Stone Kiss (15 page)

“That’s a very negative spin on it, Chris. I think of it as saving Terry’s life instead.”

“Did she give you my address?”

“No, the cops did.”

“The cops?”

“Yeah, the cops.”

Donatti let out a laugh. “It’s nice to be thought of as the bullet behind every single whack in this city.” His eyes darkened.
“You know, after I found out that Terry was pregnant, I kept waiting for her to tell me. Six months after the kid was born,
I finally figured out that she had other things in mind… things like denying me my son. And that angered me. I decided to
give Terry a little time to get it together. If I didn’t hear boo from her by the time the kid was a year old, she was going
to meet with a very unfortunate accident. Three weeks before the target date, I get a letter from her. It starts off like
this.

“‘Dear Chris.

“‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but Lieutenant Decker prevailed upon me.’ ”

He paused.

“‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but
Lieutenant
Decker prevailed upon me.’

“Now that really angered me. It angered me that she wasn’t going to tell me. It angered me that she only told me because you
told her to do it, and it really
pissed me off
that you made lieutenant.”

“Sounds like you were angry, Chris.”

“Yes, I was, and it’s
Mr. Donatti
to you.”

“You already told me that.”

“Well, you seem to have forgotten. I’ll chalk it up to old age.”

“Fair enough.” Decker rubbed his eyes. They felt hot and itchy. “Terry tells me you two have been in contact for several years
now.”

“Minimal contact.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ask her.”

“She says you come out to see her and your son a half-dozen times a year.”

“So she still writes to you.”

“Occasionally.”

Chris rolled his eyes.

Decker said, “Yeah, she told me you don’t approve.”

“No, that’s not what I said. I told her that she shouldn’t put anything down in writing. If she wants to talk to you, she
should call you. I know that Terry has some kind of father fixation with you. It’s harmless. It’s probably healthy in light
of the fact that her old
man is a raging alcoholic. I just don’t want any connection to me in writing. It’s not healthy for her or the kid.”

Decker thought a moment. “Cops don’t know about Terry or the kid, do they, Chris?”

Donatti gave Decker a hard stare.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Decker answered. “So who does know about them other than me? Joey?”

Donatti closed his eyes, then opened them. A harmless gesture, except it was one that Decker knew very well. It meant that
Decker had touched on something. It meant that Chris was edgy.

Decker smiled. “Joey has no idea that you’re in contact with Terry. He thinks you broke it off with her eight years ago, and
that was that.” The smile widened. “Joey doesn’t know dick about her or the kid, does he?”

“Am I reading this right, Decker?” Donatti’s nostrils flared. “Are you actually
using
Terry as a bargaining chip?”

“God forbid! You know I don’t work that way.” He exhaled. “Be hell of a lot easier if I did.” He pointed to the pictures.
This time, Chris finally looked at them. “I’m a stranger here, Mr. Donatti. I need help. I’m interested in any information
about the hit and what this guy did to get bumped. But more important, he was with a fifteen-year-old girl. This girl, here.”
Decker pointed to the one picture he had of Shaynda. “She’s gone, and the parents are frantic. Any ideas?”

Donatti answered with another shrug.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Donatti didn’t answer. A timer dinged. “Excuse me, I have work to do.” He stood up and waited for Decker to do the same.

Decker paused.

“That means you’ve gotta go,” Donatti said.

Reluctantly, Decker got up and left the room. Chris locked the door and put the keys in his pants. “You can let yourself out
the same way you came in.”

Again Donatti disappeared behind one of the doors. Decker waited, deciding what to do. He knew if he left now, he’d never
get another chance. Donatti would think him a gutless jerk. Yet if he pushed Donatti, that wouldn’t work, either.

C.D. don’t talk.

But back then—eight years ago—Chris did talk, having told Decker lots of things in his time of need. In some perverse way,
Decker had been a kind of father figure to Donatti as well as Terry. While Chris was serving time, Decker had been his link
to Terry. More important, Decker had been C.D.’s passkey out of prison. Yes, it was Decker who had put him in the hole, but
when certain forensic irregularities came to light, it had been Decker who had bought Donatti his freedom. If anything were
to work with the kid, it would be the old roles, not the new ones.

