Street Dreams (6 page)

Scanning the streets, I recognized one of the working ladies and immediately slowed. She had on fishnet stockings whose tops
came below the hemline of her sleeveless red minidress. Smooth brown arms swayed as she walked. Her lemon-colored hair, marred
by dark roots, had been pulled into a ponytail.

I rolled down the window. “I hope you’re on your way home, Magenta.”

She squinted. She was nearsighted but never wore glasses while working. I found this out after she claimed to have witnessed
an assault on a bag lady. The detectives had a specific perp in mind and put him in a lineup. After peering at the men, Magenta
had picked out Detective Elgen Halkhower from GTA detail. Now she said, “Who’s there?”

“It’s Officer Decker.”

“Officer Decker? You still on duty?”

“An officer’s work is never done.”

“Same here.”

“Except I don’t give my money to a pimp.”

“Just the U.S. government—biggest-ass pimp in the whole wide world.”

She had a point. “C’mon, honey. Tell Burton if I find your ass out here again, I’m gonna haul you in. The money you’ll make
will just about square with bail.”

She sighed. “All right, all right. I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”

She’d turn back around as soon as I was gone.

“How’s your son?” I asked her.

Her smile was genuine. “Gettin’ bigger and bigger. Like his dad.”

Her pimp, Burton, had fathered her child along with six other children by four other women. In some regard, the extended family
made it easier for the girls. While they peddled their asses, someone was home watching the kids. “Hon, you need to get off
the street.”

“I said I’m goin’.”

I pulled away and hit the pedal until I was going around forty. At the corner of La Cienega Boulevard and Sunset, I turned
left, my car tobogganing down the steep hillside as I headed toward home.

Home was Culver City, a small throwback just south of L.A. The hamlet still contained free parking and one-of-a-kind shops.
I could walk the streets and pick up just about anything—from discounted clothing at designer outlets to exotic spices from
the Indian markets. The area held a salad of ethnicities and maybe that’s why I felt comfortable with Koby. There was safety
in diversity, with no one race thinking that it owned the world. Maybe it was naive, but to me, that was what America was
all about.

D
arkness surrounded him,
yet it was emptiness that he sensed, that caused his body to break into a cold sweat. Four
A.M.
and he was alone. Where’d she go?

Clad only in pajama bottoms, Decker bolted from the bed, too panicked to bother with his robe and slippers. He found Rina
at the kitchen table. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“When did you get up?”

“Actually, I never went to sleep.”

She hunched over dozens of Xeroxed papers and duplicates of black-and-white photographs. The initial burst of artificial light
had caused him to squint. When he realized what his wife was looking at, he felt his eyes go wide.

“Good Lord, what in the
world!”

Rina stood up, pulling her terry-cloth robe tightly around her body. “You’re shivering. Go put a robe on.”

Ignoring her, Decker picked up a picture. It was a head shot. The eyes were closed, the mouth slightly agape, the hair pulled
off the face. The woman appeared to be around forty. Even without benefit of color, he had seen enough postmortem photos to
know what he was studying. “Rina, what’s going on!”

She took the picture from him and set it back down on the table. “My grandmother.” She slipped her arms around her husband,
biting his mustache gently. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, you’re shivering. Go put on a robe.” She kissed his
nose. “Or better yet, go back to sleep.”

Sleep was definitely
not
on the agenda. He regarded his wife, with her pale skin and her intense eyes that shone sapphire in the dim light. Her raven
hair was mussed and flyaway, brushing against her shoulders. It was longer than he had remembered. He rarely saw her tresses
loose. As a religious woman, Rina kept her hair pinned or in a braid with the top of her head covered by a tam or kerchief.
He tried out a suggestive look. “I’ll go back to bed if
you
go back to bed.”

Her smile was tired. “That’ll work for me. Just let me clean up.”

His eyes went back to the table. Among the array of handwritten pages and photographs was a German-English dictionary. His
brain started to fire. “Okay, I’m awake now. You snagged me. I am now curious. What is this all about?”

