Into the receiver, Decker said, “If I recall correctly, the DA originally filed it as an aggravated assault, which he later filed as a homicide…about two months ago…I think this is the third continuance. The time lag is ludicrous. The incident happened a year ago, and the DA hasn’t even settled on charges of man one or two. But this isn’t our problem. It’s all internal politicking over there. Meanwhile, they want me to give up one of my valuable men, so they can look good. I don’t see the purpose…”
Again, Decker glanced toward the door. Jane Heard, the squad room secretary, had come in. She handed him a fresh batch of phone messages, leaving without a word. Decker’s watch read eleven-thirty. He’d been making calls since seven. If his right ear got any hotter, it could double as a griddle. As he listened to Strapp make his points, he flipped through the notes—routine business, routine business, routine, routine, routine, routine, a call from Rina reminding him that she wouldn’t be home until three, more routine business—
“Yes, I think it would be better if someone filed a continuance for tomorrow morning. First and foremost, it’ll give them time to get their act together. At the moment, Wiggins’s out in the field, handling a hot domestic. Why should I pull him off when they haven’t even finalized the charges…all right…all right. That sounds good. I’ll call you as soon as he’s done.”
Decker hung up the phone and mugged a madman’s grimace, shaking his hands at the world. He picked up a pen and made a note for the trial tomorrow morning on his crammed-to-the-margins desk calendar. “What brings you to the bowels of bureaucracy, Detective?”
Oliver stated, “He had insurance.”
“What? Who?” Attention shift, Deck. He sat up. “Ganz had insurance? How much?”
“A mil for death benefits, and a cash policy roughly equal to another mil.”
“Whoa!” Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Who’s the beneficiary?”
“Europa Dawn Ganz.”
“Sole beneficiary?”
“She was in the policy he had held with Mutual Guard via Southwest University of Technology. For all we know, he could have had dozens more. You want me to keep probing? I’ll have to start from scratch. It’s going to take time. Your call.”
Decker picked up a mug sitting on his desk. It held tepid coffee, but he drank it anyway. “How crowded is your day?”
“My time’s free at the moment. But Webster and Martinez were just called to the field. Marge and I are in line to catch the next case.”
“If you get called, you go. In the meantime, see if you can do some follow-up.”
“Not a prob. I’ll phone while I eat lunch at my desk.”
Mentioning lunch brought a rumble to Decker’s stomach. He took out his own brown bag. “A very big policy for a professor. Especially when you consider that Ganz took out the policy twenty-plus years ago.”
“Twenty-five. Nineteen seventy-two.”
“I wonder if Europa had filed a claim after Ganz’s initial disappearance?”
“Funny you should ask. Mrs. Ganz, Europa’s mother, made a claim around five years after her husband vanished on behalf of her daughter. But Mutual Guard denied it. No proof of death.”
“So someone was aware of the policy way back when.”
“The mother was. I don’t know about Europa.”
“But she still would have been twenty—an adult.”
“Absolutely,” Oliver said.
“And this policy has remained in effect all these years?”
“More than that, Loo. It was paid off a year ago. Europa is not only the beneficiary of a million in death benefits if we come back with an ‘accidental death,’ she can also lay claim to the policy itself.” Oliver let go with a knowing grin. “All of a sudden, it seems that she has center stage.”
Decker absorbed the words. “I wonder if Ganz had planned to cash in the policy and live off the money when he did his disappearing act. Then again, he couldn’t have had much into it. Maybe two or three years’ worth of payments. Hardly enough to sustain himself.”
Oliver scrunched up his eyes. “Just where did Ganz go for ten years?”
“No one seems to know…”
“Weird…just to take off like that.” Oliver shook his head. “’Course, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be that smart. Contemplate the beginnings of the universe. It’s gotta do strange things to your psyche.”
This brought to Decker’s mind the Talmudic story about the four rabbis going into the forest to discuss the meaning of life. One of them died, one went insane, and the third became an apostate. Only Rabbi Akiva came out with his faith intact. The sudden relevancy became so apparent as to be transparent.
