Authors: Faye Kellerman
The house had only a one car garage where Decker parked the Porsche, leaving Rina’s old Volvo on the street. Every morning, Decker cleared the windshield and started the engine, the least he could do for her.
The advantage of the new location was driving distance to their four biological children — two were hers, one was his and one that was both — as well as their foster son, Gabe Whitman who was busy touring as a classical pianist. Two of the five kids were married so there were spouses and grandchildren in the mix. Decker’s daughter, Cindy, who had been a GTA detective in LA, was working patrol in Philadelphia. But it was just a matter of time before she was promoted back up to being a gumshoe.
The house was warm with wafting cooking aromas. That meant Rina was home and that immediately put Decker in a good mood. Inside the compact but modernized kitchen, Rina was working, her hair tucked into a knitted tam which she wore for religious reasons. She was garbed in a thin, cotton blue sweater and a knee length denim skirt, stirring a soup for tomorrow night’s Shabbat dinner. She was using a big cauldron which meant guests.
“How many are we expecting?” Decker kissed her cheek.
Rina kissed him back on the lips. “Six. But lunch will be just the two of us, so don’t fret.”
“I like company.”
“Since when?” Rina grinned. “Liar. But you’re a good sport. Go change. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
Decker sat on a chair at the breakfast bar. “I’d rather talk to you and get some pleasant company for a change.”
“The kid is still getting on your nerves.”
“He gets on everyone’s nerves.”
“Why don’t you invite him over for tomor-“
“No.”
“Take the high road, Peter.”
“I’m taking no road. He’s nasty and condescending. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with him at work. Why should he ruin my weekend or, even worse, inflict him on you? He’d only wind up needling me for being observant, narrow-minded and provincial.”
“Or maybe he’d see another side of you.”
“If I invited him over, it would only feed his delusions that he really is my superior.”
“The kid might be a snot, but I guarantee you he knows who the real cop is. He probably feels like an imposter.”
“He is an imposter.”
“Give him a chance.”
“He won’t accept the invitation from me.”
“So maybe he’ll accept it from me.” Rina picked up the phone. “What’s his cell?”
After Decker gave her the number, she punched it in and waited. “Hi. I’m looking for Tyler McAdams?”
“You called my cell so you found me. Who is this?”
Decker heard his response and mouthed, ’I told you so.’
Rina blithely continued. “This is Rina Decker. My husband and I were talking about you and I wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.” There was a long pause over the line. She went on. “I don’t’ know if Peter told you but we’re Jewish and we’re observant. I’m having six students here from the colleges and I thought they might be interested in what people do post-graduation, even if it’s a temporary job.”
McAdams still didn’t speak. Finally, he said, “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If it’s an inconvenient time, we’ll take a rain check. We usually have people over Friday night, so it’s open-ended. But I’d love to meet you. I always check out my husband’s partners.”
“No you don’t,” Decker whispered.
She gave him a playful slap. “Please come.”
“Sure. . .great. What time?”
Decker was making a face. Rina wagged her finger. “Six-thirty. It’s pretty informal. And I’m a great cook.”
“Sounds like a win-win situation because I like to eat. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We look forward to seeing you. Bye.” She hung up. “Done.”
“It’s not enough that he’s a leech at work. Once he’s tasted your food, I’ll never get him off my back.”
Rina took the casserole out of the oven. “Lots of people have ridden on your back and you’re none the worse for wear. You’ve got a strong set of shoulders. One more kid certainly won’t break your spine.”
The kid came right on time which would have been fine except that the students were on Jewish Standard Time. Rina answered the door and proceed to charm while Decker elected to sulk. It seemed like a lifetime until the other guests arrived. The group—four guys and two girls—brought flowers and wine leaving the empty-handed McAdams feeling a little sheepish. “I thought this was informal. I would have brought something.”
Decker said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not
worried
. I just don’t want to look like a clod.”
