Sanctuary (16 page)

“How about Israel?” Decker stated.

“Yes, I think they were from Israel.” Marie bit her lip. “This is just awful!”

“Yes it is,” Decker said. “Thanks, Marie. Can you pull Mr. Yalom’s safe-deposit-box signature card for me now?”

Marie liberated her key ring from her wrist and opened a drawer. “I can’t believe…it’s just terri—ah, here’s the signature card.”

Marie informed them that they’d have to sign in for the record. After the bank’s files appeared to be in proper order—approved by two of Marie’s superiors—she finally escorted the detectives into the vault, closing the metal grate behind them. It wasn’t the biggest vault Decker had ever seen, but it seemed to contain twenty or thirty oversized boxes. Marie pointed to an eight-by-ten box on the top row. Marge handed Marie the key found on Arik’s body. The bank manager had to stretch to reach the door to the box, her skirt riding up on her rear. Even on her tiptoes, she barely managed to insert both keys in the slots. She lowered her heels to the ground and pulled down her skirt.

“Ah, I remember this one now. My aerobic body stretch.”

“Would you like some help?” Marge asked.

“I can manage, thank you.” Again, on her tiptoes, Marie managed to rotate both keys at the same time. The door opened.

Decker grinned and so did Marge. She whispered that sometimes you get lucky. Again Marie stretched, attempting to retrieve the box.

“Why don’t you let me get it down, Marie. I’m a bit
taller.” Decker raised a gorilla arm and, with one hand, brought the box down, hefting its contents.

“Heavy?” Marge asked.

“Not too bad.” Decker handed it to her.

Marie opened the vault grate. “Let’s go to a room. Someone is waiting to enter the vault and can’t as long as we’re here.”

She took them into a six-foot-square private room, a fan kicking in when Marie closed the door and turned on the light. It contained a built-in desk and acoustical ceiling tiles for noise absorption. Marge put the box down and opened the lid.

Stuffed
with papers—piles crammed upon piles. Marge pulled a wad off the top, unfolded the first piece of paper and smoothed its wrinkled body out on the desk.

Correspondence—the letterhead stating it was from The VerHauten Company, Inc. Dated over two years ago. Marge read the contents, Decker peering over her shoulder.

“I like the name of the law firm,” Marge said.

Decker smiled. “Yeah, Dekker spelled with double K is a Dutch name.”

“Who’s VerHauten?” Marge asked.

“The largest diamond company in the world. About four billion’s worth of assets.”

Marie whistled. Decker had forgotten about her. He held up a stack of rumpled papers. “You know, Marie, to go through this mess thoroughly…” He plopped the papers on the built-in desk. “It’s going to take an awfully long time.”

“I’ve been instructed to wait with you.”

“I bet your boss said wait
for
us, not wait
with
us.” Decker gave her a big smile. “I can’t imagine they’d want to tie up your valuable time, having you just sit back and twiddle your thumbs.”

“Yeah, they know how long a proper investigation can take,” Marge chimed in. “It’s hours of tedium and you know how these corporate types can be. Time is money.”

Decker opened the door. “We’ll call you when we’re done. Thanks for all your help.”

With a dubious look, Marie didn’t budge.

Decker let out a small laugh and held out his hands. “Hey, you can stay if you want. I, for one, certainly don’t object to the scenery.”

Marie lowered her head and stifled a smile. “I think I’m being conned.”

“By
moi
?” Decker said. “Heaven forbid.” He bowed and showed her the door. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

Marie paused, shook her head, then left with a smile on her face.

Marge whispered, “If some guy pulled an
aw shucks
stunt like that on me, I’d pop him.”

“Dunn, you would have made a piss-poor Southern belle.” Decker examined the next bit of mail. “Take a look at this, Margie. VerHauten again.”

Dated before the first piece of correspondence, the letter was single-spaced, the language and legalese complex and long-winded. Decker read it to himself. Marge scanned it silently as well, then began reading snippets out loud.

“Disputed certificate of ownership…unauthorized land parcels…international trade violations…” Marge
raised a brow. “Looks like our boy Yalom was taking on the big boys.”

“To hear Gold talk, Yalom couldn’t compete. But damned if he couldn’t threaten.”

“And
without
benefit of an attorney.”

“That’s not as unusual as you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a certain tiny percentage of the population that thrives on sticking it to major corporations. They usually file the motions themselves and become real gnats…gadflies. They wear the corporations down. Often the companies will settle just to get these nutcases off their backs.”

