Street Dreams

44

By midmorning,the sky had turned sooty gray, the sun blazing down on the top of my head. It was only one-and-a-half blocks to the Strip, but in the heat it felt like a mile in the Sahara. There was a small café at the intersection of Sunset and Willem. Dad and I settled in at a back table, which was serviced by a red-haired waitress with a crew cut, droopy eyes, and an open mouth. She got the order wrong: a pretty slick trick because all we had asked for were coffee variations. Then she realized she was bringing the wrong java to the wrong table. A minute later, she fixed her mistake.

“Who gets the latte?”

“Me,” I told her.

She served me the latte. “Who gets the black coffee?”

My father was the only other one at the table. He looked at me and winked. “Right here, please.”

“Six bucks.”

“I pay now?” Dad said.

“Now or later.”

Decker frowned, then took out a ten. “It’s all yours. Just give us some privacy.”

She stared at the bill. “Okay. Are you a cop or something?”

The Loo took out his badge. “Yes.”

“Wow! Neat!”

“Privacy?” Decker repeated.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“That means you leave.”

“Oh. Right.”

Eventually, she left. Dad turned to me. “I’m reluctant to get Koby involved.”

“Why?” I said. “He’ll do it-”

“I know he’ll do it. That’s not the problem. He’s a nurse; that’s the problem. As a health-care professional, once she tells him about any kind of molestation, he’s obligated to report it, just like we would be as cops. The difference is, if he reports it, the case jumps into the system and it’s out of our hands. Yeah, we could get involved, but it would be messy. Someone would probably call in DSS. Then some social worker starts talking to Sarah and before long the whole thing about Sarah abandoning the baby comes up. Didn’t you tell me that Louise went through hurdles to get legal custody of Ella?”

“Yes.”

“Who knows? This might jeopardize the custody decision. Once it’s out, we open a big can of worms, Cindy.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Furthermore,” Dad continued, “a good lawyer can claim that Koby is biased against Buck or whoever it is, and he’d have a point. It would look like a setup. And in a way it would be a setup because we dragged Koby into it. I’m not saying we won’t use him. But if we do it without considering the consequences, the perp could slip away.”

“But if we don’t jump soon, Daddy, Sarah could change her mind about talking to Koby. Then we’re back to square one. Aren’t you the one who told me to just go for it?”

“Cindy, this isn’t someone who’s pointing a gun at you. This is a crime that happened maybe a year ago-”

“Belinda Syracuse happened only a few months ago.”

“And that’s another thing. Even if Sarah was being molested, you have nothing to tie that to Belinda Syracuse’s hit-and-run.”

“We have DNA on the car. If Buck molested Sarah, we could arrest him and demand a DNA sample.”

“Why would the DA bother with a DNA sample? Sarah’s molestation isn’t a recent rape where there’s evidence. It’s he says, she says. We have to show a link to connect the molester to the hit-and-run, if there even is a molester. The only thing we do know is that if Sarah tells Koby about any kind of impropriety, it’s all over. So we’ve got to map out the contingencies before Sarah makes the confession.”

“But Sarah is the case,” I said.

Decker said, “No, Sarahisn’tthe case, Cindy. The DNA from the blood smear on the license plate is the case. Our first priority is to see if we can get a matchup.Ifwe do get a match andifit is Buck, then we have Buck associated with the car. Now thatstilldoesn’t place him at the crime. But it will be enough to get us a search warrant for his house and start a file on him. From there, we can probably get his phone records, go through his papers, start asking around town for witnesses who may have seen Buck and Belinda together the night of the murder.That’sour best bet. And even if people did see them together, Buck can always say that he was just trying to be a nice guy to Belinda, much in the way Koby was just being nice to Sarah.”

“Yeah, I was wondering where you were going with that line of questioning.”

“I know I made you nervous. I brought up Koby for a couple of reasons. One, to get rapport with Sarah. She obviously likes Koby and I knew I could build on that. But also, I wanted to show you how easy it is to screw up a molestation case, how easy it is to get the facts wrong if you don’t know what you’re doing. You start saying things like he took her away from home to get her alone. Then he lifted her up to the basketball hoop ostensibly to make a shot, but really he wanted to touch her or look up her dress. Then he held her hand-”

“He was helping her across thestreet,for God’s sake!”

