Faye Kellerman_Decker & Lazarus 07

by Sanctuary

  “Love.” Kreisman made a face. “Milligan’s a cold bitch. She doesn’t have a heart, Decker. She’s just got a pump.”

  “Where is Donald Haas? Is he gone as well?”

  Kreisman nodded. “They all must have slipped over the Jordanian border last night. From Jordan, they could move freely about the Arab countries without worrying about us tailing them. But that doesn’t mean we’re giving up. We have ways of finding people even in hostile countries.”

  “Is the PLO helping at all? Because Milligan’s stunt must be an embarrassment to them now.”

  “Not helping, not hindering, so far as we can tell. Yeah, Milligan’s an embarrassment to Arafat. Every time someone in any of the Arab organizations fucks up, it lessens his chance of becoming king of Palestine.”

  Kreisman waved his hand in the air.

  “Yeah, we’re still hunting, but your part in all of this is over. You got the Yalom boys. Take them home and let us do our job.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll need my papers back.”

  Kreisman stood. “I’ll get them for you. Maybe we’ll meet again down the line.”

  “Maybe,” Decker said. “But I hope not.”

  Kreisman smiled. “You’re blunt.”

  “I speak my mind.”

  “I can see that. You’d make a good Israeli.”

  PART 3

  AMERICA

  39

  Marge said to Decker, “You look great! Are you sure you didn’t go there on vacation?”

  Decker put his feet up on his desk. Man, he’d missed her. True, he had had Rina, and she’d been great. But he had worked with her only out of necessity. He valued their marriage vows as bonds of intimacy. Rina was his life partner, not his business associate.

  But now he was back in the groove and, happily, so was Rina. She was thrilled to get home to the baby and the boys. Decker had wondered when she had hugged the kids if her mind hadn’t been on Honey Klein’s loneliness.

  “You know, Dunn,” Decker went on, “I bet I’m the only religious Jew who went to Israel and missed the Wailing Wall. That’s how dedicated to work I was. Only sightseeing I did was accompanying Rina to her late husband’s grave. You can imagine how much fun that was for me.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  “I did it for Jake and Sam. I sure as hell wouldn’t want my kids to forget about me. I can’t let my boys forget about their father.”

  “You’re a good guy, Pete.”

  “Tell that to Davidson. You believe that son of a bitch giving me a hard time about my expense account? Asking me about all those phone calls to New York? I brought in Honey Klein. What’s the asshole going on about?”

  “He’s an asshole, Pete. But you did make a few personal calls.”

  “I talked to my half brother, Marge, but that was strictly business. I had to explain to him why Rina wasn’t coming out.”

  Marge smiled. “Not that I care but you talked to him for two hours.”

  “I’m meticulous.” Decker swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “If he doesn’t like it, fuck him!”

  Marge said, “I got a call from the DA’s office. The office is prepared to go ahead and indict Milligan on two counts of first degree murder based on the evidence—the statement of the Yalom boys, the papers in Yalom’s box, and lastly, evidence pulled by the Israeli police. Do you know what that’s referring to?”

  “Yes, I do. They got some statements from some Hebron residents. They also did some hunting and searching. They found receipts made out to Milligan for tools, parts, and chemicals that could have been used in the making of plastiques.”

  “She kept receipts?”

  “She was a businesswoman. They were deductible.”

  Marge broke into laughter.

  “Along the way, they found one real damning piece of paper. A written statement attributed to a guy named Mohammed Husseini, a former bigwig in the PLO. The note expressed sorrow over the terrible tragedy in the Bursa and condemned all acts of violence. It went on to suggest that the Arabs and Jews work together to build a bigger and more comprehensive diamond exchange in the new state of Palestine. One that would be internationally recognized as the top in the field of diamonds.”

  Marge laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe such…oh God, I know I’m going to pronounce this wrong…chutzpah?”

