Day of Atonement (23 page)

Noam pushed the gun deep into a soft gut. Pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

Pulled harder and still nothing.

The arm choking harder, his head becoming light. Blood choking him.

Was he shot in the mouth?

God, he was going to die!

Coughing. Coughing. Coughing.

Going to die!

Say your last prayers.

Say kaddish!

Gasping for air. Coughing blood.

His body floating away.

Gasp.

Choke.

Floating away. Say kaddish quick. But the words…

And then the arm releasing him.

The body slumping down on the ground.

Hersh on top of the body, his hand plunging into the man’s chest.

Something shiny in his hand.

Hersh screaming something.

But Noam could barely make out the words as he spit out blood.

Then he understood.

GODDAMN IT! CHECK HIS COAT POCKET!

Noam reached inside the man’s suit.

Wet and warm.

The man was wet and warm.

On his chest shreds of fabric. A wet hole. A few bits of something that felt like chopped meat.

The man not moving.

HURRY, GODDAMN IT!

Noam searched the inside coat pocket. Pulled out a wallet and showed it to Hersh.

Hersh grabbed the wallet, then Noam’s hand, and ran. One block, two, three, four.

Noam sucking for air, spitting out blood. Deep pain in his chest.

Then Hersh yelling at him to slow down.

They stopped a block later.

Quickly Hersh took off his coat and used it to wipe the knife. He threw it into a Dumpster and tucked the knife into his boot, peeled off Noam’s ski mask and stuffed it in his pocket.

Hersh whispered, “Give me the wallet.”

Noam did as told.

“You still got the gun?”

Noam nodded.

“At least you had the fuckin’ sense not to drop the gun.”
Hersh rummaged through the wallet, fished out a thick fold of bills, fanned them out like playing cards.

“Man, we hit the mother lode.” Hersh scanned the ID. “Fucker used a fake name with me. His driver’s license says he’s Thomas Stoner and he told me his name was Todd.” He laughed and threw the wallet in the garbage. He eyed Noam. “You look like shit.”

Noam started to speak, but held back because he felt his stomach contents begin to erupt.

“Dafuck he do?” Hersh said. “Knock out your tooth?” He spit on Noam’s face and began to groom him like a monkey. “We gotta get outta here, but we gotta clean you up first.” He spit into his hand again. “Not too bad. Let’s go. And relax. He ain’t gonna be yellin’ for help.”

Slowly, they walked back to their hotel room. The man at the desk barely noticed them when he handed Hersh the key.

Once inside, Hersh bolted the door. Then he plopped down on the bed. Noam sat on the edge.

Hersh said, “You know if you woulda loaded the fuckin’ gun, we coulda done it much cleaner. I mean the gun was a total waste. And you bein’ there was a total waste. I spent more energy tryin’ to keep you safe than I did takin’ him out. Only thing you were good for was the element of surprise.” Hersh paused a moment. “It coulda been worse.”

Noam tried to stop shaking. “Is he…”

Hersh threw him a disgusted look. “Was he movin’?”

Noam shook his head.

“Then use your imagination, pal.”

“Oh, God,” Noam moaned. A deep moan from inside his soul. He ran to the bathroom. Bolted up his dinner in deep waves of grief.

Such an
aveyrah
, such a horrible sin. A sin against man, a sin against God. He was the lowest of the low.
Please God, be merciful and let me die
.

After vomiting, he washed his face. His head was hurting so bad, he thought someone must have shot it. His mouth
was fuzzy, his lip split, swollen to twice its size. A piece of front tooth chipped off, scraping his tongue.

That man. Warm and wet.

The hole in his chest, oozing with warm blood.

Oh, God, let me die!

“Whatcha doin’ in there?” Hersh shouted. “Get in here, we gotta talk.”

“A minute,” Noam managed to say. Again he washed his face. In a moment of self-loathing, a moment of fury, he balled up his hand and punched the mirror. The glass shattered, cutting his hand and wrist. Noam didn’t care.

A pounding at the door. Hersh saying, “Dafuck you doin’, Nick-O?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Noam heard himself say. Still shaking, he washed his hand and wrist. Then he saw it, a glittering piece of glass. Sharp…so sharp. He picked it up. Made a practice cut across his wrist. The line instantly bled.

But suicide was another
aveyrah
, another sin.

Two sins. Sin leads to sin.
Aveyrah gemat aveyrah
.

Easier to get killed than to kill yourself.

Hersh would make him do it again. He knew it.

Let the
aveyrah
be on someone else. He bandaged his hand with the towel.

That was the only way.

He felt calmer, hitting upon a solution that would be good for everyone.

Him dead—no longer a burden to anyone.

But first he must make confession—
vidduy
—especially before Yom Kippur. To whom? To anyone who’d listen. Had to be tonight. Tomorrow might be too late.

