Sacred and Profane (4 page)

“Unfortunately,” he said, “they both ended up in the same spot.”

She shook her head, clearly bothered, and Decker liked that. Most of the people he worked with, himself included, had hardened their attitude so they could get the job done. You couldn’t let it get to you. But once in a while he liked to be reminded that murder was something to feel badly about.

“So what do we have?” he thought out loud. “A middle-class sixteen-year-old female Caucasian about five four with a petite built, and a lower-class female Caucasian about twenty, five eight, with a big frame. Both were killed about three months ago, burned, and shot with the same .38 caliber.”

“Amazing what a bag of bones will tell you. Where do you go from here, Pete?”

“Shuffle papers. I’ll run a line on sixteen-year-olds reported missing for at least up to six months ago. A middle-class girl like Jean should have been reported missing, although as often as not, they’re runaways. The second one will be trickier because she’s older. May have been on the streets for years. I’ll go with Jean first. After I get the files, I’ll call the family and contact the family dentist. Then I’ll send all the Missing Persons X rays to you, and with a little bit of luck, you’ll get a match.”

“Long shot,” Annie said.

“Yep. But sometimes long shots pan out.”

“Well, let me throw this out at you—and this isn’t in my report because it’s not an official observation. Children with congenital syphilis are often born deaf or with hearing problems. That might narrow your search for Joanie.”

“Very helpful,” he said, rising. He stuck the pen in his notebook, flipped over the cover, and stuffed the notebook in his coat pocket. “Dr. Hennon—”

“Annie,” she quickly said.

“Annie, thank you for your time.”

He held out his hand and their eyes met.

“I’ve got an hour or so to kill before I meet a friend for dinner,” she said. “Want to grab a drink or two?”

Jesus, Decker thought, two in one hour. He must be coming across lean and hungry. She was a fine looking woman with a very likeable disposition. If he’d met her six months ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity, but now there was Rina. Still he ruminated, there was no harm in one drink; sit and shoot the breeze. But what would be the point? Suppose he liked her and wanted to see her again as a friend. And suppose it led to something more, like casual sex. And suppose he began to enjoy the casual sex. Then he’d have to deal with two women. He knew he was a poor juggler, which meant they’d both inevitably find out and he’d lose everything—Rina and the sex. He’d pledged from the outset to give himself a year with Rina to figure out what was going on. And it had only been four months. Most important, he loved her and she loved him even if they couldn’t show it physically. It was absurd to think of other women when his heart belonged to Rina, but sexual deprivation was beginning to muddle his sensibilities.

He realized he had been silent for an awfully long time.

“Uh, thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to run.”

“What the hell were you thinking about?” Hennon asked. “I’ve had pauses to size me up in bed before, but yours lasted so long you must have been up to the house and kids by now.”

Decker broke into laughter.

“There’s someone else…sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Well, we’ve got a few differences to work out, but so do all relationships.”

“Then what
are
your plans for the evening?” she asked.

“Nothing really. I think I’ll go home and pray.”

“Pray? I didn’t figure you for a religious man.”

And Babs hadn’t figured him for a cop. It was a good time for an undercover assignment.

“Well, I don’t really know if you’d call me religious.”

“What religion are you?” she asked.

“I’m not quite sure. I’m Jewish…sort of.”

“Sort of?” She licked her lips and pursed them slightly. He felt a stirring below. Suddenly the months of celibacy seemed like years. Man, he was horny.

“Thanks again,” he said as he moved toward the door.

“Have you always had trouble with commitments, Pete?” she asked.

“Sort of.”

Back home, after working out and grooming the horse, he grabbed a bottle of Dos Equis and picked up the phone. He stood with his hip against the kitchen wall, receiver tucked under his chin, and gulped beer while listening to the ringing on the other end. His ex-wife answered.

Damn!

“Hi, Jan,” Decker said. “Is Cindy around?”

“She’s doing her homework.”

“During Christmas vacation?”

“Well, she’s working on something important.”

“Can I talk to her, please?”

