“Yada, yada, yada,” Novack said. “How’d it go?”

“How’d what go?”

“With C.D.?”

“Oh yeah, that. Nothing.”

“He wasn’t in.”

“No, I saw him. He even offered me coffee. I drank it and am still alive to tell the tale. So I guess it wasn’t laced with strychnine.”

“What’d you think of his place?”

“We talked in the reception area.” The truth, but not the whole truth. “He has a metal detector right when you come in.”

“Probably has a lot more than that.”

“I’m sure he packs, but I didn’t see it,” Decker said. “Have you ever been inside the place?”

“Nope. Never had the occasion. You ask him about the murder?”

“Yeah.” Decker waited an appropriate amount of time. “He didn’t say anything, of course. I thought maybe I could read his face, but he’s pretty stony.”

“It’s his specialty.”

“I gave him my card. If I suddenly get whacked, you’ll know who to interrogate.”

“That ain’t funny, Decker.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Mick. I don’t think C.D. will follow me to L.A. And if he does, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re sounding blasé about rather serious matters.”

“That’s jet lag talking. There is a purpose to this call. My relatives want to know when Ephraim’s body will be released for burial. No pressure: I just told them I’d make the call.”

“I think I heard something about releasing the body tomorrow. I’ll get back to them.”

“Appreciate it. Anything new?”

“Wish I could tell you different, Pete, but no. Nothing’s new. By the way, I put out a couple of feelers into whatshisface… Marino… the police chief in Quinton.”

“Virgil Merrin. Good idea. Anything?”

“Nothing so far, but I’m sure you expected that.”

“Why should anything be easy?” Decker told him.

“Hey, we’ll solve it,” Novack insisted. “But it ain’t gonna be a slam dunk. You want that, talk to Shaq. Look, if I don’t see you again, it was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Decker answered. “Thanks for everything, Novack. Maybe one day I can reciprocate. You have my number. If you’re ever in L.A., give me a call.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant, but I think I’ll pass. You all are too tan and thin for my taste. And way too passive.”

“We call it ‘easygoing.’”

“That’s a buzzword for apathy. One thing New Yorkers aren’t, and that’s apathetic. Not your fault, Decker. It’s all the sunshine out West. It cooks the brain.”

15

She was behind schedule. Rina knew she shouldn’t have attempted shopping this late in the day, but the prices in Brooklyn were so much cheaper than in L.A., and if you knew where to look, you could find true one-of-a-kind things. Not that she was shopping for herself. Her bags were filled with dresses, coats, hats, shoes, and play outfits for Hannah—half the price of the department stores and some of the ensembles were imported from Europe. Hannah was such a pretty girl, and Rina loved to dress her up. Having a daughter, after two boys, was a new experience, and she savored every minute of it. She adored seeing Hannah preen in front of the mirror on Shabbat morning. Rina knew that showering her with too much attention for superficialities wasn’t a good thing, but what good are kids if you can’t spoil them every now and then! Children were not toys—her teenagers had proved that with a sledgehammer—but sometimes it was fun to pretend.