"Not that I'm ready to die." The old man stood and took out two shot glasses. "But if it happens, it happens. People who fear death do not fear God. Besides, Akiva, what do the sages teach us about Torah?"
"It was meant for the living not the dead." "Correct!" Schulman filled the glasses with whiskey and handed one to Decker. "So, my friend, let us live and learn and do mitzvot
as Hashem commanded us." He held his drinking glass aloft. "To life—I'chaim."
"L'chaim," Decker said.
The rabbi downed his whiskey in one gulp. Decker marveled at the way Schulman could drink rotgut without emitting fire from his nostrils. He sneaked a sidelong glance at the rav, watched him lick his lips with pleasure. What a kick to know this man— this septuagenarian chock-full of energy and spirit and humor. A relief to know the good didn't always die young.
The sharp knock woke Decker first, but Rina sat up a moment later, hand slapping onto her chest.
"Who's that?" she asked, breathlessly.
Decker swore under his breath and slipped on a robe. "Stay here, Rina."
The knocking became louder. Then the dog started barking.
"Do you want your gun?" Rina whispered.
Decker pushed hair out of his eyes. "No."
By the time he reached the living room, the banging was shaking the front door. Ginger had posted guard at the front door. Decker called out a "hold on," quieted the setter, and peeked through the peephole. But he needn't have bothered. His gut had already told him who it was. He tightened his robe, unlocked the deadbolt, and swung open the door.
Lilah was flushed and contorted with anger and fear, wet tracks streaming down her cheeks. Her arms were swinging wildly, trying to hit him and hold him at the same time—hysterical but she had taken time to dress. She wore rhinestone-studded jeans and a white T-shirt under a black blazer, the jacket collar trimmed with sequins. On her feet were black ostrich cowboy boots complete with spurs. Decker kept a careful eye on them.
"How dare you change your number on me especially after yesterday! How dare you! How could you!"
Ginger started growling, baring her teeth. Decker managed to shush her, but was less successful with Lilah.
"How could you, Peter! You know how much I depend on you, how much I need you!" She hit his chest. "How could you! How could you!"
Decker took another step backward. Ginger growled again.
Decker held the animal by the collar and said, "Lilah, calm dow—"
She lashed out at his face with sharpened fingernails. Decker managed to get her wrist before she raked his cheek and somehow settled the dog before Ginger took a chunk out of Lilah's leg. She struggled against his grip, wriggling and hissing like a trapped cobra.
"I hate you!" Lilah screamed. "I hate you, you son of a bitch! I hate you, I hate you!"
The woman was skinny, but she could put up a fight. Decker was working up a sweat trying to hold her at bay without hurting her. It would have felt great to haul off and slug her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rina, her hands wrapped around her chest, stroking her arms. Dressed in white, her face pale, she might have been a phantom—or an angel—except that her eyes were alert and ready for action.
"Call the station house," he said. "You bastard!" Lilah shouted. "Call the police," Decker repeated. "How could you—"
"Call the police, Rina," Decker commanded. It was as if Lilah finally comprehended his words. "Wait!" She stopped wrestling and let her arms relax. "Wait, don't do that!" A moment passed. A small voice called out a "Mommy?" "It's all right," Rina yelled out. "Everything's fine, I'll be there in a minute." Her eyes were on Peter. "What should I do?"
Lilah wheeled in on her. "Well, as long as you're standing there, you can make us some coffee!"
Decker dropped Lilah's wrists, his eyes suddenly blurred with fury. "Don't speak to her like that." Rina said, "Peter—"
"She is not one of your little gofers, Lilah, don't you dare speak to her like that!"
This time it was Lilah who backed away. "She lives here, understand, Miss Brecht?" Decker fumed as he advanced upon her. "This is her house, her living room, and you woke her up at three o'clock in the morning from her goddamn sleep!" "Peter—"
"You want coffee, girlie, you go home and goddamn make it yourself!"
"Peter!" Rina was holding his arm. "Peter, why don't you call Marge from the bedroom, okay?"
Panting, Decker suddenly became aware that he'd sandwiched Lilah into a corner. He took a step backward and unclenched his fists. It took him a moment to focus. Then, he turned to Rina.
"I'm sorry."
Rina smiled weakly and kissed his cheek. "Go call Marge."
Decker took another step backward and ran his hand over his face. "Okay." He felt his breath returning to normal. "Okay." He kissed Rina on the forehead and headed for the bedroom, taking the dog with him.
"Peter?" Rina called.
Decker turned around.
"Check in on the boys, please."
Decker nodded and left. Rina's eyes went from him to Lilah who was still huddled in the corner, her arms strapped across her chest protectively. But she had a strange look on her face. Like a frightened little girl who'd done something naughty—scared but nonetheless pleased with herself. Slowly, Lilah's lips formed a half smile.
