LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Does Dr. Brecht have the combination to the safe?”

      “I don’t think so. He’s my little messenger boy. Brings my pieces to Lilah to lock up.”

      So he knew what was stored in the safe, Decker thought. He remembered how Brecht had vehemently denied knowing the contents of Lilah’s safe. He jotted the inconsistency down in his notes. Family was getting more and more interesting. He decided to focus in on them.

      “Do you think your children could mastermind a robbery like this one, Ms. Eversong?”

      Davida laughed wickedly. “I doubt it. Not that they wouldn’t mind my money. I pad their wallets from time to time, but it never seems to be enough … the carrion eaters.”

      “How much padding are we talking about?”

      “A thousand or two, here and there.”

      “Including Lilah?”

      “No, she has her own money. And why would she steal from me, knowing she’s going to get the whole kit and caboodle after I move on to the next world?”

      “She inherits everything?”

      “Oh, I haven’t given her everything. I’ve remembered my boys, but not as much as my little girl and that’s just tough titties if they don’t like it. Men have it easy in society. No one looks askance when an old frog is hooked up with a princess fifty years his junior. Women—aging women—need an extra boost and that boost is money. Lilah doesn’t understand that now. She thinks her looks will last forever. Someday, when she’s old and gray, she’ll realize what I’ve done for her. Despite my admitted self-obsession, I do have her interests at heart.”

      Decker didn’t answer.

      Davida picked up an emery board and began to file her nails. “Not that I’m claiming to be Mother Teresa. Yes, I’m selfish. So what? Why shouldn’t I take care of myself? Didn’t some ancient philosopher say, ‘If I’m not for myself, who’ll be for me?’”

      “Rabbi Hillel,” Decker said.

      “What?”

      “Rabbi Hillel said that.”

      “A Jew said that?”

      Decker nodded.

      “That figures.” Davida stopped filing and looked up at Decker. “Are you Jewish?”

      “Yes.”

      “Did I offend you?”

      “Not really.”

      Davida studied him. “You don’t look Jewish. Sure you weren’t adopted?”

      Decker broke into sudden laughter.

      “It wasn’t that funny,” Davida said.

      But it was. The old lady had hit it on the nose. Born to a Jewish mother, he’d been adopted in infancy by a good Baptist family. It wasn’t until he met Rina that he’d returned to the religion of his bloodline.

      “Well, your Rabbi what’s his face was right in this case,” Davida said. “One must take care of Number One.”

      “You missed the next line of the quote, Ms. Eversong. Hillel also said, ‘And if I’m only for myself, then who am I?’”

      Davida gave him a sour expression which slowly turned into a grin. “Who am I? A bitchy, famous, rich old woman, that’s who I am. Are you here to quote dead rabbis, Sergeant, or are you going to find my jewels?”

      “Any other pieces inside the safe?”

      “Let’s see. You have the earrings, the pearls, the brooch. Did I tell you about the diamond bracelet?”

      “No.”

      “Heavy braided gold studded with diamonds. I also have a ruby and emerald bracelet to go with my Christmas earrings. And of course, I have lesser pieces. An amethyst ring surrounded by baguettes, a peridot brooch that’s identical to the emerald brooch. Sometimes I want to wear the brooch but don’t feel comfortable going out in a five-carat Colombian emerald. So I had the same brooch made up with peridot and faux diamonds.”

      She took his hand and stroked it.

      “Find my pieces, Peter. I’ll make sure you’re more than adequately compensated for your time.”

      Decker looked down at his hand in hers. Like mother, like daughter. He pulled away gently. “Doing my job well is all the compensation I need. I’d like to touch just a moment on the memoirs—”

      “God, you’re tedious!” She faced him. “What!”

      “You knew about them, but you’ve never seen them.”

      “Yes, yes. I told you all this before. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

      “Do your other children know about the memoirs?”

      “How should I know? Ask them!”

      “Who else do you think might know about them?”

      “Don’t know and don’t care. Our time is up, Sergeant.”

      Decker inched closer to the old woman. He could smell her sweat mixed with overly sweet perfume, see the pores giving texture to her white face makeup. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

      Davida traced his jawline with a sharpened index fingernail, then let her hand fall in her lap. “Oh, go ahead! You’ve already ruined my morning.”

      “You say you haven’t the faintest idea about what’s contained in your late husband’s memoirs.”

      “Correct. Hermann was a self-obsessed genius. He never spoke to me or anyone else about his art. Frankly, I wasn’t interested in his art, I was interested in his performance. Which I regret to say wasn’t Oscar caliber.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yes, oh!” Davida stared at him. “Do you want the smarmy details?”

      “Do you want to tell me details?”

      “He was a drunk, which made him a lousy fuck. How’s that for details?”

      “So why’d you marry him?”

      Davida shrugged. “Impulse. And … I was swept away by his reputation. Even I wasn’t immune to what others thought.”

      “Do you think he might have written disparaging things about you, Ms. Eversong?”

      Davida pondered the question.

      “I just don’t see Hermann writing about his tawdry little affairs—or my tawdry little affairs, for that matter. Affairs are just something one does when one is creatively blessed. Personally, I suspect Hermann wrote exclusively about his art. I’m sure he wrote rather harshly about some of his contemporaries. Hermann was very, very critical. But I can’t imagine some old irate compadre director breaking into Lilah’s safe and stealing the memoirs just to censor what Hermann may have written about him thirty years ago.” There was a pause. “Yet I’ve seen weirder things. Egos do abound in this business.”

      Decker smiled.

      “We’re getting off track,” Davida said. “These memoirs may very well be a figment of Lilah’s overactive mind. Find my jewels. Once you do, everything else will fall into place.”

      “Maybe.” Decker noticed Davida staring at him. “Anything else you’d like to add, Ms. Eversong?”

      Davida tapped her nails against the portable table. “You seem to be a very skeptical man, Peter.”

      Decker folded his notepad and stuffed it into his jacket. “That’s why I’m a cop and not a cowboy, Ms. Eversong.”

      Ness sat in a lotus position on the floor and watched Freddy rant. Since Freddy couldn’t handle the ladies

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