Authors: Faye Kellerman
And there was
evening, and there was morning.
On the seventh day, God rested.
With any luck, so could Decker. It always took him a while to slip into Shabbos mode. Gourmet food and fine wine helped the process. As he sipped tea, he watched his wife shuffle papers.
She said, “The first contender’s a four-bedroom, three-bath. Around thirty-five-hundred square feet. Center hall plan, living room, formal dining, a den. Central air and heat. Built-ins in the kitchen. And it’s got a pool with a Jacuzzi.”
“California living,” Jacob added with a grin.
“Pools mean maintenance,” Decker groused. “A Jacuzzi means lots of maintenance.”
Sammy asked, “Can Ginger swim?”
At the mention of her name, the setter lifted her head. Decker told her to go back to sleep. “Yes, she can swim. That’s all I need. Dog hairs clogging up the filter.”
“I’ll clean the pool, Dad,” Jacob said. “Just show me what to do.”
The boy’s offer tugged at Decker’s heart strings. So anxious to get out of here and into civilization. Decker picked up his teacup, eyes on the flickering Shabbos candles. Dinner had been scrumptious, and everyone, including the baby, had been in a good mood. Hannah had lasted until dessert, then announced she wanted to go to sleep. As Rina
put her to bed, the boys cleared the dishes, restored a rose-filled vase to its rightful place at the center of the table. Decker stacked the plates, made the tea. For the first time in weeks, he felt at semi-peace.
Rina went on, “The house is a little bruised, but certainly something we could live with for a while. About six blocks from the shul—”
He returned his eyes to his wife. “How much?”
“They’re asking three twenty five, but the realtor thinks there’s flexibility.”
“Should be at that price.”
“Also the lot is small.”
“How small?”
“Around sixty-five hundred square feet.”
Decker winced. “Any yard at all?”
“Room for a swing set, a patio set.” Rina showed her husband the tear sheet.
He scanned the vitals of the home. “At least Hannah’ll be happy.” He paused. “I’ve got acres here.”
Rina sighed. “You must feel like Gulliver being thrown into Lilliput.”
Jacob fidgeted, then said, “We don’t need such a big house, Eema. Show him the other one. The three-bedroom. The lot’s bigger, Dad. It’s got room for a pool. Not that I expect a pool. I’m just saying it’s got the room.”
Jacob was trying so hard. Decker never realized how difficult the isolation had been on him. “We’ll find something, Jake.” He turned to his other son. “What do you think, Sammy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing a room if you want the bigger lot. I don’t mind having my own room, if you want the bigger house. It’s up to you.”
Rina paused. “There is this one house—if you could call it that—on a good-size lot. Fourteen eight.”
Decker considered the size. “Not bad.”
“It’s a little farther from the shul…about a mile, mile and a half away—”
“After what we’ve been walking, a mile and a half’s
nothing
,” Jacob said. “Besides, the house is inside the
eruv
so we can carry on Shabbos. And push a stroller. Which is good news for Hannah. The shul has a toddlers’ play group. It’s real cute. I’m sure she’d love it. She doesn’t like being left behind when we go to shul, you know.”
Decker said, “Yes, Jacob, I know that.”
Quickly, the teen said, “Not that I’m pushing you. Take your time, Dad.”
Decker raised his brow. “What about the house?”
“It’s tiny. A fixer-upper—”
“Yeah, like it should be rebuilt,” Sammy said, laughing.
“It’s salvageable,” Rina replied. “But it is tiny. Two bedrooms—”
“We have three children,” Decker said.
“There’s a small den. We could convert it into a room for the boys until we add another bedroom…or two—”
“You mean until
I
add another bedroom or two—”
“And a couple of bathrooms, too,” Sammy said. “It only has one bath.”
“Five of us and one bathroom.” Decker nodded. “Rich.”
“We can always rent something portable,” Rina said.
Decker looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
She hit his good shoulder. “Of course I’m kidding.”
“Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Sammy said. “And while we’re at it, we could pitch a couple of tents in the summer. Because the house doesn’t have air-conditioning.”
Decker groaned.
Rina said, “I thought you loved camping.”
Jacob blurted out, “It’s a great lot, Dad. Full of big trees. Lots of shade in the summer.”