"He was really angry, wasn't he?"
Rina caught the sex-hungry timbre in Lilah's voice. Or maybe she was overreacting because the woman was so beautiful. She said, "Have a seat at the dining-room table. I'll make you some coffee."
Silence.
"Come." Rina extended her arm in the direction of the table. "Sit."
"You must think I'm crazy."
There were tears in the woman's eyes. Rina said, "Not at all. Come."
Lilah extricated herself from the corner and made baby steps over to the table. Rina made a beeline for the kitchen. She took the coffee from the refrigerator and poured water into the glass carafe. Sensing another body behind her, she knew Lilah had followed her in.
"Does he get angry like that all the time?"
Rina poured the water into the coffeemaker. "Why don't you sit at the kitchen table."
"I'm very sorry," Lilah whispered. "It's just..." She sat down at the kitchen table. "Black coffee's fine. I'm sorry."
Rina suddenly remembered what had happened to her and softened her attitude. "It's okay. I'm very sorry about yesterday. I'm glad you're all right."
"I wouldn't have been if your husband hadn't been there."
Rina nodded.
"He's a marvelous rider."
"Yes, he is." Rina answered.
"I wouldn't mind riding with him again." Lilah brought her fingers to her lips. "I mean..." Lilah laughed. "I don't know what I'm saying. Please forgive me."
"Don't worry about it. Coffee'll be ready in a moment."
"Thank you."
Rina noticed Lilah's voice had turned low and sexy. Against the still of the night, it was as beckoning as an aromatic whiff from the kitchen.
"I didn't just come to wake Peter up," Lilah said. "I really do need to talk to him. Normally, I handle stress very well, but..." Her eyes became wet. "But how much..."
She was leaking tears, but it seemed to Rina that she had a smile on her face.
"How much can one person take?" Rina said.
"Exactly!" Lilah wiped her eyes.
Rina picked up the carafe and said, "I made decaf. Just in case anyone's contemplating sleep."
Lilah looked up, her eyes squinting. "You're pregnant!"
Rina nodded and poured two cups of coffee. The telephone rang. Peter got to the line before she did. Lilah looked at the mug in front of her.
"Is this water-processed decaf?"
"Yes."
Lilah sipped, her eyes suddenly hardening. "So, is it your first— no, it can't be if you asked Peter to check on the boys. How many kids do you have anyway?" Again she squinted. "You're much younger than he is. How old are you?"
"Excuse me fo
r a moment," Rina said.
She walked into the bedroom as Peter was walking out.
"I'm really sorry about this," he whispered.
"Boys are okay?"
"Yeah, they're waiting for you to kiss them good night. Rina, I'm sorry—"
"Don't worry about it, Peter. She's calmer now. Claims she needs to talk to you. Let her get it off her chest, then get her out of here. She paused. "Don't be too harsh. She's gone through a lot."
Decker thought about what Lilah had gone through. Could be her extreme rage was a delayed reaction from the rape. She was angry at men and taking it out on him. If that was the case, she had the worst case of transference he'd ever seen. But Lilah didn't seem to act in moderation. Or it could be the woman was bonkers before and the rape drove her over the edge. Whatever the reason, no way was he going to let this broad take it out on Rina.
"You're wonderful, Rina. The best!"
She shook her head knowingly. "This is true."
"I've called Marge," Decker said. "I've also called Lilah's brother. He's coming down and picking her up." He stuck his hands in his pants pockets. "Kiss the boys and go back to sleep."
"Go back to sleep?" Rina laughed.
"Well, rest, okay?"
Rina smiled, noticing that Peter had dressed. She held him by the arms and looked over his attire—a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a work shirt, and sneakers. Comfortable but not the least bit provocative. She approved.
S
srtorming through the door, Frederick Brecht was dressed in a raw-silk caftan, stone-washed black jeans, and raw-silk jacket. He wore Nike high-tops, the cuffs of his pants tucked under the oversized tongues of his shoes. His blue eyes were watery and red, his scalp and the skin around his beard pink and mottled. He'd slapped on some grassy-smelling cologne. Too much because he was in a hurry. Decker thought. Brecht's face was knotted with anger as he faced his sister. "Are you crazy?"
Lilah looked at Decker. "This was precisely the reason why I
can't recup—"
"Are you out of your mind, Lilah? Waking him up at three in the morning?" Brecht was enraged. "For God's sake, why didn't you call me!?"
"Freddy is so jealous," Lilah said.
"Dear God, It has nothing to do with jealousy! It has to do with common sense—"
"For your information, I tried calling you, Freddy. You weren't
home."
"I can be reached!" Brecht was screaming now. He pointed to
Decker. "He reached me!"
