I Shall Not Want (8 page)

“There’s some blood up the street. He was probably shot elsewhere and walked or dragged himself this far.”

“Why didn’t he just call for help or ring someone’s doorbell?”

“We’re checking to see if anyone else heard or saw anything. Maybe he tried but your neighbors didn’t want to open the door in the middle of the night.”

“To die for the want of a phone, that’s tragic.”

“He would have died anyway, where he was shot. Nothing anybody could have done for him.”

“In a strange way that makes me feel better.”

“Yeah, you’re off the hook, Rabbi. Even if you had heard something, you couldn’t have saved him.”

Jeremiah took a deep breath. “What do you need from me?”

“The usual, unfortunately.” Mark pulled a notepad out of his coat and poised a pen over it. “So when did you find him?”

“About three minutes before I called you. I threw up in between.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Jeremiah took a deep breath and told the revised version of the story. Mark didn’t question any of it. He watched other officers examining the scene and the body as Jeremiah talked. The one named Paul pulled the piece of paper out of the shirt pocket with a pair of tweezers and brought it over to show Mark.

“Pine Springs Veterinary Clinic,” Mark read.

“So this might have been the guy with the dog,” Jeremiah said.

“I think we have to operate under that belief for now,” Mark frowned. “This week it seems like everyone has a dog.”

“More like everyone has lost a dog.”

“True. You ever have a dog, Rabbi?”

“When I was young, my family had a mutt. Good dog.”

“Yeah, I just got a dog for my wife yesterday. It was that beagle from Friday night that didn’t get adopted.”

“Must have been meant to be yours.”

“I got to admit it kind of seems that way. I’ll tell you, Rabbi, I’m not a big believer in destiny or divine plans or anything, but I really feel like that dog was waiting for me.”

“Then that’s what is important. Focus on that, and don’t worry so much about whether or not it is true,” Jeremiah advised.

“That what you do? Focus on your tradition, your rituals, and not worry so much about whether or not it’s true?”

White hot anger poured through Jeremiah, and he nearly struck the detective. He stopped himself just in time with a jerk and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to regain mastery over himself. Stress and illness, that’s all it was. He couldn’t let them get the better of him. He couldn’t let them ruin everything he had worked so hard to build. The neat web of lies and half-truths so carefully constructed could still unravel in a heartbeat if he wasn’t careful. Very quietly, struggling still to control the rage that burned within him, he answered, “No. I know that Adonai exists.”

He opened his eyes and found Mark staring at him. “Are you okay?”

“It has not been a good morning,” Jeremiah said. He let his breath out slowly, and when he looked Mark square in the eyes he had regained mastery of himself. “And, frankly, I’d rather go back to bed than face the rest of the day.”

“I can respect that.”

Mark’s phone rang. The detective took one look at the caller display and groaned.

It was just after six-thirty in the morning when Cindy rolled her cart to the checkout stand. She wore a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes and intentionally avoided looking at the magazine rack that had caused such trouble the day before.

Fortunately, there were few shoppers that early, and the cashier stifled a yawn and looked bored as he scanned Cindy’s items. With a sense of accomplishment, she paid and wheeled her cart outside. She breathed a sigh of relief as the cold morning air hit her. She had done it. She had successfully bought
the things she needed for Thanksgiving and hadn’t started a riot.

She turned her cart toward the parking lot and froze. The coin counter from the night before was taping up a sign on one of the light posts. It was none of her business, and she certainly didn’t want him recognizing her. She tried to look away but couldn’t. When he had finished and moved toward a different post, she read the word “Missing!” hand printed at the top of the paper.

She wheeled her cart over to read the rest. The man’s dog was missing. A sick feeling twisted her stomach.

She didn’t want to face him, but she had to know. “Excuse me, sir.”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“When did your dog go missing?”

“Last night while I was here. I had him outside, and when I came out he was gone.”

She didn’t remember seeing any dogs outside the store when she went in or when she left. She licked her lips. “How long had you had him?”

“Since Friday.”

Friday.
She knew the man looked familiar. She was sure she had seen him at the charity event. “Have you called the police?”

“No. Do you think I should?”

“I do. In fact, I’ll call for you,” she said, grabbing her cell phone and calling Mark.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found another body,” the detective said without preamble.

“No, but there’s another stolen dog. I’m with the owner right now outside of Ron’s Grocery on Fifth.”

