Milk and Honey (10 page)

“He’s horny with low impulse control.”

“He wears a
gartel
for God’s sake!”

“What’s a
gartel
?”

“It’s a sash that Hasidim wear to separate the clean from the unclean parts of their body. This is the man who always leads
Kol Nidre
on Yom Kippur, can you believe such hypocrisy?”

“Obviously, he has a lot to repent for,” Decker said. “Is he still harassing you sexually?”

Rina sighed. “Well, he hasn’t backed me into any more corners, but he’s done other things.”

“Like what?”

“Peter, he frequents massage parlors.”

“How do you know that?”

“He gives me the receipts for the books and tells me to take them off as business expenses.”

Decker burst into laughter.

Rina said, “What’s so funny?”

“Forgive me, but only a Jew would be so brazen,” Decker said.

“That is such an
anti-Semitic
thing to say!” Rina exclaimed. “Whose side are you on?”

Decker said, “No
goy
on earth would have the hutzpah to try something like that.”

“
Ch
utzpah,” Rina said, correcting his pronunciation. “
Ch, ch
. The sound is guttural. At least say the word right. And I don’t believe that
goyim
are any less
chutzpahdic
than Jews.”

“Maybe we Gentiles just don’t think as creatively.”

“We?” Rina said. “You’re Jewish, remember?”

Decker hugged her. “Yes, I remember.”

Rina paused, then said, “Are you happy being Jewish, Peter?”

“Very happy.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Decker said. “I wouldn’t tell you yes if the answer was no, honey.”

She sighed. “I wonder sometimes how we must appear to the outside world. All those guys accused of insider trading.”

“White-collar criminals. At least they don’t kill anyone.”

“It’s a
chillul Hashem
—disgraces God. I read about these rip-off schemes, embezzlement. I cringe whenever I see a Jewish name associated with it. Imagine how the blacks feel when they watch TV and see all these gang members being arrested.”

“You’re sensitive. Not all people take it to heart.”

“And now my own brother-in-law.”

Decker said, “So old Pessy likes a back rub.”

“Old Pessy gets more than a back rub…. Peter, he leaves these pictures in the ledgers for me, pictures of his naked
kurvas
in obscene poses. They’re all black. He loves black women. I guess he figures they’re not Jewish…. I don’t know.” Rina covered her face. “I see him watching me, waiting for me to discover the pictures, then he laughs when I find them. He thinks it’s just hysterical when I blush.”

“The man is definitely an asshole.”

“I don’t know what to do. Sixty percent of the hookers in New York have AIDS or AIDS-related complex. I want to tell my sister-in-law, but I know what it will do to the family.”

“Are you sure he sleeps with the whores? He may only take pictures of them.”

Rina said, “I’m not positive he sleeps with them. I just assumed he did.”

“Some men take pictures because they can’t perform. Pessy may be one of those.”

“The man is a pig—a complete and utter pig. And a per
vert as well. Why is he torturing me? I tell you why! Because I’m safe! A perfect victim! He knows I won’t tell his wife, because of what it would do to her. The pig! He wouldn’t try stunts like these if you were around. But I’m alone, so what can poor little Rina do? And what
should
I do about my sister-in-law? She won’t believe me.
I
wouldn’t have believed me. Pessy appears so decent, so religious. How can I tell Esther what a swine her husband is? I love Esther. She was always good to
me
. I feel so
bad
for her.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“I’m asking you, aren’t I?”

“You’re not going to like the answer.”

“What?”

“Let it ride.”

“What! I can’t do that. He’ll give her AIDS.”

“Only if he’s sleeping with the hookers.”

“So I should wait?”

“Let it rest, honey. Otherwise, you’re just going to be the villain, and who the hell needs that?”

“Maybe I can send her the picture and write an anonymous note.”

“Rina, what’s your sister-in-law like?”

“Esther’s not a horse, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Decker said. “I mean is she able to get along without a husband? What does she have, four kids?”

“Five.”

“Five kids. And she’s how old?”

“Forty-four.”

