The Ritual Bath (11 page)

He took a long drag and blew out a wisp of smoke.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

Her words rang in his ears, and he shook his head and laughed.

“Will you listen to me?
You’ve
been threatened with a knife, and I’m prattling on like some five-year-old brat. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

She gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’ll try to be at your place by nine,” he said.

“I’ll be at the mikvah by then.”

“Tell you what. I’ll pick you up there and walk you home.”

She knew what the others were going to think, but too bad. She told him to be there around ten-fifteen.

“How’s the new guard working out?” he asked.

“Fine.” She laughed shakily. “At the rate I’m going, I think I’ll hire her as my full-time bodyguard.”

Decker smiled, but he was beginning to think that that might not be a bad idea. He loaded her into a police car, and she rode away, thankful the kids hadn’t been there.

“Call a transport vehicle, Doug?” Decker asked Walsh.

“One should be here in about an hour. Must be a hell of a busy day.” He turned to his part
ner, Folstrom. “Chris, you know Pete?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” The young cop extended his hand.

Decker shook it and regarded the rookie. “You’re the kid who tried to bust me for running a light,” he said.

Folstrom smiled back, but his cheeks had turned pink.

“Don’t worry about it.” Decker grinned. “The only people who drive like that are assholes and cops. And sometimes it’s mighty hard to tell the difference.”

“The girl’s from Jewtown?” Walsh asked.

Decker winced at the reference, which now seemed like a racial slur.

“Yeah.”

“Was she involved in the rape case over there?”

“As a witness, not as the victim.”

“You think there might be a connection?” Folstrom asked.

“Who knows?”

Decker related Rina’s version of the incident to the officers. When he was done, he asked: “You boys have any details to add?”

“Her side of the story jibes with the good Samaritan’s,” said Doug.

“Poor guy,” said Folstrom. “He saw the boys rousting the girl and tried to help out. All he got for his efforts was a bloody nose.”

“He’s fucking lucky that is
all
he got,” Walsh said.

“And the kid pulled a knife on her?” Decker asked.

Walsh nodded. “By the time our unit arrived, the other three punks had fled the scene, but this little prick had a knife at the girl’s throat.”

“Why didn’t he split with the others?” Decker asked.

“Seems the little gal from Jewtown had the presence of mind to kick him in the balls. It held him back, delaying his escape time considerably.”

Decker broke into full laughter. Good for Rina, he thought.

“She didn’t tell you that?” Folstrom asked.

“Must have slipped her mind,” Decker replied. He stared at the prone figure on the ground until he placed a name with the face. Cory Schmidt. A bad apple. He’d had a few minor dealings with the kid in the past—disturbing the peace, loitering, malicious mischief. The punk was preordained to fuck up big, and this time he had. He walked over to the boy and gently poked the kid’s side with the tip of his shoe.

“Hey, Cory,” Decker said. “What’s happening? Looks like you pissed in your pants.”

“Fuck off, Decker. I wanna lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer.”

“I mean a real lawyer. Not some goddam pig.”

“You’ll get a lawyer. You’ll get a lawyer and your parents, too. We’re going to make sure you’re well protected. Then all of us are going to sit in a little tiny room that’s hotter than hell and talk for a long time. Doesn’t that sound
like a shit load of fun, Cory? Almost as good as getting blasted on snowflake.”

“Fuck you, dick.”

Decker resisted a very strong urge to kick him and went back to Walsh.

“I have an appointment with the phone company right now,” he said. “Some girl out there knows something about the Foothill rapes, and I’m going to catch her if she calls me again. Have Marge Dunn do the first relay without a lawyer and without the parents. See if we can wear the kid down. Break his confidence. Just delay the whole thing for an hour at the most. I don’t want to trample on Miranda, just lightly step on its toes.”

He took out a pocket-sized notebook and began to scribble furiously.

“I should be back around one. Make sure he has counsel by then, and try to get a parent down there. His parents are both unemployed alkies, so it may be hard to get them off their butts, but at least make an attempt to contact one of them. Don’t let the little prick slip out of out hands until I’ve talked with him.”

“Think he’s involved with the rape at Jewtown, Pete?” Walsh asked.

