Day of Atonement (16 page)

Eli seemed paralyzed. Shai pushed him forward to a unit on the first floor. Eli took out the key and opened the door.

The living room was spotless, the sofa and matching love seat done in white velvet upholstery. The dining room was to the right. Decker suggested they talk around the table.

When everyone was seated, he said, “You know this man named Hersh, boys. So don’t try to tell me you don’t. Okay?”

Eli looked at Shai, Shai looked at Eli. They both nodded.

Decker said, “What’s Hersh’s last name?”

His question was met with silence. Finally Eli said, “I don’t know—”

“Don’t
lie
to me, son,” Decker broke in.

“I swear I don’t know it exactly.” Eli’s face had become flushed. “I think it’s Schwartz or Shartz or Shatz. Something like that.”

Though Decker remained expressionless, he rejoiced inwardly. He said, “Where’d you meet him?”

Eli said, “He just sort of hangs around the school—”

“You’re lying again,” Decker interrupted. He took off his yarmulke and repinned it. “That
really
makes me mad. He isn’t known by the other boys in your class so he doesn’t
hang around the school.” He bored in on Eli. “Now, I’ll ask you again. Where’d you meet Hersh?”

Eli averted his eyes, then buried his face in his hands.

The lightbulb went on in Decker’s head. The kid didn’t have dark eyes—he had green eyes that were dilated. Had it been in any other context, Decker would have spotted a “head” in a minute. But he didn’t expect to find one in this community. Eli had probably sneaked off school grounds to take a quick toke. Or afraid of all the questions, he’d come home to destroy evidence.

Flatly, Decker said, “I know Hersh is your dealer, Eli. Now that we’ve got that over with, you want to tell me where you met him—or meet him? I’m assuming you’re still in contact with your dealer.”

Head still buried, Eli mumbled something. Decker yanked the kid’s elbows off the table, causing his head to fall forward. Decker raised the boy’s face by his chin and said, “You’re lucky. You’re lucky you’re talking to me instead of a narc. You’re lucky you’re talking to me and not your parents. You’re also damn lucky you’re not Noam Levine because who the hell
knows
what happened to him. A kid’s life could depend on you, so cut the hysteria and answer my questions. Where do you meet Hersh?”

Eli looked up, the dilated eyes moist with tears. Shakily, he said, “We meet all sorts of places, mostly on the other side of Empire Boulevard.”

“Know where Hersh lives?”

“No!” Eli cried out. “I swear I—”

Shai broke in, “He once mentioned to me that he was originally from Flatbush—”

“You wouldn’t be conning me, would you, son?” Decker said.

“No sir, I’m not,” Shai said.

Decker regarded Shai. For whatever it was worth, the boy seemed lucid. He said, “So Hersh is named Schwartz or Shatz or something like that. And he’s from Flatbush originally.”

Both of the boys nodded. Kewpie dolls with coiled necks.

“Okay,” Decker said. “Where in Flatbush did he say he was from?”

“He never said,” Shai said.

“Never mentioned any street, any road, any house, any landmark?”

“No, sir,” Shai said. “Not to me.”

“Me, either,” whispered Eli.

“Hersh ever mention any family?”

Both boys shook their heads.

“So,” Decker said, “if he didn’t work out of his house, where’d you guys score from him?”

“He hangs around liquor stores on Empire,” Shai said.

“Which ones?” Decker said.

“All of them,” Shai said. “He hangs out with a group of Italians. I thought he
was
Italian until he told me his real name was Hersh.”

“What name did he use?” Decker said.

“Tony,” Eli whispered.

“Tony?” Decker repeated.

“Yeah, Tony,” Shai said. “He called himself Tony.”

Decker said, “I’m not from around here. What kind of area is Flatbush?”

“Flatbush is mixed,” Shai said. “There’re very religious areas, there’re black areas, there’re Italian areas. That’s why I thought he was Italian. He hung out with the Italians, he looked Italian, he even talked a little Italian. But then there was this one time. He was ticked off at his so-called friends. He showed his true colors. He pulled us aside and said he wasn’t a wop—his words, not mine—and his name was really Hersh. He even spoke to us in a
bissel
Yiddish, remember, Eli?”

There was no response.

Decker looked at Eli. He’d buried his head in his hands again. Decker said, “Go drink a quart of water right now, then make yourself a cup of strong black coffee.”

