Authors: Faye Kellerman
T
he suite was at the end
of a long, narrow hallway, up two steps and facing the back of the building. Dark and musty, it held yards and yards of draped
cloth over the windows and hanging from the ceilings: rich fabric in oxblood velvets and ruby satins. Between the textiles
were mirrors—on the walls and on the ceiling. The bed was king size, dressed in gold silk and layered with pillow upon pillow.
A crystal chandelier threw disco light over a bedspread vaguely redolent of cigarette smoke and perfume. So prototypical whorehouse,
it could have been a movie set. The blonde went over to a mirror and bent down, showing off a nice, tight rear. She pushed
in a panel, and a cubby opened up. She took out a portable phone and stood up, extending it to Decker.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Decker paused, then took the receiver. “Thank you.”
She sat down, perched on the edge of the bed. The mattress undulated.
How neat!
Decker thought. He and Jan had had a water bed during the 1960s when that kind of thing was ultracool. They had to give it
away because it had killed his back.
He pushed the talk button. “Decker.”
“Lay off Merrin. He’s a gold mine for me—him and you Jew boys. You kikes are a real horny lot, you know that.”
It took Decker a few minutes to integrate Donatti’s words. “I take it this is a protected phone?”
“I do my best, but nothing’s guaranteed. You talk on any line, you take your chances.”
“You don’t seem concerned.”
“Why should I be concerned? What’s wrong with calling up a massage parlor? I’m not known for my high-class taste.”
“You own the place.”
“Me? I don’t own anything like that. Can’t get a license being a convicted felon. Terry, on the other hand… now there is one
rich lady. She owns a string of them.”
“Does she know?”
“She would if she’d bother to read her tax return. You know Terry… lives in her head. As it stands, I do the accounting: She’s
happy just to sign on the dotted line. Anyway, it’s not like it’s a
bad
thing. Massages are very good tension relievers.”
“You know, Donatti, I see lots of velvet and mirrors here. A big mother water bed. But no massage table.”
“The clients like atmosphere. And if you look in the bathrooms, you’ll see we have lots and lots of oil.”
“What do you know about him? Merrin?”
“Not much except that he likes his massages. He brings in other clients who like massages. Because he’s such a good referral
source, the place gives him deep discounts. All the masseuses are over eighteen, by the way.”
“Comforting,” Decker replied. “I don’t think Merrin likes me.”
“Could be, Decker. I don’t like you, either.”
“What else do you know about Merrin?”
“You know, I’m big on delegating. Jen would know more about the locals.”
“The comely blonde in reception.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Mind if I ask her a couple of questions?”
“You can ask. I don’t know what she’ll tell you, even though I’ve instructed her to be very, very
nice
to you—a big concession because her pussy retired three years ago.”
“I don’t want sex, Donatti; I want answers.”
“Sex is always the answer, Lieutenant.”
The line went dead.
Decker handed the phone back to Jen. She took it, stowed it, and sat down on the mattress, patting it for him to sit down.
He sat, setting off a tidal wave. Her hand went to his knee. Her voice was a siren’s whisper. “What can I do for you?”
He took her hand away from his thigh. “Probably nothing if Donatti shut you up.” He stood and leaned against the wall. She
came up from behind and slipped her hands around his waist, pressing her body against his back. It felt nice, but he shook
her off. “I’m married. I don’t cheat. Don’t touch me, all right?”
He turned around, facing her puzzled—and slightly wounded— blue eyes. “What? Did he tell you to seduce me? He’s playing games.
He knows I don’t do that kind of stuff. Sit down.”
She retreated to the bed and sat down with her hands in her lap, as obedient as a schoolgirl.
“Do you live in Quinton?” Decker asked her.
“Rosehill.”
“Where’s that?”
“About ten miles east of Bainberry.”
“Separated by woods?”
She nodded.
“What’s this area? Like a series of little townships?”
“Exactly.”
“And why did you choose to settle in Rosehill? Did he set you up there?”
“My husband’s practice is in Rosehill.”
“Your
husband
.”
“Yes.”
“What does your husband do?”