  “Very good,” Decker said. “Incidentally, the statement was not only written in English—Husseini speaks only Arabic—but was in Milligan’s handwriting.”

  Marge stopped talking for a moment. “Wonder who actually pulled the trigger on the parents?”

  “We asked the boys about that,” Decker said. “They seem certain it was Milligan’s doing. Gil told us that his father and Milligan often had secret meetings.”

  “Then what lured Dalia to the mountains?”

  “Gil thought that maybe his mother went willingly to get the gunmen away from their house. Because she knew her sons would soon be coming home from school.”

  “She was protecting her offspring.”

  “It’s a basic thing,” Decker said. “We may never know the truth unless we get Milligan. And frankly, I don’t think that’s likely. According to Israeli intelligence, she and her friend Donald Haas have the means to bury themselves for a long time. He’s got lots of friends in Arab countries. And she made lots of contingency plans. She owns places in Libya, Iraq, and Syria.”

  “The countries that invested heavily in the diamond stocks.”

  “Right. For all we know, she still may be calling some shots from wherever she is. And if the Palestinians ever get their own state, she’ll be a queen. Israel won’t be able to touch her. And she’ll be a hero among the terrorists, the woman who almost destroyed Israel’s biggest industry. You want to know the irony of the whole thing?”

  “What?”

  “She got the idea from Arik Yalom. Not the blowing up the Bursa part. But the idea of setting up competition in the industry, using Palestinian money as capital. Yalom probably felt his knowledge of diamonds was going to be indispensable to her. So he was probably walking around feeling pretty damn secure.”

  “Or maybe not. Didn’t Gil say he wavered between euphoria and paranoia?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Could be he knew Milligan wasn’t trustworthy no matter how much he felt she needed him.”

  “Or maybe he found out about Haas. Found out that Milligan was just using him.” Marge paused. “You know, she didn’t have to use him once he gave her the idea. Why bother killing him?”

  Decker shrugged. “Maybe Arik found out about Milligan’s plan to blow up the Bursa. He might have been in love with her, he might have been greedy, but doing something like that…I don’t see even a schmuck like Arik going along with destroying his homeland.”

  “So why didn’t he just say something to security?”

  “Maybe he tried to reason with Milligan first. That would have been a big mistake.” Decker took a deep breath and let it out. “Milligan is a formidable enemy.”

  “Think we’ll ever get our hands on her?” Marge asked.

  “Truthfully?” Decker shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  A grin on her face and a baby in her arms, Rina greeted Decker at the doorway. “Can you believe it! Hannah’s walking! She’s only ten months old!”

  Decker grabbed the baby from Rina. “Ten months old and walking! Does that mean we’re going to have to put all the breakables up another notch?”

  “Looks that way.” Rina kissed Hannah’s cheek. “She waited for us to come home before she took her first steps. I know it was a conscious decision.”

  “Absolutely.” Decker handed the baby back to Rina. “Where are the boys?”

  “Preparing the horse for the ride.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Decker frowned. “I did promise to take them, didn’t I?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to make a couple of calls first.”

  “They’ll wait. Who’re
you calling?”

  “New York,” Decker said. “The detective in charge of Honey Klein’s case had left by the time I called. They gave me his home phone number. His wife told me to call around now.”

  Hannah squirmed in Rina’s arms. Gently, she lowered the baby to her feet. “What’s happening with that?”

  “They’re investigating the murder, but they’re a ways off from any indictment.”

  “Is Honey a suspect?”

  “Their prime suspect. But they don’t have any evidence to back up their suspicions. The cops have gone out to the village at least a half dozen times and come back empty. They’re hitting walls.”

  “Peter, maybe she really didn’t know what was going on. Maybe she left without knowing any details.”

  “I don’t think she knew details, but she knew what was going on. Otherwise, why would she bother with the false passports? And, Rina, she admitted that, in her absence, she knew that some people were going to try to convince Gershon to give her a get. What does that sound like to you?”

  Rina didn’t answer.

