“Yes. Can you tell me something about Gershon Klein’s murder? Something that might help me figure out what happened to the wife and kids?”

“All I got so far was a prelim on the coroner’s report. Klein was shot, but that wasn’t the cause of death.”

“What was?”

“Drowning.”

21

Lying in bed, Rina had the book in front of her, but had read the same page for the last fifteen minutes. Peter was still on the phone, saying a lot of uh-huhs, and taking a lot of notes. She was dying to look over his shoulder, but didn’t. Finally, he ended the conversation with a “thanks a heap, I’ll call you tomorrow,” then hung up the receiver. He plopped down on the bed. Rina put down her book and waited.

Peter stared at the ceiling, then at her. “How about a two-minute recap?”

“That should tide me over, thanks.”

“The official cause of death was drowning. So why was Gershon Klein shot in the head?”

“A coverup.”

“You’re good,” Decker said. “Dintz, the detective assigned to the case, is working on the assumption that the shooting was done afterward—to throw the police off track.”

“The ploy obviously didn’t work.”

“Autopsies don’t lie, and all homicide victims are autopsied. Death by drowning is a very easy thing to spot.”

“I’m confused,” Rina said. “Are you saying that Gershon was drowned on purpose? Then someone shot him to make it look like a normal murder?” She frowned. “Normal murder. Now there’s a contradiction in terms.”

“It looks that way.” Decker rubbed his eyes. “Seems to me, we’re working with amateurs instead of professional hit men.”

“What kind of amateurs?”

“Could be anyone—disgruntled friends…family…wife that’s pissed because her husband won’t make love to her anymore.”

“You mean Honey?” Rina shook her head. “I don’t believe it! I refuse to believe that. Beside, Honey’s what?…five four. Gershon was a lot bigger than that.”

Good point, Decker thought. Man, he was tired. His brain waves were close to flatlining. “I need some sleep.”

Rina leaned over and kissed him. “You’re going to keep working on the case, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Decker said. “I don’t care what her Rebbe says. Something’s rotten in the state of New York.”

“He seemed genuinely concerned about Honey’s safety, leery about the family’s whereabouts. He seemed to feel you could be endangering them.”

“And just what is he basing his thoughts on, Rina?”

She shrugged.

“You know what I think?”

“He’s holding back.”

“Bingo, you win the Thanksgiving turkey. Either he knows something bad or he’s protecting somebody.”

“Honey?”

“Maybe Honey. Maybe someone in the community. Maybe even himself.”

Rina stared at her husband incredulously. “Are you actually saying that the Rebbe had something to do with Gershon’s murder?”