Sanctuary (3 page)

As she tucked the phone receiver under her chin, Rina’s attention was diverted by Hannah’s babbling. She was sitting next to her baby, the two of them playing on a comforter spread out on the living-room floor. It was a busy blanket, toys sewn into the quilting—a mirror, a teething ring, several blocks that squeaked, and lots of fuzzy decals. But Hannah had grown tired of eliciting peeps from the bunny’s tummy. She started to complain.

Of course, the phone rang. Rina made the big mistake of picking up the call. Hannah’s vocalizing increased in volume and frequency every time Rina spoke into the mouthpiece. The baby soliloquy finally culminated in a loud, wet raspberry.

“Hold on, Honey.” Rina attempted to swipe Hannah’s mouth. The baby protested with a shake of the head and a loud
abababababa
.

Honey said, “Should I call back later, Rina?”

“No, we’re really fine. She’s just expressing her opinion.”

“She sounds adorable,” Honey said. “I love babies. I love children. I think it’s the innocence. I should have had a dozen more.”

Honey sounded riddled with regret. So much so, Rina wondered why she didn’t have a dozen more. Within their culture, it wasn’t the least bit unusual to find families with kids numbering in the double digits. It gave Rina pause for thought. Maybe something had prevented
Honey from having more. Maybe they had a lot more in common than Rina had first thought.

“Just
enjoy
her,” Honey went on. “I don’t have to tell you this, but they do grow up so fast. One minute they’re snuggle bunnies, the next minute, they’re big boys who’ll
maybe
give you a peck on the cheek on your birthday.” She giggled. “At least I get a peck. I know quite a few women whose sons refuse to touch them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rina said. “
Negiah
—men and women touching—doesn’t apply to mothers and sons.”

“Of course it’s ridiculous,” Honey said. “So what else is new? The Rebbe is just floored by this extremism. Sure he doesn’t like phones. But machines are one thing, love is another.
Love
is what’s important. Love between Man and
Hashem
, between Man and Man, between Man and Woman—it’s what makes the world such a beautiful place. Love is what distinguishes us from the animals.”

Rina looked at Ginger, the family Irish setter. The big, rust-colored animal was seated on the blanket as well, her snout nuzzling Hannah’s leg. Rina didn’t know a lot about dogs—she’d married Peter, she’d married his animals—but it seemed to her that Ginger had an infinite capacity to love. Rina had always felt that it was conscience and repentance that made man different from animals. But Honey sounded so sincere, and her thought was a nice one.

“Love is wonderful,” Rina said. “We have wonderful families,
Baruch Hashem
.”

Rina heard a stretch of quiet. She could make out background noises, someone asking for a dozen poppy-seed bagels.

Honey said, “Rina, thank you for getting back to me so fast. And thank you for putting us up. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be actually going on vacation.”

“I’m glad, Honey.”

“Ababababababbam,” Hannah shouted. “Yeeeeeeee!”

Rina gave the baby a bottle. “Do you want me to call the old gang for you?”

A pause. Then Honey said, “Truthfully no. I just want an opportunity to spend some time with the kids away from people. That’s why—” She stopped herself.

“That’s why you called me,” Rina said. “It’s okay. I’m not offended. You want to relax away from everyone. The community has grown, Honey. It used to be we knew everyone who wore a yarmulke. Not so anymore. It’s pretty easy to go about your business without someone bugging you. But I don’t think it’ll ever fully lose the provincialism. It’s what makes us close. But we both know it can be a little restricting.”

“I just need a vacation.” Honey sounded desperate. “You don’t know what a
tova
you’re doing. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hannah threw her bottle across the living room. Immediately, Ginger leaped to her feet to retrieve it. At first when Hannah had learned to toss items, Ginger would chase after them, then sit by them, crying until someone picked them up. Rina had since coaxed her into retrieving. Since Peter never hunted, it was nice that Ginger was finally allowed to do her genetically encoded job. The dog gave Hannah the bottle again, only to see the baby throw it in the other direction. Again, the setter was up on her feet. The dog loved the game.

Rina said, “So, Honey, when exactly are you coming out?”

Honey clucked her tongue. “Would tomorrow morning be too soon?”

Actually, it would be very soon. But there was something needy in Honey’s voice. Rina said, “Anytime you want.”

“
Wonderful
!”

Rina could almost see Honey’s smile through the line.