Marge wiped a speck of dirt off her slacks. "Look, I don't have kids, I'm not used to three o'clock feedings. Can we get this show
on the road?"
"Why did you call her down?" Lilah suddenly demanded of
Decker.
"You have something to report. Miss Brecht, ask for Detective Dunn. She's your new primary detective."
"What! You just can't drop me!"
"No one dropped you," Marge said evenly.
"He can't leave me in the lurch!"
"Detective Dunn is one the most specialized people we have on the force—"
"I can't believe you're deserting me!"
"No one is deserting anyone," Marge said. "If you need my services, I'll be right there—"
"I don't want you, I want him!" Lilah pointed to Decker. "It's not that I don't trust you, Detective. I'm just used to Peter."
"Peter?" Brecht said. "You're on first-name basis with the police?"
"Frederick, stop acting so infantile."
"You're acting infantile interrupting this poor man's sleep." Brecht turned to Decker. "I'm sorry about this—"
"Stop apologizing for me as if I were your child!"
"Sometimes you act like a child!"
"If you'd stop treating me like a child—"
"Miss Brecht," Decker said, "is there something specific you wanted to talk to me about?"
Marge smiled at Pete's style. Just lay it on the line.
Lilah bit her knuckle. "It's about my brother."
"Me?" Brecht gasped.
"No, King."
"Kingston?" Brecht turned bright red. "What do you want with Kingston?"
"Freddy, you are so tiresome!"
"What does that jerk want?" Brecht whined. "I know he's up to something with Mother—"
"What about King, Miss Brecht?" Marge interrupted.
"I'm worried about him." Lilah bit her knuckle again. "I was supposed to meet him last night for dinner—"
"You were meeting that pompous slimeball for dinner?" Brecht held up his hands and shook them as he talked. "How could you even think about going anywhere after what happened to you! You need at least a few days of bed rest!"
"It was spontaneous, Freddy. Mother said he wanted to talk to me... after he heard about my... assault."
"And you agreed to talk to him?"
"I was shocked, of course, I didn't know..." Tears formed in her eyes. "Yes, I agreed. And he was very nice over the phone. Comforting... soothing. Just like when I was little. He seemed to care about me again—"
"Kingston doesn't care about anyone but himself!"
"Just because you two don't get along—"
"How'd he hear about your assault anyway?" Brecht asked.
"I told him," Marge said. "After Mike Ness took you upstairs to calm you down from your fight with Dr. Merritt."
"So how'd he find out about your horse?" Brecht said.
Lilah said, "He didn't even know about that, Freddy. He just wanted to visit me. Isn't that so wonderful?"
Brecht muttered, "That ass has something on his mind—"
"Freddy, you are impossible. He loves me—"
"He wants something from you—"
"You don't know what you're talking about!"
Marge said, "Can we stay on a topic, people? Lilah, what about King and dinner?"
Lilah turned to her, then began to pace. "I agreed to meet him last night for dinner... first time in years—"
"I don't believe this!" Brecht interrupted. "How could you do that!"
"Freddy, please try and understand," Lilah said. "I know you
hate him—"
"You're the one who froths at the mouth at the mention of his
name!"
"People, please!" Marge said. "I'm tired and grumpy. Get on
with it."
"I'm trying to. Detective," Lilah snorted. "I agreed to meet Kingston if I felt up to it. And I did. I called his service and left a message that dinner was on, providing we'd meet at Monique's because it was very close to the ranch. I told his service I'd be there at eight. Then I called up the spa and left a message for Mother. I wanted to borrow her limo and driver. I was still very weak—too shaky to drive my own car."
She looked to Decker for sympathy. He nodded, remembering the genuine terror scored into her face as the horse charged toward the mountain.
"Go on," Marge said.
"I never heard from him." Lilah dropped her hand to her side. "So I called his residence. Nothing. His service hasn't been able
to get hold of him, either. I know something has happened to him. Just as sure as I knew something was going to happen to me yesterday morning! The electricity, the vibes..."
Brecht said, "Why would you want to talk to him?"
"Freddy, for God's sake, listen to what I'm saying. He's your brother, too. Something has happened to him!"
"You don't know that!" Brecht said.
"Oh, God!" she screamed. "Just shut up!"
At that moment, Decker caught a glimpse of her mother in her face. "You called his house and his service. What about his office?"
"That, too. I've called all his private lines. He doesn't answer! Peter, I'm scared!"
She started to come to Decker, but he backed away. Marge stood and placed her hand on Lilah's shoulder. "Where does Dr. Merritt live, Miss Brecht?"
"Newport."
"House or apartment?"
"A condominium actually."
Marge said, "Is it an exclu
sive building?"
"Detective, it's very chercher!"
Faye Kellerman - Decker 05 - False Prophet Page 25