False Prophet (28 page)

Decker remained impassive but took in Goldin’s words. Time to change the subject.

“What was your impressions of Frederick Brecht?”

“Little Freddy. He was a pathetic kid when I married Lilah.
Totally
dominated by Davida — and Kingston and
Lilah
. Poor guy never had a chance.” Goldin paused. “I heard he became a doctor.”

Decker nodded.

“That’s good. Maybe now Davida will stop tormenting him. She was always biased against him because he was adopted—”

“Freddy’s
adopted
?”

“Is that significant?”

“I’m not sure,” Decker said. But he wrote the word
adopted
in his notebook.

“The family made no secret of it,” Goldin said. “Davida was in her forties when Lilah was born. I suppose her late husband wanted a son and Davida just couldn’t pull it off again. Hence Freddy.”

He thought a moment.

“Davida wasn’t nice to him, but Davida wasn’t really nice to anyone. She had a real combative relationship with King, who
was
her biological son. King was the bull seal of the family — Lilah’s surrogate father. He
despised
me, tried to buy me off. I refused the money, and Lilah and I married, much to everyone’s chagrin.”

“What about John Reed? You said you didn’t see too much of him.”

“John was actually all right. Not that we were ever friendly. But he wasn’t tangled up in Davida’s little web. His words to me were: ‘If you want your marriage to work, get the hell away from Mother.’ I tried, but…”

Decker said, “Davida can be a very formidable person.”

“So you know.” Goldin appraised Decker. “Old lady went for you, didn’t she? You’re her type. You’re Lilah’s type, too. Despite her brief fling with Jewish intellectuals, she really likes the big macho, shoot-em-up Gentiles à la Clint Eastwood, no offense.”

“I’m Jewish,” Decker said.

Without missing a beat, Goldin said, “Okay, so how about you talk for a moment so I can yank my foot out of my mouth.”

Decker smiled.

Goldin paused to take a breath. “You’re not putting me on?”

“No, Perry, I’m not.” Decker flipped a page of his notebook. “Why do you think Lilah picked you to rebel with?”

“I’ve often thought about that. Probably because I was handy — I was around. I was hired by King to teach Davida bridge. I wasn’t intimidated by Davida’s money and I think Lilah liked that. Also, Davida liked my attention and Lilah was acutely aware of that. My ex got a big thrill out of diverting my attention away from Davida. There was fierce competition between the two.”

“Competition and jealousy,” Decker said.

“You’ve got their number. Toward the end, Lilah was convinced I was sleeping with her mother. Nothing I could say or do could convince her otherwise. It was awful.”

“Were there good times?”

Goldin was thoughtful. “In the beginning, it was wonderful. We’d talk a lot about solving the world’s problems. The kind of thing you do when you’re young and idealistic. She seemed so moved, so full of desire to do
good
. Once we even sailed with Greenpeace into the North Sea waters to prevent the Soviets from whaling. With the wind-chill factor, it was forty below on the seas. We were all freezing our butts off. Lilah
loved
it —
thrived
on it.”

“Was that the extent of her altruism?”

“Not at all. We did a lot of other things on a smaller scale. Collected coats and blankets for the homeless, volunteered to serve in the hash lines at the missions. She even taught an arts and crafts class for the elderly at a recreation center. Matter of fact, one of Lilah’s students became one of her best buddies for a while. Turned out the old lady was from Germany and vaguely knew Lilah’s father.”

That got Decker’s attention. “She knew Hermann Brecht?”

“Vaguely. Lilah had a real hang-up about her father. Idolized him even though she never really knew him. We used to watch his movies together. I don’t mind movies that tell life like it is. But his movies…
whew
! What a thoroughly depressing, debilitating view of life. I’m not the least bit surprised old Hermann committed suicide.”

Decker said, “Do you remember the old woman’s name?”

“Sure. Greta Millstein. Like I said, they were pretty close. Greta was different — offbeat — and I think Lilah liked that. She claimed one of her daughters was a Jewish baby given to her by neighbors right before they were sent off to Dachau. Of course the family perished, so Greta raised the child as her own. Maybe she was snowing me because I was Jewish, but I saw no reason to doubt her.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“I haven’t seen her in five years. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. Why are you interested in her?”

