“Maybe that’s it. I’m sure I make her very uncomfortable—”

“Not really. She knows her secret is safe with all of us.”

“Psychologically then.” Decker laughed. “I like your mother. I really do. But my own mother is still alive. It’s unfair to expect a man to have more than one mother at any given time.”

“Not to mention a couple of mothers-in-law,” Rina added. “My mother and Mrs. Lazarus.”

Decker frowned. “Yeah, that too. Two mothers, two mothers-inlaw, two daughters, and a wife. I’m surrounded by all these estrogen-filled beings. Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

“I would,” Rina answered. “Except right now I’m cranky because of PMS.”

Her face was deadpan. Decker couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. But he didn’t question her. Never rouse a sleeping lion.

3

The sign said $16.83 an hour to park the car: Decker wasn’t sure if he’d read it right, but then Rina said something about space in the city being at a premium. Space or no space, the rates were usurious. Since a typical leisurely paced business meeting could last two to three hours, Decker now knew why New Yorkers talked so fast.

Hershfield had the requisite Fifth Avenue address, and Jonathan miraculously found parking on a side street because it was still early. As soon as Rina unbelted Hannah, the girl woke up as cranky as a coot. Decker held her as they walked, the monolithic buildings blocking out what little light the sky had to offer. Rubbish cans and Dumpsters lined the sidewalk. With any luck, there wouldn’t be a garbage truck blocking the van when they had to leave. Hannah whined as they walked into the granite lobby of the skyscraper and checked in with the security desk, manned by six gray-jacketed sentries. She complained she had to go to the bathroom.

“No public rest rooms,” the guard announced.

“What do you mean there’s no public rest room?” Decker countered. “This is a sixty-story building.”

“Security precaution. It’s key only. Mr. Hershfield’s office is on the forty-third floor. You can take the express elevator up.”

Rina grabbed Peter’s arm and brought him over to a bank of elevators. “Don’t start.”

“Guy’s an idiot. Do we look like terrorists—”

“Shhh. He’ll hear you.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I have to go to the bathroom—”

“In a minute, pumpkin,” Decker growled.

Moments later, as they were whisked up to the forty-third floor, Hannah moaned that her ears hurt. By the time they reached the first secretary, Hannah was saying that her bladder was about to burst.

“Can we use the bathroom?” Rina asked.

“Three floors down,” the secretary answered. “Take the internal elevator and go to the right. Ask for Britta.”

“But there’s one right over there,” Decker pointed out.

“Employees only. Fortieth floor, sir. That’s where Mr. Hershfield’s offices are anyway.”

“I finally found a place more bureaucratic than the LAPD.”

“Come on, Peter.” Rina tugged at his jacket. “Getting her angry won’t help.”

“Listen to your wife.” Then she turned her back to them.