Stone Kiss (24 page)

New Jersey, home to “Born in the USA” Bruce Springsteen. Decker knew there were gorgeous and wealthy neighborhoods in the
state, but this wasn’t one of them. Didn’t TV always put the mobsters’ dump spot somewhere in the Garden State? Was that why
Donatti had chosen it? Had he dumped bodies here before?

A blare sounded in the distance: something that was traveling because of the Doppler effect—the wave of noise advancing, then
receding. A series of hoots. Owls, possibly? Then once again there was nothing, a creepy stillness that was worse than the
creaks and the cracks.

And what if Donatti didn’t show?

Then that would be that.

At the moment, the option sounded all right to Decker, much better than freezing his nuts off in the middle of nowhere. Breathing
in soot and grime, continuously looking over his shoulder or behind his back because any second he might get sliced up by
some fifteen-year-old psycho punk with nothing better to do. One side of Decker was almost hoping that C.D. would revert to
his pathological lying self and pull a tilt. Donatti was a funny bastard. He wasn’t evil for evil’s sake, but he was self-serving
and amoral—an unscrupulous son of a bitch who did evil things, and that made his moves even harder to figure out. An evil
man will kill and rob and rape for the thrill, for the fun and games. An amoral man like Donatti had no problems with killing
and robbing, but he didn’t do it for kicks. He did the deeds, sure, but only if they were in his best interest.

Just what was in Donatti’s best interest?

Decker took out a small bottle of Chivas and took a stiff drink. For dinner, he had eaten a tasteless vegetarian sandwich
made with stale bread. It was atonement for eating so much meat yesterday night. He was trying to help his stomach out. Instead,
the supposedly light food was sitting like stone in his gut.

Another drink just to soothe the nerves.

He was completely disoriented: a friggin’ sitting duck. Why the hell hadn’t he taken the piece that Donatti had offered him?
But even that could have been a setup.

You take the piece, and then I’ll have a reason to shoot you
.

With C.D., Decker just didn’t know. Donatti had talked about Decker swallowing, just as he had for eight years. Was this meeting
staged? Was it masking a final act of revenge that had lain dormant for years, turning over in a cold, cruel mind?

Eleven-fifteen.

Decker took another swig of booze.

Fifteen minutes passed, producing nothing but hard shivers down his spine and numbness to his toes.

He’d wait until the witching hour. Then… that was it.

Five minutes before midnight, Decker saw it—an approaching, silent shadow. No car in his view; Decker hadn’t even heard any
faraway engine sounds. He wondered how the shadow had gotten here so quietly. Did it walk on tiptoes, or had Decker’s mind
wandered so he hadn’t noticed obvious noise?

His nerves shot into overdrive as he bent down to pick up the tire jack—heavy and cold in his grip. Slowly, the shadow took
shape, Donatti materializing through the mist. He was dressed in a woolen overcoat, with gloves on his hands. He was literally
dragging a package behind him—a small, frail thing swathed in a baggy coat. Her hands were wrapped in knitted mittens, but
there were holes at the fingertips. She appeared like a toddler next to Donatti’s massive frame. Even at a distance, Decker
could tell that she was crying, sobbing to him,
begging
him.

“Please don’t make me go back.”

“No one is making you go back.”

“Please don’t make me talk—”

“He just wants to see you—”

“No, please, no!” She was clutching Chris’s arm, her nails digging into his coat. Strands of long, matted hair stuck to her
wet face. He continued to lug her closer, and Decker took a few steps out to meet them. At that point, Decker saw that she
was shaking harder, absolutely trembling with dread, barely able to support her own weight under bent knees.

Decker stopped advancing. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Stay where you are.” He studied the girl. It appeared to be Shayndie, but
with it being so dark and with her face obscured, Decker just wasn’t sure. Donatti halted his footsteps and the girl immediately
buried her face into Donatti’s ribs, just under his armpit.

“She’s obviously comfortable with you,” Decker remarked.

“What can I say?” Donatti answered. “Natural charm. Shayndie, just answer this man’s questions and we’ll go back—”

“He’ll tell my father.”