Rina said, “The boy is a hard sell.”
Jacob blushed. “I’m just looking at the positive.”
Rina kissed her son’s forehead. “Good for you. You’ll always be happy.”
Sammy came to his brother’s rescue. “The lot is awesome.”
“It’s a tenth the size of this place,” Decker said.
“Yeah, but it’s really well planted,” Sammy answered. “This place is mostly dirt.”
“I’ve got an orchard,” Decker defended.
“Dad, the new lot’s got like about three or four
huge
avocado trees—”
“And orange trees, too,” Jacob said. “
Big
ones.”
“Valencia oranges,” Rina said. “Full-sized trees that they don’t plant anymore because they’re so tall. Must be thirty or forty years old. It’s also got lemon, lime, and grapefruit trees. And giant eucalyptuses. Wonderful menthol smell.”
“How much?”
“One hundred seventy-five.”
“That’s too cheap!”
“Actually, it’s about plot price.”
“Could we live in it?”
“For as much as you’re home, yes,” Rina said.
“Funny.” Decker glared at her. “You have a tear sheet on this, Lucille Ball?”
“No. It’s by owner. Another reason why the price is good.”
“This doesn’t sound like a house,” Decker said. “It sounds like a project.”
Rina shrugged. “It would give your father something to do if your parents come out for Thanksgiving. He loves to tinker and build.”
“I have to live in a shack to give my father a life?”
Rina muttered, “To give yourself a life.”
Decker snapped, “I heard that.”
“You were
supposed
to hear that.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Sammy cleared his throat, said, “Hey, Yonkie, wanna learn a little?”
“What?”
Sammy cocked his head at his parents, yanked his brother out of his seat. “Let’s go.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “I get it.”
Since the boys’ bedroom was dark, they went into the kitchen. Decker kept his voice down, but he was peeved.
“I’m tired of your digs! I’m doing the best I can!”
Rina took Peter’s hand. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m
fine
. I’d be a lot
finer
if I didn’t have to think about you being mad at me for the hours I keep.”
“I’m not mad at you—”
“Could have fooled me. Think I want to work this hard? Think I like coming home every night having missed dinner and the baby. We have thousands of ongoing cases, Rina—”
“I’m aware—”
“With new ones every day.” Decker counted off on his fingers. “There’re phone calls, there’re meetings, there’s paperwork, there’s assignments, and lots of people with problems. Not to mention the dees and their problems. I must spend half my time doing counseling to keep them functional. I can’t help my hours.”
“I know that.”
“I’m not stopping off at a bar with the guys. Although there’d be nothing wrong if I did. I’m not stopping off at the gym to play racquetball, either.”
“I wish you did.”
“What does
that
mean? You want me to spend
more
time away from you?”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Then stop razzing me.”
“Deal.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Decker rotated his shoulders. “What are you really trying to tell me, darlin’?”
Rina said, “Even when you’re here, you’re not here. You’re distracted. I talk to you and half the time you don’t even hear it. You’re thinking about your cases. You breathe and eat your job and that’s not healthy.”
Decker was quiet.
Rina said, “You used to spend hours with the horses. Now the poor things just languish in their stalls. The horses aren’t the problem. We can sell them. It’s the fact that you don’t seem to enjoy life outside of work.”
“It’s been a miserable month.” Decker rubbed his neck. “I’m very unhappy.”
“Is it Estelle’s?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“It’s only been about a month.”
“It’s getting colder by the day…damn near frigid.”
Rina tried a cheerful smile. “At least the suit has been dropped.”
“I’m very angry about that. I should have fought it. Instead I caved in.”
Rina was quiet.
“Stupid to be angry.” Decker looked away. “It’s over.”
Rina kissed his hand. “You didn’t cave in. It’s called being married.” She waited a beat. “Maybe it’s the same thing.”
Decker’s smile was genuine. Again, he moved his wounded shoulder, trying to relieve the dull throb of former battle. “I should move on. Because I’m sure not getting anywhere.”
“Nothing productive from the interviews of the patrons?”
Decker rolled his eyes. “Sure there was a man. No, it was a woman. No, it wasn’t a man at all. He was tall, he was short. He was blond, he was brunette, he was bald. He was fat, he was skinny. He was wearing a coat, he wasn’t wearing a coat, he streaked naked through the restaurant. He had a gun. No, he didn’t have a gun, he had an Uzi. No, he didn’t have an Uzi, he had a cannon. No, he didn’t have a cannon, he had a Sherman tank.”