Decker said, “Scotty, back then, when Ganz took out the policy, premiums must have been very stiff on a million dollars. Why would he insure himself for that much? Take on that much debt when he was only a professor?”
Oliver said, “You know, I bet Ganz had been planning his Houdini for a long time. Could be he did it to take care of his family.”
“Ah,” Decker said. “So the money was guilt money to his family for deserting them. Or at least, guilt money to his daughter.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“But you said Mutual Guard didn’t pay off.”
“Obviously they had suspicions. And they were right because Ganz returned fifteen years ago.”
Decker said, “At that time, Ganz knew his daughter wasn’t a millionaire. Somewhere along the line, he must have figured out that the claim wasn’t paid. So he couldn’t have felt that guilty.” He took out a sandwich from his brown bag. Roast beef and it looked good. But if he was going to eat bread, he’d have to ritually wash his hands. So instead, he liberated a piece of roast and downed it in one gulp. “To keep the policy active all these years, someone was paying the premiums. Was it Ganz?”
Oliver shrugged. “I’ll make a couple of calls. See if I can find who was keeping it alive, though the logical choice is Europa. She’s the only one who had something to gain.”
“How would she get the money to pay the premiums?” Decker stared at his sandwich, suddenly realizing that his head was pounding. He needed sustenance. “I’m hungry. I’ve got to go wash.”
“Go ahead. I’ll get my lunch.”
“If Marge is out there, bring her in.” Decker got up, went to the bathroom and washed his hands, saying the blessing outside the facilities. Rule number one. No blessing God in the john. By the time he came back to his office, Marge and Oliver were at his desk, lunches in tow. While Scott brought her up to date, Decker ate his sandwich, polishing off a couple of bottles of Snapple. When Oliver had finished, Decker wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, “Suppose Jupiter suddenly discovered that the policy was still alive.”
Marge said, “You’re thinking that suppose Jupiter decided to cash it in. Maybe even change the beneficiary to Venus. Europa took exception and bumped him off, and made it look like an OD accident.”
Decker scratched his nose. “Can you at least let me get the thought out?”
“Am I right?”
“That’s not the point,” Decker said. “If Europa’s guilty, she had to have had inside help.”
“What about Guru Bob?” Oliver suggested. “She dated him.”
“Why not Venus?” Marge asked “They were girlhood friends.”
Oliver said, “Don’t you think that if Jupiter was going to change the policy, Marge, he would have changed it in favor of Venus as the beneficiary?”
“Not necessarily,” Decker said. “If he pictured himself as Father Jupiter of the Order of the Rings of God, could be he intended to leave the money to the Order for the mutual benefit of all its members. Or maybe he backtracked and decided to leave it to science. I like Marge’s idea. Just maybe the women got together out of mutual interest in money.” He turned to Marge. “Did he have any other money stashed away elsewhere?”
“Nothing like the insurance policy, but he had savings, upward of fifty th
ou between three or four bank accounts.”
“Maybe that money was used to run the day-to-day operations of the Order.”
“Could be,” Marge answered, “although the accounts are in Ganz’s name. Ganz—not Jupiter.”
“The guy was rich,” Oliver said.
“True,” Decker said. “However, he was still worth more dead than alive.”
The preliminary path report hadn’t come through, and probably wouldn’t be available until tomorrow afternoon. No sense in poking around the Order, upsetting the mourners, until there was something concrete. Again, Decker flipped through his phone messages. He picked up the receiver, then realized he could make the calls as easily from his home as from his desk. Besides, he was still hungry and the station house only had nonkosher vending machines. He telephoned his house, but no one picked up.
Then he remembered that Rina had accompanied Hannah on a class trip to the zoo. They’d be gone until three.