“You think Yalom was a nutcase?”

“From what we’ve heard, Yalom sounded like a pretty independent thinker. I can see him trying to handle something by himself. What I can’t understand is why a VerHauten representative answered Yalom personally in the first place. Someone should have smelled
problem
with a capital P. The complaint should have immediately gone to the corporation’s lawyers.”

“You’re the attorney,” Marge said. “Use your three years of night school and tell us why.”

Decker smiled. “Offhand, I’d say someone was attempting to manage Yalom with kid gloves. They didn’t want the lawyers involved right away because they didn’t want him to freak.”

“Meaning Yalom probably had something the corporation wanted. And VerHauten was attempting to keep the guy calm until they could figure out how to get it.”

Decker nodded. “You just summed up my thoughts.”

“So what was VerHauten after?”

Decker shrugged. “Let’s keep reading.”

Marge said, “Whatever it was, according to this letter, VerHauten eventually did hand the problem over to its lawyers. I wonder if eventually Yalom engaged an attorney of his own.”

Decker took out another piece of paper from the stack and unfolded it—a preprinted certificate. It looked to be a deed of trust for land in Angola. He showed it to Marge.

She said, “VerHauten wrote about ‘unauthorized land parcels.’ This could be the disputed certificate of ownership.”

“It could be one of many.”

“So Yalom was still investing in Africa. Do you have any idea where Angola is in relationship to South Africa?”

“Northwest,” Decker said. “The two countries are separated by Botswana and Namibia. I looked at a map of Africa after you found Yalom’s passport.”

“Does Angola have diamond mines?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said. “But the countries are contiguous. They probably have similar terrain.”

Marge said, “Maybe Yalom was cutting some sort of side deal with VerHauten, leaving Gold out on ice. That’s why Gold freaked when he found out about Yalom’s passport.”

“But the letters were hostile. If there ever was a deal, something soured pretty quickly.”

They both were silent.

Marge said, “I brought some yellow stick ’ems. Why don’t we tag the papers we’ve gone through.”

Decker said, “Good idea. I’ll take a pile. You take a pile. We’ll write notes, then compare when we’re done.” He fished out a handful of papers.

Marge pulled out her notebook. “I know this sounds farfetched, but do you think that the boys
might
be in Africa?”

“I suppose it’s a remote possibility.” He sorted through some papers. “After we found the bodies, Davidson assigned a crew to check out the airlines, the cabs, and the buses…free up our time to investigate the murders. I hope they find something soon. I know we haven’t ruled out the boys as suspects. But finding stuff
like this…reading Yalom’s hostility and threats….”

“Guy probably made lots of enemies,” Marge said.

“I’m sure.” Decker paused. “If only Arik Yalom had been killed, I wouldn’t be as worried about the kids. But someone also popped Dalia. If someone blew away one innocent bystander, are the boys far behind?”

“If they’re even still alive.”

“A sobering thought.” Decker picked up another batch of correspondence. “One thing at a time.”

He returned his attention to the paperwork. Lots of letters, lots of angry correspondence between Yalom and VerHauten, between Yalom and VerHauten’s lawyers. Decker never did discover an attorney for Yalom.

There were also lots of stock certificates: Consolidated Gems, Southwest Mines, West African Consolidated. Yalom’s stocks added up to thousands of shares in each company. Decker read on. He eventually found a letter to Yalom from Southwest Mines.

The company was announcing bankruptcy.

Digging deeper, Decker found another round of angry letters from Yalom to VerHauten—Yalom accusing VerHauten of illegal stock manipulation. Still no indication that Yalom ever hired an attorney to represent him.

Decker kept reading and hunting.

Marge said, “Look at this, Pete. A whole stack of land deeds in Angola, Mozambique, and Namibia.”

Decker looked at them. They were dated two years ago. “I wonder if they’re still valid.”

Marge said, “I wonder if they were ever valid.” She kept reading. More letters—the gist of the irate exchange had to do with who officially owned stock and land in Angola, Mozambique, Namibia, Zambia, and Botswana.

He and Marge had scratched the surface of about half the contents of the box when they heard a knock. Marge muttered some obscenity, then opened the cubicle door. A Suit-and-Tie was looking at her. He broke into a venal smile.

“You two aren’t supposed to be here unsupervised.” He wagged his finger. “I’m not pleased about that at all. I have a good mind to call your captain.”

Marge and Decker said nothing. Finally Marge said, “We’re just working away, sir.”