“I’m a bit busy here, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Meantime I’ll send someone over.”

“Thanks.” She turned back to the homeless man. “The police are on their way. They’ll help you find your dog.”

“You sure?” He looked uncomfortable.

“I’m positive,” she assured him. “Let me put these things in my car, and then I’ll wait with you.”

By the time she had stashed her groceries and returned to the sidewalk in front of the store, a patrol car was pulling up. Vince and another guy got out. Vince saw her and smiled and headed her way.

She pointed toward the man with the missing dog, and the other officer immediately walked over to him. “Sir, your dog is missing?”

“That’s right.”

She slumped in relief. The police would help him, so she didn’t have to. Now, too, if he recognized her, hopefully, he wouldn’t make a scene.

“How are you?” Vince asked as he stopped in front of her.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “A little disappointed.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I was sorry when I realized you didn’t want to go out with me,” Vince explained.

“Excuse me?”

“The speed dating thing. I put you down but didn’t get a match.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, feeling herself turn red. “You seem like a great guy, it’s just—” What could she say that wouldn’t sound lame?

“Is it the uniform? Some women don’t want to get involved with guys on the force because they’re afraid something might happen to them on the job.”

She nodded, relieved. “I’m really risk adverse, and you’re right, dating a policeman is not without huge risks.”

He shrugged. “That’s cool. Good thing to know about yourself. Lots of people don’t know how to play it safe, when to just stay home and do the smart thing. Nothing to be ashamed of. You won’t get hurt that way.”

Somehow she didn’t like it when he said it like that. The vague, unsatisfied feeling that had been growing for a while twisted harder inside of her. Sure, playing it safe could keep her from getting hurt most of the time, but not all of the time. And maybe a little risk now and again was a good thing.

She bit her lip before she could say something rash. “I guess you’re right,” she said, forcing a smile.

She turned to look at the other two men, eager to change the subject. “I hope you can find his dog.”

“Me too. I don’t know what kind of world we’re living in when people steal someone else’s dog. I mean, I can’t even imagine.”

“I know. Who would do such a thing?”

“And why?” he asked, scratching his head. “It’s beyond me.”

“Well, hopefully, they’ll catch whoever is behind all of this soon, before any more dogs go missing or anyone else gets killed.”

“So you have any theories?” he asked, dropping his voice.

“No, why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “You’re the one who thwarted the Passion Week killer. I figure your theories are worth listening to.”

She shrugged. “I had a lot of help on that one.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Okay, so did you see this guy’s dog?”

“No,” she admitted. “I was here last night, but I didn’t see him. I don’t know if that’s because he wasn’t here or I was just distracted. I didn’t know the man had lost a dog until I saw him putting up the flyer this morning.”

“So what can you tell me about last night?”

She crossed her arms, took a deep breath, and recounted the story.

Vince whistled at the end of it. “Brutal. You know, you ever have something like that happen again, you call the police.”

“I will,” she said.

“So you and Joseph?”

“Are just friends.”

“Just asking,” he said with a smile.

She glanced at her watch. “I have to get going or I’ll be late for work.”

“Okay, I think we’ve got it from here. If we have any questions, we’ll call.”

“Thanks. Do you need my number?”

“Yes.”

He flashed her a toothy grin and a wink, and she blushed.

8

C
INDY MANAGED TO DRIVE HOME
,
PUT AWAY HER GROCERIES
,
AND JUST
make it to work on time.

When she walked in, Geanie regarded her with surprise. “Two days in a row I beat you here. I think that’s unprecedented.”

Cindy was almost always the first one at work in the morning, sometimes beating the others by twenty minutes.

“I was grocery shopping for Thursday,” she said, not wanting to explain further.

“Cool! I invited a friend who had nowhere to go either. I hope that’s okay.”

Cindy smiled. “Sure. Besides, I invited Harry, the homeless guy who occasionally falls asleep in the sanctuary.”

“Wow, awesome. It should be a memorable Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, hopefully it’s just not memorable for me setting the turkey on fire or anything like that.”

“My dad did that once. It wasn’t his fault, though. There was a stove malfunction,” Geanie said. “It ended up being fine. We just ate around the seared parts. It gave the stuffing a funky smoky flavor, though.”

“Eew.”

“As long as the food Thursday is edible, you won’t hear me complain.”

