Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 14 Read online

  ALSO BY FAYE KELLERMAN

  Ritual Bath

  Sacred and Profane

  The Quality of Mercy

  Milk and Honey

  Day of Atonement

  False Prophet

  Grievous Sin

  Sanctuary

  Justice

  Prayers for the Dead

  Serpent’s Tooth

  Moon Music

  Jupiter’s Bones

  Stalker

  The Forgotten

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2002 by Faye Kellerman

  All rights reserved.

  Warner Books, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  First eBook Edition: March 2010

  ISBN: 978-0-7595-2810-9

  Contents

  ALSO BY FAYE KELLERMAN

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  For Jonathan—

  thirty fabulous years with the guy, his cars, and lots of guitars.

  For Jesse, Rachel, Ilana, and Aliza—

  from kids to wise adults, thanks for all the excitement

  along the way.

  And for Barney Karpfinger—

  for eighteen years of service par excellence and invaluable

  friendship. What a great ride it has been!

  Dear Readers and Fellow Users,

  I am very pleased to be part of eBooks and the twenty-first century. For many years, I resisted being part of the web, happily pounding out my books on an old IBM double drive DOS system computer. I still have it somewhere and I’m sure it works just fine. In the changeable world of electronics, it is now considered an antique. The thing was an absolute workhorse and refused to die. I finally had to give it up when the year 2000 came rolling along. I was afraid of Y2K problems.

  Remember that phrase? Y2K?

  Anyway, my newest computer is fast, efficient, is hooked up to DSL and has lots of fancy features. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help me write any better. There is no substitute for time and care and hard work. I’ve written books with paper and pencil, I’ve written books on the latest of equipment. What determines the quality of the manuscript has nothing to do with gadgets, but everything to do with creativity, perseverance, dedication, long hours and a little serendipitous luck. It has to do with caring about my characters and trying to write a suspenseful, multilayered plot.

  STONE KISS was inspired by a desire to change the locale for my series detective and by my love of New York. I’ve visited the city many times and on each occasion I’ve come away with ideas and inspiration. And how can you not, with the multitude of people living in such tight quarters? This is my second book with Decker in New York and it worked so well the first time, I thought… well, why not?

  One of the most enjoyable things about writing a series is the ability to bring back terrific characters from the past. In STONE KISS, we meet up once again with Decker’s “secret” half-brother Jonathan Levine. The book contrasts two very different families, one that works cohesively under stress and another that falls apart during the crisis. It is a book of lost opportunities as well as a suspenseful cat-and-mouse between Decker and an old adversary, also brought back from a past novel.

  I hope you enjoy STONE KISS. If I have succeeded in entertaining you, let me know. If I haven’t, I’m sure you’ll let me know about that, as well.

  Take care and enjoy the ride.

  That’s all, folks.

  1

  It was the stunned, pale look of bad news. Decker immediately thought of his parents, both in their mid-eighties, and though their health wasn’t failing, they had had some problems over the past year. Right away, Rina had the good sense to tell him that the family was fine.

  Decker was holding his daughter’s hand. Looking down at the little girl, he said, “Hannah Rosie, let me fix you up with some videos and a snack. I think Eema needs to talk to me.”

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I can do it myself. Eema taught me how to use the microwave.”

  “Nine years old and ready for college.”

  “No, Daddy, but I can use a VCR and a microwave.” She turned to her mother. “I got an A on a spelling test. I didn’t even study.”

  “That’s wonderful. Not that you didn’t study, but that you got an A.” Rina kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “Whatever…” Hannah left, rolling her wheeled backpack into the kitchen.

  “You should sit.” Decker regarded his wife. “You’re colorless.”

  “I’m all right.” But she sank down into the couch, hugging a blue-and-white-checked throw pillow like a life preserver. Her cerulean eyes skittered around the living room, first landing on the lamp, then bouncing off Decker’s special leather chair, onto the white wicker rocker. Anywhere but on his face.

  “My parents are fine?” he asked specifically.

  “Perfect,” Rina reiterated. “Jonathan called—”

  “Oh God! His mother?”

  “No, she’s fine.”

  Jonathan’s mother was Frieda Levine. She was also Decker’s biological mother, making Jon his half brother. Ten years ago, by accident rather than by design, Decker had met up with his maternal family, which included five half siblings. Ties had been forged: more than mere acknowledgments, but less than time-tested relationships. Decker still considered his only parents to be the two people who had adopted him in infancy. “Then what’s going on?”

  They both heard the microwave beep. A moment later, Hannah came out, juggling a pizza bagel on a plate, a big glass of milk, and her backpack. Decker said, “Let me help you with that, sweetie.”

