Read Online Lieberman's Choice by Stuart M. Kaminsky - Free Book Online

Hempel’s Bakery was open, but Hinkey’s Bike Shop, the savings and loan, and everything else was sound asleep. Further east, toward Lake Michigan, past Western Avenue, Devon was alive. The immigrants rose early, even the Kung Fu Academy was open for skinny kids and dreaming adults who wanted a shot of self-esteem before work or school or walking the street.
    Lieberman hit Birchwood a little after eight. Lisa’s car was gone. In its place in front of the house stood a white Buick, a not-very-new white Buick. Lieberman considered continuing on, but if Todd’s car was parked and he wasn’t in it, Bess was inside with him. He parked and, armed with his sweet-smelling ruggalah, got out of his car and entered his house.
    â€œAbe,” shouted Bess when she heard the door open. “You’ve got company.”
    â€œYou’ve got company,” Lieberman repeated to himself. Not, We’ve got company. Bess was paving the way for total abandonment.
    â€œI saw the car,” said Lieberman, moving to the kitchen and looking at his wife and son-in-law seated at the table.
    Bess was wearing her red-and-black suit, which meant serious business for someone. The silver necklace around her neck, the one he had bought for her when they went to Mérida, Mexico, on vacation four years ago, convinced Lieberman that she was not only serious but she expected to triumph.
    Todd smiled up at him, a long-suffering smile. Todd Cresswell was a bit on the thin side, sandy of hair. He was wearing a dark sweater, navy slacks, a red tie, and a very pained expression which, Lieberman thought, made his smile look like the first pangs of constipation.
    â€œI brought ruggalah,” said Lieberman, placing the bag on the table.
    â€œI’m glad you’re here,” said Bess, rising. “I’ve got to go. Breakfast meeting at the synagogue. Irving Hamel is trying to convince us to get a bigger bank loan and drag the building renovation fund drive out for two years.”
    â€œAnd,” said Lieberman, knowing for sure now that he was being abandoned, “you’ve got the votes? I can tell from the canary feathers coming out of your mouth.”
    â€œIda Katzman and Rabbi Wass both,” she said triumphantly.
    â€œRommel hasn’t got a chance,” said Lieberman, dipping into the bag for a ruggalah. It felt honey sweet and sticky.
    Bess gave him a kiss on the cheek and patted Todd’s shoulder. Todd gave his mother-in-law a suffering smile.
    â€œGood-bye,” she said.
    â€œGood-bye,” said Lieberman and his wife was gone.
    He turned to his son-in-law.
    â€œI dubbed Irving Hamel ‘Rommel,’” Lieberman explained to avoid the inevitable. “He’s a lawyer, young. He blitzkriegs.”
    Todd nodded.
    â€œSo,” said Lieberman, settling in for the siege. “I’ve got about twenty minutes. I’ve been up all night and I need a shower and some rest. Have a ruggalah.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” said Todd. “I’ve got a class at nine.”
    With that, Todd reached into the bag and pulled out one of the small honey pastries. He looked at it and said, “‘Darkness lies upon my eyes.’”
    Lieberman’s sigh was deep.
    â€œEuripides,” he said.
    â€œThat’s right,” Todd said, looking up with interest. “Heracles. How did you …?”
    â€œHe’s your favorite,” said Lieberman. “Remember the ground rules, Todd. Don’t quote Greek tragedies. I don’t want to hear dead Greeks I don’t understand. I’m a tired cop.”
    â€œI’ve tried, Abe,” Todd said, looking at the refrigerator.
    Lieberman resisted the urge to join him.
    â€œMaybe you should try harder,” said Lieberman.
    â€œI want Lisa back. I want the kids back. I’m tired of ‘Rockford Files’ reruns on television. I’ve got to tell you this. I even tried to go out on a