A minute later Dave came into the office and made a bee-line for Cindy’s desk. He handed her a piece of paper with a sheepish grin.

“What’s this?”

“Address and directions for the house your team will be delivering food to tomorrow afternoon. I also put down the names of the kids who will be going in your car. I put the shyer kids in your car, so hopefully everything will go smoothly and quietly.”

She wasn’t sure if she should thank him or stick her tongue out at him. She was still unhappy about the way he had dragged her into driving for the event. She settled for a nod.

“We’re all meeting up in the youth room tomorrow to do a quick rally and to grab the food before taking off. Extra boxes of food are going to be delivered to the homeless shelter after the event. If you could at least drop your kids off there, you don’t have to stay. I can find them rides home at that point.”

“No, that’s okay,” she said. The homeless shelter didn’t bother her so much. Plus she still had some questions for Bernadette and hoped the woman would be there to answer them.

“Awesome! I’ll see you then. Well, I’ll probably see you before then. You know what I mean,” the youth pastor finished in exasperation.

Cindy couldn’t help but smile as he left the office. Whatever her problems were, at least she didn’t have to deal with a hundred kids aggravating them each week.

It was almost ten in the morning before the detectives released Jeremiah and he made it to the drugstore. He stood for what felt like an hour staring at the rows of cold and flu
medication and despite his best intentions, he just couldn’t force his brain to compare them all and make a choice.

A clerk, seemingly sensing his uncertainty, finally approached. “Can I help you with something?”

Jeremiah gestured to the wall and slurred his dilemma. He hoped it was understandable to someone besides him. For a moment he wasn’t even sure if he’d spoken in English.

The clerk cheerfully selected several different candy-colored packages and put them all in Jeremiah’s basket. Jeremiah nodded gratefully, too out of it to even register what the man was saying about dosing. He added some water, microwaveable soup, saltine crackers, and 7-Up to his cart before heading for the register.

Once in his car he cracked open a bottle of water and sorted through his packages of pills until one that said “Cold” on it jumped out at him. He popped two tablets out of their sharp, plastic and metallic packaging and downed them, praying that they were fast acting. Then he headed to the synagogue, unsure of what was waiting for him there but convinced that somehow he would manage. He’d never hear the end of it from Marie otherwise.

There were twenty-three messages on the answering machine in the office by the time he got there, and half a dozen of them were from Marie checking to make sure that everything was all right and that he hadn’t accidentally burned down the building or canceled Hanukkah services. From the sound of her voice and the increasing length of the messages, he couldn’t help but wonder how much was actual concern and how much was her need to be away from her family for a couple of minutes and calling to check in at work was a good excuse for hiding out from them. Whatever the reason, it was strangely comforting to know that she cared so deeply about her job and about her synagogue.

After he had finished clearing out the answering machine, he turned his attention to his scribbled notes from the afternoon before. He had managed to forget about picking up the specialty paper. With a sigh he stared at the written address, which meant absolutely nothing to him. He tried calling the store to get a cross street, but the line was busy. He thought he vaguely remembered Marie saying something about the store being on the other side of the freeway. He locked the office and headed to the car, figuring he could continue trying to call as he drove. Hopefully they would pick up or he would stumble upon it before he had to cave and call Marie.

It was half past eleven when Cindy grabbed her purse and hopped up from her chair.

“Where are you going?” Geanie asked.

“I’m heading to lunch a few minutes early.”

“Cool. I’ll take mine when you get back.”

Cindy walked out to the parking lot. Staring at the list of kids and the address for the food delivery had been a good distraction, but her mind had quickly drifted back to the murders. She needed to clear her head, try and make sense of it all, and there was only one person she could think of who could help.

She saw Jeremiah walking toward his car and was glad that she had listened to the impulse to leave early, else she wouldn’t have caught him. In the next breath, though, she felt a bit foolish. They hadn’t talked but to exchange pleasantries for months before finding Derek’s body.

She stared long and hard at Jeremiah. He looked haggard. His shoulders were hunched, and he didn’t look well. He was scowling, which wasn’t in keeping with how she normally pictured him.

Cindy stood on the other side of the hedge and marveled that a man she had felt so close to at Easter could be a stranger by Thanksgiving. He didn’t look up and see her, just kept his head down as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Rabbi Silverman!” she called, feeling foolish.

He didn’t move or turn, just unlocked his car and opened the door.

“Jeremiah?”