Had to be tonight.

When he came out, Hersh was examining his knife.

“Musta broke the tip off inside the fucker. God, that makes me pissed.” He stuck the knife inside a leather sheath and looked up at Noam.

“What happened to your hand?”

“I smashed the mirror in the medicine cabinet.” Noam waited for Hersh to get mad. He didn’t care anymore.

“Why’d ya do that?”

“’Cause I felt like it,” Noam said.

Hersh smiled. That horrible lopsided smile.

“Pretty tough, kid. The hand, the face…looks like you just went ten rounds with someone heavy. The shit puts a little man into you.”

“You killed him,” Noam whispered.

Hersh said, “You think I’m a monster for doin’ that?” He stood up and poked a finger in Noam’s chest. “Let me tell you something, Nick-O. I heard you clickin’ the Beretta. When you pulled the trigger, were you thinkin’ if the gun was loaded or not?”

He poked him again.

“Huh? Were you?”

Noam shook his head no. No, he wasn’t thinking about that. More
aveyrahs
. To get himself killed was the only solution. “No,” he said. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Hey, you think it’s bad you pulled the trigger, I think it’s
good
. That’s why I helped you. I could see that you’re a mover and shaker. I mean, you fucked up this time. But that was your first time at bat and hell, I can give you a little grace period. Next time we go with a loaded gun.”

Next time, Noam thought. Confession tonight. Because next time would be the last time.

Hersh was staring at him. Trying to read him.

“I mean if there ever is a next time,” Hersh said. “We got a pretty good haul. And like I said, the dickhead’s money should be comin’ my way soon.”

But all Noam heard was “next time.” Next time, the last time.

“You’d better start packin’,” Hersh said. “We gotta split.”

“Where are we going?”

Hersh gave him a pat on the back. “Not to worry, Nick-O.” He winked. “I got it all worked out.”

The jarring ring
of the telephone jolted Decker awake. Hand flailing out to pick up the receiver, he answered the call “Decker” from force of habit.

“Akiva?”

Akiva?
Decker thought. Static on the line. The voice feminine and nervous. Someone from New York. The boys? Dear God, don’t do this to me.

“Yes, this is he. Who am I talking to?”

“Who is it?” Rina asked.

Rina. He’d forgotten about her. Reminded himself to speak more softly.

The voice said, “This is Miriam Berkowitz. Noam’s aunt?”

“Is everything okay?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“What is it, Peter?” Rina asked.

He waved her quiet. “Are you calling about Noam?”

“Yes, I—”

“Wait,” Decker interrupted. “Then my boys are okay?”

Rina gasped. “
What?
”

“Your boys?” A momentary pause. “Oh, you mean Rina’s…They’re fine. Oh, my goodness, I must have frightened you. I’m so sorry.”

“No problem,” Decker said. “Give me a second to talk to Rina.” He covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Miriam Berkowitz. Noam’s aunt. It’s about Noam. The boys are fine.”

“
Boruch Hashem
,” Rina whispered. She covered her mouth and exhaled, tried to slow her breathing. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just collapse.”

Decker grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and came back on the line. “What’s going on?”

“I heard from Noam,” Miriam said. “He was hysterical. Crying…sobbing. He was talking about something bad that he did. A terrible, terrible
aveyrah
. Something he did to a man he met in a bar. He was talking so fast, I don’t think I got it all down. I didn’t know who to call—”

“You did the right thing by calling me,” Decker said. “Slow down a moment, Miriam.”

“I’m sorry.”

A male voice in the background said, “Did you tell him about the gun?”

Miriam said, “Not yet.”

Decker said, “Wait. Slow down, Miriam, and listen carefully. I’m going to take you over the conversation step by step. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Decker said. “You did the right thing. First, when did he call?”

“I just hung up with him.”

“Okay,” Decker said. “Did he say where he was?”

“I asked him,” Miriam said. “First thing I said is ‘Noam, where are you?’ But he didn’t answer. All he did is talk. More like rambling. He didn’t make much sense. He was talking so fast, I could barely get a word in edgewise.”

“Like he was talking on the run?” Decker asked.

“Exactly.”

Sneaking away from Hersh to make a telephone call. The two of them must still be together. Damn, damn, damn. He should have had answering machines hooked up to all the
relatives’ phones. Most have recording devices. Press a button, the entire conversation would have been taped. A stupid slipup on his part.

Miriam said, “I guess I should have pressed him on his exact location. But you told us he had checked into a motel in Los Angeles, so I guess I assumed that’s where he was. I was so shocked and he was talking so fast. It was five in the morning—
My goodness!
It must be two-thirty for you.”

