Chapter 17: You «Goyim» Do Everything Differently!

February 27, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

I sat in my room for about fifteen minutes, trying to think of some solution to the problem, but I couldn't come up with one. I was, though, curious about how a private investigator would find Bev without recourse to the resources the police and FBI had, including forcing me to answer questions. I decided to call Nelson and ask him.

"Sorry to bother you on a Sunday," I said after he'd answered the call.

"There's no football or baseball, so you aren't really interrupting anything. What's up?"

"Bev's dad hired a private investigator to find her. I was curious how they did their job without having any authority."

"It's the same way debt collectors and bail bondsmen would do what's called 'skip trace'. There are legal, quasi-legal, and illegal methods. The legal ones include pulling a credit report, running a criminal background check, and contacting friends and relatives. Quasi-legal things include going through someone's trash, making pretext calls, and trying to get records which normally would only be released to the individual. Illegal methods include looking in mailboxes or making threats."

"And how often are they successful?"

"Often enough. It's not impossible to hide, but you have to make a serious effort to leave no trace of your identity anywhere, and that means an assumed name, paying cash only, and working for cash. You can't have utilities in your own name, use a credit card, have a driver's license, register a car, or do anything else that leaves a paper trail. And even then, people are found.

"In your case, someone in law enforcement would just call the phone company and get a list of calls you made and received. That's trivial and might not even require a warrant. A PI could do something similar, though they might have to use subterfuge to get it or even break the law. Some PIs will, and some won't; it just depends on the individual.

"Without that, it's mostly just a lot of legwork. You talk to everyone who knows the missing person. That would mean any friends, teachers, or relatives, including ones who moved away. I suspect Bev's parents would provide a list, but an investigator would just need a couple of High School yearbooks and could simply start at 'A' and work their way through to 'Z'. You said Bev was with a friend from High School, right?"

"Yes."

"Between that and the fact she has a job and she has a kid, they'll eventually find her. If the PI is willing to break the law and has the right contacts, it could take days; otherwise, weeks or months, but the odds are she'll be found."

"And there's nothing she can do?"

"No. If the PI finds her, he'll report that to her parents, and they can try to contact her. At that point, if she tells them to leave her alone and they don't listen, she might be able to get some kind of no-contact order based on harassment, but those are hard to get in such situations and basically not worth the paper on which they're written."

"Why is that?"

"Because the police only respond if the order is violated, and even then, it tends to be a low priority. Domestic restraining orders don't actually prevent anything. Most people who violate them do so with ill intent, and by the time the police are involved, it's often too late. If you think about it, the police don't have the resources to actually protect any specific individual, and this might surprise you — they have no legal duty or obligation to do so."

"Interesting. What would you advise?"

"Honestly? Tell her parents where she is and that she wants no contact with them. If they persist, she'd have to file a complaint with local law enforcement and eventually go to court."

"Why do the investigator's job for him?" I asked.

"Strategy," Nelson said. "If you tell them, you might have enough influence to prevent them from contacting her against her will."

"I can't imagine her dad caring what I think at this point, and telling would doom my relationship with Bev, which is already rocky," I said. "Thanks, I've taken enough of your time."

"It's OK, Jonathan. That's what friends are for."

"Thanks again."

We said 'goodbye', and I hung up, wondering if the private investigator would contact me. If he did, I'd simply refuse to answer his questions, not because I thought it would make any difference, but because I'd made a promise to Bev. There was nothing more I could do, so I spent the next hour cleaning and doing laundry, then showered, dressed in one of my new suits, and headed to Hyde Park to pick up Beth for our date.

"How are things going at work?" she asked after greeting me with a quick hug and kiss.

"Really well," I replied. "The investments I've made have paid off handsomely, and my bosses are happy."

"I wish my boss would be happy!" Beth declared.

"You work for your grandfather!"

"And he's never satisfied! He's a complete perfectionist, and while I understand why and generally agree, he lets unimportant things bother him too much."

"He is the best custom tailor in the city," I replied.

"And knows it, too! But I didn't ask you out to discuss my grandfather's approach to life!"

"True. I take it business is good?"

"Yes. Thanks for the referrals."

I'd given several cards each to Nelson, Gary, and Pete, as well as Mr. Matheson. I'd also pinned some to the notice board at Jewel and at the dry cleaners. I didn't know which of those had generated the business, but that ultimately didn't matter.

"You're welcome," I replied. "How are things otherwise?"

"My family is all drama, all the time, but I'm used to that."

"My mom was basically the opposite. I just don't see you as a 'drama queen'."

"Because you aren't my husband!" Beth teased.

"You obviously don't have to answer this, and it's not really my business, but are you dating anyone?"

"There are two guys in their early twenties at our synagogue who are interesting, but I wouldn't think about a serious relationship with them before they finished their education."

"What are they studying?"

"One's in law school, the other is in medical school."

"Aren't you concerned they might find someone else?"

