The Bar Mitzvah Murder (13 page)

“Mr. Schloss,” I said, pursuing my opportunity, “I'd like to talk to you about the Karpens' van.”

“My aunt's van?”

“Yes. Where is it?”

“Get out of here,” his mother ordered as he spoke above her words.

“Don't ask me. I haven't seen it for a long time,” he said.

“How long?”

“Coupla weeks anyway.”

“Who has it?”

“Shut up!” his mother shouted. “You, whoever you are, go away.” She tried to shut the door, but her son kept it open.

“Couldn't tell ya.” He sounded American and I wondered if they were new arrivals in Israel or he had gone to school in the States.

“Did you take it, Mr. Schloss?”

He put the beer bottle down on a table, probably leaving a ring his mother would kill him for, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can we talk outside?”

“What are you talking to her about?” his mother almost screamed. “You don't have the van; there's nothing to talk about.”

“I'm going out for a while, Mom. I'll be back soon.”

Mrs. Schloss tried to bar his way, but he passed her without pushing and walked outside. Behind us the door slammed and the bolt turned. I wondered if he had a key with him, but I guessed it didn't matter. His mother would let him in, no matter what.

18

We went to a little place a block away that had tables and chairs and also did a take-out business. I ordered a juice and he ordered coffee. On the walk over, he had told me his name was David.

“What do you know about this van?” he asked when we were sipping our respective drinks.

“I think it may have been involved in a crime.”

He muttered an obscenity that was barely audible. “What kind of crime?”

“A very serious one, David. If you had anything to do with it—”

“Do you think I'd be asking you questions if I knew what you were talking about?”

I ignored his hostility. I was pretty sure he was nervous about what I knew. “All I know is that the van was seen near a crime scene.”

“So maybe my aunt committed a crime.”

“The van disappeared several days before the crime was committed.”

“So that makes it my fault.”

“I didn't say that.” The van certainly wasn't parked on the stretch of Bethlehem Road that we had walked. “But if you have the van or if you know where it is, you should come forward.”

“I don't have it.”

“Did you take it?” I asked, sounding rather tentative.

“I didn't take it. I—”

I waited. I was sure now that he knew where it was.

“I can't even say I know who has it—or had it—because they didn't . . . uh . . . I just don't know who they are or where they are.”

“Did you give the van to someone?”

He closed his eyes and let his head drop. Then he shook himself, as though trying to wake up, and drank some more coffee. A man about his age came in, saw David, and walked by, talking to him in Hebrew and slapping his hand against David's. David said something and the other man walked away.

“They said they needed a van. I owed them money, OK? I told them where they could find a van, but they had to get it back. They said they only needed it for a couple of days and then it would be dropped off where they found it. I knew my aunt wouldn't report it if it got back in a few days.”

“And they forgave your debt.”

“You could say that.”

“When did they take the van?”

“I don't know the exact day. Maybe two weeks ago.”

I took the police sketch out of my bag. “Is this one of the men who took the van?”

He looked at it and muttered his obscenity again. “Where did you get this?”

“Some people saw him committing the crime. A police artist drew this.”

“You're not gonna tell me what the crime was.”

“It was a serious crime.”

“You said that before.”

“What is this man's name?” I asked although he had already said he didn't know who the men were.

“Believe me, if I knew, I would tell you. They never brought the damn van back. My aunt's been calling my mother, my mother keeps saying I don't have it, which is true, and I'm in deep— I'm in trouble. And I didn't do anything.”

I didn't correct him. “Do you know who this man works for?”

“He works for himself as far as I know.”

“What did he say he needed the van for?”

“He didn't say exactly. I got the feeling he was picking up some things for resale.”

I smiled at the circumlocution. “Resale.”

“Yeah. At a profit.”

“Maybe he used it for that, but he used it for other things, too.”

“How do you know about all this?”

“It's complicated, but I know relatives of the victim of the crime.”

“Somebody got hurt?” He shoved his empty cup and saucer across the tiny round table.

“Badly hurt, yes.”

“They ran somebody down with the van?”

“I can't discuss it any more than what I've said. I think you ought to try to locate these men so the police can find them.”

“The police are coming to get me?”

“I wouldn't be surprised.”

“How could this happen?”

I didn't think he seriously wanted the question answered. I paid for both our drinks, went out to Bethlehem Road, and hailed a taxi back to the hotel.

It had been the most successful day of my investigation. I called Jack and gave him the names and addresses. He said Joshua had been in touch with him earlier and was probably at the Karpens' store.

“And by the way, I have a copy of that will for you to look at. It was faxed to us today or yesterday, not a great copy, but you can make it out. I haven't looked at it yet. I'm trying to get work done so we can have a good weekend.”

“I'll see you later.”

I really wanted to talk to Sister Joseph. I could not think of a motive for the murder of Gabriel Gross. His wife said nothing was missing from the safe. If she was telling the truth, then the whole incident of the compromising of the security system was probably a coincidence and we would never know if a copy was made of Gabe's house key. If she was lying, she might well be involved somehow in her husband's death. But why?

I called my in-laws and found them at their hotel. I drove over and spent some time with Eddie and his grandparents before he decided to ditch me permanently and take up residence with these wonderful people he was traveling with. It turned out to be a very pleasant hour and a half for all of us. I did most of the listening, amazed at my in-laws' skill at scheduling their time.

“You should see what Eddie's been eating, Chris,” my mother-in-law said at one point. “He's absolutely fearless when it comes to new foods.”

“Well, that's a blessing. He obviously has his father's palate, not mine. Although I must say, the food has been wonderful.”

“I like hummus the best,” Eddie said, making an almost perfect sound at the start of the word.