“I won’t tell your father,” Decker answered.

“Don’t believe him, Mr. Donatti. He’s one of them.”

“Nah.” Chris blew her off. “He couldn’t care less about Jews. He has to pretend to be Jewish, or else his wife will get mad.
C’mon, Shayndie. I’m cold and I’m grumpy. Let’s get this over with.” He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her away from his
body. Then he bent down and looked in her eyes. Instantly, Shayndie covered her face with her palms.

“He won’t hurt you.” Donatti pulled her hands down. “He’s actually an okay guy, all right. I promise he won’t hurt you. And
if he does, I’ll kill him, all right?” A gun was pulled from his coat. It was a big one, possibly a Magnum. Donatti stood
up and pointed the weapon at Decker. “See this? I have the weapon; he doesn’t. That means he’s screwed if he tries anything.”

“Please don’t make me talk to him.”

“Shayndie, answer his questions, or I’m gonna get
pissed
! I’m tired. I want to go home. Just do it, okay?”

She nodded, but then slapped her hands over her face again.

“And take your damn hands off your face! C’mon, girl! I’m willing to help you, but you gotta pull yourself together.” Again
he bent
down. He lowered his voice. “C’mon, sugar. Can you do that for me?”

She didn’t answer, but Decker noticed that the shaking was subsiding.

He kissed her forehead and pulled loose hair from her face. “Please, sugar? You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“This would make me happy. Can you do it? Can you talk to him?”

Again she nodded.

“Yeah, I know you can. You’re a strong girl.” Donatti kissed her cheek, then stood up, his eyes fixed on Decker’s face. “Make
it quick or we’re both gonna have problems.”

“Can you tell me what happened to your uncle, Shaynda?”

She muttered something, but Decker couldn’t make it out.

“I can’t hear her.”

Chris sighed with exasperation. He bent down a third time. “C’mon, honey. Whisper it in my ear.”

She did as told. Donatti nodded as she spoke behind a cupped hand. He said, “Someone grabbed him as they were walking to the
museum. She got away.” To Shayndie, he said, “Did you see who did it?”

“Men,” she muttered.

“How many?” Decker asked.

“Two… three. They were
frum
. They wore
kapotes
.”

“Lubavitch?” Decker said.

A shake of the head told him no.

“Satmar?”

Again the answer was negative.

“Breslav.”

“No. I mean I don’t know. They wore…
shtreimels
.”

“
Shtreimels
? In the middle of the work week?”

She nodded yes.

“And they were dressed up in silk
kapotes
or something?”

She nodded.

Donatti said, “Can you translate this for me?”

“The men who took her uncle wore Chasidic garb. There are many different Chasidic sects. The Liebers are a certain sect, and
I’m trying
to find out if one of his own whacked him. She thinks it might be another sect because they wore Sabbath dress in the middle
of the week. A
shtreimel
is a unique broad-brimmed fur hat worn only on Sabbath and special occasions.” Decker made a face. “Something’s off, Donatti.
Sounds like someone was playing dress-up.”

“Any idea who?”

“I wish.” To Shayndie, Decker said, “ Did you recognize
any
of the men?”

A quick shake of the head.

“You’re sure about that?”

“It happened very fast,” she mumbled. “I was scared.”

But Decker felt certain that the girl was holding back. “Have you talked to your parents since it happened?”

Wide-eyed, she shook her head furiously. Then she grabbed on to Chris. “Can we please leave, Mr. Donatti. I’ll do
anything
you want. I swear I will. Anything! Just don’t make me go back with him.”

At that moment, the little girl meant her every word. For Donatti, she would have spread her legs in an eye blink. It made
Decker sick to the core.

“Please, Mr. Donatti?” Shayndie begged.

“Sure. You did a good job.”

“Thank you!” She burst into tears.

“Wait here a moment, Shayndie. I want to talk—”

“Don’t leave me!” She glommed on to his body. “Please, don’t—”

“Stop it!”
Donatti plucked her off his body, as if he were dusting off a piece of lint. He spoke low and menacing. “You wait here, understand?”

