Stone Kiss (9 page)

“I’ll tread lightly.”

“It won’t matter,” Jonathan stated flatly. “She’s just who she is.” He got out and slammed the car door. Decker winced at
the noise, then opened the passenger door and stepped out. He had to fast-walk to keep up with his brother. Jon was resentful.
So that made two of them.

Chaim opened the door even before Jonathan knocked. “She’s awake, but it isn’t good, Yonasan. I think we should call the doctor.”

“Can we come in first?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, sure, sure.” Chaim had put on a freshly starched shirt. He had bathed, too. Even though he was technically in mourning
for his brother, the official period usually didn’t start until after the funeral. Plus, it was permissible to bathe before
the Sabbath. Lieber stepped away from the threshold. Everyone went inside.

Chaim said, “What did you find out?”

Decker sat down on one of the twelve dining-room chairs. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, of course. Weren’t you with the police all this time?”

“For most of the time, yes.”

“So what did you find out?”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “Mr. Lieber—”

“Chaim.” He began to pace. “What is this? We’re family. Why are you calling me Mr. Lieber? Is it bad news?”

“Right now, it’s no news,” Decker said.

“But you were there for four hours.”

“Three,” Jonathan said. “There was a lot of travel time—”

“Three, four… you must have learned something!” Lieber spun around and faced Decker with fiery eyes. “What did the police
tell you? Anything at all?”

“It’s at the very early stages of the investigation—”

“Ach!” Lieber waved him off. “C’mon, c’mon. Now you’re stalling—”

“Chaim!” Jonathan broke in. “If he knew something, don’t you think he’d tell you?”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Decker said. “I saw the crime scene. I can’t swear to it, but, personally, I don’t think Shaynda
was in the hotel room with your brother.”

“So where was she? Where is she?”

“That I don’t know.”

“C’mon! She’s an innocent! Where would she go?”

“I don’t know, Chaim,” Decker said. “I’m from L.A., not New York. I guarantee you the police are looking for her.”

“Ach!”

Decker’s head pounded. He tried a different approach. “Chaim, can I take a look at Shaynda’s room, please?”

“Why?”

“Just to get a feel for the girl.”

A shrill voice barked out Chaim’s name. He looked up at the staircase. “I’ll be right up, Minda.”

“I’m coming down. Who are you talking to?”

“The detective.”

“What does he want?” A woman materialized on the staircase. Her head was wrapped in a towel; her body was covered head to
toe in a black caftan. Her eyes were swollen pink and raw, her skin red and blotchy. Her fingers played with one another—constant
motion.

Chaim bounded up the stairs and offered the woman his arm. She shook it off. “I’m not an invalid!” She stared at Decker with
feral eyes. “Did you find her?”

Chaim said, “This is my wife, Minda—”

“He knows who I am. Who else would I be? Did you find her?”

“No, Mrs. Lieber, not yet.”

“So what are you doing here?” She glared at him. “If you didn’t find her,
why are you here?
”

“I wanted to look in Shaynda’s room, Mrs. Lieber. It will give me a better understanding of who she was.”

“I don’t have
time
for this kind of nonsense.” Once she reached the ground floor, she began to pace like a caged feline. “Just get out there
and
find
her.”

“Going through her room might help me find her, Mrs. Lieber.”

“No, it
won’
t help you find her because she shares a room and I’ve already cleaned it and it’s right before
Shabbos
and I’ve got a lot on my mind. I don’t need another person under this roof! Chaim, why are you still here? You’re going to
be late for
Mincha
!”

“I’m trying to get ready, Minda.” Abruptly, Lieber turned to Decker. “Will you please leave?”

Jonathan’s face was beyond shocked. He was clearly appalled. “Chaim, don’t speak to him like that. You asked me to bring him
out here!”

“Then maybe I made a mistake.”

“Maybe you did,” Decker said quietly.

