“Aha.” Jonathan nodded. “That makes much more sense than the ridiculous excuse you gave me. Go on. What happened after he punched you?”

“He calmed down. We talked. He claimed that he last saw her around six that morning. She was just like she had been that night— clingy. He was hell-bent on revenge, Jon. I managed to convince him to hold off until I did all that I could do. Last thing I wanted was a professional mob cleaner sweeping around, especially if Chaim’s not looking so clean.”

“Akiva, you have no proof!”

“I know I have no proof. But if Chaim’s involved, it’s better that I get to him before Donatti does, agreed?”

Having no comeback, Jonathan maintained silence.

Decker said, “So this is the deal, bro. You poke around Quinton and find out if there are any new and secretive people being hosted in the community. I go to the Quinton Police and try to find out if Shayndie was hanging out with the wrong crowd. Remember, Randy told me that there were some local Quinton boys arrested for ecstasy possession down in Miami. If they bought it down South, they most certainly bought it in their hometown. Maybe I can get the name of the distributor. Also, I might go back to Tattlers, find out if any of the girls were ever asked to be couriers.”

“And they’d admit it to you? Just like that?”

“Well, no, of course not. That’s why it takes a professional lieutenant detective with a genuine gold shield!” He smiled sadly, thinking of a sheltered fifteen-year-old who never stood a chance.

“Stop it, Akiva,” Jonathan chastised. “You’re a good man and I respect you immensely. I hope you feel the same way about me.”

“Of course I do.”

“So let’s both stop the flagellation.”

“Deal.”

Jonathan said, “Am I correct in assuming that you want me to help you?”

“Yes.”

“What you are asking me to do is to go behind my relatives’ backs and play spy for you. Even if it means setting up my wife’s remaining brother.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Jonathan was thoughtful. “I will find out what I can. But I will not serve you Chaim on a silver platter. All right?”

Decker threw up his hands. “Sure.”

Jonathan glanced at him, then focused on his driving. “I agreed more readily than you expected.”

“Yes, you did.”

The van fell quiet.

“How far are we?” Decker asked.

“Half hour away.”

“Not so bad,” Decker said. “Time goes quickly when you’re having fun.”

“Indeed,” Jonathan said. “I hope that I’m a better partner for you than Donatti.”

“I’m sure you will be for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“Chris has his benefits.”

“Such as?”

“If things get tight, the psycho’s familiar with a gun.”

30

Coupling, by its very nature, meant somewhere down the line there would be an uncoupling, and when the inevitable happened, he’d always slip into a deep black funk, knowing that the only person in this entire world who gave a rat’s ass about whether he lived and breathed was gone. He knew it was about money—he wasn’t stupid—but she faked it well enough so that he could delude himself that some fraction of her heart cared even if she didn’t love him.