“What kind of God creates such monsters?” Jonathan said.
“I’ll drive,” Decker offered once again.
“I’m all right,” Jonathan answered. “Thanks for coming.”
“I just wish…” Decker started to pound the dashboard but wound up tapping it instead. “I’m sorry I failed you. I failed the whole family.”
“You didn’t fail, Akiva. That’s ridiculous.”
“You don’t know.”
Jonathan turned to him, waiting for an explanation.
“I could have done better.” Decker was abashed. “I should have done better.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. If anyone failed, it was God. We’re nothing but His pawns-little pieces He moves around His board called the universe.” His lip trembled. “It’s not that I doubt His wisdom. That’s why we say Baruch Dayan Emes. I believe every word theoretically. But I am human… fallible… emotional. Right now, I’m very angry at Him.”
Tears marked paths down his cheek.
“You and me both, buddy.” Decker slumped in the seat. “You and me both.”
More seconds passed, then a minute. Finally, Jonathan started the van and put it into reverse. “Where to?”
“While you were signing papers, I got hold of Micky Novack. I’m supposed to meet him at a restaurant at…” Decker looked at the paper. “Broadway between One hundred fourteenth and One hundred fifteenth… or maybe One fifteenth and One sixteenth.” He gave him the exact address. “It shouldn’t take longer than an hour. Then I was supposed to meet Rina and Hannah at your apartment and take them to the airport.”
“When’s the flight?”
“Nine… something. It’s a commuter flight. It leaves out of La Guardia.” Decker ’s watch read six. “Am I cutting it close?”
“Say you’re done at seven. At least forty-five minutes to get to La Guardia if traffic isn’t heavy.” A sigh. “Yes, you are cutting it close.”
“Give me a half hour with the guy.”
“Tell you what,” Jonathan said. “I’ll drop you off, run down to my shul, pick up my messages and mail, then come back and fetch you. That should eat up the thirty minutes.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Yes, things always sound perfect in the abstract.”
Novack stood up when Decker walked into the deli. The place was as small as a kiosk, crammed with a half-dozen linoleum-topped tables and chairs with cracked Naugahyde cushions. There was also a counter and stools, the seats filled to capacity. It was after work hours, so the detective had donned a flannel shirt and jeans instead of a suit. His fingers were greasy from the homemade French fries that he was munching. A half-eaten corned-beef sandwich was on the plate, as were two pickles. Decker sat opposite him, squeezing his body into nonexistent space. A wash of warmth swept through him and he began to sweat. He loosened his tie and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt.
Novack continued to stare, even after he sat down. “You’re sweatin’. You feeling okay?”
“I think my blood sugar’s low.” He eyed Novack’s remaining half sandwich. “This isn’t a kosher place, is it?”
“Kosher style. That don’t count, I know. They got some vegetarian stuff. I think the mushroom barley soup is vegetarian.”
“That’ll do.”
“Coffee?”
“Great.”
Novack hailed a waitress-a geriatric, bony woman whose name was Alma. Five minutes later, a steaming bowl of thick soup was placed in front of his nose. Even with his swollen membranes, the mixture smelled good. It tasted even better. Served with fresh rye bread surrounded by a thick seed crust, Decker was in heaven, though he had to eat slowly.
Novack had finished his sandwich and decided to top off his meal by ordering a cup of coffee and a healthy wedge of apple pie. “What the hell happened to your face?”
Decker gave him the standard line about being punched. Novack looked dubious. “You report this guy?”
“He ran off. I could have chased after him, but my head was spinning.”
“It looks like it hurts.”
“It does, but not that bad. My wife hasn’t seen it yet.”
Novack scratched his cheek. “She ain’t gonna be pleased. Matter of fact, if I was her, I’d be thinking that maybe you weren’t being too truthful. That someone attacked you and you’re trying to protect her-or maybe trying to hide something from her. Or maybe hiding something from everybody, including me?”
An admonishing look.
Decker was casual. “If someone was out to get me, Novack, I would have had a bullet in my head.”
Novack thought about that. It was probably true. “We gotta be honest with each other, Pete.”
“Absolutely,” Decker lied.
“Yeah, absolutely.” Novack’s expression was cynical, but he didn’t persist. “So you just come from the Fort Lee Police?”
“From the Bergen County Morgue actually.” Decker chewed the bread slowly, then swallowed. “Do they know what they’re doing?”
“Yeah, Bergen gets its share of bodies from us cause it’s right over the bridge. I’m not saying the park’s a dumping ground-they got the area under constant patrol cause it’s a popular spot-but it’s a big place, and this ain’t the first time a corpse has shown up.”
“Is there interdepartmental cooperation?”
“In the ideal, yeah. Practicality-wise, it depends on who’s leading the investigation.”
“A guy named Martin Fiorelli.”
“I heard the name, but I’ve never worked with him. I haven’t worked all that much with Jersey Police, but I know a couple of people who have. Now I’m not saying this to sound like sour grapes or nothin’ like that. Just that some of those smaller departments have this complex about NYPD comin’ in and takin’ over. And maybe it’s justified, cause we got some pushy people. But that’s still no excuse for not sharing information. Cause it’ll be of real interest to me to see if Ballistics turns up a match, being as it looks like the same M.O.”
Decker said, “The single shot to the head was visible on the ID, but they also got her in the chest.”
“Really. You saw that?”
“No, I skimmed the M.E.’s report at the scene. I wish I had more time to study it, but I was too busy taking care of my brother.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not too well.” Decker finished the last spoonful of soup. He felt better. “No one’s doing too well.”
“I can imagine. Losin’ a fifteen-year-old period, but especially like that.” Novack shook his head. “I don’t know how long the body’s been sitting there. I’m wondering if maybe she was popped right at the beginning, at the same time Ephraim was taken in.”
“I believe the report said time of death was somewhere between two hours to four hours before they found her.”
“She was fresh, then?”
“Yes.”
“What a shame. No rigor-”
“Not even close,” Decker said. “No discernible lividity.”
Most of the shock had leached from Decker’s system; guilt had taken its place. Why the hell had he trusted that scumbag motherfucker! Maybe he could get the guy arrested? But on what grounds?
“… natural that the girl had witnessed something, maybe escaped. Then she was tracked down and murdered.”
Focus, Decker! “Or maybe she was in on it in the beginning.”
“She set up her uncle?” Novack’s face said he wasn’t buying.
“Or maybe she was the target,” Decker tried out. “The uncle was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“He was the drug addict,” Novack said.
“He’d been sober for more than two years.” Decker finished his coffee, signaled the waitress for another cup. “The thing is we don’t know.”
“We don’t know?” Novack gave him a calculated stare. “So now you’re an honorary member of the two-eight Homicide division? I thought you was leaving. Matter of fact, I thought you already said good-bye.”