“Because she knew Hermann Brecht. And like you said, Lilah is obsessed with her father.” Decker looked up from his notepad. “Did Lilah ever mention her father’s memoirs to you?”

“Memoirs?” Goldin played with his beard. “Did Hermann Brecht write memoirs?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“If he did, this is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Did Lilah ever intimate she’d been willed something by her father?”

“Not to me.” Goldin shrugged. “Sorry. What does this have to do with Lilah’s attack?”

“I’m not sure it has anything to do with it. Do you remember where Greta Millstein was living then?”

“In the Valley — a block-long apartment complex planted with rolling lawns and trees. I doubt if it’s there anymore. Some developer probably got his mitts on it and turned the space into a shopping mall.”

“
Where
in the Valley, Mr. Goldin?”

“Corner of Fulton and Riverside. I never knew the exact address, but Greta’s apartment number was fifty-four.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“Memory is my bread and butter, Detective.”

“Did you see Greta often?”

“Only occasionally. But Lilah used to visit her two, even three times a week. It was sweet to see them together — this wrinkled old woman and this beautiful young princess. They had this relationship that bridged what must have been a fifty-year age span. Then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know exactly. Frankly, that wasn’t uppermost in my mind. Lilah and I were having lots of problems by that time.” Goldin grew pensive. “She was on my case, nonstop. Instead of finding me enthusiastic and stimulating, now I was obnoxious and overbearing. Which I was, but I was always like that. She just didn’t like me anymore. I was crushed when she served me papers. I was angry and bitter and…”

He threw up his hands, shook his head, and became quiet.

Decker waited a beat, then said, “You seem all right now.”

Goldin smiled. “Yeah, I am. All the credit goes to my wife. Man, if Humpty Dumpty had known Wendy, he’d be sitting on the wall today. First time I met her, I wasn’t knocked off my feet like I was with Lilah, but…” He let out a soft chuckle. “God, I
love
that woman. She scares the hell out of me working downtown at night. But she’s altruistic — genuinely altruistic.” He sighed. “What can I do?”

Decker thought of Rina, how protective he felt toward her. Not that his feelings ever stopped her from doing dumb and dangerous things. “Before you leave, give me the address of the clinic.”

Goldin was surprised. “Why?”

“I’ll give it to the watch commanders at Central. Maybe the cruisers can beef up their passes. But that won’t stop the crime, of course.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m a great guy.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Decker said. “Perry, you can’t think of any reason why Lilah stopped seeing Greta?”

“No… except…”

“What?”

“In the beginning, Lilah and I didn’t have much to do with Davida. But as we began to fall apart, she got closer to her mother. Also, around that time, Lilah stopped doing
all
her charity work. She reverted back to type, started spending lots of money. She bought the spa shortly after we divorced. I don’t know. I’ve always felt Lilah was using Greta as a mother figure. When she started up with Davida again, it was like she didn’t need Greta anymore.”

Goldin furrowed his brow in concentration.

“I felt bad for Greta. I even visited her on my own once or twice. She wasn’t the least bit upset by Lilah’s behavior. Took it all philosophically — as if she expected it.”

“Did she have any clues as to why Lilah stopped coming?”

Goldin shook his head. “I don’t remember her saying anything specific. Just something about she knew it wouldn’t last… ‘it’ being their relationship. Like I said, she was philosophical about Lilah’s rejection. I wish I’d reacted that way. Saved me a lot of self-flagellation.”

“Nah, that never gets you anywhere.” Decker flipped the cover of his notebook and stuffed it in his jacket. “You’ve helped me out. I’ll call if I have any more questions.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

“Sure, call me anytime. This was kind of fun in a way — macho therapy. You missed your calling as a shrink.”

Decker wondered how much money shrinks made. He said, “I’ll give you my number in case you think of anything significant to add.” He pulled out his business card and a picture of Rina fell out of his wallet. Goldin picked it up.

“Your daughter?”

“My wife.”

Goldin moaned. “Ye olde foot back in ye olde mouth.”

“She’s young, Perry.” Decker took the picture back. “Not as young as she looks, but young.”

“Can I see that again?”

Decker paused, then handed him the snapshot.