“And don’t you dare put yourself out,” Honey insisted. “Just putting us up is
dayenu
. It’s enough! I don’t know the flight yet so I’ll call you when we arrive in LA. If you’re not home, don’t worry. We’ll wait at the airport.
It’s the first time the younger kids have flown, so they’ll be very excited about everything.”

Rina said, “I’ll be sure to be home all morning.”

“Thanks, Rina,” Honey said. “From the bottom of my heart,
thank you
.”

“A safe?” Orit looked surprised. “Why would he have a safe? He keeps all his loose stones in the vault downtown.”

“Surely your sister-in-law has some nice pieces,” Marge said. “Where does she keep them?”

“Downtown.” Orit walked around the entry hall, rubbing her arms. “When she wants to wear a piece, she calls Arik up and asks him to bring it home. That’s what I always do.”

Decker said, “You keep pieces with him?”

Orit nodded. “They’re family pieces—for me, for my brother, too. If Dalia wants to wear it…okay. Someday my daughter will wear them at her wedding,
ken yirbu
.”

As Orit smiled, webbing appeared at the corner of her eyes.

“My father is a very clever man. He managed to smuggle out of Europe some beautiful pieces. They are in the family for hundreds of years. What jewelry Papa didn’t use to bribe the border guards, he swallowed stone by stone. On the boat, he had a very bad case of diarrhea.”

She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness.

“They almost didn’t let him into Israel—it was British Palestine back then. But the British were as bad as the Germans. A stone here, a stone there, all of a sudden the guards changed Mendel Stein into Moshe Yalom. They gave him a new identity, a new passport, everything. That’s why my father taught Arik and me to cut stones—a profession to carry on the back.”

Decker said, “Let me ask you this, Orit. You call up your brother and ask him to bring home the piece you want to wear, right?”

“
Nachon
,” she answered. “Correct.”

“So you go out for the evening, wearing the jewelry. Then you go back home, right?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you keep the piece until you give it back to your brother the following morning?”

Orit didn’t answer.

Decker said, “You’re going to have to trust someone, Orit, if you want to get to the bottom of this.”

“You think something’s wrong, don’t you?”

“We’re a little concerned,” Marge said.

Orit shrugged. “On my dresser. If I want to hide it I don’t put it in my safe.”

“So you
do
have a safe,” Marge said.

“Yes, but only for the robbers.”

Decker and Marge looked at each other.

“They know you’re in diamonds, you have to give them something if they break in. Otherwise, they get mad. But you don’t keep the good stuff there…only junk.”

Again, Marge and Decker traded glances.

“I learned that from my father, too,” Orit said.

“What else did you learn from Dad?”

Orit hesitated, then spoke in a burst. “Before my father got a vault at the diamond center in Tel Aviv, he had to keep lots of loose stones at home. He used to hide them in the toilet.”

Marge said, “We checked.”

“You
did
?” Orit was shocked.

“Drug dealers keep their goods in the water tank,” Decker explained. “We also checked the freezer—another common spot. Nothing. Any other suggestions?”

Orit stared at them, then shook her head no.

Marge looked around. “If I were diamonds, where would I be?”

Decker tapped his foot. Again his eyes went back to the mezuzah. Being new to the Jewish religion, Decker realized, was why it had taken him so long to see what
was wrong. Outside-door mezuzahs were supposed to be posted on the
outside
of the doorframe. This one was on the inside. Maybe because it was so fancy, they didn’t want it sullied.

But then again.

Decker slipped on a latex glove. “Detective Dunn, could you get me a screwdriver from the trunk of the car?”

“You got it, Sarge.”

“What you’re going to do?” Orit asked.

“You stick around,” Decker answered. “I want a family witness here in case we find the mother lode.”

“What do you mean—mother lode?”

“Cash, money…possibly diamonds.” Decker pointed to the mezuzah. “There.”

“What?” Orit said. “You’re crazy. That’s a religious article.”

“I know what a mezuzah is, Ms. Bar Lulu. I also know where they are supposed to be posted.
Beytecha oovesha’arecha
—your houses and gates—on the
outside
.”

Orit stared at him. “You speak Hebrew?”

“No, but I know the
Sh’ma
.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Marge came back in and handed Decker the screwdriver. Carefully, he unwound the top and bottom screws that affixed the scroll holder to the wall. They came out more easily than he had expected. He peered inside the hollow rut of the silver casing.

