Jupiter's Bones (12 page)

“I’m not going to need them.”

“But you’ll come to me if you do?”

The teen nodded. Then he appeared to really give Decker’s words some thought. “If something does…I’ll let you know. I promise.” For the first time, the boy initiated eye contact. “I’m really sorry.”

Decker stroked the boy’s cheek, then withdrew his hand. “Jacob, I want you to
stop
watching porno films. They only increase your arousal, and you have no outlet to bleed off your libido except masturbation. Now, I know that’s also against Jewish law. But I have no problem with it. It’s clean, it’s easy and it’ll keep you from going off the deep end. Even so, there’s no sense in
feeding
your sexual appetite. When your friends put on the flicks,
walk
out. Also, if you stop watching films, it’ll get you away from that crowd and force you to do healthier things.”

“Like hanging out at Nate’s Pizza Shop,” Jacob said drolly. “There’s a real riot.”

“After sex and drugs, I’m sure it seems mundane. But it’s what you should be doing. Or take Shayna out to the movies. Or go bowling—”

The kid rolled his eyes.

“Bowling’s fun,” Decker insisted.

“If you’re fat and forty and like to guzzle beer.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you saw
what
hung out at bowling alleys, you wouldn’t recommend it as an alternative behavior. You know, I used to do regular stuff. You used to take me riding every Sunday. Then you got rid of the horses—”

“We can’t keep the horses in the new house.”

“That’s not the point. We just don’t…do anything.
We used to go ATVing in the mountains. You used to take me go-carting. You never even take me for a drive in the Porsche anymore. Since you got promoted, all you ever do is work or go fix up the new house.” A sigh. “Not that I’m blaming you for my stupid behavior. But I do miss—”

Decker’s beeper went off. Instinctively, he looked at the pager. The station house was calling him. His head was reeling, his stomach lurching. Responsibility was a leech that just wouldn’t quit. He said, “Go on.”

“No, go answer it,” the teen said with resignation.

“You’re more important. Go on.”

“I can’t talk if I know some kid out there is being raped. We can pick this up another time.”

But Decker knew they wouldn’t. Feeling crushed, he stood and went to the phone. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Whatever.”

Decker punched in numbers on the phone. While he waited to be connected, he stole some juice and cold meatloaf from the fridge. A half-minute later, Marge came on the line.

“Got a call from the Order. There’s been an incident.”

Decker almost choked on his food. “Another body?”

“A missing body. One of its members—a young woman around nineteen or twenty. Her given name is Lauren Bolt, but she was renamed Andromeda by the Order. Her room is undisturbed, but she’s nowhere to be found. Pluto’s claiming she was kidnapped by one of our officers—”

“
What?—
”

“Who was paid off by the girl’s parents—”

“You’ve
got
to be kidding—”

“And the whole thing was coordinated by Reuben Asnikov—”

“The deprogrammer?”

“That’s the one. Pluto stated that he wouldn’t be surprised if Asnikov was behind Jupiter’s death. As far as he’s concerned, Asnikov planned the whole thing just to
get the girl out. You know, ends justify the means. He claims that Asnikov is a ruthless, murdering bastard.”

Decker pulled out a notepad from his jacket. “When did all this happen?”

“We caught the call about ten minutes ago. Scott and I are on our way.”

“Secure the area with crime ribbon tape. No one goes in or out. Get a couple of uniforms to help you keep the area sealed off. And check the ID on everyone including the officers. Just on the rare off-chance that someone was actually impersonating one of us yesterday.”

Marge paused. “It’s happened before.”

“I know. Let’s hope Pluto’s being hysterical. If he isn’t, we’ve got a problem. Do you have the parents’ phone number and address?”

“We called. No one’s answering.”

“Anyone in the squad room from Homicide?”

“Bert and Tom came back around five minutes ago.”

“Do this for me. Send Bert Martinez over to the girl’s parents, and send Tom Webster over to talk to Asnikov.”

“Why? At the moment, Pluto’s accusations have no basis.”

