Stone Kiss (38 page)

“Ephraim was at a crossroads. Either he had to turn a blind eye or jump to the next step… telling his father about it. His
soul was in turmoil.”

“Did Ephraim mention what the troubling practices were?”

“No,” Schnitman admitted. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. At the stores, Ephraim was in charge of inventory.
Ephraim had told us that Chaim had taken some rather sizable loans for expansion—”

“Wait, wait, wait… what was this?”

“About two years ago. Ephraim was very excited. He felt that more stores would mean more responsibility, more chances for
him to prove his mettle.” Schnitman blinked several times. “Don’t you people do your homework?”

“I just got out here last Friday. I’m not with the NYPD. Talking to you is doing my homework. Now go on.”

“That was rude. I’m sorry.”

Decker looked as his watch. “You have around six minutes. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s all right. It’s an old story, Lieutenant Decker. Old man works up the stores from nothing; then the son gets in with
grandiose ideas to make it bigger and better. It appears that Chaim took out loans for expansion; then the recession hit.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the city was hit with the terrorist attacks. Business fell drastically. So not only was the expansion
put on hold, but now Chaim was facing the more pressing question—how to pay back the bank?”

“Chaim stole from the coffers,” Decker said.

The Chasid shook his head. “Chaim was in charge of the coffers. Stealing from your own store’s inventory would be like stealing
from your own wallet. You need a third party to rip off.”

“Insurance fraud.”

“Exactly. You put in claims for stolen items that you’ve never
owned. Or you steal your own items out of warehousing, put in claims for them, then resell them on the black market—double-dipping.
The problem is that it’s all penny-ante stuff—pocket change. Plus, you do too much of it, red flags go up. When you’re in
real trouble—and I don’t know if Chaim was or was not in real trouble— then it’s time to hire the professional fire starter.”

Decker regarded the Chasid. “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”

“Emek Refa’im is a haven for those of us addicted to drugs. Many of us had big problems that led to drug addiction.”

“Things like guilty consciences.”

“Precisely,” Schnitman said. “Ephraim appears to be no exception. Maybe that’s what he was conflicted about, wondering if
the store was going to burn down—”

“No,” Decker interrupted. “I think if Ephraim knew that Chaim was planning to burn the store down, he would have definitely
gone to the old man.”

“Yes, you’re probably right about that.”

“It had to have been something else,” Decker said. “You’re sure it was business practices that were troubling him?”

“I’m not sure of anything. I’m just repeating what someone told me.” He looked upward. “I probably shouldn’t have even done
that.”

“I’d like to talk to the sponsor.”

“The truth is, I don’t know where the person lives. I don’t even know the last name. Some people are like that, I’m a little
more progressive, but even I play it really close to the bone. It’s not for my sake—I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing—but
if it got out—my problems—my children would suffer greatly, especially in the future. It would be hard for them to find a
shiddach
.”

A
shiddach
—a proper mate set up by a matchmaker. “Sins of the father,” Decker said.

“Correct.” Schnitman held on to his hat as the wind kicked up. “But I do want to help. If you come next Tuesday, maybe the
person will show up at the meeting. I’ll give you an introduction, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Next Tuesday, I’m back at work in Los Angeles.” He remembered
what he told Donatti—sixty hours, now down to less than forty-eight hours. “But thanks. You helped confirm what I suspected.”

Schnitman regarded Decker. “You’re a good man to come all the way out here to help your fellow Jews. You’ve probably gotten
nothing but grief for your efforts.”

“You’re right.”

“Moshe Rabainu got nothing but grief for his efforts as well.” Schnitman smiled. “You’re in very good company, Lieutenant.”

I
t was quarter to one
when Decker made it back to the synagogue, but Jonathan was still in conference. Five minutes later, Decker saw his brother
walking out of his office with a forty-plus black-suited woman and a teenage boy. The woman held a balled-up tissue to her
eyes, and the kid wore a sullen moue, his eyes focused on the exit door.
Problems, problems, problems
. Jonathan accompanied them outside, returning a minute later, trotting back toward his office.

