“The young buck…” Weiczorek smiled. “He thought the old man was bullshitting him and was determined to show him who was boss. He hauled the old man into a cruiser. Next thing he knows he’s got about a hundred rabbis and associated black-suiters laying down in the street. The officer and his car ain’t going nowhere.” Weiczorek laughed. “A week later the guy transferred out of here. Know where they sent him?”

“Where?” Decker asked.

“Williamsburg.” Weiczorek burst into laughter. “He thought these guys were bad, those blackies in Williamsburg don’t take no shit. Mean, rotten tempers. They got this cattle call—chaptzum. It means grab him. Someone calls out chaptzum and every person on the block comes pouring out and pounces on the poor schmuck who made the mistake of mugging the wrong person.”

Weiczorek laughed again.

“About a week ago, the Nine-Oh found three Puerto Ricans beat up pretty bad and stuffed into an empty trash bin. Nobody died and the PRs ain’t talking, so we really don’t know what happened. At first, we thought it was some sort of turf thing with the gangs—who cares about them beatin’ each other up, right?”

Decker nodded.

Weiczorek went on, “Except one of the cops duly noted that the PRs had been shitcanned in the Jewish section of Williamsburg right next to one of their all-boys high schools. Course no one will say nuttin’—you question the rabbis and all of a sudden they only speak Yiddish. Been living in this country for all of their lives, and they only speak Yiddish.”

“Weird,” Decker said.

“Glad to hear you say that,” Weiczorek said. “I think it’s weird, but what do I know? You hear them in their schools, teaching the first-graders ‘Das es ein A. Das es ein B.’” He shook his head. “Wanna know my opinion, I think those Puerto Rican scumbags were up to no good and the Jew boys chaptzummed ’em.”

Weiczorek ruminated on his theory for a moment. “I say more power to them. They want a safe neighborhood, they’re not afraid to fight for it.”

“They take care of their own,” Decker said.

“Exactly,” Weiczorek said. “Gotta take care of your own. That’s the trouble with America today. Everybody’s only looking out for themselves.” He scratched his head again. “Sorry we couldn’t give you good news. I’ve got the family’s number; I’ll personally keep my eyes open. Maybe something’ll turn up. Usually, the kid comes home after a few days. Course, that doesn’t make the waiting any easier.”

Decker felt sick. The prospect of facing the family was wearing him down like sand in a motor. And he knew that there was going to be a big scene at the suggestion of putting some new blood on the case.

Stubborn as a constipated mule.

Not the type of people to let go easily.