“’Preciate it.”

Romero said, “Yeah, Larry would definitely want to hear about this. Let me see if I got all your numbers right.” He repeated Decker’s phone numbers over the line.

“You got it.” Decker hung up and turned to Rina. “He described the Leibbener village to me as a cult. From what I’ve heard, I think that’s an accurate description.”

“It’s not coercive.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.”

“So just what are you saying, Peter?” Rina said, angrily. “You think the murder was an inside job?”

“I’m not saying anything because I don’t know anything.” Decker paused. “I’ll tell you what I do know. If this Rebbe cared about Honey, he wouldn’t be telling me to back off.”

“He’s concerned for our welfare.”

“You know, Rav Schulman is a very wise man. He said Honey Klein isn’t a halachic issue. It’s a police matter. He’s right.”

Reluctantly, Rina nodded in agreement. The phone rang. Decker picked it up.

“This is Detective Dintz,” a low voice announced. “I’m looking for a Sergeant Decker.”

“You found him.”

“Man, I wish you’d called earlier. I got all my notes in my desk.”

“Wish I could have. I’m on a double homicide out here.”

“Yeah, a diamond dealer and his wife. It was on the news. You think there’s a connection between them and Klein?”

“So far the only connection I’ve found is me.” Decker brought him up-to-date on the Kleins-the abandoned car on the shoulder of the freeway, Honey’s claim about receiving crazy calls, Gershon Klein’s strange behavior.

Dintz listened without interruption. When Decker was through, he said, “So first you found two Israeli stiffs. Now the Klein family has disappeared. And you don’t think there’s a connection?”

“If I find one, you’ll be the first to know,” Decker said. “Right now we’re still trying to determine if the Klein family is in hiding or if they were abducted.”

“And you’re assigned to investigate Klein’s disappearance?”

“Yes. Can you tell me something about Gershon Klein’s murder? Something that might help me figure out what happened to the wife and kids?”

“All I got so far was a prelim on the coroner’s report. Klein was shot, but that wasn’t the cause of death.”

“What was?”

“Drowning.”

Lying in bed, Rina had the book in front of her, but had read the same page for the last fifteen minutes. Peter was still on the phone, saying a lot of uh-huhs, and taking a lot of notes. She was dying to look over his shoulder, but didn’t. Finally, he ended the conversation with a “thanks a heap, I’ll call you tomorrow,” then hung up the receiver. He plopped down on the bed. Rina put down her book and waited.

Peter stared at the ceiling, then at her. “How about a two-minute recap?”

“That should tide me over, thanks.”

“The official cause of death was drowning. So why was Gershon Klein shot in the head?”

“A coverup.”

“You’re good,” Decker said. “Dintz, the detective assigned to the case, is working on the assumption that the shooting was done afterward-to throw the police off track.”

“The ploy obviously didn’t work.”

“Autopsies don’t lie, and all homicide victims are autopsied. Death by drowning is a very easy thing to spot.”

“I’m confused,” Rina said. “Are you saying that Gershon was drowned on purpose? Then someone shot him to make it look like a normal murder?” She frowned. “Normal murder. Now there’s a contradiction in terms.”

“It looks that way.” Decker rubbed his eyes. “Seems to me, we’re working with amateurs instead of professional hit men.”

“What kind of amateurs?”

“Could be anyone-disgruntled friends…family…wife that’s pissed because her husband won’t make love to her anymore.”

“You mean Honey?” Rina shook her head. “I don’t believe it! I refuse to believe that. Beside, Honey’s what?…five four. Gershon was a lot bigger than that.”

Good point, Decker thought. Man, he was tired. His brain waves were close to flatlining. “I need some sleep.”

Rina leaned over and kissed him. “You’re going to keep working on the case, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Decker said. “I don’t care what her Rebbe says. Something’s rotten in the state of New York.”

“He seemed genuinely concerned about Honey’s safety, leery about the family’s whereabouts. He seemed to feel you could be endangering them.”

“And just what is he basing his thoughts on, Rina?”

She shrugged.

“You know what I think?”

“He’s holding back.”

“Bingo, you win the Thanksgiving turkey. Either he knows something bad or he’s protecting somebody.”

“Honey?”

“Maybe Honey. Maybe someone in the community. Maybe even himself.”

Rina stared at her husband incredulously. “Are you actually saying that the Rebbe had something to do with Gershon’s murder?”

“I’m saying I have a trained nose and, baby, I smell a rat.” He turned away from her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Rina waited a beat, then shut the lights off.

At his desk at seven the next morning, the first thing Decker did was call up West LA. His intentions were to leave a recorded message for Detective Sturgis, the one who had been assigned to Honey’s abandoned van. But to Decker’s surprise, Sturgis was in.

Decker filled him in. “Anything new I should know about?”

“Not on my end.” Sturgis paused. “What’s your make on the drowning?”

“Someone was working the guy over and didn’t want to leave marks. You know. Dunking his head in the toilet. Meanwhile, the wife was conveniently out of town. It could have been mob. But it sure could have been an arrangement made by the wife. But if she actually arranged the water torture, what was she trying to gain? To get any kind of renumeration like an insurance policy, her husband would have to kick.”

“He did kick.”

“A messy way to arrange a hit, don’t you think? Especially if you’re going to shoot him anyway. No, I’m thinking something got bungled. They were working him over but he wasn’t supposed to die.”

“Or could be someone meant to drown him. The head shot was done to confuse us. Which is precisely what it’s doing. Has anyone checked out the insurance policies?”

“Dintz from Manhattan said there’s none to speak of. But Gershon Klein was a diamond dealer. I’m sure he has some fancy stones in inventory.”

Sturgis said, “You want to know my take? She ripped off her husband, hired thugs to pop him, cashed out her stones here, then went underground.”

“But, Sturgis, she didn’t go underground. She came out here, to LA with her family.”

“To throw everyone off track before she made her big escape.”

“She’s religious. She’d have a hard time hiding.”

“Unless she decided to become un-religious.”

Decker thought about that. Honey was a religious woman swathed in clothing and custom-a lady who covered her hair practically all of her adult life. To change her appearance all she’d have to do would be take off her wig, put on some tight jeans, and eat tref. No one would recognize her.

“You still there?” Sturgis asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about what you said. If Honey decided to become un-religious, she could hide very easily. But, no pun intended, old habits die hard. If Honey chose to remain Orthodox, a religious lady just doesn’t have too many hiding spots in this country. I think there is a very real possibility that the lady bolted to Israel.”

Sturgis paused. “Yeah, could be. You know anything about Israel?”

“I’ve heard there are lots of religious people in certain areas. Lots of places to hide. Honey and her family could easily fade into the miasma.”

“That being the case nobody’s going to find her.”

“We’re not going to find her, that’s true. But an insider probably could.”

“You’ve got someone in mind?”

“I have only one international informant on Israel, Sturgis. But she’s a doozy.”