Two-thirty-six to be exact. Decker said, “At least we finally have proof that Noam’s still alive. That’s really good. Now sit back and relax, Miriam. I’m going to ask you a lot of questions. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“First thing,” Decker said. “The phone rings, you pick it up.”

“Yes.”

“What’s the first thing Noam said?”

“Uh, something like ‘Tante Miriam, it’s me and I’m in terrible trouble.’”

“He didn’t identify himself?”

“Uh, no,” Miriam said. “No, he didn’t. But I recognized his voice. He used to come over here a lot. He likes my cooking.”

“He must also trust you to call you,” Decker said. “Okay, Noam says he’s in trouble and what do you say?”

“I asked him where he was.”

“And he didn’t answer.”

“No.”

“Then what did he say?”

“He said he was in big, big trouble. Worse trouble than I could imagine. He did something terrible—a big
aveyrah
, one that even Yom Kippur couldn’t take care of. I asked him what the
aveyrah
was and he said that he did something terrible to…to some queer man he met—”

“Hold it,” Decker said. “Noam said the words ‘queer man’?”

“Uh, I believe so.”

“Or did he just use the word ‘queer’?” Decker said.

Miriam was hesitant. “Maybe he just said ‘queer.’”

“As in homosexual?” Decker said.

“Maybe that was the meaning,” Miriam said.

Decker said, “What were Noam’s exact words, Miriam?”

“Uh, ‘I did a terrible
aveyrah
to a queer I met in a bar.’”

“In a
bar
?”

“Yes,” Miriam said. “In a bar. I thought that was very odd, too. I asked him
what
did he do, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Did Noam say, ‘I can’t tell you,’ or did he just ignore the question?”

“He just ignored the question. All he said was that he did something terrible to this queer man he picked up in a bar downtown—”

“
Downtown?
” Decker asked. “Noam used the word ‘downtown’?”

“Yes,” Miriam said. “Yes, he did. He said he picked up a queer man in a bar downtown. Does that help you?”

“I don’t know,” Decker said.

Downtown Los Angeles was not a place to find gay bars. Downtown San Francisco was. Maybe the two of them hopped a plane north. Or it could be Noam was in West Hollywood—the primary bastion of the L.A. gay community. It had some tall buildings. Maybe it looked like downtown to Noam.

Miriam said, “He kept saying he did a terrible thing. My mind was racing so fast. What would Noam be doing with a…homosexual and how did he get into a bar? Then, he said he had this gun, but he didn’t use it. But he still did a terrible
aveyrah
. Again, I asked him what did he do? But he didn’t answer me.”

“He said he had a gun?”

“Yes,” Miriam said. “Then he said he really didn’t use it. I don’t know what he meant. I don’t know if he tried to rob this poor man or…or force him to do something…or…”

Or even worse, Decker thought. He was writing as he spoke. “Go on.”

“He asked for my forgiveness,” she said. “Begged for it. I said everything would be all right, he would be okay, but he
needed
to go to the police,
right now
! Whatever he did, he should go to the
police
. Then we could help him.” She began to cry. “That was the wrong thing to say. He hung up. I should have told him I love him. I should have told him how much we miss him and how much his parents love him. I should have told him that no matter what, he was forgiven. I should have told him a dozen things…and now it’s too late. I’m such an idiot—”

Decker said, “It took you by surprise. You did great.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” Decker assured her. He heard her sniff over the line. “You did great.”

“He was talking so fast,” she said. “And I was so confused….”

“Miriam, did Noam mention any names of people? Any streets, establishments, landmarks?”

“Just the bar.”

“He told you
he
picked up the homosexual in a bar?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you the name of the bar?”

“No.”

Decker asked, “Did he call the bar just a bar? Or did he call it a queer bar or a gay bar? Or a lounge? Did he mention eating there?”

“He just called it a bar,” Miriam said. “He was talking so fast. Just that he picked up a…queer…I hate that word. Why do the kids use it?”

Because kids can be little bastards, Decker thought. He said, “How did he know the man was gay?”

“I don’t know,” Miriam said.

“Okay,” Decker said. “When he called, did you hear any background noises?”

“Uh, maybe there were some,” Miriam said. “I wasn’t really paying attention to any other noises.”

“That’s normal,” Decker said. “Let me ask you this. Could you hear his voice very clearly? As clear as my voice, for instance.”

“Your voice is clearer,” she said. “Maybe I’m more awake.” She paused. “You know, he might have been calling from a phone booth. When I think about it, it sounded like a phone-booth line. There was traffic in the background. You know, the sound of cars passing by.”

“A lot of traffic? A little?”

“Medium.”

“Whooshing sort of sounds?”

“Exactly.”

“Did you hear any sort of a siren?” Decker asked.

“No.”

“The traffic sounds you heard,” Decker said. “Any of the sounds rumble, seem to shake up the line?”

A long pause. “Yes,” Miriam said.