“The girl’s parents need to be told about their daughter. She
is
missing. If they had a hand in it and it was against her will, then it’s kidnapping. If not, maybe they know something to help out the police. To Asnikov, go under the pretext of warning him that the Order is angry at him—”

“They
are
angry at him.”

“Then Webster’s job is legit. In the meantime, he can feel Asnikov out. See if he squirms. Although in his line of work, I doubt he sweats much.”

“When will you make it down to the Order?”

“Give me fifteen, twenty minutes. I’ve got to drive my son back to school.”

“Your son?”

“I’m at my house.”

“What’s your son doing there? Shouldn’t he be in school?”

“Don’t ask.”

Marge said, “See you in fifteen.”

Decker hung up and looked at Jacob, “Something came up. I’ve got to go.”

“The Ganz case?”

Decker stared at him.

Jacob said, “It’s all over the news.” The teen walked over to the corner and picked up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder. Again, he ran his fingers through the front of his thick black hair. James Dean with a
kepah
. “Believe it or not, I’m interested in what you do.”

“I know.” Decker felt the pit of his stomach drop. “I realize I’ve been busy…too busy. The Daytona’s coming next month. How about if I get us some tickets—just you, me and Sammy?”

Jacob smiled. “Sounds great, but don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Cutting to the quick. Decker was silent. Together they quickly left the house. Decker locked the front door while Jacob threw his backback into the unmarked. After they had both buckled up, the teen said, “Are you going to write me an excuse?”

“For cutting class?” Decker revved the motor and pulled out of the driveway. “Do you think I should?”

“No. But they’re going to want to know where I was.”

“Tell them you were at the house. I’ll vouch for that. But I’ll also tell them that you didn’t have my permission to cut school.”

He said, “I’ll probably get detention.”

“You’ll live.”

“No, I mean I’ll probably get detention instead of being suspended. You’re supposed to be suspended for cutting. But kids cut all the time. Half the time they don’t even get detention. Nobody even knows they’re gone.”

“Really organized school I send you to.”

“Don’t blame me.” Jacob fidgeted. “So…like am I grounded or what?”

Dying to get punished. It cleanses the soul. Or maybe it was a wish for some kind of attention
. Decker said, “I want you to start coming to the new house with me. I’m putting dry wall up in the new bedroom. I can use another pair of hands.”

The boy grimaced. “Dad, I can’t screw in a lightbulb. I’ll be more harm than help.”

“So you’ll learn. Not just you, Jacob, Sammy, also. I’ve haven’t wanted to burden you two with your parents’ project. But I think that was a mistake.”

“I have lots of schoolwork over the weekend.”

“So budget your time. As far as Saturday night goes, you stay home and baby-sit Hannah for a month. After that, you’re on your own just as long as you stay away from pot, booze and porno. I think I’m being more than fair.”

“Yeah, actually it sounds pretty liberal.”

The remainder of the ride was silent. As Decker pulled up at the school’s curb, Jacob said, “You really like your job, don’t you.”

His first instinct was to downplay it. But after all this, Jacob was entitled to some honesty. “I like it very much. It’s stressful, but at least it’s not routine. I’m probably a little like you. I get bored easily.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Two and half hours of
gemara
. It’s…stultifying.” Jacob opened the door. “I wish I was like Sammy, and believed all the junk they throw at us. I’d be a lot happier. Trouble is, I just don’t buy most of it.” He slid out of the car. “We’ll pick this up later.” He smiled. “Over drywall.”

Jacob shut the door and walked away. Decker watched him go, feeling inadequate and unsatisfied. A moment later, the teen was joined by four other boys who were obviously glad to see him. Decker wasn’t sure but he thought he detected a sudden swagger in his son’s walk. Jacob was a real charmer.

Jails were full of them.

They had amassed
for the confrontation in the main hall. As the sun stood upright in its pathway, its rays poured through the ceiling’s windows, bleaching the faces of the spotlighted. The combination of the afternoon heat, the compressed bodies and the greenhouse factor had turned the area steamy, and it smelled as ripe as a gym. In the harsh glare, Pluto’s face appeared neon orange as sweat dripped down his face and onto his shoulders. Perspiration had also darkened the armpits of his blue robe. The two detectives and four officers were managing to keep the crowd from turning unruly, but they were badly outnumbered. Who knew how long order would last?

