Sanctuary (12 page)

Decker nodded, staring at the lab men who were gingerly scraping mud off the buried corpse. “This is going to take a while.”

“You got a plane to catch?” the Loo asked.

Decker recapped his conversation with Rina and with Rachel Parks.

Davidson said, “It’s West LA’s problem, Decker.”

“Not when it affects my wife.” Decker kept his voice even. “Loo, the lady’s got four kids, they were staying at my house. Now I don’t care under whose jurisdiction it technically falls,
I’m
going out there.”

Davidson stared at the chilled ground and rubbed his hands together. “Body’ll keep. Be back in an hour.”

Decker nodded. “See you in an hour.”

Decker reflected: A twenty-minute ride from the corpses to his ranch—a sobering thought. He welcomed the sight of Tim Calais’s patrol car parked in front of the house, thanking Tim for coming through and offering to return the favor, if needed, in the future. When Decker opened the front door, he found Rina in the living room, pacing, Hannah bouncing on Mommie’s hip. In front of the fireplace was a suitcase. Decker kissed Rina, then took Hannah and gave her several smooches on her cheek. The baby took the assaults with stoicism, then patted Daddy’s chest. Decker’s eyes traveled back to the luggage.

“Planning an impromptu vacation?”

“I’m very good at reading your tone of voice,” Rina said. “You’re going to suggest we spend the night at my parents’ house.”

“Very good.”

“I’m willing to go. But what do I do with Honey and her family? I can’t just desert them.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be hearing from them.” Decker told her about the abandoned van. “An HP officer is waiting for me. But I wanted to get my family squared away first.”

Rina’s face was frightened. “Abandoned…they just upped and left…or was it an abduction…like the case you’re working on?”

“Rina, I don’t know,” he said, nervously. Then he remembered he was holding Hannah. He didn’t want
her to absorb his tension. He spoke calmly, “Do you know if Honey’s luggage is still in the house?”

“I haven’t checked.”

“I’ll do it.” Decker kissed his wife’s cheek, then walked into the guest room.

It was as neat as an army barracks—two twin beds and four cots, all of them made up. The Kleins’ suitcases were still in the room. They were closed and stacked in the corner. Decker switched Hannah to his other arm, went over to the valises and opened up the top piece. It seemed to belong to Minda, judging by the size of the dresses. The clothes inside were jumbled. He opened the second suitcase—Pessy’s. Again, the apparel was messy.

That made Decker feel better. Honey didn’t seem to care about her kids’ packing habits. She was just trying to keep the room neat for
them
. Decker closed the second suitcase.

“How you doing, Muffin?” Decker said to Hannah. “Putting up with crazy Dad?”

The baby smiled. Decker tickled her tummy. “Let’s see what’s in the bathroom, okay?”

Again the baby smiled. Decker smiled back. “My, but you’re agreeable. Are you sure you’re a member of this family?”

He went inside the bathroom. The towels were neatly hung, the vanity to the sink was clean, five toothbrushes standing in the borrowed glass cup.

Decker leaned against the wall. Toothbrushes still in the bathroom, suitcases still stuffed with clothing. His stomach was tight. Rina interrupted his thoughts.

“The suitcases are here. They were planning on coming back. Peter, this is
sickening
!”

“Yes, it is. But worrying about them isn’t constructive. Honey Klein said her husband might have been involved with the wrong people. You’re right. I want all of you out of here for the night. Better to be paranoid than sorry. Can you get the boys after school?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s go.” Decker started to pick up a suitcase, then noticed Rina hadn’t moved. “Are you all right?”

“Peter, I don’t mind being exiled to my parents as a precaution, but it’s disruptive for the boys. I took the liberty of calling Rav Schulman. He said he would watch the boys for a couple of days. I think they might be better off at the yeshiva.”

Decker frowned. “Rina, we just pulled them out of the yeshiva. You think it’s smart to send them back?”

“Just for a couple of days.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m still ambivalent. I spent almost eight years of my life at Ohavei Torah. I’m very attached to it—to the Rav. And he’s so attached to the boys. I feel obligated to keep up contact for the boys’ sakes.”

Decker blew out air. Moving the boys from the ultra-Orthodox yeshiva to a more modern Orthodox school had been a mutual decision. But he knew Rina had guilt pangs. Though she didn’t say it, Decker knew his wife was trying to preserve the memory of her late husband for their sons. And that was admirable. Decker also knew that if something ever happened to him, Hannah would know who her father was. And in police work, who knew what could happen?