There was no way Decker could convince Chris that he had his interest at heart. But he could convince Donatti that he cared
about Terry—because that was true. Decker had given the girl money when she had been desperate—abandoned by everyone, including
her parents. One thousand dollars that Decker could ill afford went to support Donatti’s son when Chris wouldn’t have anything
to do with her. Now that they had resumed a relationship, Terry had probably told him about it: Chris was no doubt resentful.
Still, Decker had come through for Terry, and Donatti placed a huge premium on loyalty.

Decker sat back down on the wooden crate and rested his elbows on his knees. If he were to get anywhere with this homicide,
he needed an insider and who better than Donatti?

Provided that Donatti had nothing to do with the murder.

Sure it was a risk, but what was life without that occasional adrenaline rush?

Decker waited patiently, happy to just sit and do nothing. When Donatti finally emerged, he stopped in his tracks, seeing
Decker. “You’re still here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

As Decker stood, Donatti tensed up every muscle, every sinew as if expecting Decker to pounce. Instead, Decker dropped his
voice to a soothing whisper. “You have a beautiful son, Donatti, because you chose his mother well. That much we agree on.
As far as Terry goes, I die with your secret, guy. You know me well enough to realize that
my word is not only gold but also noncontingent. If you can help me out, fine. If not, it’s no hard feelings. I walk away
and you never hear from me again.”

With that, Decker turned and left.

I
f Donatti had something to do
with the hit, he didn’t give off any telltale vibes. But then again Chris had always been good at hiding things, so Decker
didn’t dare rule him out. Clearly, Donatti favored youth—teenagers he could control and manipulate. He had to recruit his
girls from somewhere, and as long as Shaynda was still missing, any predator of young girls was suspect. Decker had stirred
up the muck. Now it remained to be seen what would surface.

Walking along Riverside Drive, he bundled up in his coat and stuck his hands in his pockets. The sky was all pewter and charcoals,
enclosing the Hudson River like dented armor. A pungent wind was roughing up the water’s surface. Decker felt the sting in
his cheeks and on the tip of his nose. Brisk in step, he spotted a taxi and flagged it down. As soon as he did it, he realized
he didn’t know where he wanted to go.

With the case stalling and no new leads, there wasn’t any reason to stay in Manhattan. Yet, just as Rina had predicted, he
was reluctant to let go. Why had the Liebers turned hostile? Stress manifesting itself or the sinking realization that Decker
would not be able to work miracles? A true professional would have returned to Quinton and bullied the family into cooperation.
But that was the problem: The Liebers were family. His relationship with his half brother Jonathan wasn’t fixed in concrete,
and Decker didn’t want to jeopardize a tenuous bond that took ten years to build.

His options were dwindling, but he still had some recourse left.
Since he was in Manhattan anyway, he could pay a visit to Leon Hershfield. The attorney was working on a high-profile case,
and because Hershfield wouldn’t work on Saturday, logic dictated that the lawyer was probably in his office on Sunday.

He gave the driver the Fifth Avenue address, calling Hershfield on his cell phone. The lawyer didn’t sound thrilled to hear
from him, but he was smart enough to invite Decker over. Twenty minutes later, Hershfield met him at the door to his office.
He was impeccably dressed in sporty attire—a camel-hair jacket over gray slacks, a white shirt, and red tie. Not the usual
Brioni or Kiton suit, but still appropriate for a seven-figure, high-powered attorney. Hershfield’s shoes looked to be boots—elephant
hide.

“No rest for the weary,” he told Decker as he closed the door behind him. “Sit down. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, I’m all right.”

A glance at his wrist revealed a thick gold watchband. Hershfield said, “It’s noon. How about some lunch? I was going to order
in. The Broughder case has been incredibly time-consuming. Who has time to go out? But I’d be happy to order you a sandwich
or bagel.”

Decker smiled. Hershfield had just related a page’s worth of hidden messages:
I’m a busy man, I’ve got commitments, and I’ve got time restraints. You’re imposing on them. I’ve looked at my watch. I’m
clocking you
.