“If only you could remedy that with a bottle of wine.” Decker smiled and put his arm around the kid as he led him to the table. “C’mon, Harvard. Just relax.” Introductions were made all around. Decker whispered, “There are a couple of ritual blessings we need to make. The first one is over the wine-“
“I know what Kiddush is,” McAdams said. “There are one or two Jews in the Ivies.”
“I know. I just didn’t picture you hanging with the Tribe.”
“I didn’t go to school in a vacuum. I had a Jewish girlfriend at one point.”
“What happened?”
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore, that’s what happened.”
“She dumped you.” When McAdams shot him a dirty look, Decker said, “It happens.” He seated himself at the head of the table.
Rina said, “Tyler, why don’t you sit here between Adam and Jennifer. Both of them are interested in law and I know you’ve gotten into Harvard Law.”
“Adam and McAdams,” Decker said. “Already sounds like a law firm.
Rina smiled. “It does.” She placed the other four students at the table and then Decker made Kiddush. There once was a time where he stumbled over the Hebrew words. But after twenty-five years of embracing her culture and his genetics, he recited the blessing as fluently as an FFBer which stood for Frum From Birth or born into a religious family. After drinking wine, the group washed their hands and said the ritual blessing, and then Decker made the HaMozei, the prayer over the bread.
Finally, the meal could begin in earnest: soup, salad, rib roast, lentils with red peppers and onions, green beans with hazelnuts, and mixed berry cobbler for desert. It was enough to break the zippers and pop buttons on any waistline. There was lively conversation between the students and Rina as they discussed the parashat hashevuah: the weekly chapter of bible. It was wintertime so they were in the last chapters of Genesis, talking about Judah’s plea for Benjamin’s safety to his disguised brother, Joseph: what really went on behind closed doors. The kids were intelligent and opinionated. McAdams, on the other hand, was quiet. Like a lot of secular, upper crust kids of his generation, he was probably scripture-impaired. But he was polite and spoke when he was spoken to.
By nine o’clock, things were starting to wrap up and that’s when Decker’s landline rang. Rina and he exchanged glances. Decker’s father had died a year ago, but his mother was still alive and in her nineties. Rina’s parents were both in their nineties. Whenever they got a phone call on Shabbat, it was a reason to worry. Decker held up his finger and went to the answering machine which identified phone numbers. “It’s local.”
“Thank God,” Rina said. “Probably a robocall.”
The voice kicked in. It was Mike Radar and Decker picked up the phone. “It’s Decker. What’s up, Captain?” He listened intently over the phone. “When?...Okay. . .okay.” He checked his watch. “Does he know when the lock was broken? No idea? All right, I’ll look into it. Do you know how far it is from my house?...No, no, I’ll handle it. Just tell me how to get there on foot. . .no, I don’t mind walking if it’s not too far. A mile away is no problem, Mike. . .no, really, you stay put. I just ate the equivalent of half a cow and it would be good for me to get a little exercise. Unless it’s something more, I’ll call you on Sunday. Okay. Okay. Bye.”
Decker hung up the phone. “There was a break-in at the local cemetery and the watchman is all up-in-arms.”
“Grave robbers?” Rina was appalled.
“I don’t know. The other detectives are ice fishing in Canada for the weekend so the Captain wondered if I wouldn’t mind handling it.”
Rina feigned mock outrage. “You mean your colleagues didn’t invite you with them?”
Decker grinned. “Actually I made the cut, I passed. Maybe next time.”
McAdams said, “I would have gone. Nobody invited me.”
“They probably thought your blue blood couldn’t handle the cold.” Decker sighed inwardly. He had to make the offer to do to look like a good guy. “If you want to come, it’s okay with me. Take the car and I’ll meet you down there.”
“Of course, I’ll come. Why didn’t Mike call me in the first place?”
“No idea.” Decker had a damn good idea but why rub it in the kid’s face. “I’ll see you in about a half-hour.”
“I’ll walk with you, Old Man.”
“Harvard, it’s really cold outside. I’m doing it for religious reasons. No reason for you to suffer.”
“I’m not gonna let you out-macho me.”
“Suit yourself. Let me grab a few things and we’ll be on our way.”
