Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

“Los Angeles?”

“No, but almost as good. She lives up in Solvang.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Right north of Santa Barbara. I told you it was good.”

“You’re the best. So what did Anika Lubke write back?”

“That she was from Munich. And this is where it gets really unbelievably lucky. She has a sister named Marta, whose married name is Wallek. She lives in St. Louis, Missouri, which I understand has a large population of people of German descent.”

“The home of Anheuser-Busch. As in Busch Stadium.”

“As in Budweiser beer,” Decker said.

“There was an expression my friend Ellie in Munich used to use- ‘Bierbauch Bayer.’ It means beer-bellied Bavarian. Beer is a cultural icon in Germany, especially Bavaria.”

“Well, beer doesn’t do too bad in the good old US of A, either. The upshot of this entire thing is that last night I got an e-mail from Marta. Did I do well or what?”

“I can’t believe you found out all this information in so short a time.”

“Thank the Internet. Both women are widows, by the way.” Decker held up a wet roasting pan. “Can you dry a little faster so I have some room for this in the dish rack?”

Rina picked up the dinner plates and stacked them on the counter. “Happy now?”

“I just didn’t want to nick the stoneware.”

She smiled. “You’re wonderful. I love you.”

Decker started washing the utensils. “I love you, too. You want to hear the interesting part?”

“There’s more?”

“Lots. Guess what Anika’s married name is?”

Rina finished with the dinner dishes, then picked up the pan and began to dry it. “Being as there must be about a million German surnames, I give up.”

“Even if you went through them all, you wouldn’t be close. It’s Emerson.”

“She married an American.”

“She married a Brit.”

“That must be a story.”

“It must be one hell of a story. But I don’t know it because it’s not the kind of thing you e-mail to a stranger.”

“Are you sure you’ve got the right Marta Lubke?”

“Yes, I’m positive because she remembers your mother for the same reason your mother remembered her. They were both Marta. And she remembered some of the other girls when I mentioned their names. And both of them remembered your grandmother’s murder. How much detail they recall… that I don’t know.”

Rina put her hand over her mouth and froze. Slowly, she let it drop to her side.

Decker said, “Marta Lubke and Anika are well into their eighties. I think your mother has been playing a little loose with the years.”

“I’m stunned.” Rina swallowed. “Not by Mama cheating on her age, but that you really found someone she knew as a child.”

“Marta Lubke Wallek was very excited that Marta Gottlieb Elias is still alive. She would like to contact your mother, Rina, if that’s okay with your mother. She said she has quite a story as well. We need to tell Mama what’s going on.”

Rina sighed. “Of course. It won’t be easy to tell her about it. Mama will wonder why we were searching for Marta Lubke.”

“Just tell her that after she spoke about her childhood, you wanted to find someone from her past.”

“All right.” Rina was uncertain but was resolved to do the right thing. “We’ll forget about my grandmother’s murder. I’ll tell Mama what’s going on. Actually, I’m much more excited about a possible reunion between the two of them. Better than digging up old bones.”

“Very noble of you.” Decker laid the clean utensils on top of the rack. “However, I think I have a better idea.”

Rina waited.

“I don’t think we should bring the two of them together until we know more about Marta and Anika Lubke. Remember, your mother is a camp survivor, and we don’t want to cause her any more pain. I think we should talk to the women first.”

“You want to go to Saint Louis?”

“No need because the fates are with us. Marta Lubke Wallek is coming in to visit her sister. How about we take advantage and make a little vacation out of it? We’ll leave Saturday night, right after Shabbat, stay overnight in Santa Barbara, then continue on to Solvang on Sunday and come back Sunday night. Surely the boys can watch Hannah for twenty-four hours. They’re both over eighteen.”

“Sammy works on Sunday.”

“Jacob doesn’t.”

Rina made a face. “I don’t know, Peter. What about Cindy?”

“Saturday is her day with Jan. Sometimes they go out at night. That’s inviolate. But she can certainly pick up some of the slack on Sunday. I’m sure she won’t mind a morning or afternoon shift.” Now Decker made a face. “By the way, she’s bringing Koby over for Shabbat this weekend.”

Rina’s eyes brightened. “So they’re back together?”

“For the time being, yes.”

“I like him.”

“You like his circumcision,” Decker remarked.

“Yes, I like that he’s Jewish. I’ve never hidden my partisan feelings. So when are we going to visit Solvang?”

“Marta is visiting her sister in three weeks. How does that work?”

“Perfect. No major holidays in the way. And it will give me plenty of time to prepare… cook Sunday dinner for the boys and Hannah.”

“Rina, they’re capable boys. They can cook for themselves.”

“I know, but it’s not hard for me to cook a little extra.”

“Can I give you a cross to nail your hands on, Saint R?”

“I like cooking for my family. So sue me.”

“I don’t want to sue you.” Decker took her in his arms and slapped her to his chest. “I’d rather screw you.”

She punched his shoulder. “What got into you?”

“I wish something would get into you.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you would examine my motivations, you’d see I have other reasons for wanting you alone for a night away.” He kissed her hard on the lips.

“ Eeeuuuu! ”

They both looked toward the door. Hannah scowled at them, turned on her heels, and stomped out. They broke into laughter.

Decker said, “I’ll see what she wants.”

Rina held him tightly. “She’ll survive for a minute.”

She gave him a long, slow kiss, the kind that makes body parts move independently.

“My oh my,” Decker said. “What got into you? ”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.” He broke away. “I’ll go check up on Hannah.” He was still stiff. “Maybe you should check up on Hannah, and let me take a cold shower.”

“Not too cold.”

“Believe me, darlin’, there’s plenty more where this came from.”

The secret of optimal performanceis to keep the mind focused, but the body completely relaxed. Completely loose.” Koby shook out his arms. “You watch basketball, no?”

“Occasionally,” I told him.

“You ever see the pros make long shots? The trey-the perfect three-pointer-is usually a swisher, all net with just a flick of the wrist. So loose. Or a slugger at bat, the follow-through on his swing, the whole body moves in one motion. It’s very hard to do because the natural thing when you concentrate is to tense up, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s a mind-set, Cindy, one of the reasons why pro athletes are so arrogant. They have to think they’re the best, otherwise they won’t relax.”

“They’re arrogant because they make ten million bucks a year and have thousands of women willing to minister to their genitals.”

Koby smiled. “I say it’s one of the reasons.”

I rubbed my arms, bouncing on the heels of my feet. We had already done preliminary stretching, but it was still cold outside and my muscles were starting to tighten. Gray clouds hung in the L.A. skies like wet gym clothes. Even though it was the ungodly hour of seven on a Wednesday morning, there were people on the outdoor track. Koby had waved to a few of them.