  Wordlessly, she handed her father the food and her schoolbag, skipping off to her bedroom, orange ringlets flying behind her. Like the faithful valet, Decker followed several steps behind. Rina got up, went into the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Nervously, she pulled off her head covering and unclipped the barrette holding a ponytail, shaking out a shoulder-length sheet of iridescent black hair. Then she tied it up again, but left the head covering off. She picked imaginary dirt off her jeans skirt, then moved on to the imaginary lint on her pink sweater. She gnawed the edge of her thumb, but that only made the hangnail worse.

  Decker came back in, sat down at their cherry breakfast table—a bit scarred but still rock solid. When he carved it, he had used the best-quality wood he could find, and it showed. He took off his blue suit jacket and drape
d it over the back of his chair. He loosened his tie, then ran a hand through rust-colored hair heavily streaked with white. “What’s with the Levines?”

  “It’s not the Levines, Peter; it’s Jonathan’s in-laws, the Liebers— Raisie’s family. There’s been a terrible incident. His brother-in-law Ephraim was found dead—”

  “Oh no!”

  “Murdered, Peter. They found him in some seedy hotel room in upper Manhattan. To add to the confusion, he was with his fifteen- year-old niece—his brother’s daughter. Now, she’s missing. The family’s in shambles.”

  “When did all this happen?”

  “I just hung up with Jonathan about five minutes before you came home. I think they found the body around three hours ago.”

  Decker looked at his watch. “Around 4 P.M. New York time?”

  “I guess.”

  “What was this guy doing in a ‘seedy hotel room’ with his fifteen-year-old niece in the middle of a school afternoon?”

  A rhetorical question. Rina didn’t answer. Instead, she gave Decker a slip of paper with Jonathan’s phone number.

  “It’s horrible.” Decker fingered the paper. “I feel terrible for them. But this call… Is it just a comfort call? I mean, Jon doesn’t expect me to do anything, does he?”

  “I don’t know, Peter. I suppose he’d like you to work miracles. In lieu of that, maybe you should call him up and listen to what happened.”

  “He can’t expect me to go out there.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. You have a pretty good track record.”

  “A prisoner of my own success. I have a job, Rina. As much as my heart goes out to them—it truly is horrible—I can’t leave at a moment’s notice and run off to Boro Park.”

  “Actually, Chaim Lieber and his family live in Quinton, which is upstate. His widowed father lives there as well. Jonathan’s wife, Raisie, is Chaim’s younger sister. It’s Chaim’s daughter who’s missing.”

  “In upstate?” Decker thought a moment. “Is the family religious?”

  “Yes. Quinton is a very religious enclave. The family’s black hat, superreligious except for Raisie. She’s Conservative like Jonathan.”

  “The outcast,” Decker said.

  “She and Jonathan were lucky to find each other.” Rina got up and poured two cups of coffee. “They both came from the same background and have altered their lifestyles for similar reasons.”

  “And her father lives in Quinton. By himself?”

  “I believe so. Raisie’s mother died around ten years ago. Don’t you remember their talking about her memory at Jonathan’s wedding?”

  “No, but I wasn’t paying close attention.” Decker stared at the number. “Why don’t you tend to Hannah while I do this?”

  “Don’t want me hanging over your shoulder?”

  He stood up. “I don’t know what I want.” He gave Rina a kiss on the forehead. “I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to make this phone call.”

  Rina took his hand and squeezed it. “Why don’t you talk from the bedroom? That way I can get dinner started.”

  “Fine. I’m starved. What are we having?”

  “Lamb chops or salmon?”

  “I get a choice?”

  “Both are fresh. Whatever you don’t want, I’ll freeze.”

  “Hannah hates fish.”

  “She hates lamb chops, too. I have some leftover schnitzel for her.”

  “Lamb chops, then.” Decker made a face, then went inside the bedroom and closed the door. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on his California king bed, dialing the number. It wasn’t Jonathan’s home phone in Manhattan, so Decker figured that it must be either his cell or possibly his synagogue, located near Columbia University. His half brother was a Conservative-pulpit rabbi. On the sixth ring, he answered.

  “Jon!” Decker said.

  “Akiva!” A loud whoosh of air. “Thank you so much for calling!”

  “My God, Rina just told me. That’s terrible! You must be going through hell!”

  “Not as bad as my wife’s family. At this point, we’re all shell-shocked.”

  “I’m sure you are. When did this happen?”

  “About three hours ago. About four o’clock here.”

  “Jeez. And what do the police say?”

  “Not much of anything. That’s the problem. What does that mean?”

  “It means they probably don’t know much.”

  “Or aren’t telling us anything.”

  “That could be. I’m so sorry.”

  There was silence over the line. Jonathan said, “You didn’t ask how it happened.”

  “If you want to tell me the details, I’m here.”

  “I don’t want to burden you.…”

  But that’s exactly what he was going to do. “Tell me what’s going on, Jon. Start at the beginning. Tell me about the family.”