Goldin said, “Is she this pretty in the flesh — I mean, in real life?”

Decker said, “You’re asking me?”

“I’m not trying to be cute,” Goldin said. “I’m asking you the question in earnest, Detective.”

The guy had something on his mind. Decker said, “In earnest, she’s better. She’s six months pregnant and she still gets wolf whistles every time she walks down the street.”

“She’s pregnant?” Goldin asked.

Decker said, “It can happen.”

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” He handed the photo back to Decker. “Don’t let Lilah see her or your life’ll be hell.”

Decker said, “Go on.”

“Lilah’s competitive spirit isn’t confined to Davida. She loves married men. I should know. I must have fielded dozens of calls from distraught wives. If she finds out you have a beautiful — and pregnant — wife, you’ll never get rid of her.” Goldin bit his lip. “Lilah can’t resist a
challenge
.”

Decker placed his hand on Goldin’s shoulder. After all this time, the guy still sounded bruised and Decker knew that feeling. “She likes making mincemeat out of men?”

“Detective, it’s what she does best.”

A full moon:
the perfect topper to a freaky day. Decker stared out the window, half expecting to see werewolves or vampire bats. But instead, he played witness to a silvery disc drifting through diaphanous clouds, to silhouetted birch branches swaying in the summer wind. Transfixed by the spectacle, he hadn’t even realized the rabbi had come in until he felt a gentle pat on his shoulder.

Rav Schulman was well into his seventies, and for the first time, Decker noticed a slight stooping of the old man’s shoulders. The hunching had cut a couple of inches from the rav’s height, putting him at around five-ten. Most of his face was covered by a beard that was more white than gray and what skin did show was creased and mottled with liver spots. But his coffee-colored eyes were as radiant as ever. As usual, he was dressed in a starched white shirt, a black suit that hung a little too loosely on his frame, a black silk tie, and an ebony homburg. The old man leaned against the windowsill, eyes focused on nature’s snapshot.

“Beautiful, nu?”

“Yes, it is,” Decker answered.

“Peaceful.” Rabbi Schulman faced Decker. “So unlike your day from what I hear.”

Decker exhaled slowly. “I must have been more affected than I realized for Rina to call you. And here I was thinking I was maintaining perfectly…”

The rabbi smiled. “Are you all right, Akiva?”

“Physically?”

“Physically… emotionally.”

“I’m fine.”

The old man absorbed his student’s words, weighing their veracity for just a moment. Then he pointed to a chair, offering Decker a seat. Schulman eased into a leather chair, and rested his elbows on his sprawling desktop. Clasping his hands, he touched his lips to his fingers and waited.

Haltingly, Decker related the details of the morning’s ordeal. As he spoke, he began to feel lighter of weight, his emotions releasing in slow steady leaks rather than sudden bursts. He was sheepish about using the rabbi as a spiritual springboard. But the old man seemed used to it.

Afterward, Schulman said, “It was a fluke, this horse going crazy?”

“No, Rabbi, the horse was drugged.”

The old man pondered the statement. “Someone tried to kill this lady using a horse?”

“Maybe just frighten her. But who knows?”

“Terrible,” Schulman said. “Truly terrible.”

“If that’s what happened, yes, it is.”

The old man seemed a shade paler than before. Decker quickly added, “She’s fine, Rabbi. Sure she was shaken, but she’s fine.”

“Did you bench
gomel
?” the old man asked.

Gomel
— thanks to God for delivering a person from harm. Decker had not only said it, he had said it with feeling.

“Yes, though technically, I guess she was the one who should have done the praying.” He added under his breath, “Not that I can imagine her praying.”

Schulman said, “She’s an atheist?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “She’s more like a New Ager. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s a person who worships chandeliers.”

Decker smiled. “Crystals, Rabbi. Not chandeliers.”

“There’s a difference?” Schulman waved his hands in the air. “It’s all
avodah zorah
— idol worship.”

Easily categorized, easily dismissed. But something was gnawing at Decker’s gut.

“Rabbi, the woman claims to have magical powers, says she can predict things by the miasma in the air. Of course, she’s strange. But something in me can’t completely disregard her. Before the horse bolted, she felt something bad was going to happen. And then the horse went crazy. I don’t know what to think.”