Decker said, “Cynthia, I’m aware that Koby’s not a child molester. And the mere fact that I can get you rattled so easily shows how simple it is to throw out false allegations. Koby knew exactly what he was doing with Sarah. Why? Because he’s a male who works almost exclusively with kids and women, and has probably been trained in how to respond to sexual overtures. His answer to Sarah’s request to get tickled was a good one. He refused to engage in any kind of dubious physical contact with her, even if it meant hurting Sarah’s feelings. When you question witnesses, you’ve got to go in without a bias. Which is why I don’t want Sarah talking to him. We’ve got a bias.”

I was frustrated. “So what do we do?”

Decker furrowed his brow. “You really hate this guy Buck, don’t you?”

“Dad, I don’t know him well enough to truly hate him.” I sipped my latte. “But I would like to remind you that there were other deaths that resulted from the hit-and-run, including a baby. Whoever killed Belinda is responsible for multiple deaths.”

“You’ve exchanged angry words with him?”

“Yeah, I kind of browbeat him, but then I apologized.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Actually, yes. Afterward, we began to talk. He knows I’m suspicious of him.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I asked him where he was the night Belinda was murdered. It was a throwaway comment at the time. I wish I had taken him more seriously.”

“Where was he?”

“Home with his dog, watching a movie.” I shrugged. “He actually seemed to be enjoying the questions. I think they made him feel like a big shot instead of the bug that he is.”

“Interesting.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “So this is what you do, Cindy. You call him up and ask him out for coffee to go over the night again with him.”

I was confused. “Warn him that we still consider him a suspect?”

“Then be smart about it. Be casual. Whose case is the hit-and-run?”

“Brill’s.”

“Great. I’ll talk to him and we’ll get the details nailed down. But it’ll go like this. You ask him to meet you anywhere they serve coffee exclusively in paper cups. Run a few questions by him. Generic questions. Keep it light. Even flirt a little. Then when you’re done, offer to throw away his cup for him. Don’t wait for an answer, just pick it up and head for the garbage. Brill will arrange to have a team near the trash with a hidden video camera on you as backup so no one can say that you planted evidence. You throwyourcup away, but drop his cup in an evidence bag that’ll be placed right near the garbage can. If the cup’s still partially full, make sure it doesn’t spill over the rim. And whatever you do, don’t get your cups mixed up.”

I sat up. “His saliva will be on the cup. We get his DNA.”

“Depends on the residue… how much he drools when he drinks. Wouldn’t hurt if you wore something sexy.”

“Like fishnets?”

“A little more subtle for professionalism.”

“You really think you can get his DNA from a coffee cup?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Decker sat back in his chair. “Let me have a minute to clear my thoughts.”

“Take your time.”

He did. A few minutes later, he straightened. “Okay. This is the approach. We have two independent investigations going on. One is Sarah Sanders and her dark secret. We suspect molestation, but we don’t know for sure and we don’t know who’s involved. She won’t talk to us, but she’ll talk to Koby. When the timing’s right, you or Brill will talk to Koby and explain that we suspect something’s amiss and would he mind talking to Sarah about it. You don’t mention, hint at, or imply that this has anything to do with Belinda Syracuse, okay? Because as of right now, it doesn’t.”

“Got it.”

“In the meantime,” Decker said, “you, Cindy, have not forgotten about poor Belinda. You witnessed the accident, and it still haunts you.”

“Actually, that’s the truth.”

“Then you don’t have to fake anything to convince Brill of your sincerity. You know you have DNA and a partial print as evidence but no one to connect it to. You remember Belinda’s brother saying that someone from the center was supposed to pick up Belinda and give her a ride back. Now, you checked out the center’s phone records, but of course nothing popped, nothing fit. And you know you can’t check personal phone records because that’s trampling on Fifth Amendment rights. But you’re slowly going down the list of people who might have had contact with her, starting with Klinghoffner.”

“Are you serious?”

“I know you don’t think it’s him, but start with him. Do the exact thing with Klinghoffner that you’re going to do with Buck.”

“Take him out for coffee.”

“Exactly. That way, you don’t show prejudice. Then do Buck; then do anyone else who works there-start from the top dog, down to the lowly maintenance man, and you include the women because you haven’t any idea if this is a molestation or not. You can collect paper cups and use them as evidence without asking permission from the suspects because they gave you permission to throw them away, ceding the right of private ownership. The cups are now public property.”

“Is the Department going to pay for all this DNA testing?”

“A very valid question. The hit-and-run was gruesome and a baby died, so maybe.”