He spun around, dark circles under his eyes making them look sunken. His jaw was clenched, and his whole posture was tense. When he saw her, he relaxed slightly.

“Cindy, what’s going on?”

“I was about to ask you that. Are you okay?”

“Actually, I’m sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “Can I help you?”

She bit her lip. He really did look awful. She should just leave him alone. She shook her head.

He looked like he was just going to accept that and continue on his way. Something stopped him at the last minute, though, and he swept her with his piercing eyes.

“Cindy, is something wrong?” he asked finally, stepping closer.

She had the sudden, crazy urge to take a step back. It had to be because she didn’t want to get whatever bug he had, she reasoned. There was something about him, though, in that moment, that reminded her of the night the serial killer held her hostage and Jeremiah killed him.

“Yes and no. I mean, I’m fine. I was just really hoping to talk some things over with you.”

“As a rabbi?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, as a friend. And, you know, someone I talk about crimes with,” she added, forcing herself to smile. It sounded
lame even to her ears, and she couldn’t help but think of all the times she had made fun of mystery heroes who always managed to find trouble wherever they went. The truth was, she was frightened and frustrated. She had been able to put Easter behind her because she had managed to convince herself that it was all over, that it was in the past, and that life would return to normal and relative safety. Finding Derek the way she did had shattered those illusions, quite possibly for the rest of her life. She didn’t want to be someone who jumped at shadows or expected tragedy around every corner. She’d had enough tragedy in her life to ever want to encounter any more ever again.

He nodded. “I understand. I’d be happy to talk with you. Unfortunately, now isn’t exactly the best time.”

“I understand. We can always talk later. Just be sure to drink plenty of hot liquids and go straight to bed.”

“Excuse me?”

“For your flu. You’re heading home, right?”

“I wish. I have to go buy some supplies for the week. Marie’s on vacation, and unfortunately synagogue business won’t wait for her return, no matter how much I wish it could.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Not unless you can tell me where on earth I can find Robert’s Paper and Office Supply.”

Cindy grinned. “I can help with that. Picking up specialty paper?” she guessed.

“How did you know?”

“I think every church in the area orders from them. I think they cornered the market early. In cleaning out old, old files, I found receipts from them dating back to the sixties.”

“That is impressive. Since you know the store, would you be so kind as to give me directions?”

“How about I drive you? It will be easier that way. It will give us time to talk too.”

“I don’t want to infect you.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but he finally nodded, closed his door, and crossed over to her side of the parking lot. A minute later they were in her car and turning onto the street.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, not entirely sure where to start. “So Marie’s out of town this week?”

“Visiting family.”

“So where will you be having Thanksgiving?”

“I think the flu might be a blessing. It will save me from having to choose and risk angering the other eighty-seven families.”

“Why don’t you come over to my house? I’m having a couple of people over and attempting to cook Thanksgiving dinner. It’s sort of a misfit holiday.”

“Feeding the orphans, are you?” he asked with a weak smile.

“Something like that. I’d love it if you came.”

“I wouldn’t want to infect everyone.”

“Nonsense. We can put you at the far end of the table. Besides, no one should be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

She could tell she wasn’t going to get any firmer a commitment from him, so she moved on, taking a deep breath as she plunged into the topic that had been occupying most of her waking moments. “I’ve been thinking about all these killings lately.”

“Yes, and… ?”

“It seems to me that the missing dogs are the common denominator. Sure, most of the victims have been homeless,
but Derek wasn’t. When thieves broke into Joseph’s house, all they took were puppies.”

“Derek was only holding onto one of the dogs. He didn’t own the missing puppy. Maybe the true link is the charity event and not the dogs themselves.”

“Yes, but then why steal the dogs?”

“Cause confusion, maybe?”

“If so, it’s working,” she admitted.

“What has Detective Mark said to you about all of this?”

She sighed. “As usual he thinks the whole thing is police business and that I shouldn’t get myself involved.”

“He has a point.”

“I know he has a point, but how can I not get involved? These things didn’t just happen—they weren’t stories I heard from a second cousin’s nephew’s girlfriend’s best friend’s sister. These happened to me.”

“I lost you at nephew,” he admitted.

“Sorry. My point was that most people who think you shouldn’t get involved are either professionals who don’t want amateurs contaminating everything or people whose lives haven’t been touched by deep, profound tragedy.”

“You could be right.”