“A forty-four-year-old ultra-Orthodox woman with five kids. Where’s she going to go if she divorces Pessy? Where’s she going to live? Back home with her parents?”

Rina didn’t answer.

“Does she have any skill to earn a living?”

“There’s alimony.”

“I’ll bet you old Pess would fight her tooth and nail. Hell, he might even hold out on giving her a religious divorce unless she gives up everything. It’s been known to happen, and this guy is scum to begin with.”

“So I should just let the creep get away with it?”

“You quit your job, right?” Decker said.

“Yes, but—”

“You’re moving back here.”

“But—”

“
If
he pesters you when you return, let me know, and I’ll take care of him.”

“What’ll you do?”

“Beat the stuffing out of him.”

Rina laughed.

“I’m serious.”

“He’s five-nine, three hundred, Peter. Punches would just graze the fat.”

Decker held back laughter. “You were felt up by a fat man?”

“He French-kissed me.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I washed my mouth out,” Rina said. “Three times! I can’t believe I let him do that. I feel like such a jerk. I should have slugged him, but I didn’t. Why did I allow him to do that?”

“Because he took you by surprise. It was like date rape. You didn’t do anything wrong. Rina, if it were anyone else other than family, I’d tell you to slap a sexual harassment and sexual misconduct on him. But your sister-in-law is the aunt of your children, her parents are the boys’ grandparents.
If
he keeps leaving you pictures when you get home, tell him you’re going to sic NYPD Vice on him. If he’s a jerk and keeps doing it, we’ll make good on our threat. I can get some names, a couple guys down to his office and scare
him. If he backs away and stops pestering you, drop the whole thing. I know you want to help your sister-in-law, but I’m afraid by telling her, you’ll be doing her more harm than good…but, it’s your decision.”

“Oh great. Thanks a lot.”

They rode in silence. Decker held Rina tightly, thinking how logical her odd behavior seemed now. All of it—the uncovering of her hair, her eagerness to sleep with him—fit together. She’d become temporarily disillusioned with religion—or at least with religious people. Pessy had sexually harassed her, but his pestering had hurt her instead of making her angry.

“Forget about him,” Decker said.

“Easier said than done.”

Decker said, “I don’t know how this is going to come out, but I’m going to say it anyway. Rina, assholes come in every shape and form. Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t be upset with Judaism, because there are some religious Jews who are pigs.”

“I know that,” Rina said. “I’m not
that
naive.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your relative.”

“How can he do those things and daven in the morning, Peter? Yitzchak,
alav hasholom
, always looked up to Pessy because he was so learned.”

“Your husband only knew that side of him. Unfortunately, you know another. God wouldn’t have made laws against adultery if Jews didn’t cheat. Don’t let this slimeball ruin our time together.”

Rina sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m a little tired.”

“So am I. We’ll head back.” Decker pulled the reins, and the stallion reversed directions.

Rina looked up at the stars. Thousands of them, so clear and white, like grains of salt spilled upon black velvet. She said, “I wish we could sleep out here.”

“You want to sleep outdoors, let’s go back home and I’ll set up some sleeping bags. This isn’t really camp ground. Besides, I don’t want you to go home with a bad case of poison oak…in an awkward place of your body.”

Rina punched Decker in the shoulder.

The phone woke them at nine-thirty in the morning.

“Morning, Pete,” Marge said.

“What’s up?” Decker said.

“Who is it?” Rina asked sleepily.

“Marge,” Decker whispered. He came back on the phone. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry to disturb you.”

Decker rubbed his eyes. “No sweat. What is it?”

“Are you listening?” Marge said. “As in fully awake?”

“Uh-oh.”

“Prelim blood forensics on the kid’s PJs. At first, it’s just all ordinary O-positive blood. Same kind as the kid’s. But the electophoresis of the blood enzymes shows we have an amalgam of blood typings. Almost as if someone mopped up the crime scene with the kid’s PJ’s.”

“Oh boy. How many different groups are we talking about?”

“At least two, maybe even three or four. Forensics still has more tests to run.”

Looking at Rina, Decker muttered the obscenity instead of saying it out loud. At least two bodies baking in the heat somewhere. The kid’s parents?