“You know how she doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s concentrating—”

“I won’t keep her long.”

“It’s late, Pete. It’s after ten.”

“It’s only a quarter to.”

“Well, you still should have called earlier.”

“I did, Jan. No one was home.”

“I was home. When did you call?”

Shit!

“I guess it was around four. Can you put Cindy on, please?”

“Four?” There was a silence. “What was I doing at four? Allen was home at four.”

“Maybe it was a little earlier.”

“Allen’s been home since three.”

“Well, no one answered the fucking phone, Jan.”

There was a pause.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you, Pete?” she said.

He took a deep breath.

“Can I talk to my daughter, please?”

“Hold on. I’ll see how involved she is.”

He heard her shriek Cindy’s name. It was one of her most annoying habits. She’d never enter a room to tell you something. She’d scream the message from wherever she was. Decker heard the extension being picked up.

“Hi, Dad,” Cindy said.

“Did your mother hang up?” Decker asked.

The question was immediately followed by the sound of a slamming receiver. Cindy laughed.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I just called to say hi.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You sound upset. Did you have a fight with Rina?”

“No.”

“What is it, Dad? Did you haul in another sixteen-year-old runaway who reminded you of me?”

“For your information, Cynthia, I happen to be working on a very clean case.”

“What kind of case would that be?”

“Some bones that were found in the mountains. We’re trying to identify them.”

“Don’t tell me. They’re the bones of a sixteen-year-old girl.”

He paused.

“You know me too well,” he conceded.

“I’m alive, Dad. I’m alive and healthy. Here, listen real close.”

He heard muffled sounds over the line.

“You know what that was, Daddy?” she went on. “That was my heart beating.”

“It’s good to hear.”

“I’ve got a really strong heart by now because I jog every day. And you know what else, Daddy? I’m not in any trouble. I’m not on drugs like the runaways you pick up. And I’m doing well in school. And I’m
not
pregnant. You have nothing to worry about. So why don’t you take care of yourself instead of worrying about me?”

“I’m not worried about you, I just like to—”

“Bull, Daddy. No disrespect meant, but bull. Every time you get a case with a girl my age, you get that tightness in your voice. How are you going to cope when I go away to college?”

“I’ll call you long distance.”

“After you get my tuition bills, you won’t be able to afford it.”

Decker laughed.

“Seriously, Daddy, I think I have a very good chance at getting a National Merit Scholarship. I think I did very well on the test.”

“Great!”

“I mean I’d like to help you and Mom out as much as possible, but going East is just so expensive.”

“Listen, honey, we told you not to worry about it. Just
get the grades, and your mom and I will work out the rest.”

She paused.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” she announced.

“Uh oh.”

“Well, uh…”

“What?”

“Uh, you know that Eric is back east at Columbia and, uh…”

“Go on, Cindy. I’m not going to faint.”

“Well, maybe it might be a bit more frugal if we kind of…”

“You two want to live together?”

“That was sort of the idea.”

Sort of
, he thought.

“Did you tell Mom?”

“God, no! At least, not yet. You know Mom. I love her dearly, but she hasn’t come to grips with the fact that my age is in double digits. I thought maybe you could kind of break the idea to her…”

Silence.

“Dad, are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you know how much
safer
I’d be living with a boy.”

“Uh huh.”

“And with splitting the expenses, it would be so much
cheaper
.”

“Uh huh.”

“So maybe you’ll talk to Mom?”

“Uh uh. If you’re old enough to make your own living arrangements, you’re old enough to face your mother. But I’ll support you, although knowing your mother, my support will work against you. If anyone asks my opinion, I’ll back you up.”

“I guess that’s fair…Are you angry, Daddy?”

“No…Not really.”

“You’re worried.”

“You know me. It takes me a while to adjust to something new. Don’t concern yourself about me. Just take care of yourself, huh?”

“I will. You do like Eric, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

“It’s hard to find good boys these days, Daddy.”

“Well, he must be special if he hooked you. Go back to your work.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

“Bye.”