"Their loss!" Beth declared. "But I think they're both so focused on school, it's not a problem. And I know how to keep them interested."

I laughed, "I bet!"

"Not that! Fucking them would be a mistake at this point!"

"Is this some Jewish thing I wouldn't understand?"

"No. They're each other's best friend, and if I fucked one, the other would be out of the game. Because of that, it's either both or none, and if I fucked both of them, both would think I'm just in it for sex, and they wouldn't think seriously about the future. It makes sense, if you think about it."

"I suppose I could see how that could create tension if you're not ready to choose."

"Exactly. And when I have a burning need to have my brains fucked out, I can simply make a phone call! You've yet to disappoint or not be available!"

"And if I did?"

"Disappoint? I can't imagine that happening. Not being available? That'll happen eventually, and I have backup options! I'm positive you have more action than you can handle."

"I do have to balance my time and energy," I replied with a silly smile. "And you aren't demanding."

"Not until we get in bed! Then I demand, expect, and deserve orgasms!"

"As you should! Nobody should put up with bad sex."

"Remember what I said about Jewish marriages?" Beth asked, laughing softly.

"In all stereotypes, there is a kernel of truth," I agreed. "But I assumed it was exaggeration, like your comment about 'all drama, all the time'."

"That actually isn't an exaggeration. But for marriage, the stereotype is the wife being uninterested or not caring."

"I can't imagine that being you!"

"Kids change things," Beth said.

"My High School girlfriend was hornier after she had her baby than when we were seeing each other."

"You «goyim» do everything differently!" Beth teased. "Though, at least in your case, you had the equivalent of a bris."

"Another new word," I said.

"In Hebrew, the «brit milah» — the covenant of circumcision."

"That's one of Abraham's 'gifts' to humanity," I said.

"You sound as if you disagree."

"Let's just say that as an adult male, I have qualms when I think about having part of my dick cut off! The doctor who delivered me convinced my mom, but I suspect her knowledge of male anatomy was strictly limited in 1962."

"Probably. My mom had no real clue about sex until my grandmother spoke to her the day before her wedding. Of course, she married at seventeen, which is totally insane, but wasn't back in the 50s. She got pregnant with my brother either during her honeymoon or right after."

"I'd want to be a couple for a time," I replied.

"Me, too."

"You know, if you just decided it was OK to eat bacon, we'd make a great couple."

Beth laughed, "A nice shortcut for saying give up my Jewish traditions, but I can't do that. And I don't disagree with you about being compatible in basically every other way. And, weirdly, being an atheist isn't an impediment, as being a Jew passes through the mother, not the father. But I couldn't see you accepting all the cultural trappings, even as an atheist."

"Probably not," I replied. "I don't like to be bound by any cultural norms and prefer to do my own thing rather than follow some set of ancient rules."

"Not to start a debate, but there is value in tradition," Beth said. "It connects us with the past and gives us a foundation for our lives, and as strange as it might sound, a path to the future. The traditions and rituals provide stability and are a refuge from the crazy world. Most Jews, except the most conservative orthodox, embrace the future and embrace change in the world, but keep their traditions as a bulwark against the craziness that often comes with change."

"I just don't like being told what to do," I said.

"Nobody tells me to do it, Jonathan. I do it because I want to. There are plenty of Jews who don't follow all the traditions and rituals, but that doesn't make them any less Jewish, at least in my mind. And yes, the rituals are ancient and stem from a society which had a very different view of women, but we've adapted and modernized yet kept the foundational traditions.

"And you don't completely reject social convention or cultural traditions, even though you say you do. I bet you anything that you stand for the National Anthem and remove your hat, that you use appropriate language for a situation, and that you adhere to the norms for behavior at work and in a classroom. Not to mention wearing what amounts to a uniform to work. In the loosest sense, our traditions aren't all that different from those."

"I hadn't considered that, and you're right. When I go to Chicago Stadium to see the Hawks, I take off my hat and stand when they play the Anthem. And I take off my hat when I go into buildings. And yes, I do wear the equivalent of a uniform, the same as my friends who are in professional positions."

"What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't throw the baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Don't reject something simply because it's a social convention, even if it has religious origins. I bet you anything you celebrate Christmas, even as an atheist."

"You'd win that bet," I said.

"Why do you celebrate if you aren't a Christian?" Beth asked.

I chuckled, "Because I've always done it for as long as I can remember."

"I believe I've made my point."

"You have, and as usually happens when I'm with you, I learned something about the world and about myself."

"You can pay me back with orgasms!"

"I'm happy to oblige!"

February 28, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday morning, after a joint shower and breakfast, I'd driven Beth to her grandfather's tailor shop, then retraced part of my route to the Hancock Center. The very first thing I did after making a fresh pot of coffee was talk to Rich about overnight trading, and based on what he reported, I made a note to call Mr. Steinem to close out my position in gold.

