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Back Day of Atonement Save as PDF
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Prologue
  4. PART ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. PART TWO
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. PART THREE
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. About the Author
  38. PraiseFAYE KELLERMANDAY OF ATONEMENT
  39. Also by Faye Kellerman
  40. Copyright
  41. About the Publisher

He inquired about tickets issued yesterday to Florida or California, reservations made under the name of Hersh Schaltz, Tony Sacaretti, Heinrich Stremmer, Hank Stewart, or any male with the initials HS. With the exception of the Italian name, Hersh was choosing aliases close to home.

There was nothing on any United Flight or on American Airlines or TWA. But Continental had booked a reservation for a Hank and Nolan Stewart on Flight 710. It had left yesterday at 10:30, had arrived in Los Angeles at 2:00 P.M. PDT.

Were Mr. Hank Stewart and Mr. Nolan Stewart on the plane?

I don’t know, sir, but the tickets were cashed.

One friggin day off.

“What are you going to do?” Rina asked.

Decker said, “Looks like I’m going to hop a plane back home.”

“Now’s your chance to back out,” Rina said. “They aren’t in the religious Jewish community any longer.”

“But now I’ve lost my convenient excuse—a New York PI knows his way around better than me.” Decker shook his head. “Unfortunately, the suckers had the audacity to invade my turf. So for better or worse, I’m going to get them.”

PART TWO

Tzedakah—Charity

18

Hank thought:

Flyin’ out three thousand miles to trade one pigsty for another. Dafuck’s goin’ on, already? The room smelled like a sewer, the sheets felt like sandpaper and if that wasn’t bad enough, it was raining.

Rain. He coulda stayed back home for that shit. Only reason it was California instead of Florida was that the kid wanted to see Movie Stars. If it was up to him, he woulda chose Florida ’cause it was a lot closer and the fare was cheaper. Both had the ocean and both had Disneyland. Or Disney World. Whatever the hell they called it, was the same thing. Stupid rides and midgets who don’t talk dressed up like Mickey Mouse or Clarabelle Cow.

But noooooo! Nick-O had to see stars on Hollywood Boulevard.

Fine. Make the kid happy and go to California, all the same to him.

He burped. Sprawled out on the bed, he had stripped down to a sleeveless undershirt and a pair of jockeys. He’d sent Nick-O out to do the laundry two hours ago and now wondered if that was a mistake.