A man in his late twenties or maybe early thirties, with Jeffrey’s blue eyes and his mother’s thick, coppery hair, stood by her side. He was big and built like a football player, yet handled the necklaces with care. He sent them a friendly smile, his gaze lingering on Paul. It was fleeting, but enough.
Jeffrey led them to a room and closed the door behind them. “Please take a seat. Can I get you gentlemen a drink of water or anything?” He took a seat behind a desk piled with magazines, a computer, and various uncut stones that looked like crystals embedded in rocks.
They both declined, and Paul flipped open his memo book. “Can you tell us a bit about the store, Mr. Rothstein? It’s relatively new, correct?”
“Yes. About a year. My family moved here from New York. My wife can’t take the cold anymore, plus we were looking to downsize and move toward retirement in a few years. Our son, Joshua, is going to take over the business when we do.”
“He didn’t mind moving down here with you?” Rob posed the first question.
“Not when he knows he’ll own the store in a few years. He went to business school after college and always knew he wanted to be in the jewelry business with us; he grew up in the store. So, to make a long story short”—he laughed—“no.”
“Getting back to the break-in. Can you tell us what happened? Anything out of the ordinary occur that you might remember?”
Jeffrey stroked his chin. “No, nothing that I can recall. We had a good day with strong sales.”
“No disagreements with any customers, or complaints? Do you only have family working here?”
“Yes, just the three of us.” Jeffrey grinned. “Believe it or not, no complaints. Even though we’re relatively new, our clientele is mostly repeat customers. We’re trying to keep our prices low and be competitive, and also become part of the community. We’re participating in the ‘Get to Know Your Neighbor’ Saturday celebrations the Chamber of Commerce organizes, and we have discounts for seniors and students. Plus we’re going to participate in the big jewelry sale and auction next month at the Starrywood Hotel. All to get more involved with the community. Joshua also works with the kids at the youth center in East Thornwood Park, in their after-school programs.”
“What made you pick Thornwood Park?” Rob asked.
“We have relatives living not far from here, and every summer we’d come and visit. During one of our drives we stopped to have a picnic in the park and decided to walk around. We liked the small-town feel and the friendliness of people. I got tired of commuting into Manhattan every day, and we’re lucky enough to be able to start thinking about retirement. Elana, my wife, suggested we come here and open the store and then Joshua could take over.”
When no one’s shooting out windows or leaving threatening notes, it’s a great place to live.
Progress was all well and good, but Paul missed the true small-town feel of the Thornwood Park of his childhood.
“Well, welcome, and I hope you won’t let this setback make you think negatively of Thornwood Park.” Rob flipped his memo pad closed. “I’m raising my family here and couldn’t think of a better place to live.”
“Not at all. I was robbed four times in my store in New York City in two years. Another reason I’d had enough.”
They left his office and walked around a bit to get a feel for the place. Paul took pictures on his cell phone of the closed-circuit cameras, recalling that they provided little help, as the two intruders who’d come into the store were careful to be covered up and keep their faces out of sight. The last customer departed, and Jeffrey stood conversing with his wife and son. He and Rob walked over to them and introduced themselves.
“Did either of you have any issues with customers in the past month or so?”
Joshua shrugged. “Nothing unusual. Someone complained that their necklace broke, so we fixed it for free. I did have to turn away this guy who wanted to sell me a watch I told him was fake. He insisted it was real and got angry about it.”
Jeffrey seemed surprised. “You didn’t tell me that happened. Why not?”
“Because I can handle it, Dad.” Embarrassed, Joshua hung his head. A tiny diamond stud winked in his earlobe.
“What did he say to you, Joshua? Do you remember?” Paul extracted his memo pad from his pocket and clicked his pen open.
“Oh yeah, I remember.” Angry blue eyes spit fire as he met Paul’s gaze. “He said, ‘I’m not gonna let no queer Jew boy tell me my watch is fake.’ ” Defiant now, he lifted his chin with pride. “I told him to get out and not come back.”
His mother gasped and put her hand on his arm. “Joshua, you should’ve told us.”
“I didn’t want you and Dad to worry or think I can’t deal with trouble. He left, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Nerves tingling, Paul scribbled in his pad, while Rob asked the next question. “What did the guy look like?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Joshua scrunched up his forehead. “About six feet. Shaved head on the sides with dark hair on top, bushy beard, and he was kind of skinny. He wore a plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up. Tattoos on his neck, one which I won’t forget. It was an Iron Cross with a skull in the center.”
A chill ran through Paul, and he and Rob exchanged glances. “You’re sure that’s what it was?”
“Trust me, Detective.” Joshua met his eyes grimly. “I know what I saw.”
“Have you ever experienced any other instances like that before?”
“No. Everyone’s been very welcoming and friendly. One of the reasons I was happy to make the move to Thornwood Park was the town’s acceptance of gay rights. I took it for granted in New York, but here I wasn’t so sure.”
“Every year it gets better,” Paul spoke quietly. “But it’s not there yet.” He directed his gaze to Elana. “Have you had any problems with anyone, Mrs. Rothstein?”
“No, nothing.”
“Thank you for your time, and if you remember anything else, or if you see something that looks or feels strange, please call us right away. Here are our cards.” He and Rob handed out one to each of the Rothsteins and left. On their way to the Curry Spot, only a few doors down, he and Rob discussed their impressions.
“Could be a hate crime, except for all the other robberies in the neighborhood,” Rob mused. “What’re you thinking?”
“Too soon to tell. The guy could’ve just been an arrogant prick, but yeah, that tat makes me wonder. Let’s go talk to Mr. Singh.”
The Curry Spot was fragrant with warm spices, and Paul’s stomach growled. He barely remembered the yogurt he’d eaten in two bites for lunch earlier while reading through case files.
Rob grinned. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. I offered you half my chicken-parmesan hero.”
“I’ll live. I told Cliff I’d pick up Maria’s tonight.”
“Gentlemen?” A thin man with dark hair and limpid eyes stood before them, the overhead light of the chandeliers shining off his mahogany skin. “Are you the detectives?”
Paul raised his brows and smiled. “What gave us away?”