Milk and Honey (31 page)

“How’s that?”

“None of your business,” Rina said. She went in to the kitchen with an armful of produce and began to wash vegetables.

“Now that’s not fair,” Decker said, following her.

Rina handed him a head of lettuce. “You wash this, then take a knife and cut it up into tiny pieces. Think you can handle that?”

“Real men don’t make salad.”

“Try,” Rina said. “Pretend…you’re sifting through evidence. I’ve got to phone New York.” She kissed his lips, then wrinkled her nose. “And if we go anywhere tonight, I’ll drive. How many beers did you pack away?”

“Confession isn’t part of my religion,” Decker said. He turned the tap on full blast and doused his shirt as well as the lettuce. “Shit.”

“Finesse, Peter,” Rina said, laughing. “Finesse.” Her face turned suddenly serious as she dialed.

“Shaynie, it’s Rina…What? Calm down, I can’t understand you…”

“What is it?” Decker asked.

“She’s hysterical,” Rina said. Her voice was quavering. She began to pace as far as the phone cord would let her. “Just calm down. Are my boys all right?”

“What?”
Decker pressed.

Rina brought her hand to her chest and ignored him. “You’re sure? Can I talk to them?…But they’re okay…Is everyone okay?…You gave me a heart attack….” She slumped against the wall. “Stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.” She was silent for a few moments, then said, “Oh no…oh God…how’s Esther doing?”

“What is it?” Decker asked.

Rina put her hand over the phone receiver and whispered “Pessy.”

Decker puffed out his cheeks and said, “
The
Pessy?”

Taking her hand off the receiver, Rina asked Shayna, “When did this happen?…Do you have a lawyer?”

Decker started to smile. “What happened to old Pessy?”

“Arrested,” Rina whispered to him. “Don’t use the Public Defender. You need a private lawyer, Shayna, someone who’s done this kind of work…well, I know it’s embarrassing, but—”

Decker started to laugh.

Rina told her sister-in-law to hold on. “Peter, stop it!”

“Don’t tell me,” Decker said. “Soliciting an undercover police officer.”

“Worse,” she said. “Picked up in a raid.” To Shayna, she said, “Yes, I’m still here…. Shayna, he’s standing right
behind me. What do you want me to do, lie to him?…He is family. He’s
my
family, okay?…All right…all right…stop crying. I’m sorry…yes, I know you’re under terrible stress…. Where’s Esther?”

Rina shook her head and sat down on the chair. Decker stifled more laughter.

“So who’s watching her kids if she’s tranquilized?” she asked. “
Eema
has mine plus Esther’s? She can’t handle seven kids!…Okay. Okay…I’ll catch the first flight I can…. Well, how should I know when that will be?”

Rina rolled her eyes.

“Will you stop crying, Shayna? I’ll be there, but it’ll take me a little time to get organized…I’ll try to make it in before Shabbos. Before tomorrow night…. No I don’t think I can do it any sooner, but I won’t know until I start calling the airlines…. I’ll do the best I can…. Okay…okay. I love you, too…. Mendel? Sure, put him on, I’ll hold.”

“You’re going back?” Decker asked.

“Pessy was arrested in a massage-parlor raid,” Rina said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “Esther has fallen apart. My mother-in-law has Esther’s five kids plus mine. I’ve got to help out, Peter. They haven’t even hired a proper lawyer because they’re too embarrassed to let this leak—Hi, Mendel.”

“Why’s Mendel talking to you?” Decker asked.

“Hold on.” Rina turned to Decker. “I can’t talk to two people at once!”

“I thought Mendel didn’t talk to women.”

“Well, he’s talking to me right now, okay!” To Mendel, she said, “Yes, I’m still here…. Uh-huh, uh-huh…You’ve got to be kid—…Mendy, Peter doesn’t know anybody in New York….” She began to pace again. “Mendy…Mendy, every police department is different. Cops don’t have reciprocity….”

She listened to Mendel for a minute, then said, “You
know, this is truly unbelievable. All last year, you and Pessy gave him grief whenever he called. Now, you’re asking for favors?…All right, all right…But don’t expect…Okay. Hold on.”