Which meant his house was empty. If he left now, he could grab two hours of quiet, uninterrupted work time. He loaded his briefcase with files from his most pressing cases, slipping in Wiggins’s folder for tomorrow’s court case. Lastly, he added his file from the Ganz case, and his message slips. He checked himself out, leaving his pager on for emergencies.
The idea of solitude made him salivate, a part of him understanding the Ganzes, Gauguins, and all those disappearing artistes; that overwhelming desire to chuck it all and search for something more meaningful. But then he thought back to his divorced days, to the oppressive loneliness that dragged him down like an undertow. He had yet to find a meaningful relationship devoid of responsibility. A small case in point being the dog. There had been times when Ginger had been underfoot. But he had been depressed for days after the setter had been put down.
He thought about his dog as he opened the front door, stepping quietly into his living room. He still missed Ginger’s maniacal greetings. He and Rina had discussed getting another puppy, but with the impending move, it wasn’t the right time—
Decker’s ears suddenly perked up.
He realized that he was hearing things…noises.
Listening with trained precision.
It sounded like panting, and it was coming from the kitchen, which didn’t make sense at all. Instinctively, his hand went to his gun. He tiptoed through the living room, stopped at the bedrooms. The boys’ bedroom was open, but his bedroom door was closed.
His mind flashing to Jan…to that day and what he had walked into…to feelings of deep humiliation and betrayal.
But this was Rina! She couldn’t…It was impossible! She’d never…he’d stake his life on it!
Still, as unexplained anger welled up in his chest, he unstrapped his shoulder harness.
One sweaty hand grasped the knob as his heart pounded. The other hand wrapped around the butt of his gun.
He threw open the door.
One glance to take it all in. Two half-naked bodies on his bed. He was on top; she had her legs wrapped around his waist. His hand was on her bare chest. He bolted up into a sitting position, then threw a shirt over his friend’s face as she let out a high-pitched scream. All of it taking just seconds.
“Jesus!” Decker muttered aloud as he slammed the door shut. From the outside, he pounded once on the portal and yelled, “You got five minutes to get dressed and get your butt over here.”
Feeling his heart jump through his throat. Half-naked, Decker. They were half-naked. Jake had his pants on—more or less.
Securing his gun back into his harness, Decker stormed into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water—something to grasp to prevent his hands from shaking. He was angry at the situation, but even more so, he was pissed that his dream of solitude was abruptly rent asunder, leaving him with yet another crisis with which to deal.
Suddenly, he heard the girl cry. She was weeping hysterically—big, deep sobs that ripped through Decker’s heart. What he couldn’t understand was why he could hear her so clearly. She was panicked.
“Oh God, I’m dead! I’m really, really dead! I’m in big, big trouble—”
“Sha—”
“Oh God, I’m dead. Like really dead! Like I’m in such bad trouble, I’m gonna kill myself! I’m—Don’t touch me!”
Silence.
Again, the girl started crying, but softer this time. Through tears, she said, “I’m sorry, Yonkie, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t mean it. I’m just so scared! I am so dead—”
“Listen—”
“You don’t know my father, Yonkie. I mean, you don’t know him like I know him. He’s going to kill me.” She began to imitate him. “We’ve got to take a meeting on this! A meeting! Let’s take a meeting! A family meeting! It’s time for a family meeting to discuss our feelings! He’s gonna level me. I’m dead! This time, he’s going to kill me!”
“My stepfather won’t tell him,” Jacob said quietly.
“He’s going to kill—”
“Did you hear what I said?” Jacob repeated in a louder voice. He seemed more irked than scared. “My stepfather won’t tell him.”
Abruptly, the girl quieted.
Decker looked around the room. The voices had been coming from the baby’s intercom. Often, Rina left it on to hear Hannah when she was in the room by herself. Obviously, she had forgotten to turn it off. Generally, he was a big one on respecting privacy. But he felt justified because (a) his son had cut school, (b) had sneaked into the house and (c) decided to play doctor with some anonymous girl in his friggin’ bed.
The girl asked, “How do you know he won’t tell?”