  “Then when you add the fact that the Rebbe didn’t want me looking into Honey’s disappearance…it doesn’t look good for her. But that doesn’t mean they’ll get an indictment.”

  Rina followed Hannah around the living room. “Nobody meant for him to die.”

  Decker tailed after his wife and daughter. He picked Hannah up by her waist and swung her under his knees.

  “This is all too sad to contemplate,” Rina said.

  “Yes, it is. Sometimes life is very sad.” He smiled softly and placed Hannah on top of his shoulders. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

  Rina sighed and sat down. “So what should Honey have done?”

  “You’re asking for my opinion?” Decker said.

  “Yes.”

  “She should have gotten a civil divorce and gone on with her life.”

  “What kind of life would she have had without a Jewish divorce?”

  “So she’s better off now, knowing that in some way she’s responsible for murdering her husband?”

  “No, you’re right. She’s not better off.” Rina was quiet. “Sometimes you simply make the wrong decision.”

  “I feel sorry for Honey,” Decker said. “From the bottom of my heart, I feel very bad for her. But Rina, she didn’t make the wrong decision. Unfortunately, she made a bad decision.” He lowered Hannah to the ground. “I think she needs to be changed. My shoulders feel a little too warm and a little too moist. You want me to do it?”

  “I’ll do it.” Rina scooped up the toddler. “Thank God for babies. They keep you honest.”

  Decker pressed the button; Yochie buzzed him into the anteroom. She seemed happy to be back at work, her eyes bright, her smile genuine. In gross contrast to Shaul Gold, who appeared a moment later. It had been over a month since Decker had seen the dealer. Gold’s face was worn and drawn. He looked like he had dropped ten pounds.

  “I would have thought you had lost your taste for diamonds, Sergeant,” he said.

  “Just goes to show you,” Decker said.

  “Come,” Gold said. “We’ll talk in my office.”

  They walked down the hallway into the once shared office, now taken over completely by Gold. It was sunny and bright, the walls having been newly painted, the windows recently washed of LA’s smog and soot. Gold’s desk was almost entirely devoid of frills, holding mostly the tools of the trade—a microscope, a loupe, a pincer, and a scale. The exception was a sterling-silver double frame holding two pictures—an old one of Dalia Yalom, and a recent one of him sided by the two Yalom boys, hands around each other’s shoulders and waists. Gil looked the same, but Decker noticed that Dov was wearing a yarmulke.

  Decker picked the picture up. “Who took this?”

  “Orit. At a backyard barbecue. It lacked joy, but life goes on.”

  “So you still see the boys?”

  “They work here once a week,” Gold said. “After the day is done, I take them to dinner if they want. It’s nice.” Gold pursed his lips. “When the time’s right, I teach them how to cut stones. It’s too bad Arik never did it. He was a top cutter. I’m just a peasant. But I do what I can to keep on the tradition. For Dalia’s sake.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “They cope.” Gold shrugged. “They like living with their aunt and uncle. Dov is close to his cousin, Sharona. I suppose they do as nicely as can be expected.” He paused. “I’ll show you stones if that’s really why you came.”

  “It isn’t really why I came.”

  Gold sat behind his desk and clasped his hands. “So what do you want from me now?”

  Decker reached in his pocket and pulled out a week-old news item from the overseas edition of the Jerusalem Examiner. Rina subscribed to the paper. Only way he would ever have found it. He handed it to Gold.

  The bald man took it, studied it, then read aloud. “‘Two single shots to the head…motive was robbery.’” He clucked his tongue, then handed the article back to Decker. “The diamond business can be very dangerous. All cash and stones. You are asking for trouble if you carry such goods in a corrupt country like Syria. They are all cutthroats. A woman as smart as Milligan…” Again he clucked his tongue. “She should know better.”

  “I think she did know better,” Decker said. “Milligan’s death was a professional hit. Two shots to the head, right next to one another. The guy must have been trained as a sniper—a tzalaf.”