Suit-and-Tie pursed his lips. “Well, that’s good to hear. Always like it when my tax dollar is well spent.” He let out a forced laugh. He was in his fifties—a big man with a big gut. When he laughed, his belly jiggled. “Chuck Holmes—senior vice president. I hope that as the chief representative of World First Savings and Loan, I’ve been of service to you.”

“Yes, you have,” Marge said.
Fucker had no choice with our papers
. “Thank you very much.”

“No thanks is necessary.” Holmes held out his hand as if warding off demons. “I like to do my job, I like to help our boys in blue. And I know Marie likes to help, too. But sending her away.” He clucked his tongue. “That’s going a little too far.”

Decker didn’t answer. Holmes suddenly became magnanimous. “Well, no harm done, I guess. I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop anyway. It’s closing time.”

“We’re not done,” Marge said.

Holmes flipped his wrist and looked at his timepiece. “Sorry, but I have to close the vault by a certain hour or bells go off. I hope you two found
something
that’ll elucidate this terrible, terrible incident. The Yaloms were very valued customers.”

Decker asked, “How much time do we have left?”

“About two minutes. Just enough time for you to put everything back in the box.”

Marge said, “How about if we come back first thing tomorrow morning. Say around eight?”

Holmes gave them a small smile that said no can do. “Sorry, Detective. I’ve already bent the rules once, giving you access to the box before contacting the IRS. Can’t do that again. I’m going to have to key the box until the tax man gives me an okay to open it.”

“We’ll clean up,” Marge said. “Afterward, do you have a minute to talk to us about the Yaloms?”

Holmes managed to smile and frown at the same time. “Sorry, but I’m a little pressed right now—”

“Of course,” Marge said. “So I’ll just schedule the meeting tomorrow morning…” She looked up and smiled. “Let’s make it eight before the bank opens. I’ll even bring the doughnuts and coffee, Mr. Holmes. Can’t beat that.”

The senior veep didn’t speak. Finally, he said, “I suppose I can afford a
few
minutes tomorrow morning. But right now I really am pressed for time. Please clean up quickly so I can lock the vault.”

“You bet,” Marge said.

After the vice president left, Decker said, “Spiffy how you trapped him into an appointment, Margie. I like that doughnuts and coffee addition.”

Marge smiled. “See that guy’s gut? You work on the weaknesses.”

Decker burst into laughter, cramming papers back into the box. He was just about to close the lid, then paused, looking at the top certificate. Southwest Mines. A land deed for acreage in Angola. Decker pulled it from the box, folded it into a tiny, thick square and stuffed it in his underwear.

Marge raised her eyebrows. “What do you think you’re doing, Rabbi?”

“Old Chuck is doing his job. But I’m doing
mine
.”

“Pete—”

Holmes knocked, then walked through the cubicle door. He smiled at the detectives. “All done?”

Decker spread out his arms and smiled back. “All done.”

The Rosh Yeshiva invited Rina to sit in the chair opposite the desk. Unlike his study in the yeshiva, the home office was smaller and plainer. It was walled in bookshelves, filled with
sepharim
—religious books. His desk was an old one and Rina suspected it had sentimental value. It was scarred, carved mahogany, its top covered with books and writing material. The only concession made to ornamentation was an old-fashioned sterling inkwell and a set of fountain pens encased in semiprecious stone—malachite, lapis, tigereye, and garnet. He kept the door ajar, but not wide open as he had done earlier in the afternoon.

Rina was exhausted. After she had dropped the boys off at the yeshiva, she had raced back to her parents’ house to put Hannah to bed. Once the baby had fallen asleep, she had made another trek out to the yeshiva to say good night to the boys
and
to talk to the Rav about Honey. She must have put another hundred miles on her aged Volvo. But Rina felt she had no choice.
Her
family was safe and sound. How could she sleep soundly when Honey and her children were missing? Where were they now?

Rabbi Schulman went over to a shelf and pulled out a bottle of schnapps. “An old man must do many things to keep a sound mind.” He smiled, but Rina felt he looked troubled. She said nothing, biding her time until Schulman finished his drink.

Finally, the old man put down his shot glass and sat
down at his desk chair. He stroked his beard. “I spoke to the Leibbener Rebbe. I’m afraid I have nothing elucidating to add.”

Rina waited. Schulman took his time.

“Of course, the Rebbe is shocked and saddened by Gershon Klein’s untimely and violent death. And he is very upset about the disappearances of Honey and her children. However, he is also concerned for your family’s welfare, Rina Miriam. He wishes no hurt or harm to come to any of you.”