“He’s a physician. Family medicine. He’s been in Rosehill for over thirty years.”
“Thirty years.”
“Yes.”
“He’s quite a bit older than you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to imply anything negative about that. I’m much
older than my wife… well, not
that
much older.” Decker began to pace. “Does your husband know what you do?”
She regarded him defiantly. “What I do is secretarial work. Nothing more.”
“A few moments ago you were willing to do more.”
Her eyes were steel. “Doing an old friend a favor, that’s all.”
Decker stopped and rubbed his forehead. “You know a girl from Quinton was murdered about five days ago.”
“Yes. Down in New Jersey. A shame.”
“She was fifteen years old.”
“A terrible shame.”
“You get clients from Quinton?”
“Sure.”
“The Jews come in?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever serviced a man named Chaim Lieber?”
“We keep our clients’ names private. People expect that, you know? But since you seem to have a… personal relationship with
Mr. Donatti, I’ll answer the question.”
“Thank you.”
“No.”
“A big buildup for a letdown.” Decker laughed. “He never came in… Chaim Lieber.”
“No.”
“What about his brother?”
“Who’s his brother?”
“Ephraim Lieber?”
Again she shook her head no.
“Merrin comes in here a lot.”
She grew quiet.
“Nice man?”
“He’s always been polite.”
“Good to hear.” Decker began to pace again. This was getting nowhere. “Let me ask you this, Jen. If I wanted to fly a little,
where would I go?”
Her smile was patronizing. “To the airport.”
“Very funny. Could you answer the question?”
“I wouldn’t know. This is a spa, not a rave.”
“A spa?”
“We have a steam bath. Are you interested?”
“No, I’ve been wet enough for one day, thank you.” Again Decker tried to change tactics. “So you get some Quinton people in
here.”
“Yes.”
“Men who like their privacy.”
“Yes.”
“Probably get some boys in here, too. You know, horny kids looking for some action.”
“All our clients are over eighteen.”
“You card the ones who look underage?”
“Of course. We don’t want problems.”
“Merrin get a kickback for looking the other way?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.”
First time she had used his title. Donatti must have told her.
“You get some bad boys in here, Jen?”
“We get all types of men. But if they want a massage, they mind their
p
’s and
q
’s.”
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere. C’mon, Decker. You’re a professional, for God’s sake
.
He remembered Donatti’s words for snagging the girls: “tea and sympathy.” How many times had he used that approach with juveniles
himself? He sat down on the floor, his legs extended outward, back against the bed. He tapped the carpet, indicating for her
to sit next to him. She followed dutifully, tucking her legs under one another, her spine straight up. He kept his eyes on
her stoic face, dropping his voice to something soft and soothing. “How old are you, Jen?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one.”
“Yes.”
“My daughter’s twenty-five.”
“Really. You don’t look that old.”
He smiled. “I also have another daughter…from my second wife.
The one who’s much younger than I am. That daughter… she’s nine going on thirty.”
Jen smiled.
“Do you have children?” Decker asked her.
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Two.”
“How old?”
She swallowed. “Six and one.”
“Boys? Girls?”
“A girl and a boy.”
“The oldest is a girl?”
She nodded.
“That’s great.” Decker smiled. “Six is a wonderful age, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She stared at her lap. Her black leather miniskirt barely covered her panties. “Yes, it is.”
“So full of life… so full of trust and curiosity.” He sat back, laced his hands behind his neck, and stretched. Then he pitched
forward, a concerned expression in his eyes. “I worry about my little one. It’s hard growing up in this day and age, especially
because we’ve seen terrible things. Talking professionally, I’ve seen many, many bad things up close. Not too encouraging.”
She said nothing.
“All these bad boys, these… evil people that I arrest. It jades my perspective. I worry that my… my negativity will rub off
on her. But you know what?”
“What?” she whispered.
“It doesn’t. Kids are remarkably resilient. Don’t you find that to be the case?”
Her eyes clouded. “Sometimes.”
“Well, look at your own little girl. And look at
you
. I mean, it couldn’t have been easy having a kid at fifteen. But look how you’re doing. You’ve got a good job. A husband
who probably loves you very much… right?”
