“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

C.D. don’t talk.

It didn’t matter. Decker had done the favor, and they both knew what that meant. The actual words were superfluous.

14

One good thing that came out of the discussion with Donatti: Decker had never even considered his brother as a source of information. Randy had been in Vice and on the East Coast for a very long time. If there had been rumors circulating about the Liebers laundering drug money, it was possible that Randy would have heard about it.

Decker called his brother on the cell. Randy picked up after the third ring. “Decker.”

“It’s Decker,” Decker answered.

“Peter, my man! When are you coming down? Dad just bought himself a set of new tools and a cooler of beer. He’s got definite ideas, bro.”

“What kind of ideas? The toolshed.”

“The toolshed, sure. But the patio’s all but gone. Crumbling stone, man. He’s got this vision of a deck and a hot tub—”

Decker broke into laughter. “Oh-man-oh-man!”

Randy was laughing, too. “The two of them in the tub… is that an image or what?”

“More power to them,” Decker said. “And Ma’s agreeing to that?”

“As long as she gets her new plumbing in the bathroom, she’s a happy camper.”

“It’s a three-day stopover, Randy.”

“I’m bringing over four guys. You’re the foreman, bro. What we’ve got is an old-fashioned barn raising with a twist.”

“Swell.”

They both laughed, they both let it die down. Then Decker grew serious. “I need to speak with you over a private line.”

“Are you talking from a land phone?”

“No, I’m on my cell. But I can find one.”

“Do that. Then call me back at this number. It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get to the location.” Decker jotted down the number Randy gave him.“It’ll take me about thirty minutes,” he said.

“Then you’d better get started.”

Once Decker got a cab, the rest was easy. Luck was with him because Raisie was home. Jonathan’s wife was petite with elfin features. She had Kewpie-doll lips, a pinched nose, and round electric eyes. Bright red hair was clipped close to her face with feathered bangs falling over her forehead. A loose colorful caftan hung on her body. She put her finger to her lips. “I just got the children down for a nap.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

The Levines lived in a tiny apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. The location came with two small bedrooms, two munchkin-size bathrooms, a closet for a kitchen, and cramped space that barely held a couple of couches and a dining room table. For the luxury of living in a thousand square feet, they paid something like four thousand a month rent. It boggled the mind, and Decker wondered why anyone would put up with such usury, especially after the terrorist attacks. But New Yorkers were a fanciful lot, constantly convincing themselves that less was more.

She let him inside but didn’t look happy to see him. “Jonathan’s at the shul.”