She hung up. He stared at the receiver and shook his head in confusion.

Decker sat upright in his solitary bed. It was an extra-long California king with an extra-firm mattress—good for holding a lot of bulk. But lately the only bulk it’d been holding was his own.

Four fucking months.

What the hell was he doing, surrounding himself with foreign words, strange symbols, and mystic concepts which were supposed to bring him closer to God. In his own way, Decker had always felt close to God. They’d reached an understanding based on mutual tolerance: God was tolerant of Decker’s human foibles; Decker was tolerant of floods and earthquakes. Why was he doing this?

Rina, he thought. Was he just doing it to please her? At first, he didn’t think so. He was very curious about Judaism. He wanted something more spiritual, something antithetical to his work. But now he wasn’t so sure that Orthodoxy was the answer.

He looked down at the primer in front of him.

Shalom, yeladim
, the first line said.

He could read it. He could actually read and understand that sentence in Hebrew. Whoopee! None of the guys at the station house could read and understand
Hello, children
in Hebrew.

He went on.

Mi ba?
, the book continued.

Four whole months. He was going crazy. Love does have its limitations. If he was willing to accommodate her by subjecting himself to first-grade Hebrew lessons, she should damn well accommodate him a little.

Abba ba
, he read.

But it wasn’t stubbornness that was causing her to hold out. It was deep belief. He knew he could probably talk her into sex, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted sex with sanctification. There was something to be said for those ancient Midianite fertility rites.

Mi ba’ah?

She was religious. In a world full of transient morality and situational ethics, her spiritual values—which were good and just—remained absolute. How could he expect her to give up something so essential to her being just to accommodate his physical desires?

Eema ba’ah
.

And what about
her
physical desires? It was chauvinistic to assume he was the only one suffering physically. If she could suppress her sex drive—she being much younger than he was—certainly he could show a little restraint. Give it a year, he said to himself. Priests do it for a lot longer.

He translated the Hebrew in his mind, proud that he could understand it.
Who is coming? Father is coming. Who is coming? Mother is coming
.

Well, he thought, at least
someone
is coming.

The detective squad
room of the Foothill Division was undersized and overcrowded. The furniture could have come from a garage sale, and that made the people in the neighborhood feel right at home. The detectives rarely complained about the outdated equipment or the makeshift desks and chairs, but the lack of elbow room got to everybody, especially when the weather was hot.

Decker was on the phone, explaining to a local dentist why a girl’s X rays were needed, when his second line rang. He put the dentist on hold.

“Decker,” he said.

“Hi—”

“Rina, I’m on another call. Can you wait a minute?”

“It’s nothing important—”

“Honey, I’ll be off in a second.”

“Go ahead, sweetie. I’ll wait.”

Back to Dr. Pain. Spelled P-a-y-n-e.

“So if you could just sent the X rays you
do
have of Kristy Walkins to Dr. Anne Hennon—”

“Detective, I’m really rather choosy about to whom I send my records; they aren’t junk mail to be tossed around randomly. And with the recent proliferation of lawsuits…”

“I realize that, Doctor, but we’re talking about a homicide investigation.”

“If I knew for certain that the victim found was indeed Miss Walkins and the X rays would serve as absolute proof of identification, I’d feel much better about sending them to you.”

If we knew that, we wouldn’t need X rays, schmuck!

“Dr. Payne, I could get a subpoena and then we wouldn’t have to bother with this polite conversation. Now, I’m asking you to send the X rays on your terms. If you keep giving me a hard time, I’m going to take them on my terms. The choice is yours.”

There was a long pause full of heavy breathing.

“I could round up some duplicates,” Payne said, “but I guarantee you the clarity of the radiographs will leave much to be desired.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, Doctor. Thank you.”

Decker gave him Hennon’s address, thanked him again, gave the phone the finger, and pressed Rina’s line.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing really. Just called to say hi.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you did.”

“I…I guess you’re busy, huh?”