“Jon,” Decker called out.

The rabbi spun around. “Akiva. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He did a little jog to catch up with him. “You were in there for a while. How about some lunch?”

Jonathan said, “If it’s a social thing—and I suspect not—I can’t afford the time. If you need me, I’m here for you.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I have to go back to Quinton.”

“Perfect! You can drive and we’ll talk in the van.”

Instant hesitancy registered on the rabbi’s face. Decker came to his rescue. “I have no intention of visiting your in-laws.
I have other business there—on the north side.”

Now his eyes were curious. “What kind of business?”

“I’ll tell you about it later. How about if I grab a cup of coffee and meet you at the van? It’s parked down the street.”

Jonathan said, “You found a parking space?”

“After a half hour of circling. Go get your things. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

It took more like fifteen minutes. And even when Jonathan did pull out, he couldn’t get very far. Traffic was solid steel,
distance measured in inches as the van crept over to the Henry Hudson Parkway, horns blaring in protest and frustration.

Jonathan remained stoic. “There must be some dignitary in town.”

“I read something about a conference—National African Resource Agenda—over at a church.”

“That’s right. The Riverside Cathedral is only blocks from the shul. I’ve been through this before. It’s going to take time
to get out of here.”

“It’s fine with me.” Decker finished his coffee, placed it in a cup holder, then regarded his brother in his heavy wool three-piece
suit and tie. Heat was blasting from the vents. “Why don’t you take off your jacket, Jon, while you have the chance?”

“Good idea.” The cars were at a standstill anyway. “You suggested lunch. Are you hungry?”

“I can wait.”

“I have a couple of sandwiches in my briefcase.”

“In a few minutes, thanks.” Silence. “Have you talked to Raisie at all?”

“Not since this morning.”

“I won’t ask.”

“It’s probably best that you don’t.”

Decker ran a finger across his mustache. “I need some confidentiality right now. I have to know that whatever I say won’t
go beyond the two of us.”

“I understand,” Jonathan answered. “Go on.”

“I talked to some people this morning, Jon. It seems that there was conflict between your brothers-in-law. I don’t know the
details, but it was over business. In a sentence, I think Ephraim was having some difficulties accepting some of Chaim’s marginal
business practices.” He recounted the conversation. “Ephraim was thinking about going to your father-in-law, but then he was
murdered. Anything you can add to help me with this?”

“Who’d you talk to?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Is this person reliable?”

“No reason to lie.”

“I have no problem keeping your words confidential, Akiva. I’m a rabbi; I have privileges. But the confidentiality only goes
one way. I’m not as free to talk as you are.”

Decker thought a moment. “Attorneys have confidentiality. I’m a lawyer. I passed the bar. I even practiced a long time ago.”

“In California. We’re in New York.”

Decker grinned. “It would make an interesting test case, no?”

Jonathan paused, then took out a dollar. “You’re hired.”

Decker turned the bill over in his hands. “And it looks like I’m reasonable, too.”

“It’s no reflection on your legal aptitude.” Jonathan measured his words. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you what I do
know. Chaim was in debt. He actually borrowed some money from me—which I gave him. Five thousand dollars.”

“Not exactly pocket change.”

“No, it wasn’t. When he asked for more, I gave him five, six hundred dollars. I told him that was all I could do. And in the
future, to please remember that his sister wasn’t working and I had three kids in private school.”

“You did your bit.”

“I thought so. He wasn’t pleased, but he understood. A few weeks later, he came back to me. He said he knew I couldn’t afford
any more loans, but what about the shul? Could he borrow from the shul’s
gemach
fund?”

“That’s the charity fund, right?”

“Yes,
gemach
is the charity fund. However, I didn’t consider him a charity case. Also, it was a terrible conflict of interest—bailing
my brother-in-law out of debt. I told him it wasn’t an option. He got huffy. For a while, he and I weren’t speaking. Then
about six months ago, we settled our differences. In the main, he apologized. He told me that at the time he was being squeezed
by his creditors, that business had been terrible. He’d been desperate. But things had turned
around. Business was slowly getting better. It was during Elul, so I figured he was taking stock in what lay ahead for him.”

