I pushed his face away from mine.

“I don’t date, Chris. When would I have time? Besides, the last thing I want is a parade of men going in and out of the apartment. Gabe is everything to me. He is not going to grow up with a slut for a mother.”

“You wouldn’t be a slut if you had a toss now and then.”

“But I don’t! You know that cause you’re watching me all the time. I only sleep with you, and that’s different because you’re Gabe’s father. In fact, you’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, period! For twenty-four years old, that is truly pathetic!”

“Not to me. I still get this incredible jolt every time I lay you down and spread your legs.”

Again I pushed him away. “Stop being crude.”

“That was a compliment, angel.”

I scrunched up my face. “That’s such a male perspective. I want to have sex with you, ergo you should feel honored!”

“Men are dogs.”

Stated without expression. I quickly remembered whom I was talking to. I kissed his cheek. “At least, you’re a very generous dog.”

He took in my eyes. “How much?”

“That wasn’t a hint.”

He reached over to the second drawer of his file cabinet. Inside was a shoe box stacked with pictures of Ben Franklin. He pinched some bills off the top, then folded them into a wad and offered it to me. Longing in my heart, but I held my ground.

“I said that wasn’t a hint.”

He counted them-eight hundred dollars. He added two more bills and then stuffed them in my hand. “Buy something nice for yourself and the kid.”

“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek again. “It won’t go on forever, Christopher. I’ll be earning money in a few years.”

“I’m not complaining, Teresa.”

“You never do,” I told him. “I should marry some sugar daddy just to give you a break.”

“I am your sugar daddy. What do you need someone else for?”

I shrugged.

He gave me a stare. “Anyone specific in mind?”

“I’m talking theoretically.”

“You’re pissing me off!”

“Some good-looking, much older man who’ll baby me for the rest of my life. Someone who wouldn’t be much competition for you.”

“He wouldn’t be any competition for me because he’d be dead.”

“I mean much, much, much older, Chris. Like in his forties or fifties. That wouldn’t bother you, right?”

“Forties maybe. Fifties, probably not.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who would you go for, baby doll? Decker?”

“You’re sick!”

“Yeah, you’re right. No money.”

I faced him, suddenly turning serious. “So you two are working together?”

“Beats me.”

I didn’t like the attitude. I said, “Christopher Sean Whitman Donatti, I swear if you hurt that man I will never ever, ever forgive you for the rest of my life!”

Rudely, he pushed me off his lap. “What is it about that guy that inspires such loyalty?”

“Besides the fact that he got you out of prison? Besides the fact that he sent me money when no one else would? Besides the fact that he is the only heterosexual male I’ve ever met who hasn’t tried to sleep with me?”

“You forgot your father.”

“I stand by the original statement, Chris!”

He jerked his head up, taking in my eyes. “What? When?”

I waved him off. “Before I met you. He wasn’t insistent. He wound up not doing anything.” My eyes watered. “He couldn’t. He was too drunk.”

“What else is new?”

“Jean caught us-him. To her credit, she didn’t blame me. Didn’t support me, but didn’t…” I wiped the tears away. “Melissa’s that age now. I call her nearly every day. I tell her over and over that if he tries something…” I didn’t dare finish my thought.

“You never told me.” He pulled me back onto his lap. “You should have said something, angel. I could have sympathized. I was molested, you know. Joey, right after my mom died, he used to comb out my hair and make me give him blow jobs.”

“That’s horrible!” I meant it. I touched his face and kissed his lips. “Poor Chris.”

“Yeah, poor me.” He shook his head. “You know, I keep my mouth shut for years. Then I wind up telling two people about it within twenty-four hours. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Who was the other person?”

“Rina Decker. I don’t know why I brought it up. She has this way of getting stuff out of you. She and the lieutenant are suited to one another.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe your old man actually-”

“It was over before it started.”

“I should pop him.”

“Chris-”

“I won’t, but I should.”

“Can we switch the subject? It’s so painful! Especially after making love.”

He brought me close to his chest. “Is that what you consider it? Making love?”

“Yes, of course.” I looked at him. “What do you consider it?”

“Making beautiful love.”

“So we’re in agreement.” I leaned against him, my head to his heart. “Does he know what he’s doing? Lieutenant Decker?”

“He’s no dummy, but New York’s different from Los Angeles. He’s in foreign territory, doesn’t really know what or who he’s dealing with. On top of that, he’s not packing.”

I looked up. “He doesn’t have a gun?”

“I tried to give him one. He refused. The man is stubborn.”

“Who’s he up against?”

“I’ve got some definite ideas-amateurs trying to look like some pros we both know. That means they’re stupid. And stupid is dangerous. If I were his wife, I’d start looking at his life-insurance policy.” He took another gulp of water. “It probably would be easier if someone popped him. More elbowroom for me. This problem has got to be taken care of.”

My heart started skipping. He must have picked up on it. He stroked my back. His voice was low and soothing. “Baby doll, I tried. But he told me to butt out. So I’m out. Tell you the truth, I haven’t been feeling well enough to do much of anything. If he wants to duke it out solo, he can be my effing guest. I’m not the man’s nanny.”

Gently, I put my arms around his waist, being careful to avoid his gunshot wound. I barely spoke above a whisper. “Don’t let him sink, Chris. Even if he doesn’t want it, help him.”

He was silent.

“Please?”

Again he didn’t answer me. But he didn’t push me away. Instead, he drew me closer… nuzzling the top of my head with his lips… stroking my back… his fingers up and down my spine… playing me like an instrument. His touch could be so incredible. I gave off a little shudder.

“Cold?”

“No, just… mmm, feels good.”

“I know what my baby doll likes.”

“Yes, you do.” And by now, I could read him pretty well also. Affection meant he was listening. Affection meant he’d be cooperative. Affection was a very good sign.

28

If there were any answers, they’d lie in Quinton. Decker knew the Jewish sector of the town was a lost cause-he’d be as welcome as ham and Swiss on rye-but he held faint hopes that maybe he could salvage something with Virgil Merrin, ascribing his rude behavior to his own embarrassment at being seen at Tattlers. Then maybe he’d play out some of the good-ol’-boy routine, knowing he could make it work if he could just get the sneer out of his voice. With Merrin as an ally, he could possibly get names of some Quinton teens Shayndie might have known.

But he’d have to tread lightly.

Because there was this possible worst-case, politics-and-money-corrupts, trust-no-one scenario: Merrin was involved in ecstasy distribution, using erotic dancers as couriers for the Israeli Mafia members. There was also the unholy missing trio of Weiss, Harabi, and Ibn Dod. They could be back in Israel, camped out in a Jewish community incognito, or they could even be dead.

And even if this product of Decker’s overactive imagination were somehow borne out, if the loose bits of facts that Randy had given him did weave into a fanciful but cohesive story, how, if at all, would it relate to the Lieber murders?