She held out the phone to Decker. He said, “I don’t have any clout with the New York PD.”

“Can’t you do anything? Just a phone call to find out how serious the charges are? Surely there’s some sort of network.”

“Rina, a week ago you were ready to kill this man. Now, you want to get him off?”

“What can I do, Peter?” She looked so desperate. “He’s family.”

Decker ran his hand over his face. “Tell Mendel I can’t do anything about it. Nothing! But between you and me, I’ll call a few people, okay?”

Rina nodded, related the message, and hung up.

“At least horny Pessy’s out in the open,” Decker said. “Takes the heat off of you.”

“One problem solved, another created.” She sighed. “Dear Lord, I dread going back.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Can you?”

“I’ve got a couple of cases hanging over my neck,” Decker said. “If I make headway on them, I’ll join you for a few days.”

Rina fell into Decker’s arms. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Can you do anything for him?” Rina asked.

“Probably not,” Decker said. “But as promised, I’ll call around. It all depends on the charges, if there were drugs on the premises—”

Rina groaned, “I didn’t even think of that.”

“Think about it, honey.”

“Then he’s in deep trouble?”

“You kidding?” Decker laughed. “If it’s the usual first offense, no drugs involved, a slap on the wrist. He’ll be out and back on the prowl before you fly home.”

“I’ve got to get back.”

“I’m not telling you not to,” Decker said. “I’m just telling you don’t worry about it.”

Rina sank into a chair. “Out of curiosity. Could you have influenced people if this had happened in L.A.?”

“
Could
I have, or
would
I have?”

Rina didn’t answer.

“Depends,” Decker said. Then he smiled. “Why? You have a parking ticket you want me to fix?”

“Oh, Peter!”

“What should I do with all this chopped-up lettuce?”

“Put it in a bowl.”

“What do you want to do about dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Rina said. “And I have to start calling airlines. I hope I can catch a nonstop flight before Shabbos. Shayna says come out
now
. Beam me up, Scotty. We live in the jet-age world, but as of yet, travel isn’t instantaneous.”

The thought hit Decker as sudden as a gust of wind.

Travel isn’t instantaneous
.

As with the Darcy case, it was just a matter of putting the horse before the cart. Had Granny Darcy come back to get Earl, or had she been there all along? Thinking along those lines, Myra Steele’s case was the same damn thing.

They took her to Hollywood Pres, but her mom insisted she be moved to County, because she didn’t have any insurance
.

The right ingredients, but he lacked
evidence
. But if luck be a lady, he’d get a hold of something. Enough rope for the hanging.

He said, “I’ll call the airlines for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Rina said. “My family has caused you enough grief.”

“It’s no bother, Rina,” Decker said.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Well, if you do that,” she said, “the least I could do is throw together something.”

“No,” Decker said. “You lie down, read a book. After I call, I’ll take you out to dinner at that Italian kosher restaurant on the other side of the mountain.”

Rina smiled. “That sounds great!” She added, “I’ll drive.”

He wasn’t the least bit tipsy, but thought it would be bad form to argue. “Fine, darlin’.”

“Try to get me a United flight,” Rina said. “I’m saving up for mileage with them.”

“Fine.”

As she started to walk away, Decker asked, “Honey, you ever been to Detroit?”

“Twice,” Rina said. “Why?”

“What airline did you take?”

“Gosh, it was a long time ago.” She paused. “It wasn’t one of the biggies, that much I remember. I think it was Northern or Northeastern. It was Northeastern. As I recall, it was the only one that flew nonstop from L.A.”

“Thanks,” Decker said.

“Why?” Rina asked again.

Decker didn’t answer. Rina didn’t pursue it.

At nine the
next morning, Decker called the Darcy residence. The phone rang twelve times before it was picked up. Decker identified himself and asked to speak to Pappy Darcy. The male voice on the other end was low and slow.

“He ain’t home,” the voice said.

“Know when he’ll be back?”

“I ain’t suppose to say nothin’ to the police,” said the voice.