Suddenly, Minda broke into tears. She screamed, “Just get out of my way. That’s what I need. I need everyone to get
out of my way
!”

Decker sighed and tried to think like a professional. A girl’s life was at stake. “Just let me have a quick look—”

“There’s nothing in the house!” Minda insisted. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I found
something
.”

“I’m not saying you overlooked anything on purpose.”

“She’s out there!” Minda’s voice was high and squeaky. “Why are you here? Go look out there and do some good! Search the streets!”
Her eyes became globes of fire. “Why can’t you find her?”

“I’m doing what I can—”

“No, you’re not. You’re here instead of out there!”

“Because of the lateness of the hour, Mrs. Lieber, I think my time would be better spent here.”

“What do you care about the lateness of the hour?
Shabbos
isn’t your problem.”

That sure put Decker in
his
place. “What does
that
mean?”

She glared at him. “Don’t play stupid with me! You
know
what it means.”

Decker was so angry he could barely focus. He willed himself to keep his voice under control. “Yes, Mrs. Lieber, I suppose
I do know what it means.
Shabbat shalom.
”

He stormed out of the house. His fury was so all-consuming that it took a moment before he realized that his brother was talking
to him.

“… doesn’t mean anything, Akiva. She’s beside herself.”

“I realize that.” Decker’s voice was a growl. He opened the van door and sat inside, arms folded in front. His stomach was
a tight knot of acid.

Jonathan got behind the wheel. “Akiva—”

“Funny. As a goy, I was certainly good enough to drag out here to settle things down. Now, when I actually try to work, they’re
putting up fences. You’re damn lucky I’m not that sensitive. More important, you’re damn lucky I really want to find this
poor girl.”

Jonathan said, “You’re not a goy.”

“No, I’m not. But she doesn’t know that, does she? As far as she’s concerned, I’m this big, dumb lug of a cop from hick town
L.A. who converted just to please Rina.” Decker caught his breath. “Look. I feel
for the woman. I really do, Jonathan. But it still pisses me off.” He leaned his head back and stared at the van’s ceiling.
“I’m out of my element here. They’re right. It was a mistake for me to come out.”

“I am so sorry!”

For the first time, Decker heard the pain in his brother’s voice. “God, I’m taking it out on you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

Decker smiled. “Spoken like a true pastor.” He checked his watch. “Well, the good news is we’ll have time to visit the Quinton
Police.”

Suburban police departments had a distinct advantage over their city rivals—a large homeowner tax base. A case could be made
that the richer WASPs on the north side were supporting the poorer Jews on the south side because their houses were bigger
and the lots were expansive. But an equal case could be made in the opposite direction—that the Jews were contributing more
than their fair share because for every one Gentile manse, there were three Jewish houses. What the Jews lacked in quality,
they made up in quantity.

The primary police station was located in Liberty Park, with a half-dozen drop-in station storefronts—manned by two officers—scattered
among the three or four commercial areas. The station’s construction was new: a square edifice of steel and one-way mirrored
glass that was well lit and well ventilated. The detectives’ squad room was spacious with approximately the same square footage
as Decker’s squad room back in L.A. The difference was that Devonshire hosted seating for forty-three gold-shield carriers,
whereas Quinton had twelve full-time detectives, each with his or her own phone, answering machine, voice mail, and computer.

The Homicide/Robbery division was 99.9 percent robbery, and .1 percent homicide. Of the three homicides that Quinton had last
year, one was a suicide—a ninety-six-year-old man with late-stage prostate cancer—and two were reckless homicides—Man I—from
the same vehicular accident. For a fleeting moment, Decker entertained thoughts about retiring to a pastoral suburb like Quinton.
The idea left his cerebral cortex as soon as it entered.