“I’ll get your jacket, Tyler,” Rina said.
“Thanks.” McAdams jammed him hands into his pocket. His eyes were darting back and forth and he walked in itty bitty circles. When Rina brought over his outwear, he bundled up and then forced a smile. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you want some package warmers for your feet and hands?” Decker asked. “I’m taking some with me. No sense getting frost bite.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Decker gave a wave and he and the kid were off. The night was moonless with thousands of stars sprinkling the dark sky like salt on black velvet. Without the cloud cover, the temperature had dropped to the teens. No wind. . .just cold air and the mist of warm breath wafting through darkness.
McAdams said, “Thanks for the invitation. . .for dinner. . . not to come with you to a cemetery.”
“I know what you meant. It was my wife’s idea.”
“Yeah, I intuited that was the case. She is a good cook. She’s also lovely. . .I mean personality.”
“She’s lovely all the way around. I’m very lucky.”
McAdams said, “You have a large family. I counted like seven different people my age in the various pictures.”
“Five kids, two spouses, two twin grandsons and a granddaughter.”
“Wow.” A pause. “I take it the black guy is a son-in-law? I take that back. Maybe you were married before.”
“I was married before, but not to Koby’s mother. He’s married to my elder daughter, Cindy, who’s a cop in Philadelphia. Koby is in Medical School at University of Pennsylvania. They have twin boys. The older two white boys are my stepsons. The girls are my biological daughters and the youngest kid is our foster son who has two nutty biological parents. So for the last four years he’s been spending time with us. He is a classical pianist who just graduated Juilliard.”
“Impressive. What do the other kids do?”
“Sam and his wife are both doctors. They have Lily. They live in Brooklyn. Jacob — the one that looks like Rina - just finished his PhD in public policy. He’s still. . .” Decker laughed. “He’s still finding himself. My other daughter, Hannah, is in a PhD program at the Ferkauf school of Psychology in New York.”
“Not bad. . .but no Crimson.”
“Yeah, you Harvard guys think that there’s only one school in the world.”
“No, we do accept Princeton or Yale. But that’s about it.”
Decker smiled. “What about yourself, McAdams?”
“What do you mean?”
“Parents, brothers, sisters, city of birth? For as much as you yap when we’re driving, I don’t know anything about you.”
“Nothing much to tell. I grew up in the city. By the city, that means Manhattan. My parents divorced when I was ten and both of them were remarried by the time I was fourteen. A couple of half-sibs, a couple of step-sibs, all of them younger and none of them as smart as I am. Not bragging just a statement of fact. I don’t have much of a relationship with any of them.”
It was obviously painful for him so Decker didn’t ask any more questions. They walked the next ten minutes in silence until the local graveyard came into view. That was another thing about small towns. Cemeteries were right in your face, not like LA where they’re situated in no man’s land off the freeway. This one was several blocks long of upright headstones with a secluded, gated portion for about the mausoleums: domed structures with fluted columns. Since the captain had mentioned something being broken into, it had to be one of the crypts. It was going to be like walking through a freezer.
Decker said, “Do you want a hand or foot warmer package? My feet are ice at this point.”
“Yeah, sure.”
After handing him the packets, Decker took a couple for himself, broke them in half and dropped them into his snow boots. “Ah. . .better. I’m not really cold - after eating that much meat you can’t be cold - but my hands and feet get numb.”
“Why did you insist on walking? Surely there’s some religious dispensation that allows you to drive the car when working.”
“Yeah, I could have taken the car. Probably would have been smarter. What can I say, McAdams? Without a Harvard BA, I guess I’m just handicapped.”
The watchman was a dead ringer for Ichabod Crane with a long face and extended skeletal frame. His sunken eyes were probably unsuitable for daylight. Any minute, Decker expected to see the headless horseman. His given name was Isaiah Pellman and his family had been living in Greenbury for two hundred years. The history was given by way of introduction to his good character. There were a lot of loquacious people in Greenbury as well as a lot of odd ducks. Eccentrics were everywhere in the world, but they were more noticeable in smaller populations. Upstate New York bled into Massachusetts with many of the natives more New England than New York City.
