The Queen and I (10 page)

Chapter Seventeen: Sherriff Pitts

First impressions say a lot about a man, and in the case of Jeffrey David Rothstein, this was no different. Sheriff Malcolm Pitts knew that there was nothing going on at the house when he introduced himself to the man, but he wanted to look into his eyes, shake his hand, and get to see into the soul of the man who was now calling Zion his home.

This was not the first time that a celebrity had attempted to make Zion his home. Just a few years earlier, one of those rapper types had bought a cabin up here in the hopes of throwing all kinds of parties away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but it didn’t last long. Complaints started to mount about the commotion at all hours of the evening and an odd smell coming from the property. Sheriff Pitts got a warrant and discovered that this
artist
, as he liked to call himself, was running an illegal dog-fighting ring. It was promptly shut down, and all of the parties involved were given jail sentences and heavy fines, but not before the police discovered the grave with over one hundred dead dogs in it.

Those were bad times for Sheriff Pitts as a man of the law and the one responsible for securing and keeping the peace in this tiny town, and he took it very seriously. He loved the town of Zion more than any other place on earth and had always tried, along with the town fathers, to find a way to bring the community together, to do something that they could all get behind and do justice to.

So, when word had been leaked that a famous playwright had purchased the old cabin where that odd Richard Kearney had been staying, there was an immediate call to arms to try and embrace their guest and possibly convince him that this town was the place that he was meant to be in.

They did their research and learned everything that they could about him. They purchased his plays and reenacted them in the town community theater, and they read all of the reviews and interviews ever done on the man. They even held a special class after school for anyone in the town who was interested in his likes and dislikes.

The people of Zion were not what you would call worldly in any sense of the word, they were not hip to the trends and the fast ways of the big city folks, and there was nothing about their little town that was anything special other than that it was theirs. Having Jeffrey David Rothstein live there, and maybe even stay, was a shot in the arm for their low morale and self-esteem. It was just the little boost that everyone in the town needed to make them feel like they could hold their heads with the largest of cities and the fanciest of cosmopolitan locales throughout the world.

The Zionites were not the smartest people in the world either, and SheriffPitts knew that, he loved that, and he wanted to protect them all the more for it. It wasn’t even so much that they were not intelligent people as much as they were very innocent. Some said that it was because of the laid-back lifestyle that was so common in upstate New York. Others felt that it was because almost none of their residents ever bothered to travel more than fifty miles away from the town for any reason; there was no need to. They received everything that they could need from deliveries and mail, and they had television and Internet access, so that covered all of their social needs, and when it came to entertaining themselves, they made do with what they had.

There was a large farming community in the surrounding counties who came to town to sell their goods, and the town always made a festival of every growing season’s harvest. They threw elaborate parties for all of the major holidays and made each one of them a celebration for the entire town to enjoy. But it was when they started studying up on Jeffrey David Rothstein and the fact that he was Jewish that their imaginations really took offand when the possibilities became limitless.

For one thing, nobody had ever realized that there were so many festivals to be celebrated that they had never even heard of. What made it even better was that they were all based on scripture, and the town could get behind doing the research together in church.

But that brought up a whole new dilemma for them, which was quickly debated about in a town meeting. The majority of the town were Protestant and firm believers that Christ was the son of God and he was their Lord and Savior, but according to all of this Jewish talk, they no longer had any use for Jesus and that what he was actually doing on earth was causing a big fuss and spreading a lot of trouble around. They now had to decide to not follow his ways and to just stick to what Moses had told them. This was a lot easier than always worrying about offending God because you did not do as his son had preached. With the opportunity of becoming Jewish, they all had a chance to start over and never had to worry about offending God again because they didn’t respect and obey his son. In fact, they realized that as good Jews they would score bonus points for being even more blasphemous and disrespectful; after all, since the Jews were God’s chosen people, they would be smiled upon for turning their backs on that charlatan and turning to the ways of people like Lilith and the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Sheriff Pitts had been one of the first to suggest that the entire town turn their backs on the religious beliefs of the past and to convert to and embrace Judaism. It was so exciting to think about, and the town was really getting behind the idea. They had originally asked Pitts to become the town’s first rabbi, but he respectfully declined, citing that his responsibilities as sheriffwould interfere way too much; besides, he wanted to sing, and when he heard about the position of cantor, he was hooked.

He practiced every day at the music shop and even went so far as to get singing lessons from the nice Foreman girl. He felt reborn and could not express the feelings of joy and
naches
that he was feeling at every little thing that happened in his day-today life. Even pulling over traffic offenders was new and exciting to him. He enjoyed saying shalom to the offenders so much more than starting each conversation with, “Do you know how fast you were going?”

