Stone Kiss (34 page)

His eyes drifted onto Rina’s outline. He had told her he didn’t force women. And that was true. He didn’t force women—unless
he wanted to. Rules were good until they weren’t good. Then he broke them. There was a time—not long ago at all—when he had
thought about fucking her in every orifice, using every position known in the
Kama Sutra
while she begged him not to. Yeah, he’d force her at first. That was the thrill. Then, of course, she’d get into it. She’d
start moaning and groaning and plead with him not to stop. She would buck under his weight, writhing in pleasure until she’d
ultimately give way to orgasm. And then after she had come, after every cell in her body had been spent from climax, he’d
pop her: a quick shot to the chest, exploding her heart. His final revenge on Decker because the motherfucker had taken Terry
away from him.

But now as he sketched her, witnessing her sleep so pure, so complete,
Rina had transformed in his mind into all that was chaste and good. Any sexual fantasy with her would be totally obscene—an
act of incest. Any thoughts of harming her had been erased from his mind.

His own mother had died when he was fourteen.

Maybe this one would stick around a little longer.

His own Madonna.

The image sat well with him.

I
was dead to the world,
deep in REM, but my brain must have registered some autonomic signal. As I groped for the phone, I felt my heart banging
in my chest; my head dipped in foggy consciousness. I must have said hello because she spoke, saying words that I couldn’t
yet integrate. When I heard the word “lieutenant,” I came alive. The clock on my nightstand told me it was three-fifteen in
the morning.

“I know who you are,” I told her. “Is your husband okay?”

“The lieutenant is fine,” she assured me. “I’m terribly sorry to wake you up like this, but I just came from your boyfriend’s
place. He’s not feeling well. I thought you’d like to know.”

“My boyfriend?” I was agitated, not fully awake. My voice was heavy; my speech was clipped and confused. “I don’t have a boyfriend.
Who are you talking about?”

“I’m not making myself clear,” she explained. “I’m not in Los Angeles, Terry. The lieutenant and I are in New York.”

New York.

Okay.

At least, I now knew whom she was talking about. She had the good sense not to use names. I often heard unexplained clicks
on my phone. Not surprising considering who had fathered my son. “Is…” I was having trouble catching my breath. “Is the lieutenant
having some kind of problem with him?”

“No, the lieutenant is fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I only called because of your boyfriend. He really
isn’t
feeling well.”

Again my heartbeat soared. My first thoughts were concern for his actual welfare. Almost simultaneously, those thoughts blurred
into what would happen to my son and me if he were permanently compromised. Not very noble, but survival was a very strong
instinct. I had a child to care for. I had two years of medical school remaining. I had a severely damaged credit history,
a very humble savings account, and no other means of support. His well-being dictated my own.

I’d been silent for a long time. “How sick is he?”

“He’ll be fine, but you might want to pay a visit. I’ve booked you and your son on a ten o’clock from O’Hare to La Guardia.
If you’re not interested, I’ll cancel it.”

My head was awhirl with the logistics of the visit. Could I afford the plane fare? Could I afford a baby-sitter? Could I afford
to miss school? Silly musings. In the end, I had no choice. “I’ll keep the reservation. But it’s better if I leave my son
at home with a baby-sitter.”

“I’ll cancel his reservation then.”

“I can do it if you give me the particulars.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Let me get a pencil and paper.”

She gave me the flight number and the locator letters.

“This took some work,” I told her. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Who’s paying for the ticket?”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“Boy… if he asked you to call me, he must be really sick.”

“No, he’s not
really
sick. I’m sure he’ll be fine. But I think he’d appreciate a visit. Actually, he doesn’t even know that I called you. That
was my idea.”

“You aren’t paying for the ticket, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll pay you back—”

“Please, I mean it,” she insisted. “Not another moment’s thought. This will be our secret.”

“All right.” I thanked her again. “Please say hello to the lieutenant for me. Send him my fondest regards. Tell him things
are going well.”

“I will. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thank you.” The moments ticked on. “You’re a very lucky woman. Then again, I suppose the lieutenant’s a very lucky man.”
I heard myself chuckling over the phone. “Of course, people do create their own luck, don’t they?”

“Some people get the breaks.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I really do believe that people make choices. Of course, no one is
doomed
by one’s past mistakes. Instead of drowning in the flood, you might as well build a swimming pool.”

The Levines’ two-bedroom apartment was considered large by New York standards. Decker figured that “large” must have referred
to height. While it was true that the ceilings were ten-feet plus, all that air didn’t add a toenail’s worth of square footage
to the floor space. Jon and Raisie had been kind enough to put him up in the kids’ bedroom for privacy, moving their three
small children to the living room on couches and futons. The kids’ quarters were all beds— bunk beds and a second twin abutting
the lower bunk. Decker had slept, sprawled out over the two lower twins, using the upper berth for his suitcase because there
was no room in the closet for his clothes. There was a small desk jammed into a corner, but it was piled so high with papers
and supplies that it was in danger of avalanching.

Somehow he managed to squeeze his six-foot-four frame into the bathroom to shower. Using only a modicum of contortion, he
shaved, dressed, and said his morning prayers. By ten, he owned the place. Raisie had gone out, first to walk the kids to
school, then back to shiva, but she had shown ample consideration by leaving him a full pot of brewed coffee and the
New York Times
. Jonathan had left early, had taken the subway to work, leaving him the van.

He was on his second cup when his cellular rang. Rina was on the other end of the line. “How’s your face?”

“It’s still there.”

“Peter—”

“Swelling has gone down considerably. I feel a lot better.”