Decker held up a finger. “The main thing is we have to set it up without bias. This way, Koby doesn’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t know what Sarah Sanders told him. It’s all timing-like an orchestra. Strings can’t come in too early, oboes can’t miss the beat, or you have a mess instead of music. They don’t call it conducting an investigation for nothing.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Be thankful that brains are inherited.”

They had decided on an afternoon tea because tea was more casual than dinner.

This was the menu.

Tray one: assorted finger sandwiches-egg salad, lox, tuna, cucumber with tomatoes, and cheese.

Tray two: finger food, including dainty bite-size potato knishes, miniature spinach quiches, vegetarian egg rolls, and fried pot stickers. Accompanying these edibles would be a soy sauce, a sweet-and-sour sauce, and ketchup.

Trays three and four: assorted breads, including but not limited to croissants, brioches, seed rolls, minibagels, olive and basil bread, and a caraway-seed rye. There was also butter, margarine, clotted cream, and strawberry jam for sides.

Trays five and six: the baked goods. Mini pecan pies, assorted mini fruit tarts, éclairs, petits fours, napoleons, cookies, muffins, scones, and cupcakes.

Tray seven: fresh fruit dipped in white and dark chocolate.

Tray eight was just plain fresh fruit.

Somewhere in Magda’s dining room, there was also tea, coffee, and mineral water.

Rina’s father was taking a nap, and the women were puttering around trying not to get on each other’s nerves. Decker had made himself comfortable in an armchair in the living room. He had dressed in a blue button-down shirt and tan slacks-no jacket-and loafers without socks. It was hot even in the city. He said, “I thought this was supposed to be informal.”

“Just a little something.” Magda paced. “I don’t know why you do this to me, Ginny.”

“Do what?” Rina asked.

“Dig up bones.”

“I got inspired after hearing you talk about your childhood.”

“You talk about your childhood. I don’t invite your old friends to your house.”

“Mama, I asked you first. You could have said no.”

“ThenIlook bad.” Magda stopped pacing and focused her flaming blue eyes on her daughter. “It’s my life, Ginny! Before you talked to Marta, you should have come to me first!”

“I should have, but I didn’t,” Rina answered calmly. “Again I apologize.”

“It is too late for that,nu?Now I am stuck! All week I bake and bake and bake-”

“IsaidI would do it for you, Mama.”

“And let them think I can’t take care of a simple afternoon tea?” Magda glared at Rina. “I’m old, but I have pride.”

“I know, Mama. And it’s good you baked. You’re a much better baker than I am.”

“Ach… nonsense!” She waved her hand in the air. “You are an excellent baker!”

“Yes, I am, but I’m still not as good as you.”

Decker smiled inwardly. His wife was saying all the right things. He decided to help her out. “I really like what you’re wearing, Magda.”

She looked at Decker and brushed her hand over a St. John Knits blue suit with white trim. “This old thing?”

“It’s very complimentary to your figure,” Decker told her. “Plus, the color enhances your eyes. You should take your daughter shopping.”

That got a smile.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the price tag,” Rina told him.

“You look lovely as well,” Decker said. “I like you in red.”

Rina laughed. “Aren’t you full of lightness and cheer. Thank you, darling, I’m glad you like the way I look.”

“The dress is too long on you, Ginny.”

“Don’t start, Mama.”

“Let her start,” Decker piped in. “Bugging you is taking her mind off her anxiety.”

Both women laughed.

“I’ll get you some tea, Akiva?”

It was a good sign when Magda used his Hebrew name. Decker answered, “That would be great.”

“And a little sandwich, too?”

“No, I’d rather not mess up your artistic presentation.”

“I have extra in the kitchen.”

“That I’ll take. I have a quick question for you.”

“What?” Magda asked.

“You are playing host to two women in their eighties, two very skinny women. What in the world are you going to do with all the leftover food?”

“A little they’ll take home, some you take home. The boys will eat it all in one sitting.”

That was true.

Magda fussed with her clothes. “I get you tea and sandwiches. What kind?”

“Egg is fine.”

“Maybe a little tuna? I give you a little of this and that.”

“Perfect, Magda.”

She went into the kitchen.

Rina said, “Since when did you become the charmer?”

“She’s right. We should have gone to her first. We did put her in a bind.”

“She could have said no.”

“No, not really. It would have made her seem bitter or unfriendly or scared. You know your mother. Image is all.” Decker smiled. “I do like the red dress. I was being honest.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hands down the sides. “You think it’s too long?”