Empty
—where was the parchment that contained the holy prayer?

Was there ever a parchment?

He showed the empty holder to Orit. “Can I bag this for evidence?”

“Evidence of what?” Orit asked.

“I want to have this dusted for prints.”

“You think Arik kept money there?”

Marge asked, “What do you think, Ms. Bar Lulu?”

“I think it’s funny the
Sh’ma
’s not there, yes. But Arik is not a religious man.”

“So why put up a mezuzah period?”

“Maybe for the boys.” Orit waved her hand. “Yes, take it for evidence. As long as it comes back.”

“Ms. Bar Lulu,” Decker said, “does your sister-in-law have a maid?”

“Not now. Dalia had wonderful help for six years. Amelia went back to El Salvador a month ago. Dalia is still looking. She is very particular who is in her house.”

“So who’s been cleaning the house?” Marge asked.

“My lady, Bonita, helps Dalia once a week. Not much to do except laundry. The boys do their own rooms. Bonita was going to come tomorrow. What do I tell her?”

Marge said, “Tell her to hold off until we find out where the family is.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

Decker said, “Do you know anything about the porcelain dogs in the front entry hall?”

“Dogs? What dogs?”

Guess that answered that, Decker thought.

“You want to take dogs, too?”

Decker shook his head. “Just the mezuzah. I’ll need you to sign something that states we have your permission to take it,” Decker said. “Make sure that everyone’s satisfied that we did this by the book.”

“By the book?” Orit asked.

“That we acted kosher,” Decker said.

“Ah,
that
I understand.”

Sitting at the conference-sized dining table, Decker felt like a movie mogul. The tabletop was a slab of pink marble swirled with white and blue—no doubt some custom job out of an exotic quarry. Orit Bar Lulu was at his right; Marge sat across the rose-colored sea. Orit seemed scared. Their prolonged presence had justified her suspicions and that was not good news. Decker placed his notebook on the stone, wondering if he could write without scratching the surface. He gave Marge the go-ahead.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, Ms. Bar Lulu,” Marge said.

“Of course. Why else am I here?”

Marge cleared her throat. “When was the last time you saw or heard from your brother?”

“Two days ago.” Orit sighed. “We had lunch together—Arik came to the office—the real estate office where Dalia and I work.”

“The name?”

“Manor One Realty.”

Marge wrote it down. “Anything special happen at lunch?”

“Not a thing. Everything was regular.”

“They didn’t seem nervous? Excited maybe?”

“I saw nothing. Of course, I wasn’t looking for something wrong, you know?”

Marge nodded. “Then what happened?”

“What happened?” Orit shrugged. “Nothing happened.
We ate lunch, talked about the kids. Then Arik and Dalia left.”

“Together?”

“Yes. It was close to quitting time so she left with him. The next day Dalia didn’t come to work. I didn’t think anything about it. Real estate agents work from their homes all the time. So maybe she took the morning off. I called her in the afternoon to ask her to pick up Sharoni. No answer. I called two, three times maybe. No machine, nothing. I thought that was strange so I called my brother at work. His partner told me he didn’t show up today—no explanation, nothing. Shaul was mad, I could tell. I didn’t want to get Arik in trouble, so I made excuses.”

“What kind of excuses,” Marge said.

“Oh, the usual. Something came up…ehhhh, he must have something important to do. Shaul didn’t like my excuses. He’s very hard on Arik, but that’s not new.”

“What do you mean, ‘Shaul’s hard on Arik’?” Decker asked as he wrote.

“They’re partners. But they are very different—fire and water.”

Marge caught Decker’s eye. They’d go over that one later.

Orit didn’t seem to notice. “But just like life needs fire and water, they needed each other. So what if they don’t get along?”

“They fought publicly?” Marge asked casually. “Or was it more like a cold war.”

“Both.”

“What’s the problem?”

Orit appeared to be thinking. “Shaul’s…slow, not slow, but…”

“Deliberate?” Decker tried.

“Exactly. Shaul’s deliberate. Arik has creativity—all the ideas. Some work, some don’t. The boys are a perfect mix for business, but they get on each other’s nerves. Shaul’s always mad at Arik for being careless. Arik’s always mad at Shaul for slowing him down. But they
don’t give up on each other. They’re too smart for that.”

Decker didn’t know if it was a language problem, but Orit’s choice of words seemed telling. “What do you mean by Arik being careless?”