She sounded impressed.

“Good,” Decker said. “How many times, Miriam?”

“Um…maybe three or four times.”

“And how long did you talk to Noam?”

“About two minutes.”

Three to four rumbling sounds in two minutes. Trucks roaring by. And a medium amount of whooshing traffic noise at two-thirty
A.M
. A concentration of cars driving fast. It seemed logical that Noam had placed the call close to a freeway. There were no freeways in West Hollywood or in the heart of downtown San Francisco. No thoroughfares or highways in either location. But there were plenty of freeways in the downtown L.A. area.

“Noam said he had a gun,” Decker repeated.

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t use it?”

“Exactly.”

“Did he mention any shooting?”

“No…no shooting. Just that he had a gun and he didn’t use it.”

Decker stopped a moment. Sounded to him like Noam and Hersh had rolled a gay. Used a gun as a prop and robbed him. With any degree of luck, it was just a simple robbery. But Decker was dubious. Noam kept using the phrase “a terrible
aveyrah
”—a grievous sin. Would a kid like Noam consider simple robbery with no one getting hurt a grievous sin?

“Did he mention blood?”

“No, nothing like that. Just that he did a terrible
aveyrah
.” Miriam stopped talking. Then she said, “I haven’t called my brother yet. I called you first thing.”

“You did right,” Decker said. “I’m going to work on it right now.”

“Should I phone my brother?”

Her voice was very hesitant. Decker said, “I’ll make the call if you want. But Ezra’s going to call you anyway. He’ll want to talk to you directly.”

“You’re right,” Miriam said. “I’ll call him myself. I dread it but I’ll do it. Why didn’t he call his parents?”

“He was probably too ashamed,” Decker said.

“Why me?” Miriam was talking more to herself than to Decker. “Why
me
? Oh well. At least he called someone. If only I would have handled it right…”

“You did fine,” Decker said. “Miriam, I want you and all your family to go out and buy a phone machine that can record conversations—”

“Oh, my goodness!” Miriam exclaimed. “We have that kind of machine! I didn’t even think of it. How stupid!”

“Well, I forgot to tell you to use it,” Decker said. “So I won’t berate me if you don’t berate yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

Decker then gave her very specific instructions on what to do if Noam called again. What to say, what to ask, what to listen for. How to calm him down. Then he told her to pass
all the information on to the rest of the family. He also suggested that the family consider consulting with an attorney. Those words of advice were met with silence. Finally, Miriam agreed it was a good idea.

When Decker was done, she said, “Akiva, I can’t tell you how much my family appreciates—”

“My pleasure,” Decker said, cutting her off.

“No,” Miriam said. “No, it isn’t your pleasure. It isn’t the way anyone should spend their honeymoon. Yesterday, Shimon said what you were doing was the highest form of
tzedakah
and all of us agreed with him. Real charity is not just giving money. It’s not just giving an hour here or there for an organization. Real
tzedakah
is giving…is giving of
yourself
.” She started to cry again. “Thank you
so
much.”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay.”

“Really, it is.”

“Please thank Rina, too,” she sobbed.

“I will.”

“Shana tova tikatevu ve teychatemu.”

Decker thought about repeating the blessing back to her, but decided his mind wasn’t functioning properly enough to get the Hebrew right. “Same to you and your family.”

Family, he thought. The woman was his half sister. He’d never had a sister. Of course, he really didn’t have one now. He wished her well, hung up the phone, and gave Rina a synopsis of what had happened as he dressed.

“I’ll use the telephone in the dining room,” he said. “You go back to sleep.”

“I’m wide awake,” she said. “Use the telephone here.”

“Nah, I’ll probably be going out shortly.” Decker pulled up his trousers, slipped on a white shirt. “When it’s quiet you’ll get sleepy.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“You could help me by getting some sleep.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Rina stared at him a moment. He appeared asymmetrical. “Your shirt’s cockeyed, Peter.”

Decker looked down. His shirttail was two inches longer on the right. He’d missed a button.

“I’ll fix you up,” Rina said. She gave him a kiss on the neck.

“I love it when you dress me.” Decker paused, then said, “I love it better when you undress me.”

Smiling, Rina finished buttoning his shirt, then gave him a light pat on his rear. “You be careful out there.”

It had been ages since anyone had said that to him. Ten, even fifteen years. Detective work wasn’t dangerous. Still, he was touched that she had said it. It was nice to matter to someone.

So far the night had buried six bodies, four of the homicides the outcome of gang warfare in Southeast Division. There had also been a fatal stabbing at a bar in Hollenbeck—all parties accounted for—and an irate wife had shot her cheating husband in bed with his lover in the Devonshire district. Which meant that either Noam’s victim had yet to be found or Noam’s
aveyrah
, his grievous sin—was not murder.