“Are you B.B. Litton?” Decker asked.

“I told you, I don’t say nothin’ without my nigger lawyer.”

Decker swallowed back anger. “Is Sue Beth there?”

“Nope.”

“Is she at the courthouse?” Decker asked.

Silence over the other end. Decker felt his frustration grow. “Tell Sue Beth I called, all right?”

“Maybe,” the voice said. “Maybe I won’t.”

The line went dead.

Decker swore, then told himself to let it pass. He’d talk to Nixon later today and arrange the interview through him.

He picked up the receiver, dialed the Hollywood substation, and asked for George Andrick. A breathy female voice on the other end paused a moment, then said solemnly that
Andrick had died on Tuesday—just two days ago. Massive coronary.

“You want info on the funeral?” she asked.

It took Decker a moment to collect his thoughts. The woman on the other end said, “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Decker said.

“You a friend of his or something?”

“No,” Decker said. “No, I’m from Foothill substation. I’m sorry to hear about Andrick.”

“Too bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Decker said. “Listen, I was working on one of his cases. Know who took them over?”

The woman said she didn’t but transferred him to Medino—Andrick’s supervising detective. Decker gave Medino a recap of the case. Medino paused, then started repeating the name Steele over and over, as if it were a religious chant. Finally, he admitted he had no idea who had the case.

Decker asked, “What about Torres and Hoersch? Are they out on patrol?”

Medino said he didn’t know, then transferred Decker to the day-watch commander.

Ten minutes later, a Valley address in hand, Decker was on his way to see Officer William Hoersch.

The patrolman lived in Reseda. His house was in the middle of a quiet block, a faded green stucco ranch home with torn white awnings and a pocked-plaster walkway. The front lawn had been burnt-wheat-colored except for a round disk of grass that had been saved by the lacy boughs of an elm. Two dirt bikes rested against the trunk of the tree. The door to the garage was open, a restored ’62 Vette was up on lifts, and two legs were sticking out from under its belly. Decker cleared his throat. A bare-chested man about thirty slid out. His face was clean-shaven and covered with grease, his eyes dirty green but sharp. They immediately sized Decker up as a cop. Hoersch stood, wiped
his oily hands on his shorts, but didn’t say anything.

“Hoersch?” Decker said.

“That’s me.”

“Talk to you for a moment?”

“Who are you?” Hoersch asked.

Decker flipped open his ID billfold. He said, “I’m not here on anything official.”

“So why are you here?”

“About a week ago, you and Alfredo Torres answered a two-forty-one Hotshot over in Hollywood—a gimp involved in an ambulance cutting. Victim was a hooker, stopped the perp by hitting him over the head with a lamp.”

“Yeah,” Hoersch nodded. “I remember. What’s Foothill’s involvement?”

“Gimp’s a friend of mine,” Decker said.

Hoersch’s eyes narrowed. He rocked on his bare feet. “So…”

Decker smiled, took off his jacket and draped it over his arm. “No tricks, Hoersch. I’m not out here to bribe you, trap you, or trip you up. And I’m not from IAD.”

Hoersch scanned Decker’s limp shirt, unpressed pants. “You don’t look like someone from IAD,” he added.

“Thanks for the compliment,” Decker said. “I just want to ask you a few questions about the call.”

A young woman wearing a bikini top and cutoff shorts came out the front door. She entered the garage but stopped when she saw Decker.

“Give him a break,” she said. “He’s still got a few hours before he reports in.”

“Inside the house, Terry,” Hoersch said.

“Andy’s on the phone,” Terry said.

“Tell him I’ll call him back,” Hoersch snapped.

“Geez, okay!” Terry’s lips formed a pout. “Don’t have to yell.”

After she left, Decker said, “A few questions, then I’m out of here.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Hoersch said.

Decker said, “When you answered the call, anybody with the woman?”

“I think a neighbor,” Hoersch said.

“Know for sure she was a neighbor?”