  Gold’s expression was flat. “I’m surprised it didn’t make the papers here. Milligan was quite well known. But then again, in Syria, it isn’t easy to get information.”

  The room fell silent.

  “Where were you a week ago, Mr. Gold?”

  “I was in Israel.”

  “Business?”

  “No. My heart is too heavy to do business. I visit the families—the Yaloms and the Menkovitzes. I give them words of comfort.” He hung his head. “It is big tragedy.”

  Decker said, “I pulled out my notes from when I first interviewed you in your apartment, Mr. Gold. Didn’t you say you fought on the Golan Heights?”

  “In ’67 and ’73. Seventy-three was very tough—a hard-fought victory because of the lateness of the Israeli air force. But we made it. Stick together in times of crisis.”

  “You’re familiar with Syrian territory.”

  “I know the Golan. I fought wars there. But I’ve never been in Syrian territory. It is suicide for any Israeli—any Jew—to be in Syria. Too bad. I would like to go to Damascus. Did you know it is the oldest city in the world?”

  Decker stared at him. “Yes, Syria is a dangerous place for Jews. All I can say is you must have really liked Dalia to take a chance like that.”

  “I don’t take chances, Sergeant,” Gold said. “Arik was the risk taker. I’m the stick-in-the-mud, remember?”

  Decker didn’t answer.

  “No, I don’t take risks,” Gold said. “But I do what I have to do.”

  Again, nobody spoke.

  “You are a religious man, Sergeant?” Gold asked.

  “At times.”

  Gold smiled. “I like that answer. Me too. At times, I am very religious. Do you learn at all?”

  “When I get the chance.”

  “You have heard about the arey miklat, maybe?”

  “The city of refuge,” Decker said.

  “The city of refuge,” Gold repeated. “If an offender murders one of your own—”

  “A relative, Mr. Gold. And it has to be a murder by accident.”

  Gold paused. “Yes, you are the scholar. It is a relative and it is by accident. But anyway, if the offender takes one of your own, and you are so angry, so full of rage that you get revenge, the law makes exception and you do not get capital punishment for this offense of his murder.”

  “You do get punished,” Decker said.

  “Maybe you get whipped, I don’t remember. But you don’t get capital punishment.�
��

  “Unless the offender makes it into one of the cities of refuge. Then you’re not allowed to kill him.”

  “This is true.” Gold stared at Decker. “Sometimes people think they make it to a city of refuge. Sometimes they think they do, but they don’t. Because there is no city of refuge if the crime is purposeful. Nowhere on earth. Nowhere under God’s heaven. The person may think he—or she—is safe. But this is a falsehood.”

  “Especially if the chaser is an expert sniper who can hit the head of a nail from five kilometers.”

  Gold smiled. “You take good notes.”

  “Not so hard to do,” Decker said. “Sneak into Syria using his expert knowledge of the Golan Heights and do a couple of pops.”

  Gold said, “You think it would be easy, you do it.”

  Decker said, “You must have loved Dalia very much. You spoke of her as one of your own just a moment ago.”

  Gold rubbed his hands. “A long time ago, there was a little boy of five who escaped Nazis by skin of the teeth. The boy had parents, the boy had a brother. The boy was not taken by Nazis because he was hiding when they came to the door. They simply missed him. But the boy remembered very good the look on mother’s face when the Nazis took away family, especially part when they took away younger brother from the mother. It was terrible, you understand?”

  Decker nodded.

  “Good. I thought you would understand. I remember you tell me that you were in war for America, right?”

  “Right.”

  “See, I have a memory, too.”

  “What happened to the little boy?”

  “Somehow he made it through the war. He was very young so he doesn’t have much memory. But he made it. Then somehow he goes to Palestine and grows up into young man. And Palestine becomes Israel. Young man becomes an Israeli. At last, he has family of sorts. So many now had big family called Israel because so many lost all family in the war.”