Eli dutifully got up and went into the kitchen. Decker
shouted, “Bring the water here. I don’t want you out of my sight.”

Shai said, “I don’t take drugs—”

“Save your breath, son. This isn’t confession.”

“I
swear
I don’t. Drugs are dangerous.”

Decker studied the boy. “You’re right about that.”

“But Eli…I’ve known him since we were little kids. I try to look after him. See, he’s under a lot of pressure because his father runs a small Lubavicher shul in North Carolina and lives more there than here. His mother refuses to move ’cause she hates North Carolina. So they’re always fighting about it when he gets home. Now Eli’s mom’s got a full-time job and all the household stuff is falling on Eli’s shoulders ’cause he’s the oldest.”

Eli walked back into the room. He held a pitcher of water—no cup—and his hands were shaking. Decker stood, told the boy to sit. He fetched a glass from the kitchen, poured the water, and made sure the boy drank at least half the pitcher.

A minute later, Eli announced that he had to go to the bathroom. Decker told him that was the idea. After Eli left for a second time, Decker said to Shai, “If you’re his keeper, get him off drugs.”

“I’ve tried and Eli’s tried,” Shai said. “It’s hard. See, when Eli isn’t stoned, he gets real, real nervous and his ulcer starts to act up. One time it acted up so bad, he was in the hospital for a week.” Shai pounded his forehead several times with his fists. “I don’t know what to do. Eli seems to be smoking more and more every month. I’m afraid he’s gonna try something stronger. Then I
really
won’t know what to do.”

Decker said, “He only uses pot?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

Shai paused, then nodded. “That’s what Tony…Hersh sells. Never seen him sell anything stronger and he would if he had it.”

Eli returned. Decker made him finish the rest of the water. Then he pulled out the photograph and said, “You boys ever see this kid with Hersh?”

Both boys looked at the picture, Eli for the second time, Shai for the first. It was Shai who first spoke up.

“I’ve seen him with Ton—Hersh. I was real surprised, because you could tell he was one of us.”

“By one of us,” Decker said, “you mean religious—
frum
?”

Shai nodded.

Decker turned to Eli. “You’ve seen him with Hersh?”

“Once or twice,” Eli said.

Shai said, “I think he called himself Nolan, but it was obvious that that wasn’t his real name.”

“It’s Noam Levine,” Decker said.

Both boys shrugged.

“Did they seem like good friends?” Decker asked.

“This Nolan seemed more like Tony’s servant than like a friend,” Shai said. “Ton—Hersh would show up with these kids—kids our age. He knew a bunch of them. Most of them were like these skinny, wimpy-type kids. But this Nolan or Noam…First off, he was big. Second, you could tell right away that he was raised
frum
. For some reason I think Tony liked Nolan
because
he was
frum
. Also ’cause Nolan was bigger and a bully. He wasn’t a bully to us, Eli’s bigger than him. But you had the feeling, Nolan liked to boss around little kids. Also, he wasn’t put off by Hersh’s knives—”

“Knives?” Decker said.

“Hersh loves knives,” Shai said. “He’s always showing them off. He has lots of them.”

Swell, Decker thought. Noam’s possibly involved with a psycho. Maybe Noam
was
a psycho. He said, “Did Hersh ever threaten you with his knives?”

“Not me,” Eli said. “But once…this was real weird…” He knitted his brow. “He asked me what my father did for a living. I told him he was a rabbi and a mohel—”

“Oh, yeah,” Shai interrupted. “He started asking all these
questions on the kind of knife used for circumcisions. Then he offered to trade Eli…” The boy sighed. “He offered to trade stuff for his father’s
bris milah
knife. He liked the fact that it was sharp on both sides.”

“Did you do it?” Decker asked.

Eli shook his head vehemently. “I don’t steal.”

One point in his favor. Decker said, “So Hersh liked knives. What about Noam?”

“No idea,” Shai said. “I only saw Nolan once or twice.”

“And from what you saw, Noam and Hersh didn’t relate as equals,” Decker said.

“Not at all,” Shai said. “Hersh used to boss Nolan—or Noam—around. ‘Move here, go there, get that, take that.’ Nolan just took it.”

“Did he threaten Noam with the knife when he was ordering him around?”

Shai thought a long time. “I don’t think so. I would have remembered if he did. But I do remember him waving this big long knife around. Just showing it off. It was very scary.”