“I’m sure he’s one of the vandals. Don’t know about the rape.” He folded the top cover over his note pad and looked up. “But I’m going to find out.”

Lionel Richie was
crooning on the portable cassette deck. Last night it had been the Pointer sisters, the week before, Smokey Robinson. It was nice to hear popular songs, Rina thought, mopping the mikvah floor. She liked the woman’s taste in music, but not as much as she liked the woman. The six-foot, two-hundred-pound security guard not only made her feel well protected, but provided interesting company.

Florence Marley was thirty, with coffee-colored skin, a wide smile, a friendly disposition, and a slew of recipes. Good ones. Rina had tried out a few herself, making the appropriate substitutions to keep the dishes kosher. Food—the universal language. It nicely bridged the gap between the big black woman from Watts and the ladies of the yeshiva.

She finished the floors, glad that she’d made herself stick to her routines despite the shock of this morning’s assault. Dragging a sloshing bucket, she went outside to the reception area.

“Let me help you with that, Rina,” Florence offered.

The guard hefted the bucket as if it were a tin can, tossed the dirty water down the sink, and handed the pail back to Rina.

“There’s really no need for you to stick around for me tonight, Florence,” Rina said, checking the time. “Detective Decker should be here any minute.”

“I’ll wait,” said the guard. “I’m not going to leave you alone in this place.”

Rina knew it was useless to argue.

Florence twirled her nightstick and hiked-up her beige uniform pants.

“I’m gonna have a look around outside,” she said, patting her gun. “Be back in
five
minutes, Rina. You hear anything, remember I’m right outside.”

Rina nodded. She bolted the door shut and gathered up the dirty linens. She was still jittery from this morning’s incident, but at least things here had settled down. The security woman was a godsend. The noises had stopped the day of her arrival, the women had loosened up, and a sense of security had been restored. Florence was well worth her salary for the peace of mind she’d brought.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shout. Rina’s heart began to pound furiously. Muffled speech, footsteps, then banging at the door.

“Open up, honey. It’s Florence.”

Quickly, Rina unbolted the door.

The black woman was standing in back of Decker.

“This woman almost took off my head,” he said wryly.

“I was just doing my job, sir.”

“I’m not faulting you, ma’am, just making a statement of fact.” Decker entered the room and turned to face the guard. “I see a bright future for you with the LAPD.”

Florence sputtered into laughter. “Just as soon as I drop fifty pounds.” She smacked her stomach and thumped Decker on the back. “Can I trust you alone with this little thing?”

“Ask the little thing,” he answered.

Florence looked at Rina.

“He’s all right, Flo.”

“Okay, then I’m going to be taking off.” She clicked off the tape deck, stowed it in an empty cabinet, and pounded Decker on the shoulder blades. “Nice meeting you.”

“Same,” he answered.

She left, chuckling to herself.

“The woman packs a mean wallop,” Decker said massaging his back. “I’d pit her against any man in the precinct.”

He stopped talking and appeared to be thinking.

“Maybe Fordebrand could give her a run for the money.”

“Who’s Fordebrand?”

“Homicide detective. He’s shorter than I am by a couple of inches, but must outweigh me by at least sixty pounds of pure muscle. Naturally, his wife is this tiny little bird. Fordebrand also has phenomenally bad breath.”

“He’s sounds lovely, Peter.”

“It was a kick working with him.”

“You worked Homicide?”

“Seven years.”

“Why’d you transfer?”

“I thought it might be nice to work with the kids.” He felt his shirt pocket for cigarettes and grimaced when he came up empty. “The kids I’ve worked with have been worse than the adults. Somehow, I’ve never had the wonderful experience you see on the boob tube. You know, cop befriends down-and-out kid. Conflict. Tough talk. Kid keeps messing up, but cop persists. The final scene shows the kid giving the valedictory at Harvard. His life has been rough, and he wouldn’t have pulled through except for the one man who believed in him—the cop.”

Decker shook his head.

“In real life, the kid who’s as tough as nails on the outside is chromium-plated steel on the inside.”

“You sound cynical.”

“Not cynical. Realistic. I had my shot at parenting with my own kid. And she turned out terrific. But there are Cynthia Deckers and there are Cory Schmidts. Fact of life.”

