give it to the watch commanders at Central. Maybe the cruisers can beef up their passes. But that won’t stop the crime, of course.”
“Just like that?”
“I’m a great guy.”
“Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Decker said. “Perry, you can’t think of any reason why Lilah stopped seeing Greta?”
“No … except …”
“What?”
“In the beginning, Lilah and I didn’t have much to do with Davida. But as we began to fall apart, she got closer to her mother. Also, around that time, Lilah stopped doing all her charity work. She reverted back to type, started spending lots of money. She bought the spa shortly after we divorced. I don’t know. I’ve always felt Lilah was using Greta as a mother figure. When she started up with Davida again, it was like she didn’t need Greta anymore.”
Goldin furrowed his brow in concentration.
“I felt bad for Greta. I even visited her on my own once or twice. She wasn’t the least bit upset by Lilah’s behavior. Took it all philosophically—as if she expected it.”
“Did she have any clues as to why Lilah stopped coming?”
Goldin shook his head. “I don’t remember her saying anything specific. Just something about she knew it wouldn’t last … ‘it’ being their relationship. Like I said, she was philosophical about Lilah’s rejection. I wish I’d reacted that way. Saved me a lot of self-flagellation.”
“Nah, that never gets you anywhere.” Decker flipped the cover of his notebook and stuffed it in his jacket. “You’ve helped me out. I’ll call if I have any more questions.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
“Sure, call me anytime. This was kind of fun in a way—macho therapy. You missed your calling as a shrink.”
Decker wondered how much money shrinks made. He said, “I’ll give you my number in case you think of anything significant to add.” He pulled out his business card and a picture of Rina fell out of his wallet. Goldin picked it up.
“Your daughter?”
“My wife.”
Goldin moaned. “Ye olde foot back in ye olde mouth.”
“She’s young, Perry.” Decker took the picture back. “Not as young as she looks, but young.”
“Can I see that again?”
Decker paused, then handed him the snapshot.
Goldin said, “Is she this pretty in the flesh—I mean, in real life?”
Decker said, “You’re asking me?”
“I’m not trying to be cute,” Goldin said. “I’m asking you the question in earnest, Detective.”
The guy had something on his mind. Decker said, “In earnest, she’s better. She’s six months pregnant and she still gets wolf whistles every time she walks down the street.”
“She’s pregnant?” Goldin asked.
Decker said, “It can happen.”
“No, I don’t mean it like that.” He handed the photo back to Decker. “Don’t let Lilah see her or your life’ll be hell.”
Decker said, “Go on.”
“Lilah’s competitive spirit isn’t confined to Davida. She loves married men. I should know. I must have fielded dozens of calls from distraught wives. If she finds out you have a beautiful—and pregnant—wife, you’ll never get rid of her.” Goldin bit his lip. “Lilah can’t resist a challenge.”
Decker placed his hand on Goldin’s shoulder. After all this time, the guy still sounded bruised and Decker knew that feeling. “She likes making mincemeat out of men?”
“Detective, it’s what she does best.”
19
A full moon: the perfect topper to a freaky day. Decker stared out the window, half expecting to see werewolves or vampire bats. But instead, he played witness to a silvery disc drifting through diaphanous clouds, to silhouetted birch branches swaying in the summer wind. Transfixed by the spectacle, he hadn’t even realized the rabbi had come in until he felt a gentle pat on his shoulder.
Rav Schulman was well into his seventies, and for the first time, Decker noticed a slight stooping of the old man’s shoulders. The hunching had cut a couple of inches from the rav’s height, putting him at around five-ten. Most of his face was covered by a beard that was more white than gray and what skin did show was creased and mottled with liver spots. But his coffee-colored eyes were as radiant as ever. As usual, he was dressed in a starched white shirt, a black suit that hung a little too loosely on his frame, a black silk tie, and an ebony homburg. The old man leaned against the windowsill, eyes focused on nature’s snapshot.
“Beautiful, nu?”
“Yes, it is,” Decker answered.
“Peaceful.” Rabbi Schulman faced Decker. “So unlike your day from what I hear.”
Decker exhaled slowly. “I must have been more affected than I realized for Rina to call you. And here I was thinking I was maintaining perfectly …”
The rabbi smiled. “Are you all right, Akiva?”
“Physically?”
“Physically … emotionally.”
“I’m fine.”
The old man absorbed his student’s words, weighing their veracity for just a moment. Then he pointed to a chair, offering Decker a seat. Schulman eased into a leather chair, and rested his elbows on his sprawling desktop. Clasping his hands, he touched his lips to his fingers and waited.
Haltingly, Decker related the details of the morning’s ordeal. As he spoke, he began to feel lighter of weight, his emotions releasing in slow steady leaks rather than sudden bursts. He was sheepish about using the rabbi as a spiritual springboard. But the old man seemed used to it.
Afterward, Schulman said, “It was a fluke, this horse going crazy?”
“No, Rabbi, the horse was drugged.”
The old man pondered the statement. “Someone tried to kill this lady using a horse?”
“Maybe just frighten her. But who knows?”
“Terrible,” Schulman said. “Truly terrible.”
“If that’s what happened, yes, it is.”