“He thinks we might be in danger?”

“If you investigate Honey’s disappearance, yes, he feels you may be endangering not only Honey and her children, but you and your family.”

“Why?”

“I’m not certain. But for your protection, he has recommended that the matter be left up to the police in New York. That neither you—nor Akiva—conduct any independent investigation.”

It took a moment for Rina to digest what Schulman had told her. “He doesn’t want Akiva to at least
look
for the family?”

“It appears that way.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Schulman raised his eyes. Rina caught it. “You’re as puzzled by his request as I am.”

“Indeed, I am, Rina Miriam.” Schulman took a moment to choose his words. “Though you did not hire me to be Akiva’s advocate, I took the liberty of extolling your husband’s exceptional talents as a policeman. The Rebbe still held firm to his request. Let Manhattan worry about Gershon’s death.”

“But what about Honey—and the
children
?”

The old man sighed, his shoulders hunched by the burden of life. “The Rebbe…seemed to feel…that they are best left in the hands of
Hashem
.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t understand,” Rina whispered. “Does he mean
that they’re…dead or that they’re okay?”

The Rav began to curl the tip of his beard around his index finger. “Again, I’m not certain. Perhaps I should recall our conversation for you. According to the Leibbener Rebbe, Gershon had been a troubled man for many months. His business had been flagging for over two years. The Rebbe felt Gershon may have become involved with unscrupulous people.”

Rina thought of the phone calls Honey had reported. “Who?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Did the Rebbe tell the police that?” Rina asked.

“He has been in close contact with the Manhattan police.” The Rav continued to curl his beard. “Though he said nothing overt, the Rebbe…suggested that Honey and the children, after hearing about the death of Gershon, might have disappeared to
escape
, not because of foul play.”

“But how could she have known about her husband’s death before I did?”

“The Rebbe felt that Honey might have come to you because she
knew
something was amiss.”

“Honey knew that something was going to happen to her husband? So why didn’t she get him help?”

“Perhaps she tried. But Gershon was troubled, Rina Miriam. It could be he refused help for himself, but sent his family away.”

“So that’s why Honey came out here?” Rina made a face. “To escape Gershon’s enemies?”

“You seem skeptical.”

“It just seems illogical.”

“Perhaps not, Rina. It might be Honey sought you and Akiva out because she felt Akiva could protect her family.”

“It didn’t help. Her van was found abandoned.”

Again, the room became still.

Finally Rav Schulman said, “Didn’t you tell me that the van was rented under a false name?”

Rina nodded.

“Then perhaps the Leibbener Rebbe is correct. If Honey had been acutely aware of her husband’s nefarious associates, it would have made sense for her to use a false name. And it would have made sense to hide herself and her children after she’d heard of her husband’s demise. If we find them, Rina Miriam, we may be doing more harm than good. We could be leaving a trail for the gangsters to follow.”

Rina shook her head in confusion.

Schulman said, “I know what preys on your mind, Rina Miriam. What if they aren’t in hiding? What if they were abducted? Should we not intervene just to be certain?”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t have a satisfactory answer for you. I’m simply interpreting the Leibbener Rebbe’s wishes.”

“And he wants us to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“Apparently.”

“And what do you think, Rav Schulman?”

The old man appeared very thoughtful. “Personally, I am concerned for the children. Yet, there was…
something
in the Leibbener Rebbe’s voice that told me the kids were safe.”

Rina thought about that. The Rosh Yeshiva’s intuition was not to be taken lightly. “Rav, maybe Honey and the kids have returned to the village. Maybe the Rebbe is hiding them until Gershon’s murder has been solved.”

Schulman paused. “I don’t think so. If only because Manhattan police have been investigating the village extensively, have been knocking on doors and questioning the people. Yet you bring up a very important question. If they are hiding for fear of their lives, and they couldn’t go home, where would they go?”

“Well, she took them here,” Rina said. “Maybe it wasn’t far enough away. Maybe she took the plunge and went to Israel.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But what if the Rebbe’s
wrong
, Rav Schulman. What if they’re waiting for somebody to save them? I can’t get the faces of the children out of my mind.”

Schulman looked pained. “Yes, the children come first. As this is not a halachic issue, I am no
maven
. So I suggest we apprise Akiva of the situation, of our concern for Honey and her family, and let the expert decide.”

“
Shit
!” Decker rubbed his face with scratchy palms. “I
forgot
to call Manhattan. God, at forty-three, I’m going
senile
.”