He was refreshed to realize that, thanks to the Jewish calendar, the earth wasn’t as old as those
fekockteh
scientists had said it was, so the odds of it exploding from old age during his lifetime had decreased dramatically. He loved the fact that instead of just one miserable day of nothing on television and long lines at the movie theater, Jews did not limit themselves to celebrating somebody else’s birthday, and instead had an actual festival based on historical and biblical facts that could now be celebrated, and this holiday lasted an incredible eight days. He loved the fact that when all of the goyim were wasting their time with holidays like Labor Day and Halloween, the Jews had Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur; this was really living, and he loved every minute of it.

But his favorite time of the year was around Easter when they played the DeMille classic
The Ten Commandments
on television, and Christians all over the country sat their children down to learn about how the brave Moses had lead the honorable Israelites out of Egyptian bondage. Little did those Jew-murdering mamzers realize that Moses was Jewish, and he belonged to them.

The only mistake he had made was when he suggested that every man in the town be circumcised again. This was at first seen as a bit of an overreach, but Pitts was quick to point out that all of the men in Zion had been circumcised by
goyim doctors, so he thought they had better get a second opinion from a Jewish doctor. Very few of the men in Zion would ever forget the great bris of 2014; he was still a little sore.

So, as he watched Zion’s newest and soon-to-be-favorite son drive away, he could feel the eyes of Abby Tisch watching from her bookstore up the block. She could possibly be a problem if she were allowed to get close enough to Mr. Rothstein, so Sheriff Pitts made a mental note to assign one his deputies to keep an eye on her twenty-four hours a day. There was no way in the world that he was about to let this woman spread her lies and plant her seeds of dissent into the mind and heart of the man whom they so desperately wanted to love them.

Jeffrey David Rothstein was destined to live in this town; he had already united this town in ways that the founding fathers were never able to, and not Abby Tisch, Richard Kearney, if he ever came back, or some troublemaking ghost were going to jeopardize that.

Malcolm Pitts would never allow that. He would never tolerate the mere suggestion of it, and there was no way that anyone was going to destroy what he had worked so hard to build.

He hummed “If I Were a Rich Man”
as he walked down the street to the police station, and knew that Abby Tisch was now watching him.

Chapter Eighteen: Music in the Night

His run-in with Sheriff Pitts had been a little unsettling to say the least, and it had left Jeffrey with more questions than he had answers to. He was now aware of the fact that he was being watched by the local authorities for some reason and that he was the source of much gossip. He was also now certain that someone in his inner circle had leaked the information about his buying the house in Zion to begin with.

It could not have been the previous owner, since Jeffrey had used an agent and kept himself anonymous during the process. It could not have been Rachel, because she would never jeopardize what they had by doing anything that would leave her out of control of any situation. So who?

Could it have been Schultz and Fujikawa? He thought that unlikely, since he had had nothing to do or say with either one of them since he had stormed out of the former’s office and exchanged words with the latter at the premier. It could not have been Jacob, because he had dismissed his relationship with his former assistant the same way. It was driving him crazy to think that someone knew more about his comings and goings than he would have liked, but it also motivated him to close up those protective walls that he had been forced to build so many times in the past.

He would basically cut himself off from his new town and their eccentric sheriff until he could determine who was behind the betrayal that had made the citizens of Zion aware of his arrival.

It wasn’t as if that would be a difficult task, anyway. The house was far enough out of town to be left alone unless someone had business there, and it sat far enough off of the road for him to hear anything other than the sounds of nature. He was isolated, and he figured that, for the time being, this was all for the best.

His whole purpose in being here was not to ingratiate himself to his new neighbors; it was to write a new play. He needed to focus on the task at hand, and that was to get his own version of sweet revenge that he so desperately wanted ever since Schultz and Fujikawa had systematically attacked his way of life and made him a pariah in the Broadway community.

Distractions were not an option, and he would bury himself in his work the same way that he had done with every other project that he had ever worked on. That was what the secret to his success had been and the method that he had implemented to secure his place as one of the most prolific and successful playwrights the industry had ever known.

His only problem was that he could not focus on anything other than Schultz, Fujikawa, and Jacob Stone, and that bothered him more than anything. Try as he may, he could not get them out of his mind, and they disrupted every creative thought that he mustered. It was as if they were in his head, and whenever he lifted his pen to write down an idea, they were there with a giant eraser to wipe the slate clean and prevent him from getting anything done.

His only solace was that he was falling more in love with his new home than he had anticipated and was confident that the serene surroundings would eventually win the day and help him get back to work and retake what was once his.