“She said she was,” Hoersch said. “I think she said she was the one who phoned it in. She was holding the victim’s hand, crying that kind of gospel crying that blacks do in those old-fashioned movies. ‘Lordy, Lordy.’ That kind of shit. Victim was bleeding all over the place. Al—Officer Torres—immediately administered aid to the victim, took a towel and tried to stanch the bleeding. I went over to the perp and cuffed him.”

“How’d you know who the perp was?”

“He was the only man in the room,” Hoersch said. “Besides, the neighbor, in between her Lordies, kept pointing to him and saying, ‘He did it! He did it!’”

“The neighbor made the accusation?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d she know? Did she catch him in the act?”

“I think she did.”

“Was this neighbor middle-aged?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember her name?”

“Not offhand.”

“Was it Leandra Walsh?”

“I think her first name was Leandra,” Hoersch said. “Last name wasn’t Walsh, though.”

“Think you could ID her?” Decker asked.

“Yeah.” Hoersch shifted his weight, cocked his hip. “Why?”

“What did the perp do while Leandra was shouting, ‘He did it, he did it’?”

“He was dazed,” Hoersch said. “Leandra had hit him over the head with a lamp.”

“
Leandra
hit the perp over the head with a lamp?”

“Yeah,” Hoersch said, nodding.

“Not the victim?”

“No way!” Hoersch said, laughing. “The victim was hanging on for dear life.”

“Detective Andrick stated in his report that the victim knocked the perp over the head.”

“Not the way I saw or heard it,” Hoersch said. “’Course, they may have told Detective Andrick something different. You know how it is. People get mixed up all the time.”

“Sure,” Decker said. “When you talked to Leandra, what did she say happened?”

“Just that she’d heard screams,” Hoersch said. “Came in through the victim’s door—”

“Door was unlocked?”

“Must have been.” Hoersch folded his arms across his chest. “You know, it’s hard to remember without my notes in front of me.”

Decker said, “You’re doing better than I could. Besides, this is all off the record.”

“This gimp really a buddy of yours?”

“Yep.”

Hoersch raised his eyebrows.

Decker said, “So Leandra heard screams and rushed in the victim’s door.”

“Yeah,” Hoersch said. “No…wait. I think it went like this. First, she said, she called the police. Then she rushed in and saw the perp attacking the victim. She conked him over the head with a lamp. He was still dazed by the time we got to him.”

“She called nine-one-one first?”

“I think that’s what she said. She heard screams and called the police. But the police were too slow, and she went in herself…something like that.”

“A nine-one-one call was placed,” Decker said, “But it was called from the victim’s phone.”

Hoersch paused. “I think she said she called the police from her apartment.”

“Maybe her apartment was the same as the victim’s,” Decker said.

“I gotta look at my notes,” Hoersch said. “I don’t want to tell you anything wrong.”

“But you’d be able to ID this Leandra?”

“Think so.”

“What about Torres?”

“Yeah, he probably could, too. Or Andrick.”

“Andrick is dead,” Decker said. “Heart attack.”

“No
shit
?” Hoersch whistled, shook his head. “Jesus. You see a guy…I’ve been off for three days. Went to Catalina to do a little diving…Shit, that’s lousy.”

“Can I look at your notes?”

Hoersch didn’t answer. Decker repeated the question.

“Uh, guess that’d be okay.” He paused a moment, then said, “How old you think Andrick was?”

“Mid-fifties.”

“He was overweight, too.” Hoersch patted his hard abdomen. “Man, when I’m that age, I’m gonna be fit. Body is only as good as the way you treat it.”

Decker said, “When can I look at your notes?”

“I go on shift at three,” Hoersch said. “Meet me at the station a half hour early.”

“Thanks,” Decker said. “I’ll remember this, Hoersch.”

Hoersch shifted on his feet again. “Don’t worry about it, Sergeant.” He smiled. “If you forget, I’ll remind you.”

Abel’s motorcycle was lying in front of the garage door. Rina parked the Porsche in the driveway and entered the house, hearing steady banging out back as she closed the side door. As usual, Peter hadn’t come home yet. As usual, she was left to her own devices.