Seeing this as he stepped inside, Decker radioed for all units to be on alert in case backup was needed. The situation was tense, but not as grueling as dealing with his family. Hell, he didn’t have to see these yahoos every night for dinner.

When Pluto spotted Decker, the guru turned his wrath on the higher authority. He pointed an angry index finger at the lieutenant, shaking it as if sprinkling baptismal waters. “I hold
you
responsible for the
kidnapping
!”

Over one hundred angry adult faces turned toward him, each adding a hostile grunt or remark of his or her own.

Pluto orated, “We expect the police to conduct an all-out manhunt until our Sister Andromeda is returned to us.
We demand this. We will not put up with anything less.”

Again, the crowd shot back some righteous amens.

Decker said nothing, waiting for the noise to die down. A moment passed, then two, then a full minute, Pluto waiting for him to say something. Lacking sagacious words, Decker smoothed his mustache. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Oliver almost broke up, but Marge elbowed him just in time.

Pluto had turned pumpkin from outrage. “
What?
”

“I have to use the facilities,” Decker said. “Happens to the best of us. Afterward, I’m here to listen—”

“To
listen
!” Pluto sneered. “We don’t want your
therapy
! We want action!”

A chorus of support from the parishioners.

“One of our members was
stolen
from us!” he yelled. “Find her!”

Again, the masses erupted.

“We’re here to serve,” Decker yelled over the noise. “But first things first. Someone direct me to the john, please?”

Silence. Then a male voice answered, “Third door on the left.”

Decker scanned the room in the direction of the voice. Bearded and thin—Guru Bob with a cryptic smile. Decker nodded. Then he told Pluto to meet him in the temple.

Once inside, Decker locked the door. The place was closet-sized and barely accommodated his size. He turned the water on full blast and washed his hands and face while trying to formulate a plan. He didn’t want a one-on-one with Pluto, either in front of an audience or alone. He needed input from other less volatile members. He decided to request a meeting of
all
the privileged attendants. He had wanted to meet Nova, and now seemed as good a time as any.

Coming out of the bathroom, he saw that people were dispersing slowly. Apparently, a breakup announcement had been made. He couldn’t find Marge, but Oliver was
deep in conversation with some members, taking notes and acting official.

Decker searched the room for other blue robes, hoping to find Nova, but he could only make out Bob in the crowd. He elbowed his way through the swarm until he was within talking distance of the goateed man.

The attendant acknowledged him with a curt nod. He said, “Pluto’s waiting for you.” Bob glanced at Oliver, in conversation with a blond, stocky man. “Just you, not him. He was firm about that.”

Decker said, “Why don’t you come join us? You and Venus and Nova.” He hesitated. “Where is Nova?”

His sentence was interrupted by a white-robed, thirty-something man who had turned his bullish face toward Decker. Standing nose to nose, the man shouted, “This is outrageous! Are you cops going to do anything? Or are you going to sit on your ass and fart onions!”

Decker backed away, trying to regain personal space. “You got some bedside manner, guy!”

Immediately, Bob stepped in. “Something will be done, Brother Ansel. One way or another—”

“I hope so!” Brother Ansel broke in. “We cannot let this crime pass unchallenged—”

“Of course not—”

“An invasion of our privacy!
Satan
took advantage of our tragedy! Struck in our moment of sorrow!”

“Everything will be dealt with. Now go back to your room. Meditation is in five minutes—”

“This is hardly the time—”

“On the contrary, Brother Ansel, it’s the perfect time,” Bob answered. “Spiritual growth happens during life’s challenges. Please return to your room now.” A chastising look. “You don’t want to risk a fine, do you?”

The pugnacious Ansel growled, but eventually left. Not before throwing Decker a sneer. When he was gone, Decker asked, “Who’s the Satan?”