“Not too busy for you.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

There was a long awkward pause. This is leading somewhere, he thought.

“What’s on your mind, Rina?”

“Why do you think something’s on my mind?”

“I’m just asking.”

She coughed over the phone, then cleared her throat. “I bought a gun, Peter.”

Shit!

“You what?” he said softly.

“I bought a gun. A .38 caliber Colt six-shot Detective Special. Same one you use off duty. It’s being registered now. Can you get me a conceal permit?”

“No. And you shouldn’t be fooling around with a gun unless you know how to use one.”

“I agree. That’s why I’ve signed up for private lessons. At Berry’s Guns and Ammo. The teacher’s name is Tom Railsback. He said he knows you.”

“I know Tom,” said Decker quietly. “He’s a good guy. Rina, why the hell are you doing this?”

“Because I’m a nervous wreck. Because I constantly hear noises at night. Because I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in the six months since the violence here, and I don’t want to be addicted to Valium.”

“Honey, these things take time to get over. He can’t hurt you now. He’s locked up.”

“Intellectually, I know you’re right. But I can’t help myself. I need something more. I need to know I can take care of myself.”

“And you think a gun will take care of you?”

“Are you being sarcastic?” she asked innocently.

Decker paused, then said, “Sort of.”

“Please don’t be. I’m not careless, Peter. I’m not impulsive. I’ve thought about it a long time. I really think it’s what I need.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“Peter, I broached the subject with you a dozen times and you kept putting me off.”

Decker pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He
had
put her off. He was worried about her keeping firearms with small children around the house. He was worried it would misfire and she’d get hurt. Or maybe it was just a macho thing, feeling she should have trusted him to take care of her. Jan had never wanted a gun: she’d hated guns. But Jan had grown up in the sixties; Rina was from a different generation. Peace, love, and Woodstock had been replaced by terrorism and Rambo.

“If you’re serious and you learn how to shoot properly,
I’ll see what I can do about getting you a permit.”

“Thanks.”

“But that’s going to take months, Rina.”

“That’s okay.”

“That means you can’t hide the gun in your purse in the meantime.”

“I won’t.”

“Or under a car seat—”

“The gun will be kept at home. Relax, sweetie. You sound wired.”

He was wired.

“The other line is ringing,” he said. “Hold on a moment.”

He punched down the flashing white phone light.

“Decker,” he yelled.

“Take it easy, Pete. It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning.”

Decker recognized the voice.

“H’lo, Annie.”

“We got lucky, Sergeant. Can you make it down here by noon?”

“I’ll be there. I’ll even bring my own lunch.”

“What a guy!” She hung up.

He connected back to Rina’s line.

“Look, I’ve got to head on out to Beverly Hills. I’ll drop by tonight. We can discuss this further then.”

“I should be done with the
mikvah
around ten.”

“Ten it is.”

“What’s in Beverly Hills, Peter?”

“A dentist who may have identified the bones we found.”

“What’s his name? I can use a good dentist. My old one retired and I don’t like the guy who took over his practice.”

“He’s a she. Her name is Annie.”

“Does Annie have a last name?”

Decker smiled.

“Hennon,” he said.

“Does Annie also have a red afro and a dog named Sandy?”

“Not quite. She’s actually pretty. Not in your category, Rina, but her face wouldn’t cause your mouth to pucker. She has nice eyes.”

“Really now.”

“Yes. They’re green.”

“Noticed the color, did you?”

“I’m a cop, Rina. I pride myself on a keen eye for detail.”

“That’s just fine so long as you keep your keen eye above Annie’s neck.”

Decker arrived a few minutes early and was escorted into Hennon’s office by the office girl, dressed in a white uniform that barely covered her ass. Chewing on bubble gum, she cracked it in her mouth, then offered Decker a stick, which he politely refused. A second later he heard Hennon yell for the girl’s assistance.

The girl rolled her eyes backward. “That woman is a
terror
,” she said. Her lower lip was in a sultry pout. “Dr. MacGrady is
so
much nicer.”