“Fine,” he said. “Send the boys over there for a couple of days. Actually, it’s a good idea. They’ll be safe, they’ll have fun visiting their old friends. Now if you’ll kindly take Hannah, I can load up the Volvo in one trip.”

Rina took the baby back. “Will you be sleeping here or at my parents’ tonight?”

Decker picked up the suitcases. “Somehow I’ll make it back over the hill. I always enjoy visiting the other half.”

Rina smiled. Her parents weren’t made of money, but they did live in the posh area of Beverly Hills. Their home was an old ranch house placed on a block made busy by renovators and contractors. The house next door to them had been redone recently. The modern monolith
of ten thousand square feet looked as oversized for the lot as a dowager in a bikini.

They stepped outside, Decker locking the door. Rina said, “Peter, I was so flustered this morning, I forgot to write down the name of the New York detective who called me about Gershon Klein’s murder.” She reached in her baby bag and pulled out a slip of paper. “But he gave me the precinct’s phone number. Here.”

Decker pocketed the paper. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Is it my imagination or do I seem to rope you into doing a lot of unofficial overtime.”

Decker gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s the kids—”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m concerned for
all
of them. So far, we have a stalled van with a couple of flats. For all we know, it may be simple car problems.”

“And you think that’s a real possibility.”

Decker didn’t answer. Instead he opened the door. “You’re all set.” He took Hannah from Rina. “I’ll put her in her car seat. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick up the boys and run them over to the yeshiva?”

“It’s not a problem for me, Peter. I’m sure you have enough to do without worrying about carpooling.”

True enough, Decker thought. He was a busy man, having people both dead and alive vying for his attention.

Through the mike, Decker heard Marge’s dulcet tones.

“
Where in the
hell
did you disappear to
!?”

“Tug didn’t tell you?”

“Squat.”

Decker explained Rina’s phone call; then a quieter Marge said, “Jesus, that’s
terrible
! No sign of the kids?”

“I just got off the line with Highway Patrol Officer Rachel Parks—who’s pissed as hell that I’m taking so long to get there. I lied and told her I got stuck in a traffic
jam. Anyway, so far no one’s reclaimed the vehicle. I’m on my way there now. What’s going down on your side?”

“Well, we got what we were looking for—two positive IDs—Arik and Dalia Yalom. I thought I’d feel excited about the progress. Instead, I feel wrenched. That’s why I’m so pissed at you. I’ve got no one but Tug to talk to and he’s about as helpful as a hangnail.”

“How’s Orit Bar Lulu holding up?”

“She’s in awful shape, Pete. I rang up her husband, told him to come down and pick up his wife. The lady’s absolutely torn up. I also told him to call her doctor. She was sitting in the squad car, shaking, trying to get down some soda. Then she got nervous and tried to stand. She passed out. Luckily, I caught her.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“I did. Davidson thought that was a peachy idea because—and I quote—‘The last thing this department needs is another wrongful death suit.’ Old Tug’s a sensitive soul.”

“Has the coroner arrived yet?”

“Yeah. It’s Chuck Kann. He’s moving slowly. Someone blasted a hole in Dalia’s chest. It’s going to take a while to clean her up and assess the damage. It appears to be a shotgun, or some heavy-duty automatic. Chuck hasn’t started on Arik yet.”

There was silence over the line. Marge asked Decker what he was thinking.

“We’ve got a big hole in the chest, ergo, a big weapon. If we’re figuring that the boys popped the parents, could you picture them leading Mom and Dad up to the mountainside, swinging shotguns at their sides? Hunting’s not allowed up there. Don’t you think the parents might have been a little suspicious?”

“Maybe they were sawed-off numbers and the boys stuffed them in their jackets.” Marge paused. “Or with their tennis gear. I found tennis rackets at the house, and there are public courts on the other side of the hill.”

Decker said, “Okay, suppose they could hide sawed-off shotguns in their gear bag. What if the weapon turns out to be an automatic? I haven’t seen a hell of a lot of small AK47s.” Decker sat up in the driver’s seat. “Or small
Uzis
!”

Marge sounded excited. “Aren’t Uzis given out to soldiers in the Israeli army?”

“I don’t know if they’re standard issue, but I think a lot of Israeli soldiers own them.”

“Yalom must have been in the army. Aren’t all Israelis inducted?”

Decker said, “Damn, I meant to ask Rina about that.”

“You did?”

“I wanted to ask her how long the required tour was for an Israeli soldier. Because Yalom’s partner, Shaul Gold, spent six years in the Israeli army.”