Elul is the month before Rosh Hashanah. The thirty days served as a wake-up call for those in need to atone for the past year’s
sins. In Jewish law, everyone fell into the repentant category. Elul usually came around the beginning of September in the
secular calendar— around six months ago.

“And?” Decker prodded.

“And that’s it. We reconciled. Especially after September eleventh, our differences seemed absolutely silly. He had us over
for dinner; we had them over for dinner. We took Shayndie for a couple of weekends. Everything seemed all right… until this
exploded in our faces.”

“What did Chaim do to turn the business around?”

“I was under the impression that he didn’t do anything. That things simply improved.”

“So he didn’t give you any specifics?”

“No.”

“What about Ephraim? Did he give you any explanation for the turnaround?”

“No, he didn’t say anything to me. I always had the feeling that it took all of Ephraim’s energies just to be Ephraim. He
was dealing with his own set of problems.”

“I’m going to think out loud,” Decker said. “Don’t take offense.”

“I understand.”

“Chaim borrows from the bank to expand the business, then falls into deep debt. Recession hits and business turns terrible.
He borrows here, he borrows there—from relatives, maybe from friends, to scratch by, to put the bankers at bay. But it’s not
enough. He gets panicky enough to ask you to do something illegal—”

“I don’t know if he viewed it as
illegal
.”

“It’s iffy at best, Jonathan. And even after you explained it to him, which I’m sure you did and in great detail, he balks.
He stops speaking to you. Your words, right?”

Jonathan was silent, masking his apprehension by concentrating on his driving.

“Then all of a sudden, things turn around,” Decker said.

“I don’t know if it was all of a sudden,” Jonathan said.

“Business was slowly getting better, you said. Let me parse this out for a moment. Business
slowly
getting better doesn’t mean a sudden influx of money—enough so that you’re no longer worried about loan officers breathing
down your neck. Business
slowly
getting better implies a stretched-out process.”

Jonathan said, “I’m not following you.”

“That’s because I’m working this through as I go along,” Decker told him. “Okay. We have this slow recovery. But then I’m
told that Ephraim was
upset
about Chaim’s business practices. So you know what I’m thinking, Jon. I’m thinking that Chaim wasn’t relying on his
slowly
recovering business to pull him through. I’m thinking that maybe the guy suddenly came into quick cash—possibly by illegal
means. More than likely by illegal means—unless you know of any fortuitous inheritances.”

“You’re making major leaps, Akiva.”

“Yeah, that’s the fun part of what I do. The messy part is getting evidence to back up my ideas. Now let me play this out
for a moment. The easiest way for Chaim to get illegal cash is by insurance fraud. Trouble is, claims take time. The turnabout
was rather on the sudden side, correct?”

“I don’t know how
sudden
it was.”

“Well, how many months was it from the time he asked to borrow the shul’s money to the time you two reconciled?”

Jonathan tapped the wheel. “About three months.”

“Must have been a hell of a three-month upturn in sales, Jon. Now if it were during Christmastime, maybe. But we’re talking
from June to September—traditionally slow retail months. Forgive my skepticism.”

Decker’s stomach growled.

“Take a sandwich,” Jonathan told him. “I’ve got tuna or chicken.”

“Which one do you want?”

“I honestly don’t care.”

“Then I’ll take the chicken.” Decker rummaged through his half brother’s briefcase until he found the plastic bag and the
sandwiches inside. “What do you do when you can’t wash?”

“Just make
Hamotzei
. I’ve also got some fruit, chips, and a couple of diet Cokes. Raisie has a stake in feeding my gut. Help yourself.”

Decker said a prayer and bit into his lunch. “Thanks, I’m really starved. Should we continue?”

“You mean should you continue.”

“Yeah, I am doing most of the talking. Anything you’d like to add?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Where was I?”

“Chaim’s upsurge in business during the summertime.”

“You’re paying attention.”

“I always was a good student.” Jonathan’s voice was bitter.