He smiled at her.

“You want to hear more, I can go on for hours.”

“It’s a little late.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Peter.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Let’s get the statement over with. You look like you could use some sleep.”

Rina threw the towels in the dryer and started it. She’d fold them tomorrow. They headed for the door, but Decker stopped abruptly, suddenly alert.

“What’s wrong?” Rina asked, alarmed.

Decker put his fingers to his lips and listened intently for a minute. Then noticing the frightened look on Rina’s face, he felt like a jerk.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “I’m listening to the dryer.”

“The
dryer
?”

“For another case I’m working on.”

“What case?”

“I’ll tell you all about it after I make a collar.”

“So don’t worry my pretty little head about it,” she answered dryly. But she was greatly relieved.

Decker smiled, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her in the eye.

“Do I look like a chauvinist pig?”

She nodded.

He burst into laughter. He wanted to do something impulsive and lighthearted—tickle her or throw her over his shoulder. And she’d show mock outrage and pummel his back. Then they’d wrestle to the floor, and finally, exhausted by their joust, they’d curl up and make love.

Fantasy.

He let his hands drop to his sides and walked over to the dryer. Big industrial type—
a Speed Queen. He listened to its whir for another moment, then said, “Okay, we can go now.”

“Learn anything?”

He shrugged.

As they left, he gently slipped his arm over her shoulder, letting his fingers rest at the tip of her collarbone. She turned around, smiled, and pulled away.

As he’d thought—fantasy.

“What happened with Cory?” Rina asked as they walked across the grounds.

“He’ll get off with a slap on the wrist. By the way, he ratted on his friends, so we’ve recovered your pen. Here it is.”

She took it absently; she was aghast.

“That’s the best they could do? A slap on the wrist? The kid held a knife to my throat.”

“Fortunately, you sustained no bodily injuries. Plus, he’s a juvenile with a basically clean sheet. And they plea bargained him down to the lesser charge of malicious mischief in exchange for the names of his friends. Old Cory’s going to walk.”

She buried her head in her hands.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Don’t fret too much. It’s just a matter of time before the kid messes up again. Eventually, he’ll dig himself a grave.”

Decker took a deep breath and let it out.

“Rina, I got him to admit the vandalism: breaking the temple windows, spray-painting the walls with swastikas, dumping the gar
bage on the lawn. When I questioned him about the rape, naturally he said he didn’t know anything about it. And, of course, he doesn’t remember what he was doing the night of the incident.

“Now Cory is a very skillful liar, so I’m going to check him out. But my own personal opinion is that he had nothing to do with it. An experienced rotten kid like Cory would have come up with a pat alibi immediately. The kid looked honestly puzzled.”

He loosened his tie and unfastened the top shirt button. Goddam heat refused to break.

“But that’s just a hunch, and hunches don’t take the place of good old footwork. So I’ll check it out.”

She said nothing.

“If that kid ever comes within fifty feet of you, tell me, and so help me God, I see to it personally that he wished he hadn’t.”

“I hope it won’t come to that.”

“Same here.”

When they got to her house, she paused before opening the door.

“My parents are baby-sitting tonight. I told them about this morning. They were pretty upset.”

“I don’t blame them.”

She hesitated, then placed the key in the doorknob and let Peter inside.

It was hard for Decker to imagine the sophisticated couple in front of him as Rina’s parents. The mother was taller than her daughter and as lithe as a cattail. She looked
around fifty; her face bore some wrinkles, the complexion was pale, but the features were fine and delicate. Her makeup job was meticulous, perfectly accenting her bright blue eyes and full lips without being gaudy. Her jet black hair was a nest of soft curls that framed an oval face. She wore a pale blue silk shirt, navy gabardine slacks, and lizard-skin shoes. Around her neck was a braided gold chain that held a heart-shaped diamond solitaire.

The father was shorter than his wife by about an inch, but his build was muscular. His eyes looked tired, with drooping lids, and his nose was full, with wide nostrils partially obscured by a thick gray mustache. He had a prominent chin bisected by a deep cleft and a thick thatch of gray hair that was crowned by a small, knitted yarmulke. He was dressed casually but expensively and smiled when the two of them entered the room.