“This is very interesting,” Marge said. “Maybe we ask Gold the question in person. See how he reacts. Unless you think he might be a flight risk.”

“Of course he’s a flight risk. He’s got another country to flee to.” Decker thought a moment. “I checked him out. Superficially, he doesn’t have a motive. He appears to be in good shape financially. He’s not like Yalom, but he’s got money in the bank, gems in his vault, and good credit. But at the moment, he’s a suspect.”

“I’ll call him,” Marge said. “Even if he’s clean, he’s going to find out that his partner was murdered. It might as well come from us.”

“Good point,” Decker said. “We’ll go over there together and break the news. See how he reacts. Although I don’t suspect he’ll freak. Gold seems…controlled.”

“When did you want to do this?”

“As soon as I’m done with HP Officer Parks. How about in an hour, hour and a half?”

“Fine. Meet me back at the crime scene.” She paused. “Pete, you did say your houseguest’s husband was a diamond dealer?”

“Yes, I did say that. And yes, he was a diamond dealer. No, Marge, I don’t know if there’s any connection between his murder and our case. But I’ll look into it.”

Marge said, “Why should I bother talking to you when you can talk for both of us?”

She cut the line. Decker hung up the mike.

Touchy, touchy, touchy!

No problem finding the car. The off-balanced Aerostar looked like an iceberg floating in a sea of concrete. Decker pulled the unmarked behind the HP cruiser and got out. Rachel Parks was a compact brunette with short, curly hair and gray eyes. She had to crane her neck to make eye contact with Decker. “Traffic bad?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m late. I appreciate you waiting. Anything I should know before I check out the van?”

Rachel said, “I’ve made a couple of preliminary contacts. The HP and Triple A have no record of any distress calls coming through the nearest call boxes. I’ve also had time to phone the closest service station. I figured maybe the lady called from there. Nothing so far. What’s going on?”

Decker recapped the details, then they both went back to work. Rachel began making inquiries from her car radio, Decker slipped on latex gloves, readying himself to tackle the van forensically.

He opened the driver’s door. The van had seated seven—two captain seats up front, a bench seat for two in the middle, and a bench seat for three in the back. There were lots of cup holders and most of them were filled with boxes of kosher fruitade. There were a few kosher candy wrappers littering the seats and floors.

Pulling up cushions, he searched underneath the seats—clean and crumbless unlike most family cars. The floor carpet was also free from dirt and food. The rental places must vacuum them carefully.

On to the glove compartment. Then the console between the two captain seats, then the door consoles.
He looked inside the roof-mounted sunglass case. He ran his hands inside the pockets lining the back of the captain seats. He flipped visors, he opened vanity mirrors and ashtrays and panels that held electrical wiring. Nothing.

He stepped outside the car, looked under the hood. In the radiator, in the oil tank. He went over to the back of the van and opened the hatch—empty except for a deflated spare tire mounted on the side.

Disgusted and disappointed, he began to grid-sweep the immediate area around the van. The wind swept lots of garbage along the sides of the freeway. Decker meticulously searched through the trash but still came up dry.

A tow truck was approaching westbound. It slowed, its front bumper announcing that
SHIT HAPPENS
. It stopped in front of the tipped van and pulled onto the shoulder of the freeway. The driver got out—a skinny kid with lots of moles, wearing a ponytail and an earring. He released the cable pulley from the tail of the truck. Decker came over to him and the kid took a step backward. Being big, Decker was conscious of the way he made most men feel. Some deferred, others got belligerent. This guy was a deferrer. The name tag on his shirt said
Rich
in red scroll.

Decker held up his hands—a gesture he did on purpose to help guys like this one relax. “Who told you to tow the truck?”

The kid looked down. “My boss. If there’s a problem, I’ll wait.”

“You work for the rental company, Rich?”

“Yes, sir. My boss told me the HP called and told them to get the van off the freeway.”

Officer Rachel Parks walked over and joined them. “No leads,” she reported. “We all done here?”

“I suppose so.” Decker turned to Rich. “You get a lot of abandoned rentals?”

“Yep, but they’re usually not left on a freeway.” Rich picked at his ear. “You see, people’ll rent the car under
a false name and ID. Then you see, they’ll use the car for a day or two. Then they’ll just leave the suckers flat, you see. Use the car without paying…or even use the car for like a robbery or a drug deal. Lots of drug dealers use rented cars to transport their shit—er, stuff. I once towed this bitchen Porsche. Man, it had more residue powder than Mammoth after a ten-foot snowfall.”