“My goodness, you even pronounce it right,” I said with surprise.

“Well, you know what they say about learning foreign languages when you're young,” my mother-in-law said.

“I guess they're right.”

“Can you make it when we get home?” Eddie asked.

“I'm sure we can. Mel will show me. We'll have to find a place that sells pita bread.”

“It's in Prince's,” my observant son said. “I saw it there.”

“Then I guess we're all set.” I leaned over and gave him a kiss. It was absolutely fine with me if he turned out to have his father's powers of observation as well as his fine palate.

When I left, I drove directly to the police station and waited at the curb for Jack. I was a few minutes early, so I turned off the motor and watched people walking in and out of the building. About five minutes after I arrived, Joshua Davidson came out, looked around, saw me, waved, and walked over. I leaned over to unlock the passenger side so he could sit down.

“Mrs. Brooks, I didn't know you were a secret investigator.”

“It's not much of a secret where we live. I've been written up in the local newspaper. I hope you're not angry that I went to the Karpens and their nephew.”

“I might be, but I was so happy you got that license plate number, I forgave you. We talked to about a hundred people in those houses last week. No one had any information for us.”

“They're terrified of the police. The man who took me to see his mother, the woman who had written down the number, said they wouldn't talk to the police. I suspect they've got something to hide or think they do.”

“No matter. That was a remarkable discovery. How did you find him?”

“He found me. He must have seen me going from door to door asking questions—and getting no answers, by the way—so he followed me. I don't think he saw anything himself, but he knew his mother had.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Have you found the van?”

“No, but we're working on it.” Standard police talk for “we haven't accomplished anything.” “I think your husband has a copy of Gabriel Gross's will with him. Maybe you can find something in it we missed.”

I smiled. “You're very kind. I will certainly read it tonight.”

“And on your last night, my wife and I would like to make an Israeli dinner for you, if that's all right with you.”

“That's wonderful. This has been the most interesting and unusual trip of my life.”

“When you come back, I promise we won't have a homicide to interrupt your visit.”

Jack walked over to the car at that moment and the two men exchanged a few words while I got out and switched to the passenger seat. Then we were off.

After dinner I studied the will. There was a lot of it that I didn't understand, and although Jack said his knowledge of estate law was kind of thin, as he had forgotten most of it after he passed the bar, he was able to explain what the trusts were that Gabe had set up for members of his family. There was also a good deal about the ownership of the company, but none of it seemed suspicious. Gabe's children, whom I believe he still loved dearly in spite of the estrangement, had the right to many of his shares in the business. Or they could sell their interest to people who were now working for Gabe, the price to be determined by a formula. It looked pretty well thought out to me, and I wondered what the son and daughter would decide to do.

Marnie was very well provided for, as was any child who might have been born after the writing of the will or she might be carrying at the time of Gabe's death. His ex-wife also got a lump sum bequest, but nothing like the amount he left for his current wife. Not surprising. I wondered if Debby knew she was mentioned in his will.

There seemed to be none of those tricky devices where one person got more if Gabe died at a certain time or in a certain way. The will was straightforward. He just wanted the people he cared about most to inherit his wealth and he wanted the business to succeed. He also named a number of charities that would benefit. I had heard of a couple and never heard of the rest, but I think many organizations that do good works are unknown to the general population.

“Anything set off an alarm?” Jack asked as I laid the pages on the desk.

“I wish I could say yes. It all seems in keeping with what I've heard about him. His family came first, his business was very important to him, and he was philanthropic. I didn't find any strange name that could be an old girlfriend or blackmailer mentioned. It looks like a dead end.”

“I know you're itching to talk to Sister Joseph.”

“I am, but it's very expensive to call. When we do this kind of thing in her office, we take a long time.”

“You know we can afford it. They're paying most of our expenses here.”

I shrugged. Sometimes the thought of spending a lot of money makes me feel a little ill. All of this goes back, I'm sure, to the days of my living at St. Stephen's, when everything I earned was turned over to the convent and the convent gave me spending money when I left the grounds. Spending money in those days was generally fifty cents unless I was taking a trip. For most of the years that I lived there, the last of those years as a nun, I used my nun's dowry to fill the tank of my car with gas, and my aunt was generous when I visited her, which was once a month. It has proven to be difficult for me to shake the feeling of having very little and the discomfort of spending a lot all at once.

“Why don't you call her tomorrow, Chris?” Jack said. “Figure out a good time and call from here. Try to put the call on your credit card so it doesn't show up on our hotel bill.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Boy, you're a tough one.”

“You know we're having dinner with the Grosses tomorrow night. It's their last night.”

“Already?”

“They're leaving Thursday.”

“And Friday we're taking off for our last weekend.”

“Why don't we huddle over a map and forget Gabe Gross for a while?”

“What are you doing today?” It was Mel's voice on the phone. I had just come back from dropping Jack at work.

“No plans at the moment, except for our dinner tonight. I've got a map on my lap.”

“Open to suggestions?”

I laughed. “Mel, your suggestions always cost me money.”

“No, they don't. Sometimes they get you a good lunch.”

“True. OK. I'm open.”

“There's a wonderful shop we haven't seen yet.”

I laughed again. “Doesn't sound like lunch to me. There must be fifty wonderful shops I haven't seen.”

“There are. And I'll leave you a list. But this is one I haven't been to and my aunt said I had to go. I've got the driving directions. Interested?”

I almost said no. Then I thought, Come on, Kix. You may never come this way again. “Sure. But I have to be back this afternoon to call Sister Joseph. I want to get her while it's morning there.”

“I'll run out of money before then. And I have to pack.”

“I'll pick you up at nine-thirty.”