The place would have been perfect for him if he had been there twelve years ago when he had suffered his last case of writer’s block, but he had managed to work through that in the rush of New York life, so he was sure that the calming effects of this wonder of peace and quiet would do the trick.

He just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he was being watched, and it was becoming an irritant. He had thought that perhaps it was the odd Sheriff Pitts who was behind it, but he was quite certain after a few days that it was neither the sheriff nor any of his deputies.

The sheriffhad said something about watching for anyone in the town coming around, but Jeffrey dismissed that notion also because he had floodlights installed with sensors to alert him to any and all intruders. So far, the only visitors he had had were some rabbits and a skunk in the middle of the night.

He just couldn’t shake the feeling though.

* * *

Louis Grecko entered Heinrich Schultz’s office and was immediately greeted with a firm handshake and a glass of chocolate milk from the large man. Louis liked chocolate milk, and as Schultz had learned from years of experience with the man, it was best to keep Louis happy.

He was motioned toward the sofa, and the two were joined by Mendel Fujikawa who had entered just after Louis. The three conspirators sat staring at each other in silence until Henry broke the lull with, “So Louis, how is your mother?”

“Why, what have you heard?” Louis asked defensively.

“Nothing at all, I was just …”

“Because she is fine, there is nothing to tell you otherwise.”

“Of course, I’m sure she is.”

“You don’t come around anymore. You don’t make her happy,” Louis said calmly.

“Yes, well, I have been very busy with business.”

“I know you’re business, Henry,” Louis said with a cold voice. “I tried your drug a month ago, and it made me feel like a nigger.”

The words were a bit harsh, and that alarmed Heinrich a little. The last thing he wanted was to make Louis feel uncomfortable or agitated.

“I’m sorry to hear that. It was not supposed to have that effect.”

“Well, it did. It made me feel like one of those animals, and I didn’t like it.” He turned his gaze to Fujikawa and asked, “Who is the sissy?”

Fujikawa swallowed hard at the word and looked at Heinrich for support. The big man just nodded his head to him and winked as if to say,
Let him talk; it’s better that way.

“He is a business partner of mine who wanted to meet you.”

“Do you do things to children also?”

Fujikawa appeared thoroughly uncomfortable at the question and looked to Heinrich for help. He did not know much about this Louis Grecko person other than that he had heard of him and his odd mother through Heinrich and had seen pictures of some of his handiwork. The man who was now staring at him, as if he were looking directly through him, made him extremely nervous, and for the first time since he had known Heinrich, he was not confident that his large friend could protect him the way that he had always done in the past.

“Mendel has never hurt a child, Louis, and neither have I.”

“You took my turtle away.”

“Your turtle was dead, and I bought you a new turtle; remember?”

“I liked my old one.”

Herman came out from under Heinrich’s desk and jumped onto Louis’s lap, causing the large man to scream in horror like a frightened woman and to curl up in the fetal position on the sofa. He held his hands tightly over his ears and looked straight down at his feet and kept repeating, “I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry, Mommy!”

Mendel looked at Heinrich, very concerned about the mental health of this dangerous man whom they were about to put so much faith in, and Heinrich quickly rose and placed two reassuring hands on Louis’s shoulders, telling him that there was nothing to worry about, his mommy was not there to yell at him, and that Herman was just trying to be friends.

Louis slowly looked up at Heinrich with tear-filled eyes and asked, “He just wanted to be my friend?”

“That’s all, my dear boy.”

“Can I play with him?”

“In a little while, we have to discuss business.” Schultz knew that he was calming Louis down, but needed to have him completely relaxed before they could discuss anything of any importance, so he looked into his eyes, hugged him gently, and asked, “Do you think that you could sing “Ave Maria” for me?”

Louis Grecko smiled at Heinrich and answered between sniffles, “For you.” He looked over at Fujikawa and pointed, “But not for the sissy.”

* * *

Jeffrey had been having problems sleeping over the last few days, so he had decided that on this night he would take a sleeping pill and wash it down with some warm milk. It was a little Rockwellesque for his liking, but it had to be better than tossing and turning all night without a thought running through his mind other than how badly Heinrich Schultz had ruined his life.

Thanks to the medication and the drink, he quickly fell asleep for the first time since he could remember.

He dreamt that he was in a giant ballroom, and all around him were large women of various ethnicities and nationalities. All of them were larger than the next, and each one of them sported more facial hair than he had, and they were dancing cabaret style. They kept winking at him, trying to entice him to do something that he could not decipher, and each one of them was carrying a script for a different one of his plays in their hands.