“You want the lowdown on this before or after?”

It wasn’t even close. “After. You got my hopes up, woman.”

“I have no intention of dashing them. Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Hygiene is a turn-on.” She swatted his rear. “Go.”

“Should I shave?”

“It might wake up Hannah.”

Nix the shaving. He went back into the bedroom, with his expectations and the free-floating anxiety that was now his ever-present
companion. He’d become accustomed to the knots in his stomach, gauging his agitation by the constriction of his gut. It was
as if an invisible belt encircled his belly. Sometimes it was tight, sometimes it went slack, but it was always there.

Under the covers, his body turned warm, but his feet were still cold. He was careful not to rest them against Rina’s smooth
legs when she joined him. To Decker, sex was a beautiful thing. For twenty-plus minutes, he traveled a different universe,
a man free of a cerebral cortex. The lack of conscious thought during the act was so incredibly liberating, not to mention
the ultimate act of release. Afterward came the intimacy. As Rina nestled in his arms, her head resting against his chest,
he stroked her hair, his thoughts flashing on images he didn’t want to think about.

“Okay. Now you can tell me. What’s with the photographs?”

“It happened one day while you were sleeping off jet lag. I passed a police station. I got curious.”

“About your grandmother.”

“Yes, my grandmother.”

“Does your mother know?”

Rina raised her head. “Absolutely not. You can’t tell her, Peter. Not until I get more information.”

“I have no intention of telling her anything. The less I talk to your mother, the better.”

Rina hit him softly.

Decker said, “What brought this on? Being in Munich?”

“I suppose so. The city is haunted with all my ancestral souls. They spoke from the grave, Peter. Does that make sense?”

“Some of my unsolved cases … they still talk to me.”

“So you understand.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“It was a very weird trip,” Rina confided.

Who remembers?
Decker thought. The fatigue had been overwhelming. Most of the time, he was sleeping. Even when he had been awake, trudging
through the wet detritus that covered the mountainous region, his thoughts had been elsewhere. Admittedly, the bitter cold
had been invigorating. He wished he were there now—anywhere but back home pretending that things were normal.

Rina snuggled closer. “As I passed a police station, I thought … well, if not now, when?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“No. I’m not sure of anything,” Rina told him. “I lost lots of relatives in the war. There was no closure. No bodies to bury,
no way of knowing exactly when it happened. Their deaths were the product of unimaginable evil. But with my grandmother …
maybe there’s a story behind it. I can’t ask my mother about it. God forbid I do anything that would cause her pain. She’s
had enough suffering in her life. But I’m a generation removed. My grandmother is my heritage, too. I feel I have a right
to know.”

“And what have you found out?”

There was a pause. Then came the sigh. “Nothing. That’s the problem. I can read the words, and even understand a few sentences.
But my German isn’t good enough to comprehend the full text, let alone the nuances. And even if I understood every word in
the file, I’m still not a detective. I can’t interpret what it all might mean.” She ran her fingers across his chest. “I can
get someone to translate the notes. But I need a well-seasoned homicide professional to give meaning to the results—”

“Rina—”

“But only if you’re interested.”

No one spoke.

Then Decker said, “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to engage me in your business to keep my mind off my failures.”

“You didn’t fail!”

“I most certainly
did
fail!”

She felt his body tighten. It had been months since the New York ordeal. It was time to come clean, even though it was bound
to cause discord. She chose her words carefully, speaking in a whisper. “Peter, I don’t know what happened in the warehouse—”

“I know that. And I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“I’m not asking you to talk about it, Peter. All I want to say is …” A sigh. “I know you weren’t alone.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I know who you were with.”

Abruptly, Decker sat up, knocking her head off his chest. He encircled his knees with his arms and stared straight ahead.
“I was with Jonathan.”

“But we both know there was someone else—”

“Have you been talking to my brother?”