“That’s the Darvocet talking.” “Thank God for pharmaceuticals.” Decker put down the paper. “You sound rested.”

In fact, Rina hadn’t slept more than three hours in the last thirty. By the time she had made it into Orlando, it had been
close to nine. Then it took another hour by car to get to the Deckers’, who lived outside of Gainesville. “I’m very happy
to be here. I wish you were with me.”

“Soon, darlin’. How’s everybody treating you?”

“Wonderful. Hannah has already baked two batches of cookies.”

“Can I talk to her now?”

“She and your mother are out picking beets in the garden. Your mom is going to teach her how to pickle and can. Then they’re
moving on to pie baking. Later on, Hannah and I may take a bike ride.”

“Weather must be a pleasure after New York.”

“It’s in the fifties right now, supposed to get up to the sixties. Full sun. Should be beautiful. Am I tempting you?”

“You jezebel.”

Rina stifled a yawn. “I really should see what they’re doing.”
I really need to go to sleep
. “Randy has been standing over my shoulder. He’s not pleased about your being there, either. He wants to talk to you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Just a few salient details about the situation that you conveniently left out.”

“You’re making my life difficult.”

“That’s the idea. It’ll motivate you to get the heck out of there.”

“Put my brother on.”

She gave the receiver to Randy and mouthed that she was going to bed.

Randy nodded. Into the phone, he said. “How’s your face?”

His voice was serious—all cop. Decker said, “I’m fine. I’m sure Rina exaggerated.”

“I’m sure she didn’t. We’ve been talking, bro. I should get out the mustard cause someone’s been hotdoggin’.”

“I’m sitting at a table, reading the
New York Times
, drinking coffee. Does that sound like any Sam Spade you’re aware of?”

“We need to talk, Peter. Are you on a land phone?”

“I’ll call you back in two.” And he did. “I’m here. Are you calling just to blast me, or do you have actual information?”

“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

Randy was talking from concern, so Decker held his tongue. “What do you have for me?”

“Okay, here we go,” Randy said. “Okay. I ran Lieber through the channels in Miami-Dade County, and nothing pulled up. Nothing
on Chaim Lieber, nothing on Ephraim Lieber, nothing on the old man. I keyworded Lieber on extended counties. Again zero. Ran
them through NCIC. Zilch. There are other databases, but it’ll take time. Since you’re supposedly done with the case on Friday,
I say why bother.”

“You’re right. Don’t bother.”

Randy hesitated. “So you
really are
coming Friday?”

“Yes, I
really am
coming Friday. I promised Rina. I promised Hannah. And now I’m promising you.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll tell you what I did find. I keyworded Quinton into our local system, expecting to find nothing.
Instead, I found out that some of the people from there own places on the Gold Coast—Miami/Dade, Boca, and Fort Lauderdale.
I also pulled up information on some of the Chasidic Jews from Quinton, mostly having to do with them embezzling funds for
the religious-school systems. Do you know about this?”

“A little. Fill me in.”

“Several members of the Jewish community who were on the school board were indicted for commingling public-school funds with
the bank accounts of their religious schools. There were also some allegations of inflated enrollments to get more money from
the school district. Finally, something about welfare fraud and food stamps. You’re working with some real fine fellows up
there.”

“Not most of them.”

“Enough of them to make it look bad.”

“You said several members. What are you talking about? Two,
maybe three people? I’d say that’s
less
than par for the course in city politics.”

“Don’t get defensive.” A long pause. “You’re probably right, Pete. It’s just that they’re visible and hold themselves up to
something better. Makes you fair game for getting shot.”

Decker conceded the point. “What can you do? People are people.”

“It feeds into the stereotype. If I didn’t know Rina, I would think you are absolutely out of your friggin’ mind to be associated
with them. Even with Rina, I sometimes think you’ve gone overboard.”

“That’s Mom talking.”

“No, Mom thinks you’ve gone overboard for different reasons. She’s worried you’re going to go to hell.”

“Tell her I’m used to warm climates. You know, Jews don’t hold a monopoly on dishonesty. Some of the most religious Baptists
have not been paragons of virtue, either.”

“That’s true, but right now you’re not involved with sleazy Baptists. But you may be involved with sleazy Jews.”

“You just said that the Liebers didn’t produce hits.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re clean. It could mean they haven’t been caught. Anyway, let me finish, all right?”

“There’s more?”

“Yes, there’s more. Quinton produced a couple of hits in my district. For what it’s worth, several teens who were vacationing
in Miami with their parents were arrested during a rave raid. The kids were popping ecstasy. I believe they were originally
slapped with drug possession, but the charges were knocked down to the lesser misdemeanor of disorderly conduct. Negotiations
obviously. Someone got paid off.”

Decker’s brain took off.
The lone pill in Ephraim’s hotel room
.

“Bro, are you with me?” Randy said into the receiver.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Ecstasy, huh?”

“Yeah, ecstasy. That’s usually the drug of choice at the raves.”

“What happened to them?”

“They were juveniles. The records are sealed.”

“When was this?”

“Recent. Six months ago.”

Around the time Shayndie was hanging out at the mall
.

“Sealed, huh?” Decker questioned.

“Like a drum. I have no idea who they are. However, if Ryan Anderson and Philip Caldwell turn up as problem children in Quinton,
well, no one would be surprised. Helpful?”

“Very. Thank you, Randal.”

“You can thank me by keeping your promise.”

“I swear—”

“Yeah, yeah. By the way, you must know that ecstasy is a vice of your brethren.”

“What are you talking about?” Decker asked.