The room had the feel that it was spinning, and in the background was the faint sound of music. It was a low, raspy melody that seemed to ring of familiarity, and it haunted him, beckoned him. He suddenly left the ballroom and was now in a large cathedral-ceiling room with red carpets and velvet purple rope barriers, which led all in attendance through a maze of twists and turns until they came to a desk where large stacks of money were being handed out to each of the patrons. Upon further examination, he realized that the patrons were the same performers from the ballroom, except for the fact that they were all dressed like men now, and each one of them carried a copy of
Variety
under his arm.

When he reached the end of the line, the teller gave him an incredulous look and said in a very deep voice, “No freebies,” and slammed the window shut in his face. The sound reverberated through the halls of the building that he now knew was a bank, and shook his body to the bones.

Jeffrey woke up with a start and looked around to try to catch his bearings and gain a footing of where he was. He had had odd dreams before, but not in a long time and certainly nothing as vivid as this. He eyed his surroundings and recognized that he was back in his bedroom at the cabin that he had just purchased, and slowly let out a breath to calm down.

Then he faintly heard singing.

At first, he thought he was still dreaming, but after a moment he was certain that he was indeed hearing song. He rubbed his eyes, walked to the master bath, and poured himself a drink of water. He was immediately aware of the humidity in the room and quickly noticed that the shower was running. This was odd, since Jeffrey was certain that he had gone to bed without showering. And he still heard the singing.

He turned off the water and explored the second floor for the source of the mysterious singing. It neither grew louder or softer as he went from room to room; it maintained its very low, very raspy hum that seemed to be taunting him to find its location.

Jeffrey listened intently while stopping at the top of the stairs to try and hear the lyrics, and was certain that he was hearing “If I Were a Rich Man”
from
Fiddler on the Roof.
He was positive of it. He had seen that musical many times and loved it. He owned the original cast recordings and owned the movie. It was a Broadway classic and one that Jeffrey had always aspired to match in his own work.

But where was it coming from?

He looked down the steps and saw that the light was on in the kitchen. He was sure he had turned off all of the lights; this disturbed him. He went back to his bedroom and grabbed a baseball bat that he had brought with him. He was not one for guns, but loved baseball and had bought this bat when he had gone to Cooperstown to the Baseball Hall of Fame a few years back.

Slowly, he descended the stairs, holding the bat as firmly as he could; the singing persisted, yet stayed at the same level. He walked across the living area and snuck up to the kitchen door, hoping that whoever was in there would not hear him and allow for the element of surprise.

He placed his hand on the swinging door, took a deep breath, and pushed his way in.

* * *

“That was beautiful, Louis. I have never heard anything quite like it.” Heinrich praised the large, dangerous man after hearing his a cappella rendition of the time-honored classic. Heinrich called for Mendel to rejoin them, and the little man looked thoroughly disappointed that he had not heard this oddity of a human being astound them with his grasp of the masterpiece sung in a perfect soprano.

“You couldn’t hear me,” Louis said to Fujikawa teasingly. “Only my friends can hear me.”

“And
I’m
your friend, Louis,” Heinrich reassured. He poured Louis another glass of milk and sat beside him on the sofa.

Herman came back out, and Louis was delighted to see the cat again. He quickly dropped to all fours and crawled over to the now cautious cat. Louis laughed with delight as Herman hissed at him in warning, and he turned over on his back to show Herman his belly.

“Good boy, Louis,” Heinrich said as he gently rubbed the other’s midsection. He turned to Mendel and whispered, “He’s ours. Another few minutes, and he’ll do anything I ask.”

Louis now had Herman in his arms and was purring at the cat, trying to coax it to return the favor, when Heinrich asked, “How would you like to find someone for me, Louis?”

“Can I hurt him?”

“Yes, you can, but you mustn’t kill him.”

“I love you, Mr. Herman.” Louis was in.

* * *

This made no sense at all to Jeffrey. Who would break into his house, turn on the shower, make a roast beef sandwich in the middle of the night, and then leave without even touching the damned thing?

The only calming point was that the singing had stopped. This was peculiar beyond belief, and Jeffrey found himself thinking back to the conversation that he had had with the sheriffnot ten hours earlier.

Was there someone stalking him? Did he have to be a bit more suspicious of his surroundings? Were there really reasons for him to be concerned about his new home?

He threw out the sandwich and quickly checked all of the locks and windows. Nothing was disturbed, nothing was out of place.

For a brief moment he thought of calling the police, but thought better of it. The last thing that he wanted was to give the sheriffa reason to spend any more time out here than he had to, and Jeffrey was certain that whoever had been in his home obviously had not realized the place was under new ownership. Jeffrey must have scared him off.