“I know I don’t. My business is private for my clients’ protection. You need to know anything, get papers from a judge. Then I have no choice. But if you want, I take lie test for you. That doesn’t hurt my business.”

“Maybe we’ll set a lie-detector test up,” Decker said. “I understand you were close to Arik’s younger son, Dov.”

Gold rubbed his face. “You have not found the boys.”

“Not so far,” Marge said.

Decker stood up and sat next to Gold. The Israeli’s frame, muscular and compact just a few days ago, now seemed flaccid and droopy. “Any idea where they might be, Mr. Gold?”

“Why would I know?”

Marge said, “They never called you for help?”

Gold whispered, “No, they never call me.”

Decker said, “I understand Dov and his father had been fighting a lot.”

Gold stared at him. “You think they hurt their parents? You are wrong. Goyishe mishugas.”

Gentile craziness, Decker translated in his head. He didn’t bother to inform Gold that there had been a West LA case years ago where two sons had been charged with murdering their parents as they came home from Yom Kippur services.

“Sure, they fight with Arik,” Gold said. “But they don’t kill him. They certainly don’t hurt their mother. They would never, ever hurt their mother. No, that is not why they are missing. They are missing because they are scared.”

“Who scared them?” Marge said.

“If I know that answer, I would tell it to you first thing.” Gold tried to sip from his empty glass. “I don’t know who scared them. If I know, I kill him. End of problem.”

Decker and Marge exchanged glances. Decker said, “Arik did a lot of traveling, didn’t he?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m not just talking about Antwerp and Israel, Mr. Gold. I’m talking about Russia, Zambia, South Africa, Angola, Mozambique—”

“That’s long-ago travel,” Gold grunted.

“According to his passport it was recent,” Marge said.

Gold sat up, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “You say Arik went to Africa recent?”

“According to Arik’s passport, he went to Angola as recently as a month ago—”

“You have Arik’s passport?”

Marge nodded.

Gold didn’t speak for a moment. Something in his eyes went dead. “Where else do you say he goes?”

“Russia, Zambia, South Africa, Mozambique. Other places that I don’t remember.”

The room fell quiet. Gold reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit up his smoke with a steady hand. Arik’s travelogue had seemed to sober him up. He said, “I don’t know why Arik would go to Africa.”

“You must have been there lots of times yourself.” Decker pointed to the wall. “You have some beautiful primitive pieces.”