Orit said, “What do I mean?”

Marge picked up on Decker’s drift. “Is Arik careless with Shaul’s money?”

Orit shook her head. “I don’t mean careless. It’s a difference in personality. Arik wants to go, go, go. Shaul says, ‘Now, wait a minute.’”

“Does Shaul have a last name?” Decker asked.

“Gold. Shaul Gold.”

“He didn’t know where Arik was?”

“No,” Orit said. “He was angry that Arik didn’t come to work.”

Marge looked up from her pad. “Shaul was mad at Arik?”

“Very mad,” Orit said. “And that made me worried. Why didn’t Arik show up? Despite what Shaul says, Arik is very responsible. I called the police. They send two men who looked at me like I’m crazy.”

Marge said, “The policy is to wait twenty-four hours before reporting an adult missing.”

“This is not just an adult, this is a whole
family
.” Orit started to bite her nail, then stopped herself. “When Sharoni—that’s my daughter—she tells me the boys weren’t in school, I start to get
real
nervous. That’s when I called the police again and asked for someone else. You think there’s something wrong, too, no?”

Decker said, “It’s unusual for a family to leave without notifying someone.”

Marge said, “You haven’t heard from your brother or sister-in-law in two days?”

“Or my nephews.” She shuddered. “God only knows where they are.”

“What do you mean?” Decker asked.

Orit bit her lip. “I mean if something happened to Arik, why take it out on the boys?”

“What could happen to Arik?” Marge said.

Orit looked over her shoulder, then leaned toward Marge. She was squirming, Decker noticed. As if the place was bugged. Maybe it was.

Or maybe she was squirming from guilt.

Orit said, “Suppose someone wanted to rob my brother. You know, force him to go down to the vault in the Mart. Maybe they would take Dalia as hostile.”

“Hostage,” Decker corrected.

“Yes, hostage, I mean. So they take Dalia. But
why
take the boys? Why not just leave them in school and leave them alone?”

“Maybe they were home when it happened,” Marge said. “Maybe they were witnesses.”

“But they’re
boys
!”

Marge didn’t answer. Orit threw up her hands. “I’m sick with worry. Those boys are like my sons.” Suddenly, she sprang up and began to pace, chewing on a nail as red and lacquered as a candied apple.

Marge said, “Have you asked Shaul if he’s seen Arik?”

Orit turned to Marge. “If he…” She punched her hand in her fist. “No, he wouldn’t. I talk crazy.”

“He wouldn’t what?” Marge asked.

“If he hurt my brother, I’ll kill him.” Orit nodded forcefully. “I’ll chop his head off.”

Again, Marge and Decker traded looks.

Marge said, “Do you suspect Shaul has something to do with Arik’s alleged disappearance?”

“Do I suspect?” Orit sighed. “I don’t know. They have been partners for years. But times change, people change. Diamonds is a moody business. You win big, you lose big. Shaul is very dark and moody. You will talk to him?”

“Definitely,” Marge said.

Decker said, “Anyone else we should know about, Orit?”

Orit paused, then shook her head.

“I hate to have to ask you this, Ms. Bar Lulu,” Marge
said. “But do you know if either your brother or sister-in-law was having an affair?”

Orit’s eyes widened, then she clucked her tongue. “Oh, you people are terrible.”

Marge and Decker said nothing.

Orit let go with a faint smile. “Not that I know. Arik’s a very handsome man. When we were little in Israel, he had many girls. I’m sure he could if he wants. But he is devoted to Dalia, takes good care of her.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t have someone else.”

“Maybe. But I don’t know if he does.”

Marge said, “Do they have any close friends we should know about?”

“I’ll get you a list of all their friends I know.”

“That would be helpful,” Decker said. “Does Ms. Yalom have family here?”

“All in Israel,” Orit said.

“And your parents live in Israel?” Decker said.

“Yes.”

“Have you called your parents—”

“They are not there,” Orit interrupted. “I am sure.”

Decker paused. He didn’t like her adamant tone of voice. Was she hiding something? He’d deal with it later. “Do you have any other family in the States?”

Orit shook her head.

“Do you have an address and phone number for Shaul Gold?” Marge asked.

“Just the number downtown,” Orit said. “At the Diamond Center. I give you my brother’s work number. I don’t know if Shaul’s there or not.”

Marge said. “We’ll find him. Tell us a little about Dalia and the boys.”

