or somethin’?”

“No. Why?”

“The address is a mall. I figured you was goin’ shopping.”

“No.”

A few moments passed.

“Tattlers?” the driver suggested.

Decker was annoyed, but an inner voice stopped him from shutting the kid down. He looked at the cab’s license. The driver’s name was A. Plunkett. “Why? What’s it to you?”

Plunkett scratched his nose. “Just that… for the forty bucks you’re gonna pay me for transportation… I can do better than Tattlers for you. Know what I’m sayin’?”

Decker knew what he was sayin’.

Plunkett sniffed and looked in the rearview mirror. “You know the girls who work there… at Tattlers… some of ’em like places where there’s a little more privacy.”

Even better, Decker thought. Get them alone and who knows what they’ll admit to. He counted to twenty. “And you know a place like that?”

“Sure, I know all the good spots.”

“Local girls, Plunkett?”

The kid stiffened at the sound of his name. “Is that a problem? Someone local?”

“I wouldn’t want things getting around.”

“But you’re not from around here.”

“I have friends in Quinton. You can’t be too careful.”

“What kind of friends?” Plunkett asked.

“Now, I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

No one spoke.

Then the driver said, “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Decker thought a moment. “So it’s forty to you and then I fork out for whatever else I want, right?”

“A quick learner.”

“Round trip?”

“Make it fifty and you got a deal.”

Decker took out a fifty-dollar bill and held it so it was visible in the rearview mirror. “So… what would I get over there for… let’s say a hundred?”

“What do you expect for a hundred?”

The kid was clever, waiting for Decker to speak first. “I’d like something nice.”

“For a hundred, I could find you something very nice.”

He drove a few more minutes, then took a turnoff, the cab bouncing through the hillside as thunder cracked through the air and lightning webbed across the sky. Nothing around except shivering woodland as fierce winds shot through the empty branches. The taxi continued its journey, going deep into the forest. Five minutes later, it started to slow, and Decker saw it-a three-story white clapboard house, complete with tar roof and peeling paint.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Decker said. “This looks pretty seedy. I got a wife. I can’t afford to risk anything.”

The cabbie was vexed. “Whatddaya mean? You gettin’ cold feet? Cause I don’t need this shit-”

“I mean, Plunkett, do they take precaution in there? I’m not carrying anything with me.”

“Ah…” Plunkett was relieved. “They got all kinds of protection.” He pulled up alongside the house, missing a tree by inches. He parked. “You wait here. I gotta clear this, okay?”

The driver opened the door, got out, and slammed it shut, leaving Decker in that awful metaphysical silence. Rain slammed onto the vehicle, suddenly blasting it with machine-gun volley. Decker leaned forward and looked out the windshield. Hailstones were streaming from the clouds. Involuntarily, he felt himself sweating, felt his heart beating too rapidly to be considered healthy. It stank inside. It reeked of bacteria and mold. It smelled rotten.

It smelled like a freakin’ setup.

Decker took his umbrella, yanked on the door handle, and got out. He made a dash for the house, trembling under the eaves of a wraparound porch. Hail continued to fall, little perfect balls of ice bouncing on the dead ground.

Thinking about his options. Not too much to think about because he didn’t have many alternatives. He could stay put… or he could run.

Heart going a mile a minute.

Then he remembered his cell phone. Extracting it from his pocket, he pushed the speak button and the satellites sprang up a dial tone-albeit humming with static. Quickly, he dialed Jonathan’s number.

Seconds ticked by.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch, connect!”

Another second passed. Then it started ringing.

“Thank you, God!”

One ring.

“Answer, brother, answer!”

Two rings.

“Hello?”

Never had Jonathan’s voice sounded so good. “Hey, it’s me and I got a big problem.”

“What?” Across the line, crackle threatened to break communication any moment. “Can I call you back, Akiva? The connection’s bad.”

“Don’t hang up!” Decker shouted. “I’m out in no-man’s-land-somewhere up in the hills between Quinton and Bainberry, about ten minutes out of Quinton. As you’re going toward Bainberry, you turn left off onto some barely noticeable turnoff; it’s a side road-”

“Akiva-”

“Shut up and listen, Jonathan. Follow it up and you’ll see a clapboard structure that looks like a broken-down bed and breakfast. If I’m lucky, I’m at a whorehouse. If not, I’m gonna be shot at really soon.”

“Oh my God!”

“Listen! If I don’t call you back in five minutes, come out and look for me. And whatever you do, don’t call the Quinton Police. Call up the State Police, you understand?”

“Akiva-”

“There’s my date. Gotta go.” He clicked off the phone and stored it in his pocket. “Hey, Plunkett! I’m over here!”

The cabbie turned around and came over to him. “Whacha doing out here?”

“I’m claustrophobic.” Decker’s voice shot bullets. “I’m getting pissed. Yes or no?”

“It’s a go,” Plunkett said. “Calm down, all right?”

Decker exhaled. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

The driver extended his hand. “Hey, my job’s done.”

“Wrong.” Decker grabbed him by the collar. “You go in with me. I like introductions.”