Yeah, Decker thought, how the fuck do you know I won’t tell?
Jacob said, “I just know.”
“What does that mean—”
“It means I just know, all right!” Jacob’s voice had turned harsh. “I’m not saying it’s going to be gravy. But I’ll handle it. Shayna, my stepdad grew up in a goyish family in southern Florida. He got in fistfights. He played football. He was in Vietnam. He’s a cop. I’m sure he had more than his fair share of backseat humping—”
“Don’t talk like that!”
Again, no one spoke.
Then Jacob said, “My dad goes postal on religious issues because he doesn’t understand them. But stuff like this…he understands.” Silence. “Just like…like climb out the window. I’ll…I’ll handle it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go out there and keep my mouth shut. Let him do all the talking until he talks himself out.” A beat. “Something my brother hasn’t learned to do. Because Sammy’s the honest one. Contentious you’d better believe it, but deep down, he’s that way because he’s so sensitive. He just needs extra attention because he’s the only person in the world who ever suffered. Not like me. I’m the easy one in the family. So easy that it’s like I’m not even there…just a grinning, village idiot.”
More silence.
Then the girl said, “What are you talking about? You’re the smartest person I know. I’m sure they don’t think that way at all.”
“On some cosmic level, I’m sure you’re right.” His voice sounded bitter. “Look, Shayna, call your sister and tell her to pick you up. I’ll deal with my dad. No reason for both of us to get detention.”
Another stretched silence.
Then Decker heard the slide of a window being opened, and being slammed shut. At this point, he turned off the intercom, waiting for Jacob in the kitchen. When the teen did enter, he broke Decker’s heart. Toting an oversized backpack like a donkey with a load. Jake was clearly upset, but attempting to hide it with apathy. His smooth face was flushed—wet and red—his black hair askew and falling over his eyes. His white shirt was untucked, resting over blue slacks, the fringes of his tallit katan hanging from under his shirt like four, thin tails. He dropped his backpack in the corner, ran his fingers through his locks, then secured his yarmulke on the crown of his hair with a bobby pin. His blue eyes w
ere focused on some imaginary spot on the floor.
Jake still had some room to grow, but he was on his way to manhood. Around five-ten with a lean body and the kind of matinee-idol looks that made girls swoon. Not hard to understand where his beauty came from; he looked just like Rina. Likening him and his wife to Joseph and Rachel. Another beautiful man whose astonishing face caused him problems.
But Decker had never perceived his son as a heartthrob because to him, Jacob was simply Jacob—a social, frum kid with lots of friends, an easygoing personality, a winning smile. Not a grinning idiot—Jacob was very bright—but someone whom Decker didn’t think about because he was so easy. Now with that myth destroyed, Decker regarded his stepson through newly opened eyes. Definitely, Jake was a girl-magnet. If they didn’t talk soon, there’d be real trouble.
Wearily, Decker pointed to a kitchen chair and Jacob sat. Decker turned the other seat around so his stomach was resting against the chair’s back. “Next time you do this, you might want to turn off Hannah’s intercom.”
The boy reddened, eyes darting around the kitchen. When he spied the contraption, he let his eyes rest on it for just a moment, then looked down. “So you heard everything. Then I don’t have to repeat myself.”
Decker asked, “Anything you want to add?”
Jacob didn’t say anything.
“Nothing?” Decker asked.
The teen cleared his throat. “I guess I would really appreciate…if you didn’t…if you kept this between us. I’ll take whatever punishment you give me. But I’d like to keep it between us.”
“Noble of you.”
“Why should both of us go down?”
“She was there, same as you. One might even say I have a parental obligation to let her folks know.”
Jacob was silent.
“Is her father that bad?”
The boy glanced up, sensing a reprieve. “He’s a pompous jerk. Some real rich entertainment lawyer who has an opinion on everything. And it’s usually wrong. He’s a ba’al tshuva.”
“And that’s why he’s a jerk? Because he’s a born again?”
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