He looked at his wife.
“Garbage in, garbage out. People telling us what they think we want to hear. It doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.”
He drank cold tea.
“I’m starting to doubt my own instincts. Maybe Jeanine had nothing to do with it. Just a histrionic lady who had the bad luck to be in a picture with a mass murderer. And I had the bad luck to push her button.”
“Peter, why don’t you hire a private detective? PIs can do things you can’t do. Why don’t you see what kind of dirt they can dig up?”
Decker stared at his teacup. “Actually, I considered the
idea, then nixed it. I can’t afford the fees myself. And with the evidence I have, there’d be no way to squeeze it out of the department.”
Rina hesitated. “How much do they cost?”
“About two hundred a day plus expenses—”
“Don’t they give professional courtesy?”
Decker smiled. “No. Besides the expense, their use in these types of cases is not really effective. They’re good for tracing missing persons or tracking down deadbeat dads—doing a paper trail. They’re also good for photographing illicit encounters or stalkers or industrial espionage and theft. Things that happen on a regular basis. Things that can be caught in the act. Jeanine’s basically a law-abiding citizen who happens to have murdered fourteen people. She’s finished with her dirty work. Now all she has to do is hang tight. What’s a PI going to tell me? She’s hanging tight?”
Decker paused.
“What I really need is a stoolie. Someone who was involved in her plot to drop a dime on her. Or someone from the inside to whom she might have confessed.”
“Inside of what?”
“Good question.”
Decker got up, began to pace.
“Like this wheelchair tennis tournament she’s hosting. Probably lots of handicapped around. Ideally, if money wasn’t an object, I’d hire someone handicapped to work on the inside. Someone nondescript and nonthreatening who’s a good listener. Someone who could get her trust
and
get her talking. Then I could wire him or her and catch Jeanine’s slipups on tape.”
“What about Wade Anthony?”
He stopped walking. “If I approached Anthony on this, it would be tantamount to cutting off my own head. First thing he’d do is tell Jeanine. Then she’d slap me with another suit—police harassment. And she’d have a legitimate case!”
No one spoke. Decker took his wife’s hand, kissed it. “Rina, this shack…it’s a good price. Something we can
afford. Let me have an inspector out there. See what needs to be done. If it looks okay…like something I can handle, let’s do it.”
She broke into a smile. “You’ve just made Yaakov’s year.”
“In the meantime, since it
is
reasonable, we can afford to keep this place for a while. Maybe live
there
over the weekends and be here on weekdays, where it’s more comfortable. At least until I can add an extra bathroom. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of months of Sundays if the sewer line’s not a problem.”
“I was serious about your father, Peter,” Rina said. “Buying it would give him motivation to come out. He loves anything that has to do with tools. So does your brother for that matter.”
“I’ll get me my kinfolk,” Decker drawled. “We’ll have ourselves an ole barn raisin.’ So, little lady, what are you and
your
hands going to contribute to this purchase?”
“I can sew, I can paint, and I can even hang wallpaper.”
“A real down-home family affair.” Suddenly, he turned serious. “So my folks haven’t made a decision about Thanksgiving?”
“Still thinking about it. But I’ll get them out here. Especially now. I can work on your dad by dangling the new house in front of his face.”
“The new house…” He laughed softly. “I love it. We’re already talking like we own it.”
“All it takes is money.”
“Yeah, maybe we can ask Jeanine to float us a loan. She’s rolling in it.”
Rina grew serious. “Peter, you’ll get your resolution from Estelle’s. It may take time, but you’ll get it.”
“The woman’s parents die a horrible death, her brother dies a horrible death…and she’s out being Miss Social Butterfly…raising money for poor, poor victims like herself.”
Rina said nothing.
“I know,” Decker said. “There were
real
victims. And why should they suffer?”
He pushed his chair from the table, threw his head back.
“I’m just…frustrated. Because the woman’s smart. Suing me like she did…immediately deflecting the investigation. Then taking up the cause of the victims. Getting them as a support system. Placing herself behind a barrier of officials and hotshots.”