Bob said, “Pluto’s expecting you at any moment. If he
gets angry again, who knows what he’ll say to the crowd.”

“Come with me.”

“That wouldn’t be wise.”

Decker paused. “I thought you said that you and Pluto are of equal rank.”

Bob reddened in anger. “We are. But I have other business to take care of. We all have jobs to do.”

Meaning he didn’t want to cross Pluto?
Decker said, “Of course. Come if you can.”

Bob was clearly in a quandary. “I’ll be there, but it’ll take time. Start without me.”

“Great. Bring Nova along if you find him.”

“Uh huh.” Bob became distracted, his eyes resting on a girl of about twenty. Her eyes were mildly green, and her brown hair was tied back in a bun. He nodded and she nodded back, passing an unwritten note of sexuality. She looked familiar.

Then Decker remembered. It was Terra. The girl in the van who had led them through the gate—and past the dogs—yesterday morning.

Bob said, “I’ll see you later.”

Decker asked, “By the way, where
is
Nova?”

Bob tensed. “You’re getting downright pesky.”

Decker shrugged. “Sorry about the persistence. It’s my job. Still, I don’t want to alienate you. You’ve been helpful.”

“Yeah, well, that can change quickly.”

“I saw Europa yesterday. She offered me some interesting insights. Maybe we can talk about her some time.”

“Then again, maybe not.” Bob’s face was flat. “Goodbye.”

Decker said, “I’ll see you in a bit.” He walked toward the temple. After taking a dozen steps, he stopped, then turned and looked over his shoulder. Bob had disappeared, no doubt going off to chase a much more tangible celestial body.

The rooms were clones of one another, and Sister Andromeda’s was no exception. Hers was just as Decker had described the others. A cot, a coarse wool blanket and a makeshift shelf on which sat a cup, a spoon and several books on spirituality and lay physics.

As a matter of fact, the bookshelf dared to have a novel. Nothing big…a romance title from a couple of years back. Still…

Marge tapped her pencil on her pad.

There was something eerie about the cubicle. All of the girl’s earthly possessions remained—from the books to the suitcase underneath the cot. It certainly didn’t
seem
as if she was planning on going somewhere. Everything was in place. Only thing missing was the occupant.

Hearing scuffled footsteps, Marge turned around. A young woman barely out of her teens stood at the doorway. Her complexion was smooth and pale, her hair medium brown and tied up. Pretty in a waifish way. Full lips and pronounced cheekbones. Her hands and fingers were long and smooth as if sculpted from marble. She wore a white robe. On her feet were white slippers.

“She was taken, you know,” the woman stated in a soft voice.

Marge said, “Tell me about it.”

“It was him. The one we call
Satan
!”

“Does he have a more…conventional name?”

Her delicate fingers gathered in a fold of her snowy gown. “Reuben Asnikov. Her parents hired him. They paid him lots of money. Andromeda was terrified of being snatched by him. He has a sordid reputation.”

“In what way?”

“In his methods of brainwashing.”

Or deprogramming, depending on your perspective
, Marge thought. “Tell me about it.”

“Just that he will stop at nothing.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Is there a way to categorize the evilness of the devil?” A tear fell down her cheek. “None of us are incarcerated
here. We can leave if we want. Yet we stay because here we can live under the glow and guidance of Father Jupiter.”

She started to cry. Marge waited her out. It took about a minute. When the young woman finally calmed down, Marge said, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Terra.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her silky hand. “It’s Terra.”

“And you were friends with Andromeda?”

“We are both teachers of the children. The sweet, sweet children. The future of the Order.” A new batch of tears escaped. “It is intolerable to think that they will not grow up with the holy hand of our venerated Father Jupiter.”

“Where are the children now?” Marge asked Terra.

“Come.” Terra straightened her spine and took Marge’s hand. “I’ll take you.”

Leading her down a hallway, Terra tiptoed until they reached a kind of cul-de-sac of three doors. Small, muffled cries bled from one of the rooms. Terra smiled. “The nursery.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Terra opened the door just a crack, enough for Marge to see but not wide enough to be noticed.