I’ll bet he is
, thought Decker.

“You’d better go see what she wants,” he said.

She left him alone with his baloney sandwich, carrot sticks, potato chips, and chocolate cupcake. He’d been over at Rina’s house last night while she was making lunches for the boys and she’d offered to pack him something. He had agreed under the condition that she’d go to no extra bother—give him exactly what she was making for the boys.

Are you sure, Peter?

Positive
.

Hence, the kiddie lunch.

He unwrapped the sandwich. At least, it was on rye. He took a bite and in walked Hennon.

“Don’t bother to get up,” she said motioning him back down. “Finish swallowing.”

He did and put down the sandwich.

“Want some coffee?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Kelly,” she called out. “Two black coffees, one with sugar.”

The receptionist ambled into the office, sulking. “It’s my lunch hour, Dr. Hennon.”

Hennon stared her down and a moment later Kelly brought in two styrofoam cups.

“Have a good lunch,” said Hennon.

The girl mumbled and slammed the door as she left.

“I would have fired her a long time ago, but my partner has a soft spot in his heart and a hard spot somewhere else for her. Speaking of true love, how’s your ‘sort of’ girlfriend, Pete?”

“She’s fine. She just bought a gun. You own a gun, Annie?”

“No. I’d probably maim myself. Why’d she buy one? Just feeling vulnerable?”

“About six months ago, a psycho almost raped her. She’s still nervous about it. Claims she hears noises outside.”

She whistled. “If I were her, I’d buy a gun, also.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

“You carry a picture of her?”

“Who? Rina?”

“If that’s her name.”

Decker dug out his wallet and showed the dentist a snapshot. Hennon frowned.

“Is this an exceptionally good photo of her?”

“Neither exceptionally good nor bad. It’s what she looks like.”

The dentist handed him back his wallet.

“Shall we get down to business?” she asked.

Decker said, “What do you have?”

She flipped on the viewing monitor.

“I went down to the morgue this weekend. Dr. Marvin Rothstein sent me a set of X rays that looked promising as one of our Jane Does. This is the original full mouth set I took on Jean—twenty shots. Compare these to Dr. Rothstein’s set.”

She let Decker look for a minute.

“There are similarities,” she said, “Same number of teeth, same teeth in the mouth have been restored, same interdental spacing, except that everything looks a little off kilter—like looking in a mirror at a funhouse. For instance, this right bitewing molar shot that I took on Jean shows the amalgam—the silver filling—covering the top of the upper molar and two sides: a typical filling for this tooth called an MOD. The angle I took it from shows a little tiny sliver of filling extending past the preparation line. It’s called an overhang and it’s a teeny one. Rothstein’s X rays don’t show it all.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m coming to that. Take a look at this, Pete. This one is the full mouth set of Jean that I shot over the weekend,” she said mounting another set of X rays on the viewer. “Now compare this set to Dr. Rothstein’s.”

Decker studied the films.

“It doesn’t show the sliver of filling, either.”

“Exactly. And look how much more similar the two sets are. Know what I did? I angled the X ray tube a little bit forward. Foreshortened the beam. When one compares radiographs for something as important as
identification of a murder victim, one better make damn sure that the two sets of X rays are shot from the
same
angle. Otherwise, one may miss an obvious match and feel stupid.”

She breathed on her fingernails and rubbed them on her white coat.

“But the clincher is this. I called up Dr. Rothstein and asked for the patient’s orthodontist. His name is Dr. Neiman and he sent me her casts. You want to compare the two?”

She showed them to Decker.

“To me, they look identical.”

“Not quite. Remember I told you that the girl wasn’t wearing her retainer as much as she should have. The skeleton’s teeth weren’t quite as aligned. But even so, I superimposed a bite plate of Jean’s teeth and matched it to his patient’s casts, and then I reversed the procedure and superimposed the patient’s bite plate over Jean’s teeth. It’s the same person.

“Pete,” she said, pointing to the plaster casts. “Say hello to Lindsey Bates.”