She paced the living-room floor, deciding in a matter of minutes that she was not going to spend another afternoon with him working inside the barn and her imprisoned in the house. She’d have to approach him, tell him to leave. The idea made her jittery, but she was less afraid of Abel, having spent an afternoon watching him and Peter play basketball, seeing the friendship between them.

Still…

Anxiously, she felt at the bottom of her purse for the gun, checked it to make sure it was loaded.

It was.

She slung her purse over her shoulder and went outside. The barn door was wide open. Abel was working in the back, sifting through a pile of fresh lumber stacked against the hay bales. He wore a blue tank top and a pair of faded brown corduroy shorts. His hair was tied back into a ponytail, a red sweatband encircled his forehead. His natural foot and his prosthesis were housed in running shoes. Rina stood outside the door, called his name. Abel turned around, a smile spread across his face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Rina said.

Abel’s smile disappeared. “I’ll go if you want.”

“You know how Peter is…”

“Don’t have to explain, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me ma’am.” Rina noticed an edge to her voice. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal. It’s just the way Peter is, and I don’t want to aggravate him.”

Abel didn’t say anything. Rina shrugged, then turned to walk away.

“Rina?” Abel called out.

“What?”

“Do me a favor. Toss me my cane while I clean up. It’s leaning against the left wall.”

“Sure,” Rina said. By the time the cane was in her hand, Abel had moved so that he blocked the entrance to the barn.
It was as if the guy had floated through the air, he’d been that quiet.

Abel shut the door. Rina felt her heart begin to pound.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Closing the door.”

“Get away from the door.”

Abel smiled again; this time it was eerie. “Why?” he asked.

So
innocent
.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Rina shouted out. “I know what you’ve been accused of doing…”

Abel shrugged.

“For godsake, Abel, I thought Peter was your best friend.”

“He is.”

“Then get away from the door!” Rina felt her throat tighten. “Please.”

“No, ma’am.”

“You know I have a gun in my purse.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I know how to use it,” Rina said. Her voice sounded shakier than she’d hoped.

“Yes, ma’am.” Abel started to walk toward her.

“Why are you doing this?” Rina said.

But he kept approaching her. Quickly, she reached inside her purse, pulled out her gun, and aimed it at his chest.

That stopped him for a moment. Rina found her voice. She said, “Just get out of here! Just leave and everything’s forgotten.”

Abel shrugged, started toward her once again. “’Fraid I can’t do that, Rina.” He wiped his forehead. “No, I just can’t do that at all.”

Peter’s voice rang in her ears.
A knack for attracting weirdos
. Then he’d soft-pedaled his indictment.

I meant you’d attract any man, weird or not, because you’re so beautiful
….

Peter never knew how right he was. Men had always stared at her. Strange men, men she knew, her father’s friends, the men in the community. It didn’t matter. They always were smiling at her, speaking to her, or just plain ogling her. No matter what she did, how dowdily she dressed herself, how tired and drawn she appeared after a long day at work. When she sat in the subway, nose buried in a book, some jerk always came up to her, tried out some sort of asinine line.
What
was she doing to encourage them? Or was it just her looks, the looks she cursed at this moment. Sweat began to pour down her armpits.

“I’m going to shoot you!” Rina said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll
kill
you, for godsake!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As he drew near her, she began to back up. Her feet felt like jelly, her stomach churned until she felt bile rise in her throat.

“Abel, I’m begging you to stop,” she sobbed.
“Please!”

“You’ve got two choices, Rina,” he said. His steps were soundless, carefully measured. “Shoot me or don’t shoot me. Now I’m betting that no matter how threatened you feel, you can’t look me in the eye and pull the trigger. But if you do…hey, that’s cool.”

“Please,”
Rina whispered. The gun was shaking in her hands. Her palms were moist and hot. She felt as if she were about to faint, but willed herself the strength to do whatever she had to.

Abel waited until he’d backed her against the wall, then stopped around ten feet in front of her.

“You’re sure you know how to use that?” he said.

So calm. Rina felt hot tears well up, spilling over her cheek.

“Yes,” she managed to answer.

“Then you’d better use it,” Abel said. “Or else I’m going to take it out of your hands.”