“You were late,” the woman said. Her accent reminded Decker of Zsa Zsa Gabor.

“I said I’d be here at ten-thirty, Mama,” Rina answered. “It’s around ten-thirty.”

“It’s a quarter to eleven.” She brought her hand to her breast. “I was starting to get worried.”

She looked at Decker.

“Is this the policeman?” she asked.

“Yes. This is Detective Decker.” Rina turned to Peter. “These are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Elias.”

“How do you do?” Decker said.

The woman looked at him and shook her
head. “Horrible thing that happened to my daughter.”

“It’s a shame,” Decker said.

“Terrible, terrible thing when you go to the store and you can’t be safe.”

“Mama, I’m fine.”

“Why do you live here? It’s not safe here, Ginny. You can’t just think of yourself. You have to think of the boys, too.”

Rina said nothing.

“Do you have children, Detective?” asked Mrs. Elias.

“A daughter, ma’am.”

“And if this were to happen to her, how would you feel?”

“Very angry, ma’am.”

“That is how I feel. Very angry and very scared. She is a single woman, Detective.”

“Mama, I’m all right.”

The woman spoke to her in a foreign language.

“Mother, crime is everywhere.”

“You know your mother, Regina,” the man spoke up. “She is a worrier.”

“Why don’t you spend the weekend with us?” the mother asked. “You never bring the kids over anymore.”

“They have camp—”

“First it was school, now it’s camp,” she sighed. “The kids need a summer, too. I never sent you kids to camp. You had so much school during the year, I didn’t think it was good to have camp also. And you let them stay up too late, Ginny. They didn’t go to bed
until ten-fifteen. Young boys need sleep.”

“They nap in the afternoon, Mama. They’re not tired at nine.”

“They’re too big to nap.”

“Mama, can we discuss this later? It’s very late, and I still have to give the detective a statement.”

The woman looked at Decker. “It’s not a good area here, no?”

“We have our share of crime,” he replied.

“It’s safer in Beverly Hills, no?”

Rina was fighting to maintain control.

“As long as there are cars, Mama, no area will be free of crime. Beverly Hills has plenty of crime.”

“Not teenage punks throwing eggs over the head.” Mrs. Elias turned again to Decker. “Beverly Hills is safer, no?”

“They have a lower crime rate, statistically, but unfortunately, things like this
can
happen anywhere.”

“But it’s less likely to happen in Beverly Hills, no?”

“Statistically, that’s true.”

“Mama, it’s very late.”

“Come this weekend. The boys had a wonderful time visiting with us. Come this weekend.”

“I’ll call you and let you know,” Rina said.

The woman kissed her daughter’s cheek. “It’s only because I love you that I worry about you. Come this weekend.”

“I’ll see,” Rina said, fighting back tears.

“We love you, Ginny,” the old man said.
“We love you, and we love the boys. We miss you, you’re so far away from us.”

“I appreciate your coming tonight.”

“We could come more often if you lived closer,” her mother broke in.

“Mama, please. It’s really very late.”

“Too late for a single woman to be working.” The older woman turned to Decker. “Thank you for helping her. She said you were very kind. Tell her this is no place for a young woman with small children.”

The man got up and kissed his daughter. He took his wife’s arm and they left, whispering in Hungarian.

Rina’s eyes were wet.

“Have a seat, Peter.” Her voice cracked. “Would you like something to drink?”

“How about if I get you something?”

She buried her face in her hands and tried to prevent the onslaught of tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“It’s been a trying day.”

“You don’t have to do this now, Rina. Come down to the station tomorrow morning, and I’ll get a statement from you then.”

She looked up. Her cheeks were streaked. “No, I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rina. The kid’s probably out by now anyway. Do it tomorrow.”

She sat down on the sofa, and he sat next to her.

“You know, living here hasn’t been easy, Peter. This isn’t an appropriate place for a woman in my position. This is a high school
and college of Jewish studies for
boys
. The women here are the wives of the rabbis or wives of a special group of scholars studying in the
kollel
. That’s what my husband used to do. He used to learn in the
kollel
. That was his job. I worked as a teacher so he could study. That’s considered honorable. This place has no role for a single woman.