And then he heard the click. Something in his primal consciousness must have anticipated it because his autopilot instantly grabbed the offending wrist. In a smooth, sharp twist, Decker wrested the gun away, feeling the grip slip from the cabbie’s into his own hand. Then he nailed him against the wall, pressing the muzzle of the Smith & Wesson.32 snub-nose against the kid’s Adam’s apple.

Decker sneered. “That wasn’t at all polite.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Just what I said… an introduction.”

No one spoke, but the breathing was audible, both of them sputtering out big plumes of frosted air, chugging like an old locomotive.

“Why’d you pull a piece on me?” Decker asked at last.

“Why’d you grab me?” Plunkett retorted.

Slowly, Decker lowered the weapon. “Maybe we just had a gross misunderstanding.”

The driver didn’t answer. He licked his lips. “You’re a cop, right?”

Decker didn’t answer.

“A friend of Merrin’s?”

Within seconds, Decker’s heart was battering his breastbone. “You might say that.”

Instant relief in Plunkett’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? You get a discount with that, you know.”

Decker took in the words. Suddenly, Merrin’s nomadic job history in Texas made sense. Lots of whorehouses in the small towns. Slowly, he let go of the kid’s throat. “All right, I appreciate the info. Walk me to the door, and you’ll get your money.”

They eyed each other; then Plunkett took him to the front entrance.

“Open the door,” Decker told him.

Plunkett complied. Decker took a peek inside. Not much greeting him. A darkly lit paneled lobby with a couch and several empty wingback chairs. There was a drinks cart in back of the sofa holding cups and glasses as well as a coffeepot, an urn of hot water, and a half-dozen crystal cut-glass bottles of amber liquids. Decker thought about asking for the liquor license, but at this point, brevity was the soul of safety as well as wit.

He was face-to-face with a walnut desk and the young blonde who was manning it. Dark blue eyes peered up from a face framed by soft shoulder-length hair. She had decent regular features, but was a step short of pretty; her looks dropped a notch from the remnants of adolescent acne on the cheeks, though the pitting was hidden well with makeup and blush. She wore a short-sleeved hot-pink sweater with a plunging neckline, showing off her stunning wares. She looked up at Plunkett, then at Decker, first at his face, then at the gun in his hand. Plunkett smiled.

“I just found out he’s a friend of Merrin’s.”

“Well, that helps.” The woman smiled with slightly crooked teeth, the kind that would have benefited from just a touch of orthodontics. “Come in all the way, sir. Don’t be shy.”

Her voice was smoky. Decker placed the gun in his coat pocket and stuffed the fifty in Plunkett’s hand. “You can go now. Don’t bother to wait. It may take a while.”

The cabbie looked at him. “What about my gun?”

“Where’s your license, Plunkett?”

No response.

“I thought so,” Decker said. “I repeat. You can go now.” Eyes still on the woman, he called Jonathan up. “Call off the posse. Everything’s okay.”

Jonathan was screaming. “Akiva, where are you-”

But Decker turned off the phone, staring at the woman. If she was in her twenties, it wasn’t by much. Her nails were meticulously manicured but with no polish. Decker continued to take in her face.

“What can I do for you, sir? Would you like to see a portfolio of our masseuses?”

Again that breathy voice, raising his heartbeat just a little too high. It took him a few seconds to put himself back in job mode. If anyone would have information, it would be the queen bee, not the worker ants. He caught her eyes and bore in. “I like you.”

She smiled and kept the eye contact. “Sorry, sir. I’m just window dressing.”

Nice and polite. Someone had taught her manners. “You know what, darlin’? That’s okay with me. Right now, all I want to do is talk.”

Eyes fixed on his face, her expression hardening. “Against the rules.”

Decker took out a hundred-dollar bill. “You know, I bet it’s pretty slow right now. We don’t even have to tell anyone.” He winked. “Please?”

Stealing a quick glance over her right shoulder. Decker followed it and made out a small door that blended neatly with the lobby’s paneling. Someone was behind there. No doubt someone with a gun. Again she shook her head, her carriage holding the confidence of big-time protection. Merrin had his fingers in a lot of pies. She kept her eyes on Decker’s. “No can do, sir.”

“I’m a very good friend of Chief Merrin’s,” Decker persisted.

“I’m glad to hear that, sir, but that’s completely irrelevant-other than the ten-percent discount. Which I’m happy to extend to you for any of our massage therapists.”

“So that’s what they’re calling themselves nowadays.”

Abruptly, her eyes turned gelid, a very familiar expression, though he couldn’t quite place it. And then, in a flash, it came to him-that “Of course, you idiot” sudden brand of insight that made you want to hit your forehead. He smiled slightly, giving her a superior look. “And what would you do… if I told you that C.D. sent me?”

A red wash permeated her cheeks. Again a glimpse behind her back. “ID, please?”

Decker took out his driver’s license. She took it, got up, and locked the front door, hair brushing over her shoulders as she walked. She wore a black leather miniskirt and spiked heels. He watched her rear sway as she disappeared behind the panel-hidden cubby. Five minutes later, she returned. Without a word, she took Decker’s hand, leading him up the stairs. Her expression had turned blank, not a hint of defiance. There was no eye contact this time. Some mysterious, hidden voice had told her to behave. Failure to do so would have serious repercussions.