Marge filled in the silences. “Not a good thing, partner. Also, there were tissue fibers mixed with the blood.”

Decker turned away from Rina and whispered into the receiver, “Skin? Hair? What kind of tissue?”

“Not that kind of tissue,” Marge said. “White facial tissue. Like in Kleenex. Like in someone tried to wipe the mess off the kid.”

Decker said, “Clothes show up any prints or latents?”

“Dead end there, Pete. Nothing retrievable off of the clothes.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, well…now for the good news,” Marge said. “You can use a break, right?”

“Right.”

“Sophi Rawlings called about the doctor report. I took the liberty of picking it up for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Ain’t we a team,” Marge said. “Do you remember telling Sophi to ask about a rash on Baby Sally’s arm?”

“Sure.”

“Well, she did. You know what the pediatrician said it was?”

“What?”

“Bee stings.”

“Bee stings?”

“Bee stings. He thought it was unusual that such a small child would have so many bee stings on her forearms.”

“How many were there?”

“About a half dozen on each arm.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Nope.”

“Kid must have stuck her hand in a hive.”

“I just got off the phone with the doc—his name is Andrew Trapper. He said something else was unusual. The stings caused little, tiny bumps, but not much inflammation. That only happens, he said, when the child has been repeatedly exposed to stings.”

Decker said, “Are there any bee farms around the Manfred area?”

“I called up the agricultural commission. They gave me the name of the bee commissioner. I’m waiting for him to call me back.”

“Good thinking. I’ll meet you at the station in about a half hour.”

“You’re coming in today?”

“Yeah, looks like I have to.” Decker shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t rest until he found those bodies. “Bees, huh? Well, at least it’s a new lead. You know, bees would make sense. Remember how she reacted when you called her honey?”

“Yeah,” Marge thought back. “Yeah, she sure said that word clearly.”

Decker said, “If you have any time, see if you can pick up a bottle of Benadryl. It really cuts down the swelling if we happen to piss off the bees.”

“Buzz, buzz,” Marge said. “We get all the fun assignments. Coming in won’t cause any problem for you with Rina?”

“I hope not.”

After Decker hung up, Rina said, “You hope not what?”

“I hope you won’t mind if I have to go to work. I’ve got this two-year-old kid, Rina, and I’m trying to locate her parents—”

“It’s okay, Peter. I heard you whispering. It must be serious.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I have to see my parents anyway. You didn’t want to come with me to visit them, did you?”

“Definitely not.”

“So it’s no problem.”

Decker crawled out of bed. “Sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiled. “You’re a doll.”

“Peter?”

“What?”

“Uh, I don’t have a car.”

Decker froze.

Rina asked, “Could I borrow the Porsche?”

“The Porsche?”

“Yes. The Porsche. The shiny red car in your garage. Is it running?”

The shiny red car that had taken him five years to put together. Hundreds of hours, scouring through junk lots, garages, and ads in papers to find the perfect parts. Decker said, “Uh, the Jeep’s running fine.”

“I’m nervous about driving a four-wheeler on the freeway. It’s so open and tips over too easily.”

“It has a roll bar.”

Rina pushed hair out of her eyes. “Well, all right. If you think it’s safe….”

“No,” Decker said. “No, forget about the Jeep…. Sure, take the Porsche. I’ll get you the keys.”

“I’ll be careful with it.”

“It has a very delicate clutch.”

“Okay.”

“And be sure not to downshift too early. Use the tachometer.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t yank it into gear—”

“Forget it, Peter, I’ll take the Jeep.”

“No, no, no. I insist.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You know, if you run me past the cheapy rent-a-car lot, I could probably get something drivable. You remember my old Volvo. I’d feel at home in an old clunker.”

“I won’t hear of it, Rina. Take the Porsche. You want me to help you take the top off? Cruise in the open wind?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I feel a lot safer in a locked car
with the air-conditioning on. When we ride in it together, we’ll take the top off. Okay?”

“Deal.” Decker paused, then added, “I’ll just back it out of the garage for you.”