That recommendation also went into my daily analyst report, and I noted that silver still likely had not found what I considered bottom — a support level that fit with the short volume and futures contracts. Based on my rough estimate, it would be Friday or Monday because of daily price limits. I'd keep an eye on it, but given those price limits, the price couldn't move too far before I could act.

The rest of my report was basically an update from the previous Friday's report, as the world was relatively calm, with just the usual low-intensity conflicts. Venezuela was reeling from the devaluation of the Bolivar, but there wasn't really any play there, and there was literally no market for shorts, long positions would be automatic losers, and futures contracts were trading at such discounts as to likely never be in the money.

Just before 10:00am, my phone rang.

"FX Desk, Kane," I said when I picked up the handset.

"Mr. Kane, my name is Patrick Shaughnessy from Global Security in Cincinnati. Do you have a moment to speak to me?"

"If you're calling to try to locate Bev Newton, I have no information for you."

"According to her parents, you know where she is."

"As I said, Mr. Shaughnessy, I have no information for you. I'm very busy, so I'll say 'goodbye' and ask you not to call again."

I hung up before he could respond. I was under no illusions that he wouldn't find her, but I wanted to be able to tell Bev that I hadn't helped him in any way. There was nothing more to be done, so I returned to my usual work of analyzing the currency and precious metals markets and looking for arbitrage possibilities for the traders.

As usual, I had my lunch at my desk, then joined Anna in the gym for our forty-minute workout. I still hadn't decided what to do about her, but I was leaning towards at least asking her on a date. I decided it was best to wait to see how my date with Haley went on Friday, as well as my third date with Teri on Saturday. Anna, though, had other ideas.

"Would you like to have a drink after work?" she asked as we got into the elevator to return to the office.

"I don't turn twenty-one until November," I said.

"Silly laws! At eighteen, you can buy alcohol in Sweden, though it's expensive because, unlike here, we have «Systembolaget», which is a government monopoly."

"Ohio has state-run liquor stores," I said. "Though you can buy beer and wine in privately owned stores. The other thing is that I have class three nights a week, and I'm busy the other nights this week."

"If you don't want to, just say you aren't interested."

"I am interested," I replied. "And I really am busy, mainly because of class. And I have a concern about dating someone from work."

"I'm not like the other women," Anna said. "You know that."

I nodded, "I know. It's just, well, a concern about rumors and not wanting to mess up either of our jobs."

"I think we're both mature enough to deal with whatever happens as adults, don't you?"

She was nothing like Rachel, though they both agreed about the rejection of the corporate culture, such as it was.

"I do," I replied. "Next Tuesday would work, but given my birthday isn't until November, I'll likely be carded unless we go to a bar in Bridgeport where I know the bartender, and he'll serve us."

"I think we might be overdressed for a pub in Bridgeport after work!"

"True," I chuckled. "It's mostly blue-collar."

"I think the bars here would serve you," she said. "You look old enough, and the suit implies a professional with a university education, like a banker or even an attorney."

"I think we'd have a better chance at a nice restaurant where we ordered food," I said. "If that's acceptable."

"Yes, of course! Tuesday after work, then."

I nodded my agreement as the elevator opened on 29, and we walked out and went into the Spurgeon offices. The rest of the day was typical, with dinner at Violet's, class, and coffee and pie with Violet afterwards.

March 1, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Tuesday, after work, I met Kasia Pucinski at Lou Malnati's.

"I have someone who will move into the house on April 15th," she said once we were seated and had placed our order.

"Great! I'll write you a check for $650 in exchange for a letter terminating the lease on April 3rd."

"For tax purposes, it would be better if I simply deduct that from your security deposit to cover 'damages'."

"We intend to clean from top to bottom and paint," I said.

"You obviously didn't hear the air quotes around 'damages'."

"Ah, OK," I chuckled. "Never mind. I understand. We'll be finished no later than Saturday, April 2nd."

"OK. I'll arrange to do the move-out inspection on the morning of the 2nd. Can we meet there at, say, 8:00am?"

"That works for me. I appreciate the accommodation."

"It makes financial sense for both of us," Kasia said. "The classical 'win-win' scenario."

"Outside of work, which by its nature has to be a zero-sum game most of the time, I believe that finding a 'win-win' scenario nearly always results in the best possible outcome, all things considered."

"Not at work?"

"The only thing I owe a counterparty is completing the deal as agreed," I said. "His profit or loss is on him, as nobody is forcing him to sell to me for a specific price or buy from me at a specific price except his own circumstances, which he created himself. A real life example was when I bought Johnson & Johnson stock right after the Tylenol murders. Someone accused me of profiting from tragedy, but I viewed it as supporting what I saw as a good company in a bad circumstance, not of their own making. Nobody was forced to sell, but because they chose to, I could buy the stock at a serious discount relative to future earnings."

"I take it you made a killing, so to speak," Kasia said with a smirk.

"Wow!" I chuckled. "That's rough! But I did make a nice percentage profit, but I was playing with so little money that the absolute numbers weren't very big."