“I didn’t say it in front of her. But as long as you asked, you could easily take it up a couple of inches and still be fine.”

Rina crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’ll take it up.”

“I’m not saying youhaveto take it up-”

“Why are we having this inane conversation?”

“Because you’re nervous? To pass the time until the ladies get here? To fill in dead space?”

“Very funny.”

“Rina, this whole thing was your idea. Don’t drag me into an argument.”

“I did it for my mother.”

Decker didn’t answer.

“I really did,” she said with emphasis.

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“I just wanted some… some piece of her childhood that wasn’t marred by tragedy and death! Someclosurefor her.”

“I know that your heart was in the right place. But you know what they say about the road to hell.”

“I really don’t need to hear this! I think I’ll wait outside.”

“Rina-”

“No, I really think I need to wait outside!”

“Fine. See you later.”

In a huff, Rina left and Decker sat in a room devoid of female chatter. He loved women, but sometimes he needed to hear voices in the baritone range.

Or better still, no voices at all.

Magda returned, carrying a dessert plate that had a special indentation to hold a teacup. She served him the dish along with a cloth napkin. “Where is Ginny?”

“Outside.”

“They’rehere?”

“No, I think she’s just-”

“Why does she wait outside? It makes me look like I’m too anxious.”

“I think she’s a little anxious, too.”

Magda made a face. “What does she have to be anxious about? It isn’t her life.”

“No, that’s true,” Decker said. “But you are her mother and she wants it to go right for you.”

Magda exhaled. “Then she should have come to me first!”

“You’re right.”

Again the old woman exhaled. “I am still her mother. She is still my daughter. I go out and calm her down.”

“You’re a good woman,” Decker said.

“If you say that after this tea, then I believe you.”

Magda went outside.

Again Decker reveled in silence. He felt his eyes close, his mind turning slow and fuzzy. He had almost drifted off to sleep when a slamming car door made him snap to. Still sleepy, he almost stood up, nearly knocking his sandwich plate off his lap. But he remembered at the last moment and recovered the food before it became abstract art on Magda’s Aubusson rug. He placed the plate on one of the end tables and peeked out the window.

The driver was opening the door.

Anika came out first, dressed in a white blouse and green linen A-line skirt. Marta followed wearing a yellow cotton suit. Both of the women had donned jaunty little summer hats over their gray locks. Decker couldn’t hear words, but he certainly heard the screams.

Magda and Marta fell into an unplanned, unrehearsed embrace, both of them falling on one another’s shoulders and sobbing their little eighty-plus-year-old hearts out. In a speck of time, a lifetime of intervening memories flew out the window as two little schoolgirls hugged and laughed and cried and strolled arm in arm up the walkway to the house. Rina had placed her arm around Anika, who looked a bit uncomfortable with her sister’s display of emotion.

They came through the door like chirping magpies.

“Ach,this is beautiful, Marta,” Marta Wallek told Magda. “Sehr schön!”

Rina said, “Ladies, you remember my husband, Lieutenant Decker?”

“Bestimmt…certainly. It is a pleasure to see you once again.” Marta smiled, still holding Magda’s arm. “Oh, this is so lovely! You were always such thekünstlerin…the artist.”

“Me?”

“Don’t you remember how you draw pictures for everyone in theschule? ‘Die modedesignerin.’” Marta turned to Rina. “We call her ‘the Dress Designer.’ In art time, she draws amazing dresses.”

“Oh, that!” Magda waved her hand. “That is because of my mother. She designedbeautifuldresses.”

“And you draw them all!” Marta said, laughing.

Magda beamed. “Come. You must be hungry.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Anika piped in. “It was a long ride.”

“Not so long,” Marta argued.

“Not so bad until the freeway. Then it was very long.”

“Rush-hour traffic,” Rina said.

“Ach,” Magda exclaimed. “I should have thought of that.”

“It was nothing,” Marta answered. “We rode in an air-conditioned car.” To her sister: “You were sleeping.”

“Just thinking with my closed eyes.”

“You were sleeping. I hear you snore.”

Decker interjected, “You know, I’m flagging a bit. Let’s eat.”

“This way,” Magda said. She glanced over her shoulder and caught Ginny’s joyous face, an expression that bespoke gratitude that things were going well for her mother. Despite her misgivings, Magda knew that Ginny had accomplished something extraordinary, giving Magda a tiny bit of solace from a time when fear and evil had been her constant companions. With wet eyes, she smiled at her daughter and mouthed the words “Thank you.”