The Yiddish Gangster's Daughter (A Becks Ruchinsky Mystery Book 1) by Joan Cochran (popular books of all time .txt) 📗

He flips the photo over. “What about it?”

“This have anything to do with you?”

He grabs my elbow. “Don’t talk crazy. Yeah, it’s Louie. I already told you. Landauer ordered the hit.” He lets go of my arm, then takes a swig of beer and slams his glass down. Foam sloshes onto the table.

My father has all the answers, but they mean nothing. I have no idea why an intruder broke into my house and left the clippings. I tell my father as much.

“I’m calling the police. There’s no way I’m going to feel safe until I find out what this is all about.”

“Don’t.” The word comes out in a rapid eruption. He looks around. “Did you change your locks?”

“Of course.”

“Give me time. I got a few enemies. Who in the business world doesn’t? And some of those characters you met at Schatzi’s funeral? They were upset when I left the game. Including your friend Abe. But I can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt you or me. Maybe one of the old guys is senile, thinks he’s back in the forties and wants to piss me off.” He rests his chin on the intersection of his twined fingers. “You want me to stay with you, keep an eye on things? I will.”

I reassure him that won’t be necessary.

“Then go home. It had to be Abe. The bastard had his fun. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re safe eight stories up at the Schmuel Bernstein. I’m the one who’s going to be sweating each time I walk into my house.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“To Abe?”

“Abe and whoever else is involved. I’ll find out what they’re after and take care of everything.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. Pay him off. Whatever it takes. You need to be careful in the meantime.”

I’m not convinced. But I rise and stuff the envelope back in my purse. I glance at him a moment and contemplate telling him to be careful. But he knows better than I do what we’re up against.

“Don’t stay out too late,” I say before I lean over to give him a kiss.

“Not to worry.”

As I open the door that leads to the bowling alley, I turn to wave. My father remains where I left him, staring at the table. His hand trembles as he brings the glass to his lips.

When I get home, I’m nervous about entering but force myself to go inside. I’m too keyed up to sleep. I hate to call so late, but I need to talk to someone—to Esther. She knows our dad and might have some ideas. She mentioned earlier in the week that Monday was a teachers’ workday and she’d be going in late. I hope she’s not sleeping.

“You’re up late,” she says after her husband, Bruce, hands her the phone. He’s used to my late night calls and asks how I’m doing before passing the receiver on. Bruce is an attorney and very logical so he’s a great help when it comes to talking things out. I’m not ready, yet, to talk to him about a formal separation from Daniel. That would mean acknowledging, at least to myself, that I’m ready to end my marriage.

“Dad really did it this time,” I say when Esther comes on the line. Then I fill her in on the break-in and Tootsie’s reaction.

“My God. Did you call the police?”

“Not yet. Dad said he’s pretty sure he knows who did it and will confront them. He might have to pay someone off.”

“Did he say who? Or why?”

Esther and I talk at least once a week but I’ve held off on telling her about Mrs. Karpowsky’s accusation or my meeting with Abe. I didn’t want to stoke her anger against our father. I’m beyond worrying about that now. I fill her in and tell her that Tootsie suspects Abe’s behind the break-in.

“The old man’s a real piece of work,” she says. “Stay away from him.”

“I can’t do that. Not after we got back together.”

“But look at what’s happening to you.”

“I’m the one who’s digging up the past.”

We don’t speak for a moment.

Esther’s rebuffed me on several occasions when I’ve asked why she’s not talking to Tootsie. I try again.

“I am sorry, Becks, but it’s like the message that intruder left. You need to ask Dad. If you push hard enough, he’ll explain. But I don’t feel right telling you myself. You have a good relationship with him and I’d hate to be the one to ruin it.”

There’s no need to mention my relationship with Tootsie is already less than ideal. I’m so angry I’m tempted to cut him off again. But I can’t do it. He’s as vulnerable now as I am and I’d feel terrible if anything happened to him. But it’s time to stop pussyfooting around. Esther and that damn intruder have it right. I’ve got to find some way to force my father to tell me what this is all about before one of us gets hurt.

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18

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Tootsie

After Becks leaves, I remain in the booth and stare at my beer coaster. A buxom blonde in an Oktoberfest costume smiles back, offering up a ceramic stein and an invitation into her uncomplicated Teutonic world.

If only life were so simple.

I set my glass down and drop my face in my palms. My hands tremble so badly I have to steady them with the weight of my cheeks. The break-in at Becks’ shook me. My knees feel weak and my breath comes in short, shallow gasps. I glance toward the corner of the restaurant where my friends joke and laugh. I hope no one noticed Becks’ anger or my despair.

For a brief moment, I wonder if the intruder was Winchell. But no. he turned me down when I suggested it. Said it was a sick idea. So the intruder had to be Abe. That son of a bitch. What kind of psycho goes out and scares