Three women in white gowns were tending to a dozen small children—babies and toddlers. Each was doing a job. One was rocking a two-year-old, singing lullabies to a Botticellian face. Two infants were sleeping in cribs. One woman was on the floor building with Legos with a group of toddlers. Another was setting up food on a picnic table for what appeared to be an afternoon snack.

“Would you like to go in?” Terra told Marge.

“No, that’s fine.” Marge faced her. “Don’t want to disturb anyone.”

Terra closed the door and opened another. “This is one of our two primary classrooms for grade school.” She walked inside the room. Immediately, a group of children stood at attention, all of them dressed in white cotton
pants, a white long-sleeved T-shirt and white socks and sneakers.

The clothes were
bright
white—dead white. Either these kids didn’t do much dirty work or the compound owned shares in Clorox.

In
white
and standing
erect
—like little angels. Around thirty of them of varying ages, but they all seemed to be under twelve. A quick ethnic breakdown put around sixty percent of them as Caucasian, about thirty percent Asian, while the remaining ten percent were of mixed race.

Tender, small faces with bright eyes too big for their faces, smooth cheeks unravaged by hormones and red but unchapped lips that, when parted, produced the crooked smiles of half-erupted teeth. They stood in a state-of-the-art classroom replete with writing desks each holding a PC computer, a monitor and a printer. A marker board sat on the front wall, various equations scrawled across the white surface in red ink. The remaining three walls were made up of bookshelves. All the texts seemed to deal with the physical sciences or the spiritual. Not a novel in sight. Like the other rooms in the compound, there were no windows—only skylights.

No windows
.

Making access into the compound—except through the exterior doors—just about impossible. With all the goings-on yesterday—the police, the techs, the people from the coroner’s office—Asnikov would have had a rare opportunity to strike.

Terra stood at the front of the classroom. Her manner was grave. “Good morning, our future generation.”

In unison, they answered, “Good morning, our Sister Terra.”

“You may sit.”

They sat.

“I will be with you in a moment. You are to use this interlude to say your prayers, asking once again for the safe journey for our Father Jupiter into the next universe. We all hope to join him soon.”

The last sentence drew hackles from Marge’s neck.

Terra said, “Our dear son Gamma, will you lead the chant?”

A ten-year-old Asian boy stood. Within moments, the class broke into a mantra—hushed drone as whispery as the wind. Terra took Marge out of the classroom. As soon as they were alone, Marge asked Terra about the meaning of
joining
Father Jupiter.

The young woman gave Marge a startled look. “It’s a formality, Detective. They need to feel part of the grief process. Yet we insist that they know there is a better future.” She paused. “Surely, you don’t think we have something more…more
permanent
in mind.”

“There have been precedents.”

“Father Jupiter was never one to force anything upon anyone. I assure you that those in charge feel the same way.”

After interacting with Pluto, Marge wasn’t sure at all. “I noticed those kids were preteens.”

Another tear slipped down Terra’s cheek. “The older ones were Andromeda’s charges.” Again, the young woman took Marge’s hand. She shook it with urgency. “You must find her soon. For the children’s sake. She relates so
well
to them…to the
teenagers
.”

Slowly, Marge extracted her hand from Terra’s. “How many kids were in her charge?”

“Eight. They’re simply
lost
without her.”

“Who’s taking her place in the meantime?”

“I am,” answered a deep, male voice. He was tall, thin and bearded. He extended his hand to Marge. “Guru Bob. And you are…?”

“Detective Dunn.”

“Ah. That’s right. You were here yesterday.”

“Yes, I was. I didn’t expect to be called back so soon.”

“We didn’t expect it either. What are you doing here? I mean here specifically…in front of the classrooms.”

“Sister Terra was just showing me around.”

“I’ll bet she was.” He took in Terra with fiery eyes.
Marge came to her rescue. “I was looking over Andromeda’s room and Terra was kind enough to take an interest in her welfare. She said that Andromeda was a teacher. One thing led to another.”