“What’s to tell? She’s sweet. They are good kids.”

“You say the younger boy is friends with your daughter?”

“Yes. Dov and Sharoni are friends.”

“I’d like to talk to your daughter, Ms. Bar Lulu,” Decker said.

“Of course,” Orit said. “Go to the school. Talk to her now. Maybe she knows something I don’t!”

Decker hung the mike back onto the car radio. “Secretary says Gold’s in a meeting and won’t be back in the office until tomorrow morning.”

“A ruse?” Marge asked.

“Who knows?” Decker lowered the unmarked’s visor, trying to block out the western sun. “We’ll find his home number and try him tonight. If he split, we’ll have either our first suspect or another victim.”

“What do you think about Gold and Yalom not getting along?” Marge asked. “Think she’s setting him up?”

“What do you think?”

“She seemed nervous.”

“Yes, she did. But her brother’s missing.”

“You think she’s clean?”

“I’m reserving judgment,” Decker said. “Bar Lulu’s right about one thing. The boys missing means something’s wrong. Either the family took off in a hurry or someone herded them as a unit to parts unknown. We don’t get any action on this by tomorrow, we may want to contact the media for help.”

“You’re really bugged about the boys.”

Decker said, “My sons are around the same age.”

Marge looked at him. “You have kids about every age, don’t you?”

“A young adult, two teens, and an infant. I’m raising my own grandchild.”

Marge smiled. “Should we go back to the station and file for a full-blown MP case? Then we could come back and check out the neighbors. Find out what they’ve heard over the past couple of days. Or over the past couple of
years
. Maybe the neighbors, unlike Orit, were aware of something fishy. They pick up on things like that.” She paused. “Except the ones that thought the serial killer was a nice, quiet guy.”

“Just a regular Joe except for the vats of hydrochloric
acid kept in the basement.” Decker turned the unmarked onto Devonshire, headed toward the station house. “We have enough of a case to ask Davidson for time to canvass the area, check out the parents’ workplaces.”

Marge clapped her hands. “Let’s do it.”

Dispatcher’s static was beaming through the squawk box. Decker tuned out the noise automatically
except
if the crime happened to go down near his location. Funny how the ear adjusts to what’s important.

Marge said, “The school’s on the way back to the station. Want to stop by first?”

“Sure, why not?”

They rode a few minutes in silence.

“I’ll do the talking with the administration there,” Marge said. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s your case.”

“You really see it that way?”

“That’s the way Davidson saw it.”

“Davidson was giving me busywork.”

Decker said, “He may have been giving you bullshit, but if it turns into something big, he won’t take it away from you.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Nope. Why risk a discrimination suit?”

“And if he
does
take it away from me?”

“Go to Strapp. I’ll support you.”

Marge grinned. “Really?”

Decker was insulted. “What the hell do you think? Marge, you’re letting your imagination drag you down. Stop thinking worst-case scenarios and let’s concentrate on the present. How old are the Yalom boys again?”

Marge paged through her notes, pleased by Decker’s support. Okay, so she was getting on his nerves. So what? They were
partners
.

She paused.

Partners
. Just like Yalom and Gold.

Decker was irked by Marge’s silence. “The
case
, Marge?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Quickly, she sifted through her notes. “The boys…are…fifteen and sixteen. Gil’s the oldest. Dov is in the class with Sharoni. How about if I take the administrators and the records, and you talk to the girl. You’re better with teenagers, having raised one yourself.”

“Fine.”

“How’s Cindy doing? Is she still interested in police work after the Bellson/Roberts affair?”

Decker felt his jaw tense and willed it to relax. “’Fraid so.”

“She’d make a good cop.”

“Bite your tongue, Dunn.”

Marge shrugged. “We could use bright and brave women like her on the force.”

“She’s too smart to be a cop.”

Marge glared at him. “Thanks for the compliment, Deck.”

“Stop going testy on me.” Decker glared back. “She’s my kid, Marge. I want her safe, not battling gangs in the street.”

“It’s her decision in the long run.”

“Right now, I’m still in the short run. My preference for her is a job that doesn’t require expertise with a piece. You want to fuel up with some java before we hit the high school?”

“No, I’m fine,” Marge said. “You changed the subject away from Cindy, Pete.”

Decker grinned. “My, you’re astute. You must be a detective.”

Marge grinned back. “
Homicide
, baby. And don’t you forget it!”