Decker kept his face impassive and turned to Eli. The boy shrugged, said he didn’t remember if Hersh ever threatened anyone. While Decker had Eli’s attention, he said, “Your friend Shai tells me he’s clean, he’s not a user. You smoke solo.”

Eli nodded.

“Okay,” Decker said. “Then this little speech is for your ears, Eli. Before I leave, you’re going to get me your stash. Then, as far as you and I are concerned, it’s almost Yom Kippur, you get a clean slate. If you want to hang out with losers, that’s up to you. But think about this for just a moment. Life may seem terrible, but prison is
worse
. You’ve got to talk to your parents, Eli. Tell them what’s on your mind.”

“They don’t understand,” Eli said.

“They may understand more than you think.”

“You don’t know my parents.” Eli shook his head vigorously. “You just don’t
know
my parents.”

“How about this?” Decker said. “I’ll get you the name of someone you can talk to.”

Eli’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have a car. So who’s gonna talk to me who lives close? Who’s gonna talk to me for free? Who’s gonna talk to me and not tell my parents? Who can I talk to who will understand the kind of life I have to live?”

Without missing a beat, Decker said, “
I’ll
find someone for you.”

“Who?”
Eli said.

“Hey, that’s my end of the bargain,” Decker said. “Now what you’ve got to do is stay off drugs until I find someone.”

No one spoke for a minute. Finally Eli said, “How long will that take?”

“Three days,” Decker said, picking a number out of the air. “Lay off drugs for three days and I’ll find someone for you to talk to. We’ve got a deal?”

Eli lowered his head. He mumbled, “You gonna tell my parents?”

“You’re off drugs, right?” Decker said, “I really don’t have anything to tell your parents, do I?”

Eli didn’t respond.

Decker said, “Son, if you mess up, eventually your parents will find out. So try and save yourself some heartache. Give me a chance to find someone for you.”

Eli’s eyes overflowed, tears drawing tracks down his smooth cheeks. Slowly he nodded consent.

“Great.” Decker stood, laid a hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Now let’s get you back to school.”

Eli nodded, then said thanks in a cracked voice.

Decker wondered who the hell he was going to find for the boy. No matter. If he had to scour all of New York, he was determined to find someone. He told Eli to fetch him his stash and was surprised when the kid returned with a coffee can full of primo stuff. Made Decker wonder if the kid wasn’t a dealer himself. Or maybe he was just an economy shopper.

Decker took the coffee can, emptied the contents into the toilet and flushed several times. Gonna be lots of mellow rats in Brooklyn for the next few hours. He walked back to the living room and motioned the boys to the door with his thumb. The interview was over.

After he dropped off the teenagers at the yeshiva, he filled Rina in on the details and asked her if she knew any religious shrinks.

“No,” Rina said. “Shrinks aren’t big in this community.”

“I bet,” Decker said. “I’ve got to find someone.”

“Couldn’t you have promised him a trip to Disneyland instead?” Rina said.

Decker gave her a dirty look.

“Some people have no sense of humor.” Rina was quiet for a moment. “I bet Jonathan might know of a good therapist. As a matter of fact, I think Jonathan has some sort of counselor’s license.”

“Wonderful,” Decker said. “I’ll call him as soon as I get back to your in-laws’ house.”

“You know what, Peter?” Rina said. “You try to hide it, but you really are a good guy.”

“Aw shucks.”

She pinched his cheek. “So, what’s next?”

Decker said, “First, I’m going back to the liquor stores on Empire Boulevard. I asked the owners about a guy named Hersh. Now I’m going to go back and ask about a guy named Tony. If I’m extremely lucky, one of the men may even know Tony’s assumed last name. I don’t want to be looking for Hersh Schwartz when he’s going by the name Tony Palumbo.

“Then, we’ll hit Flatbush. See if we can find Tony/Hersh’s apartment. I’m going to check in with the local precinct there. I want to see if Hersh aka Tony has a record—maybe a drug bust. Or maybe he’s been involved in a local incident. You start talking to these guys, they start to remember all sorts of things. That’s how these cases go forward—legwork and mouthwork. Talk and walk. I just hope this Hersh holds
the key to Noam’s disappearance. If not, we’re back to square one.”

He smiled at Rina; she returned his smile. For the first time, he noticed she’d become a little pale.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Decker asked.

Rina shook her head.