“Right.”
“Two beautiful children. Great fun, huh?”
She nodded.
“Yes, indeed. Just look how well you’re doing. You’ve got a lot to be proud of. I’m sure you’re a real role model for your
daughter.”
She turned her head away. Her eyes had become wet. “That was nasty.”
“What?” Decker threw his arm around her. “My God, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
Burning eyes lit into his. “Nothing…”
“Nothing? You’re as pissed as hell. I’m sorry. What did I say?”
“You didn’t say
anything
.”
“I’m sorry. Honestly. Tell me what I said?”
She wiped her tears with her fingers. “
Nothing
.” Then she hid her face in her hands. “Nothing at all.”
“Man, Donatti’s going to get mad when he finds out I’ve upset you.”
“Oh God!” Panic crossed her eyes. “I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry for what?
I
offended
you
!”
“No, you didn’t! You didn’t at all.”
“You’re afraid of him—Donatti?”
“No, not at all.”
“Come on, Jen. It’s okay. Is he… hurting you at all?”
“Of course not!”
Decker watched her as she sniffed and wiped her face, her eyes redder but softer. “Your daughter?” he asked. “Is she Donatti’s
kid?”
She laughed through her tears. “
No
.” A pause. “I wish to God she
was
his.”
Decker nodded. “Some jerk took advantage of you, huh?”
She was still furious, but fear made her answer him politely. “My sister’s husband.”
“Oh God…” Decker sighed. It was heartfelt. He leaned back and inched away from her. “I did a lot of Juvenile before I transferred
to Homicide. You do Juvie, you deal with lots of sex crimes involving minors. That’s what it was, Jen. A sex crime. Because
at fourteen, it certainly wasn’t anything you did. It was all about what
he
did. And what
he
did… was a sex crime.”
The tears going full force.
“They’re all the same… all of them.” Decker raked his hands through his hair. “They’re all monsters.” Another sigh. “Raping
your wife’s fourteen-year-old kid sister. It doesn’t get any lower than that.”
No one spoke.
“Yes, it does,” she whispered. “It does get lower.”
Decker waited.
“No one believed me. My sister…” Jen clasped her shaking hands. “She called me a lying little slut. My father beat me. My
mother stood by and didn’t do anything. They put my daughter in a foster home. When they tried to force me to sign papers…
putting her up for adoption…I ran away.”
“What a mess! I am so
sorry
.”
“Mr. Donatti… he took me in. He—” She was choking back sobs. “He introduced me to my… to my husband. He… he was one of Mr.
Donatti’s clients.” She wiped her face. “My husband…he proposed to me on my eighteenth birthday. Mr. Donatti told me to go
for it… to marry him. He told me that he’d take care of me. And he does… my husband takes good care…” Another sniff. “He takes
very
good care of me. He loves me very much.”
“I’m sure he does, Jen. Who wouldn’t love you?”
She tried to stem her weeping. “My husband… he helped me get her back—helped me get my daughter from her foster parents. He
paid for the lawyer; he paid for everything.” Again she broke into tears. “Oh God, I’m so stupid.”
“Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not! When Mr. Donatti finds out—”
“He won’t find out because neither one of us is going to tell him.”
She looked away and sobbed out, “He’ll find out!”
“So big effing deal!” Decker took her chin and turned her face to his. He looked her in the eye. “I’ll handle Donatti, all
right?”
She didn’t answer.
Decker let go of her face, riding out her crying. Finally, after it had subsided, he said, “Jen, that Quinton girl I was telling
you about? The one who was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know her at all?”
“No.” She sighed a sob and shuddered. “Just what I read in the papers.”
“That’s why I’m here. To find out who killed her.”
She didn’t comment.
“She was only fifteen, Jen. Just like you when you gave birth. Only she never had a chance to redeem herself—like you did.”
“I haven’t really
redeemed
myself. Working day in and day out with ugly men and perverts leering at my boobs and butt, trying to grab a piece of my
snatch.”
“You look like you can handle yourself very well.”