“It’s called preoccupation with a double homicide,” Rina said.

Decker sank down on the guest bed. It was after eleven and the rest of the household was asleep. He was weary, hungry, and mad at himself for not calling New York earlier. Both cases were weighing heavily on his mind, because both cases involved missing kids. He wondered if, by working the two cases simultaneously, he was doing justice to either case. Probably not.

Rina bit her nail. “Can’t you call New York now? Police stations are open all the time.”

“Not the Detective Bureau. Everyone wants a gold shield because the hours are good.”

“Maybe someone’s working overtime, Peter. Maybe someone out there is as dedicated as you.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Supercop.” He rubbed his eyes. “What the hey. I’ll give it a whirl.”

He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. The phone rang and rang and rang and finally the line was answered by a man calling himself Romero. Decker introduced himself officially and asked for a Detective Dintz.

“Dintz went home hours ago. You know what time it is here?”

“Close to two in the morning.”

“The man can add. Nah, nobody’s here except me. That’s because I just got divorced and I’m drowning my sorrows in my job.”

“It doesn’t work.”

“You’re right about that. It only makes you more pissed at her. Whatdaya want with Dintz?”

Decker updated Romero.

“Yeah, Klein’s the diamond dealer. I know the case.”

“What’s the scoop?”

“Nuttin’ so far. But Klein was in a high-cash business. Plus, he was also a member of that weird cult.”

“By cult you mean the Leibbener Rebbe?”

“Yeah, that weird place upstate—Leibbentown. You ever been there?”

“Nope.”

“You ever been to Plymouth Rock, how the guides dress up like Pilgrims and act like they was on the
Mayflower
?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” Decker said.

“It’s the same at Leibbentown. They dress up like they’re livin’ in an old Polish village. Only they ain’t doing it for a skit. It’s their life. Now I work Manhattan, I used to work Brooklyn. I’m used to your garden-variety Chasid. But these guys are beyond that.”

Decker noticed how Romero had pronounced Chasid, gutturalizing the
ch
.

“This woman,” Romero said. “The wife who was staying with you. She seem normal?”

“I’m no psychiatrist.”

“Meaning she was a psycho, too.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist,” Decker repeated.

“So the family was staying with you when the old man was popped.”

“Yep.”

“And then they disappeared?”

“That’s a fact.”

“Something’s off.”

“That’s a fact, too.”

“Lemme call up Larry for you. Even if it is two in the morning, I think he’d want to hear about this.”

“’Preciate it.”

Romero said, “Yeah, Larry would definitely want to hear about this. Let me see if I got all your numbers right.” He repeated Decker’s phone numbers over the line.

“You got it.” Decker hung up and turned to Rina. “He described the Leibbener village to me as a cult. From what I’ve heard, I think that’s an accurate description.”

“It’s not coercive.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.”

“So just what are you saying, Peter?” Rina said, angrily. “You think the murder was an inside job?”

“I’m not saying anything because I don’t know anything.” Decker paused. “I’ll tell you what I do know. If this Rebbe cared about Honey, he wouldn’t be telling me to back off.”

“He’s concerned for our welfare.”

“You know, Rav Schulman is a very wise man. He said Honey Klein isn’t a
halachic
issue. It’s a
police
matter. He’s right.”

Reluctantly, Rina nodded in agreement. The phone rang. Decker picked it up.

“This is Detective Dintz,” a low voice announced. “I’m looking for a Sergeant Decker.”

“You found him.”

“Man, I wish you’d called earlier. I got all my notes in my desk.”

“Wish I could have. I’m on a double homicide out here.”

“Yeah, a diamond dealer and his wife. It was on the news. You think there’s a connection between them and Klein?”

“So far the only connection I’ve found is me.” Decker brought him up-to-date on the Kleins—the abandoned car on the shoulder of the freeway, Honey’s claim about receiving crazy calls, Gershon Klein’s strange behavior.

Dintz listened without interruption. When Decker was through, he said, “So first you found two Israeli stiffs. Now the Klein family has disappeared. And you don’t think there’s a connection?”

“If I find one, you’ll be the first to know,” Decker said. “Right now we’re still trying to determine if the Klein family is in hiding or if they were abducted.”

“And you’re assigned to investigate Klein’s disappearance?”

“Yes. Can you tell me something about Gershon Klein’s murder? Something that might help me figure out what happened to the wife and kids?”

“All I got so far was a prelim on the coroner’s report. Klein was shot, but that wasn’t the cause of death.”

“What was?”

“Drowning.”