‘Okay, hotshot. You got a better one?’
‘Well, if you’re looking to connect Morey Gilbert and Rose Kleber, we’ve got two concentration camp survivors. Hate crime might fit.’
‘You mean like some neo-Nazi creeps?’
Magozzi shrugged. ‘Maybe. They pop up now and then. We’ve had our share of synogogue vandalism, that sort of thing. Then there was that group over in St Paul pasting those anti-Semitic posters up all over downtown.’
Gino snorted. ‘The bozos who drew the swastika backward? Jeez, Leo, there were only three of ’em, and from what I heard, they shared a brain.’
‘They’re probably not the only ones in town.’
‘More’s the pity. We can check hate crimes just to cover the bases, but those idiots leave a note when they piss on the sidewalk, otherwise, what’s the point? Besides, according to the families, neither Gilbert nor Kleber ever set foot in a temple, which puts them kind of below the moron radar of your average neo-Nazi. And these were really clean scenes, like a pro, you know? We’re not getting any trace, no prints, no witnesses… this is one savvy killer, like some sharp old lady in good shape who watches cop shows.’
Magozzi grinned and shook his head. ‘Not buying it.’
‘Then give me something else.’
‘Hell, I don’t know. Psycho bag boy picking out victims on Senior Day at the supermarket, trying for his fifteen minutes.’
Gino rolled his eyes. ‘Man, are you reaching. We’ve got two different weapons, victims of both sexes, and name one serial killer who ever preyed on the geriatric set. Hell, the FBI wouldn’t even touch that one, and they want a piece of everything. Besides, if we start thinking serial, then we have to consider Arlen Fischer as part of the series, and there’s no way that murder fits in with Gilbert’s and Kleber’s.’
And that wasn’t the only problem. Imagining a killer who went around shooting the elderly for some sort of sick thrill was a horror Magozzi didn’t want to consider. It was like hurting kids, or puppies. But imagining two old-timers like Morey Gilbert and Rose Kleber involved in something that would make them targets was just as hard.
Magozzi started clearing dishes off the table. ‘Maybe we’re on the wrong track, trying to tie them together. It’s a Jewish neighborhood, a lot of seniors, and so what if Rose Kleber had Gilbert’s number in her book? The gardening thing could explain that.’
‘So you’re saying it’s just a coincidence we’ve got two old Jews in the same neighborhood killed within a day of each other.’
Magozzi blew out a frustrated sigh. ‘No. I haven’t believed that since we got the call on Rose Kleber. They’re connected, all right. I just can’t imagine how.’
Gino got up from his chair and stretched, hands pressed to the small of his back, belly jutting forward. ‘You know, I had this all tied up nice and neat with Lily Gilbert killing them both, but you just don’t want to do it the easy way, do you? Leo, you gotta quit looking for the zebra.’
Magozzi chuckled, started to rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher. ‘If I remember correctly, you had Grace MacBride pretty firmly pegged as the Monkeewrench killer in one of your “nice and neat” scenarios.’
‘She was a perfectly logical suspect.’
‘But the zebra did it.’
‘So just that one time, I might have been a little misguided. Doesn’t mean I’m not dead-on with this one. You got a Tums or something? That last brat is talking back in a foreign language.’
‘In the cupboard with the glasses.’
‘You’ve got glasses? How come I was drinking soda out of a can?’
‘You wanted a glass?’
‘Jeez, Leo, I’m not totally uncivilized.’ He found the Tums and popped a few, leaned back against the counter and chewed thoughtfully. ‘You know, speaking of Monkeewrench, we could ask them to plug Gilbert and Kleber into the software they used on all the cold cases, see if anything pops. Man, that program rocked. Found connections in seconds we’d been looking for for years.’
‘Couldn’t hurt, I suppose. I’ll give Grace the names tonight, ask her to run them.’
Gino gave him a sidelong glance of scrutiny, and Magozzi grimaced. He was going to get another lecture.
‘You know I love Grace McBride, right?’
Magozzi rolled his eyes.
‘Hey, I don’t mean to bust your balls over this, but tell me honestly, what kind of a future do you see for yourself with her? You gotta face it, Leo, she’s walking wounded. Paranoid as hell. And her track record for normal relationships stinks. I mean, the last man she loved was a serial killer.’
Magozzi glowered at him. ‘She’s getting better, Gino.’
‘Oh really? Then how come she took her piece to the movies last week?’
‘A lot of weirdos go to the movies these days.’
‘Leo, you went to a Sunday matinee to see a cartoon. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for working with Monkeewrench – they’re great folks, every one of them. But I think you need to be careful, maybe keep the relationship about work for now.’
‘Are you finished?’
‘Yes. End of lecture.’
‘Thank you. And don’t call them Monkeewrench.’
Gino cringed. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot. Damn, I just can’t get that name out of my head.’
And neither could the rest of the city, Magozzi thought.
‘They come up with a new one yet?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
Gino’s chin jutted forward. ‘I’m going to give that some thought. Help them out.’
16
It was one-thirty and eighty-four degrees by the time Magozzi and Gino arrived at Biederman’s Funeral Home, and both of them were miserably hot, back in their jackets to conceal their guns.
Sol Biederman was waiting for them at the front door. He looked a little better than he had yesterday when they’d met over the body of Morey Gilbert, but his eyes were still rimmed with red. Another downer about getting old, Magozzi thought. Tissues took a lot longer to recover from crying jags, and just about everything else.
Sol led them into a vast sitting room filled with furniture that had been fashionable thirty years ago. The air smelled of fading flowers and scorched coffee, and the stale, cloying scent of the cheap cologne someone had worn to the last viewing.
The air-conditioning, if there was any, was turned very low. Gino flopped into a maroon wing-back chair, grabbed a tissue from a nearby box, and mopped his forehead.
‘Who would have thought April could be so warm, eh? I have a man working on the air conditioner now, but in the meantime, please take your jackets off, Detectives. Be comfortable.’
‘Thanks, we’re fine,’ Gino said, his reddening face belying his words.
‘I’m not expecting anyone until five. We’re alone here. No one will see your guns except me, and I’m very good at keeping secrets.’
Gino was out of his jacket before by-the-book Magozzi could give him so much as a dirty look for defying department policy. He’d just decided to shame Gino by sweltering in his jacket when Sol gestured to his own bare arms below the short sleeves of his shirt.
‘If you don’t remove your jacket, Detective Magozzi, I’ll be forced to put on mine. I’m an old man. I could die from the heat.’
Magozzi grinned and slipped off his sports coat while Sol settled in a nearby chair.
‘I assume you have some follow-up questions for me. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help to you yesterday.’
Gino pulled out his notebook. ‘You did fine yesterday, Mr Biederman. And we understand how upset you were. But the problem is, everything got a little more complicated this morning.’
Sol nodded sadly. ‘I heard about Rose Kleber. Her daughter called shortly before you arrived. Such a terrible thing, an unbelievable thing, and I had to ask myself, is there a madman out there killing old Jews?’ He looked from Gino to Magozzi. ‘That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re wondering the same thing.’