“Don’t make me go with him.” “Did I say that?” He took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “Did I
say
that?”

“No.”

“You shut up, you stay put, and let me get rid of him! Then we can both go back.”

Tears were pouring down her cheeks. But she nodded okay.

Donatti took several large strides forward, looped his arm around Decker’s back, and drew him out of Shayndie’s earshot. With
her
protector at a distance, Shayndie started to move toward him. Immediately, Donatti warned her back with a look. To Decker,
he said, “She’s a virgin.”

Decker regarded Donatti’s face. “How do you know?”

“Because I asked her.”

“And you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I know she is. Before I nailed her, I asked her. I told her it was very, very important that she tell me the truth. I told
her I didn’t care a rat’s ass one way or the other, but it had to be the truth. Because the one thing I hated was being lied
to. She swore. She wasn’t lying. She was a virgin.”

Decker took in his eyes. “A few seconds ago, you said she
is
a virgin. Present tense.”

Donatti looked at him in mock confusion. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, you did.”

Chris smiled enigmatically.

Bastard
. Decker said, “Okay, Donatti, where do we go from here?”

“I’ll contact you.”

“What about her parents?”

“Nothing until I contact you. You tell her parents, all bets are off. You tell her parents, that also means you broke your
word. That means you’re a dead man.”

“Then it’s a good thing my will’s in order. When will you contact me?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to be patient.”

“Patience is my middle name. Right now, I’m inclined to poke around closer to home. See if I can find out who these religious
guys are, now that I know she’s safe with you. I’m assuming that my nosing about won’t step on your toes?”

“Not at all. I don’t know anything about the hit. More important, I don’t care. If all the Jews in the world suddenly dropped
dead, I’d be happy. More money for me.”

“You’re a hopeless sentimentalist, Donatti, just like the Nazis.”

“You know I’m not a big Wagner fan.”

Decker said, “If I come up with some faces, I’ll want to talk to her again. What do I do?”

Donatti said, “I’ll call you.”

“And I can show her the faces?”

“If you play by my rules, it can be arranged.”

“Thanks.” Decker rested his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell you this, Donatti, but you’ve been
helpful.”

“Good.” Donatti grinned. “I like doing favors.”

“I’ll bet.” Decker started to walk away. Donatti caught him by the arm. “I fooled around with her, Decker, but she’s still
whole. Out of respect for you, I didn’t fuck her.”

Decker nodded. “I appreciate it.” He waited a moment. “Did she know anything sexually?”

Donatti’s lips curled upward. “I usually charge money for details, Lieutenant.”

Decker kept his anger inside. He spoke deliberately. “Should I be concerned about a
molestation
angle?”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been with someone that innocent since Terry.” Donatti let out a soft laugh. “Jesus, even Terry
knew what a hard-on was. I’m sure last night was the first time that Shayndie had ever
seen
a cock, let alone
touched
one. That girl is from another century.”

Decker was quiet.

“She wasn’t being diddled,” Donatti said. “I’d stake my life on it.”

“All right. That’s helpful.”

Donatti looked upward. “Do you have any idea how much I could get for her in the white-slave trade? I have at least three
Middle Eastern clients who’d give a fortune to rape a Jewish virgin. They’d whisk her out in a private plane, take her to
their country, pass her around, then sell her to a brothel.”

Decker blurted, “Whatever you’d charge, I’ll pay it.”

“You couldn’t afford it.” Donatti bit his lip. “Maybe we can arrange a trade with your wife.” Immediately, he backed away,
holding out his palms for a shield. “I’m kidding! Don’t worry. I’ll keep Shayndie safe. After you find out what happened,
and it’s okay for her to go home, I’ll return her to you—unharmed and intact.”

Decker was still breathing hard. “Thanks. Thanks a lot, Chris.”

“That makes another favor you owe me.”

“You’re keeping score.”

“You bet your Jewish ass I’m keeping score.”

D
ecker 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.