They were chatting while standing between rows of headstones, this specific area dedicated to the Hawthorne family. Decker wondered if they were related to the famous Nathaniel. That was the one thing neat about living on the east coast. It was chocked filled with American history.
“I check the Bergman Crypt all the time,” Pellman told him. “So I was really surprised when this happened.”
Decker pulled out a notebook. “What specifically happened?”
“My key doesn’t work the lock: that’s what happened.”
“Okay. . .so the lock wasn’t broken off?”
“No, it was broken off and exchanged for a different lock.”
“And your key always worked the lock before?”
“Yes, sir, it did.”
“Are you sure the lock just didn’t freeze?”
“Of course, I’m sure. First thing I did was heat it and oil it. The key goes in but the tumblers don’t move.”
“Maybe the tumblers just got stuck. It happens sometimes.”
“The key worked perfectly four days ago.”
“Okay. But the door the crypt is still secured with a padlock.”
“Yes, sir, that is true. Only it isn’t secure cause I can’t get in to check things out. I called up the family and explained the situation a few hours ago. They told me to cut the lock and make sure everything inside is okay. But I told them I was gonna call the police first. So I called the police. And now you’re up to date.”
“Okay. Who does the crypt belong to again? Bergman?”
“Ye-ah. They’re all buried inside — Moses and Ruth and their three children, Leon, Helen and Harold along with their spouses — Gladys, Earl and Mary. Allen Sobel was buried here around six months ago. He was sixty-three, the oldest child from Helen and Earl.”
“How old is the crypt?”
“Erected in 1895.”
“And the family visited the crypt for a funeral about six months ago?”
“Ye-ah. Also, I think Ken Sobel came back with Jack Bergman back right before that Kipper holiday where the Jews don’t eat. Ken’s about forty, Jack. . .he must be in his seventies by now. He comes down once a year as regular as clockwork. He’s always friendly. And he always makes sure the locks on tight.”
“So he has a key to the padlock.”
“Yes, sir, he does. Others do as well.”
“Could Jack have changed the lock?”
“No, sir, I called him up and told him my key doesn’t work. And I asked him if he changed the lock. And he said no, he didn’t change the lock. Then he called me back a day or two later, and said none of the others changed the lock. He told me to break the lock and make sure everything’s okay inside. So that’s when I called you — the police.”
“Anything of value inside the crypt?”
“Nothing that I know about. Unless the bodies were buried with jewelry.”
Decker said, “Jewish custom is not to bury bodies with anything material.”
“So there you have it!” Pellman exclaimed.
“Indeed,” Decker said although he really wasn’t sure what Pellman was talking about. “Has this ever happened before? That your key didn’t work the lock?”
“No, sir, not on my watch.”
“So this is the first time, you couldn’t get into that crypt.”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
During the interview, McAdams’s toe was constantly tapping. Finally, he said, “Why don’t we just go and see what’s going on? If everything looks fine, we can all go home.” He looked at Pellman. “Well, not you, but I’m not getting paid to freeze my ass off.”
Decker was annoyed, not just at the kid’s rudeness, but at the disruption of the interview. He always collected as much information as possible before he witnessed the crime scene. . .if there even was a crime scene. “Mr. Pellman, do you have anything else you want to tell me before we look around?”
The man was stunned. “No.”
“Okay.”
“Should I be telling you something?”
“It wasn’t a trick question,” McAdams said. “No is a perfectly acceptable answer.”
“Take your time, Mr. Pellman,” Decker said.
“No, nothing else.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Decker folded his notebook. “Do you have a pair of bolt cutters?”
“I do.” He shuffled his feet and didn’t move.
“Could you get them for me?”
“Uh, sure. I don’t know if they’re strong enough to cut the lock.”
“Only one way to find out.”
Pellman said, “I guess you’re right about that.” Slowly he headed toward a shed that sat about two hundred yards away.