Because he was a lieutenant from a big city, Decker was awarded
a meeting with Virgil Merrin, the chief of the Quinton Police. Merrin was six-one, one step shy of fat, with that wet-shave
pink skin, and hair so blond and thin that his scalp showed through. He had light blue eyes that sparkled when Decker told
him he was originally from Gainesville, Florida. Merrin was from West Virginia, so that meant they were both good old boys.
After several minutes of batting around bass-fishing trivia, Merrin got down to substance.

“A cryin’ shame about the girl.” Merrin wore a blue suit with a light blue shirt, the buttons stretched by the man’s gut.
He gave a soulful glance to Jonathan. “A damn shame! We went house to house—all of the girl’s friends. Nothing!”

They were in Merrin’s office on the third floor. It had a generous view of the park—of the wind-bent tulips shimmering like
waves of colored banners. The lake was also visible from the window, the surface steely with tiny whitecap ripples. From where
Merrin sat, he could see it all. In another context, it could be considered cozy. All that was lacking was a fireplace, a
newspaper, and a cup of coffee.

“What about the other side?” Decker asked him. “The public-school kids.”

Merrin chuckled. “Let me explain. The two sides… no interaction. Even the Jews who
live
in the north side… no interaction with the Jews in the south.”

“One of the father’s complaints—”

“That’d be Chaim Lieber.”

“Yes, sir,” Decker answered. “One of Rabbi Lieber’s beefs with Shayndie was that she was hanging with some of the public-school
kids. Wild kids.”

“See, that’s another problem,” Merrin stated. “That’s his definition… the wild kids. What may be wild to him is harmless to
us. He sees a girl in shorts during the summertime; to him, that’s a wild whore of a girl. What do you and me see? A girl
that’s dressed for summer. If Shaynda Lieber was really hanging with some wild kids… then I could do something for him. Cause
there is a certain element—not a bad element, per se—but a certain element. You know the story—loud, unsupervised parties,
fast driving, binge drinking… and yeah, probably a toke or two. See, if I knew for certain
that it was those kids, then I could maybe pay them a visit. But I think that to Rabbi Lieber, any kid on the north side is
a wild kid.” His eyes went to Jonathan’s face. “See what I’m saying here, Rabbi?”

“We understand.” Decker turned to Jonathan. “Didn’t you say that Shayndie used to hang out at the mall?”

“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “The one in Bainberry.”

“All the kids on the north side hang out at the mall in Bainberry. That’s neither here nor there. Correct me if I’m wrong,
but didn’t all this hullabaloo take place in the city?”

“Yes, of course,” Decker said. “But I’m just wondering if she’s maybe hiding out with one of the north side kids.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “Maybe she saw something. Maybe she’s afraid to come home.”

“Only reason she’d be afraid to come home is if one of her own kind was implicated. Now, you know as well as I know, Rabbi,
I could ask those folks questions from today till tomorrow. They’re not going to talk to
me
. But maybe they’ll talk to you.”

Punting the responsibility back to him—back to the Jews.

Decker said, “You’re probably right. But if you do hear of something—”

Merrin spread his hands out in generosity. “Of course, if I hear of something, I’ll go straight to the parents. I’ve got people
on this, Lieutenant. We did search the south side, door-to-door. And maybe you have a point there… her hiding in the north
side. You know what I’ll do for you? I’ll have my men ask around.”

Decker knew what that meant. A cursory walk to a couple of houses, maybe passing out a few flyers.

Merrin said, “I’ll have my men
and women
ask around.” He smiled. “I hope you’re not one of those sensitive types. There are no biases in this department, but old
habits…”

Decker nodded. “Thanks for seeing us.”

Merrin gave out a heavy sigh. “I’m not giving up on her. You know that. If she’s around, we’ll find her.”

Decker hoped he was right. Because the Stones notwithstanding, time wasn’t on their side.

I
t’s my Johns Hopkins ID.”

Decker glanced at his stepson, then studied the picture. Jacob, with his smoldering light eyes and a chip of inky hair over
his brow. The teen exuded appeal—matinee-idol looks with that perfect sexy sneer. “This was before you cut your hair.”