Faye Kellerman - Stone Kiss

“Ach!”

Decker’s head pounded. He tried a different approach. “Chaim, can I take a look at Shaynda’s room, please?”

“Why?”

“Just to get a feel for the girl.”

A shrill voice barked out Chaim’s name. He looked up at the staircase. “I’ll be right up, Minda.”

“I’m coming down. Who are you talking to?”

“The detective.”

“What does he want?” A woman materialized on the staircase. Her head was wrapped in a towel; her body was covered head to toe in a black caftan. Her eyes were swollen pink and raw, her skin red and blotchy. Her fingers played with one another-constant motion.

Chaim bounded up the stairs and offered the woman his arm. She shook it off. “I’m not an invalid!” She stared at Decker with feral eyes. “Did you find her?”

Chaim said, “This is my wife, Minda-”

“He knows who I am. Who else would I be? Did you find her?”

“No, Mrs. Lieber, not yet.”

“So what are you doing here?” She glared at him. “If you didn’t find her, why are you here ?”

“I wanted to look in Shaynda’s room, Mrs. Lieber. It will give me a better understanding of who she was.”

“I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense.” Once she reached the ground floor, she began to pace like a caged feline. “Just get out there and find her.”

“Going through her room might help me find her, Mrs. Lieber.”

“No, it won’ t help you find her because she shares a room and I’ve already cleaned it and it’s right before Shabbos and I’ve got a lot on my mind. I don’t need another person under this roof! Chaim, why are you still here? You’re going to be late for Mincha !”

“I’m trying to get ready, Minda.” Abruptly, Lieber turned to Decker. “Will you please leave?”

Jonathan’s face was beyond shocked. He was clearly appalled. “Chaim, don’t speak to him like that. You asked me to bring him out here!”

“Then maybe I made a mistake.”

“Maybe you did,” Decker said quietly.

Suddenly, Minda broke into tears. She screamed, “Just get out of my way. That’s what I need. I need everyone to get out of my way !”

Decker sighed and tried to think like a professional. A girl’s life was at stake. “Just let me have a quick look-”

“There’s nothing in the house!” Minda insisted. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I found something .”

“I’m not saying you overlooked anything on purpose.”

“She’s out there!” Minda’s voice was high and squeaky. “Why are you here? Go look out there and do some good! Search the streets!” Her eyes became globes of fire. “Why can’t you find her?”

“I’m doing what I can-”

“No, you’re not. You’re here instead of out there!”

“Because of the lateness of the hour, Mrs. Lieber, I think my time would be better spent here.”

“What do you care about the lateness of the hour? Shabbos isn’t your problem.”

That sure put Decker in his place. “What does that mean?”

She glared at him. “Don’t play stupid with me! You know what it means.”

Decker was so angry he could barely focus. He willed himself to keep his voice under control. “Yes, Mrs. Lieber, I suppose I do know what it means. Shabbat shalom .”

He stormed out of the house. His fury was so all-consuming that it took a moment before he realized that his brother was talking to him.

“… doesn’t mean anything, Akiva. She’s beside herself.”

“I realize that.” Decker’s voice was a growl. He opened the van door and sat inside, arms folded in front. His stomach was a tight knot of acid.

Jonathan got behind the wheel. “Akiva-”

“Funny. As a goy, I was certainly good enough to drag out here to settle things down. Now, when I actually try to work, they’re putting up fences. You’re damn lucky I’m not that sensitive. More important, you’re damn lucky I really want to find this poor girl.”

Jonathan said, “You’re not a goy.”

“No, I’m not. But she doesn’t know that, does she? As far as she’s concerned, I’m this big, dumb lug of a cop from hick town L.A. who converted just to please Rina.” Decker caught his breath. “Look. I feel for the woman. I really do, Jonathan. But it still pisses me off.” He leaned his head back and stared at the van’s ceiling. “I’m out of my element here. They’re right. It was a mistake for me to come out.”

“I am so sorry!”

For the first time, Decker heard the pain in his brother’s voice. “God, I’m taking it out on you.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

Decker smiled. “Spoken like a true pastor.” He checked his watch. “Well, the good news is we’ll have time to visit the Quinton Police.”

Suburban police departments had a distinct advantage over their city rivals-a large homeowner tax base. A case could be made that the richer WASPs on the north side were supporting the poorer Jews on the south side because their houses were bigger and the lots were expansive. But an equal case could be made in the opposite direction-that the Jews were contributing more than their fair share because for every one Gentile manse, there were three Jewish houses. What the Jews lacked in quality, they made up in quantity.

The primary police station was located in Liberty Park, with a half-dozen drop-in station storefronts-manned by two officers-scattered among the three or four commercial areas. The station’s construction was new: a square edifice of steel and one-way mirrored glass that was well lit and well ventilated. The detectives’ squad room was spacious with approximately the same square footage as Decker’s squad room back in L.A. The difference was that Devonshire hosted seating for forty-three gold-shield carriers, whereas Quinton had twelve full-time detectives, each with his or her own phone, answering machine, voice mail, and computer.

The Homicide/Robbery division was 99.9 percent robbery, and.1 percent homicide. Of the three homicides that Quinton had last year, one was a suicide-a ninety-six-year-old man with late-stage prostate cancer-and two were reckless homicides-Man I-from the same vehicular accident. For a fleeting moment, Decker entertained thoughts about retiring to a pastoral suburb like Quinton. The idea left his cerebral cortex as soon as it entered.

Because he was a lieutenant from a big city, Decker was awarded a meeting with Virgil Merrin, the chief of the Quinton Police. Merrin was six-one, one step shy of fat, with that wet-shave pink skin, and hair so blond and thin that his scalp showed through. He had light blue eyes that sparkled when Decker told him he was originally from Gainesville, Florida. Merrin was from West Virginia, so that meant they were both good old boys. After several minutes of batting around bass-fishing trivia, Merrin got down to substance.

“A cryin’ shame about the girl.” Merrin wore a blue suit with a light blue shirt, the buttons stretched by the man’s gut. He gave a soulful glance to Jonathan. “A damn shame! We went house to house-all of the girl’s friends. Nothing!”

They were in Merrin’s office on the third floor. It had a generous view of the park-of the wind-bent tulips shimmering like waves of colored banners. The lake was also visible from the window, the surface steely with tiny whitecap ripples. From where Merrin sat, he could see it all. In another context, it could be considered cozy. All that was lacking was a fireplace, a newspaper, and a cup of coffee.

“What about the other side?” Decker asked him. “The public-school kids.”

Merrin chuckled. “Let me explain. The two sides… no interaction. Even the Jews who live in the north side… no interaction with the Jews in the south.”