“No, thank you, Counselor. I shouldn’t be here more than a few minutes. Thank you for your time.”

Message received loud and clear.

Hershfield sat back in his desk chair. “So how are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Jet lag.”

“I’m sure that’s part of it.”

Silence.

“Are you making progress to your satisfaction?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Part of it is I’m working blind.” Decker licked his lips. “I’m getting this strange feeling that I’m not wanted.”

“Cops are territorial.”

“Not the cops, Counselor, the clients. I have this notion that certain people are sorry they got me involved. Lord only knows
why they called me.”

“Initial panic, maybe?”

“Probably.”

“Then maybe it’s time to say good-bye.”

The speed with which Hershfield answered gave Decker second thoughts. It seemed likely that the Liebers had contacted Hershfield,
maybe even asked him how to get Decker off their backs. “Although, I’ve got to tell you,” Decker answered, “I’m having a hard
time letting go. I have this thing… my daughter says it’s called the zygarnic effect. It’s this pathological need for closure.
At least, that’s what my daughter says.”

“Children love to categorize their parents.”

“My wife says the same thing about me. Must be a kernel of truth in there.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But if the need is pathological, maybe such doggedness is not such a good thing.”

“It works well in my field.”

“I suppose it does.” Hershfield smiled. “And what about the cops? When we last spoke, you said you were going to contact them,
ask them questions.”

“They’ve been very cooperative.”

“That’s good to hear. Do you think that they’re competent?”

“They’re fine. Good actually. Motivated.”

“So why not leave the case to them? Unlike you, they’re not working blind. They have the resources and the connections. Why
visit trouble? The family won’t appreciate it anyway.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because that’s the way we Jews are,
nu
?”

Now he was being folksy as well as conspiratorial.

“Maybe it’s time to close up shop before you get in over your head.”

Decker eyed him. “Over my head?”

“It’s just like you said, Lieutenant, if I may be blunt. New York is
a behemoth. If you’re not a local, you don’t stand a chance. Even if you were a local, you’d be in thick gravy. Plus, you’ve
got this subset called Chasidim. If you think the cops are doing a good job, I would strongly suggest that you bow out before
you get sucked into something you can’t handle.”

Decker stared at him. “I’m not wanted.”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Who am I pissing off? Obviously, Minda doesn’t like me, but I think it’s more.”

Hershfield shrugged, offering Decker a palms-up gesture. “I like you. In some ways, I identify with you. We’re both
frum Yiddim
, trying to negotiate the world for a bunch of black-hatters who think we’re goyim. Why stick your nose into dung if people
are only going to tell you that you stink?”

“That’s what I do for a living, Counselor. Stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“But you’re not getting paid for this, Lieutenant. You’re taking precious vacation time to get spit at. And if you think you’re
going to redeem yourself with these people, even after this is over, think again. You’ve been with the tribe long enough to
know that working for Jews is nothing but problems. I’m getting paid for it. But what do you need it for?”

The anonymous complainer could have been anyone from Chaim to the cops, even Donatti, who used Hershfield as his lawyer. And
if it were Chris, maybe Hershfield was using the Liebers to deflect the heat off him. Decker said nothing.

“Anything else?” Hershfield asked.

“Yes, actually there is something else. First time we met, you asked my brother about Mr. Lieber’s stores as a pass-through
for money-laundering drug dollars. Do you know something that I don’t?”

“Lieutenant, if you want to work from that angle, it’s fine with me.”

“I don’t need your permission.”

“No, Decker, you don’t.” Hershfield’s face had tightened, the skin over his bony cheeks taut and dry. “Look, murder is a terrible
thing. And I’m devastated about the young girl. Really, I am. But until she’s
found—one way or another—the Lieber family has to be protected. That’s why you hired me. And that’s what I’m trying to do.
Which is why I’ve instructed the family members not to talk to you until we know what’s going on.”

Decker stared at him.

“It’s for their own good,” Hershfield went on. “I know that you’ve got a job to do, Lieutenant, but so do I.”