  “Oh my.” A sigh. “Raisie comes from a family of five—two boys, three girls. Both of her brothers are older. Chaim is the eldest, then Ephraim, the one who was… murdered. Raisie’s the oldest daughter. Chaim Joseph is a typical oldest son…reliable, responsible. He and his wife, Minda, have seven children. He’s a good man who has always worked hard in the family business.”

  “Which is?”

  “Several retail electronic stores in Brooklyn… one on the Lower East Side. You know, TVs, stereos, cameras, computers, mobile phones, DVDs, etcetera. The second brother, Ephraim Boruch…the one who this happened to… he’s had some problems in the past.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Relationship problems—married and divorced.”

  “Kids?”

  “None.”

  Silence.

  “And?” Decker prompted.

  “Drug problems,” Jonathan admitted. “Addiction and rehab.”

  “That probably had a lot to do with his relationship problems.”

  “No doubt. Ephraim has been divorced for ten years. His ex is out of the picture. She remarried and now lives in Israel. As for Ephraim, he’s straightened himself out. He’s been sober for the last two years. About that time, he also joined the family business with his older brother.”

  “How’s that working out?”

  “Fine, as far as I know. He was always the favorite uncle of all the nieces and nephews. He especially got along well with his niece Shaynda, who is the oldest in Chaim’s family.”

  “The missing niece.”

  “Yes, the missing niece. Shaynda, like Ephraim, has a rebellious streak. She has been typecast as the problem child in the family since grade school. She’s a beautiful girl, Akiva, with incredible spirit, and maybe that’s part of the problem. She has not walked the walk or talked the talk.”

  “Specifically?”

  “Skipping school, hanging out at the mall with public-school kids. A couple of times, she had sneaked out of the house at night. My brother and sister-in-law came down on her with an iron fist. Unfortunately, the tougher they got, the more Shayndie fought. She and the mother have a miserable relationship. But the shining light had been Uncle Ephraim. He and Shayndie seemed to have had this rapport. More and more, she began to confide in him. They began spending time together—”

  “Hmm…”

  “I know what you’re thinking. I would have sworn up and down that it wasn’t that at all.”

  “Wasn’t what?”

  “That he wasn’t molesting her. When they first started spending time, I thought it was odd—the amount of time they spent together. So did Raisie. We had a long talk with Shaynda because we figured no one else would. We asked her point-blank. When she said no— she seemed genuinely shocked—we gave a step by step of what to be aware of. After the conversation, both Raisie and I were satisfied that Ephraim really had the girl’s interest at heart. We had no reason to suspect that Ephraim was anything more than just a loving uncle trying to reach out to his troubled niece.”

  “But now you think differently.”

 
A long sigh. “Maybe. The two of them were supposed to be going on an outing this morning… to the Met. To see the new Dutch/ Vermeer exhibit.”

  “This morning?” Decker paused. “It’s Thursday. She doesn’t have school?”

  “I don’t know, Akiva. Maybe her mother gave her the day off. Maybe her allergies were acting up. I didn’t think it appropriate to question my sister-in-law.”

  “Of course. Go on.”

  Jonathan stuttered a few times, trying to get the words out. “Ephraim was found dead in a hotel room. Did Rina tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’d been shot, Akiva. He was also… naked.”

  “Good Lord!”

  “I know. It’s awful!”

  “Any sign of the girl? Clothes left behind? Personal effects… like a purse, maybe?”

  “Nothing that I’ve heard.”

  “Any sign of a struggle? Torn sheets? Things in disarray?” Decker licked his lips. “Blood other than from…” He wanted to say the kill spot. “Blood other than where Ephraim was shot?”

  “I wouldn’t know. The police aren’t saying much. They claim that they’re just gathering information at this point, but we all know what they’re thinking.”

  Defensiveness in his voice, but it was seasoned with anguish. Decker said, “And what are the police thinking?”

  “That somehow we’re guilty. Of course, they have to ask the family lots of questions. But they’ve made all of us feel more like criminals than like victims. Believe me, Akiva, I didn’t want to call you. I know it’s unfair of me to call you. But no one here is able to handle this. Is there anything—anything at all—that you can say to advise us?”

  Decker’s head was awhirl.

  Jonathan added in a gush of words, “And if it’s not too difficult, perhaps you could make a couple of calls? As one detective to another.”

  The words hung in the air.

  Jonathan said, “I shouldn’t be asking you this—”

  “It’s all right, Jon. I just have to think for a moment.”

  “Take all the time…”

  Decker closed his eyes and felt a headache coming on. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

  “Of course—”

  Decker clicked off the line before his brother could add another obligation. He went to the bathroom, took two Advils, then treated himself to a needle-hot shower. Ten minutes later, he slipped on soft worn denims and a work shirt. With trepidation, he punched the phone’s redial button.