Anger in his voice. Rina said, “Do you honestly think Randy would betray a confidence?”

Decker continued to direct his gaze at nothing. He didn’t speak.

“I saw Donatti in New York, Peter. He was following me—”

“What!”

“Can you lower your voice?”

“He was
what?”

“It wasn’t like it sounds.”

“That
motherfuc—”

“Peter,
shhhh!”

“That is it!” He sprang out of bed, threw on his robe, and began to pace. “I’m going to
kill
him—which is what I should have done in the first place.”

“Are you going to rant or do you want to hear what I have to say?”

He suddenly turned against her. “And
now
you’re telling me.” His voice was rife with hostility. “Any particular reason for keeping
me
in the dark?”

“Yes, I had my reasons. And I will tell them to you if you’d like to listen.”

Decker glared at her. He was glad that it was dark so she couldn’t see how furious he was. “What’d the bastard do? Come on
to you?”

“Yes, he tried to intimidate me—”

“That
motherfucking son-of-a-bitch bastard!
I will strangle him with my own—”

“Peter, he took a bullet for me.”

He barely heard her above his own tirade, but he did hear her. In the sudden stillness, he realized he was panting heavily.
Sweat was pouring off his forehead. The image materialized in his brain—a shadow lifting up his shirt … the bandage around
his ribs.

Now we’re twins.

“What
did you say?” His voice was softer now.

“I said, I think he took a bullet for me.”

He sat down beside her, his hands shaking. “You
think?”

“It happened so fast. He’d been following me, although I hadn’t noticed it. The next thing I knew, I was pressed against the
hood of a car and he was on top of me, bleeding from a gunshot wound. I know you hate him. And I’m sure you have every right
to hate him. I hate him, too. But even reprehensible people can do noble acts.”

Decker was still breathing hard. “How do you know the bullet was for you? It could have been meant for him, you know.”

“Perfectly true. I’m sure he has scores of enemies. But at the time, you had enemies, too. He acted quickly, Peter. It was
strictly by instinct. And now it’s over … all of it. So I guess we’ll never find out.”

Again the room fell silent.

Rina said, “Come back to bed. It’s only five. You can still catch a couple of hours of sleep.”

He let out an absurd laugh. Sleep was elusive under optimal conditions. Under these circumstances, it was damn nigh impossible.
He longed to be next to his wife, to feel her body against his clammy skin. Still, he resisted, trembling like a leaf in the
wind.

She held out the covers. “C’mon, soldier. Life is short. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.” He hesitated, then quickly slipped under the welcoming duvet, trying to calm his nerves as adrenaline shot
through his body. “I’m just … shocked. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” He turned to her. “Why
didn’t
you tell me?”

“Because a family was in distress. I thought it would have been a distraction. It was a judgment call. If I made the wrong
decision, sue me.”

Decker slumped against the pillow. “Now here’s a sobering thought. I compromised your life by dragging you along. And that
bastard saves you.” His laugh was bitter. “God almighty, I actually owe the son of a bitch!”

“I’m sure he evened the score in the warehouse. So consider the slate cleaned.”

Again he laughed—hard and angry. Suddenly tears welled up in Decker’s eyes. Before he could blink, they were running down
his cheeks. “If anything had happened to you …”

“But nothing did happen to me.” She leaned into his body and threw her arm around his chest. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too.” His body was quivering with what might have been, his nerves raw and tender. He was still angry, of course,
but not
quite
as angry. The bastard had been good for something other than plugging him with holes.

God had His reasons.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, love you, love you.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Decker burst into laughter, hugging her fiercely. He remained entwined with her, neither of them talking, allowing the contact
of skin against skin to speak volumes. Holding her … feeling the rhythm of her heart until he heard her breathing slow and
lengthen as she drifted into sleep. Gently, he disentangled himself and rose from the bed.

“Where’re you going?” she said sleepily.

“I’m getting dressed.”