The Ritual Bath (15 page)

Marge smiled.

“Ernst and I have some lovely duets picked out. Going to be quite a crowd. I’m a little nervous.”

“You’ll pull it off.”

“Hey, I’ll be among friends, right?”

“I’m a friend. I promise not to laugh too loud.”

“Mike’s bringing Mary. Bring someone.”

Hollander reentered, carrying a tray of coffee cups, a pint of milk, and a few packets of sugar.

“Great service, Michael,” Marge said. “I’ll leave you a big tip.”

“I’ll take anything you’ll give me, Marjorie.”

Decker took a sip, then said:

“I’ve got another scenario for the murder. The killer wasn’t alone.”

“I like that,” Marge agreed.

“They ambushed her,” Decker continued. “One held her down while the other slashed.”

“Sounds as reasonable as a Goliath,” Hollander said. “Any candidates for the dynamic duo?”

“Stein and Mendelsohn,” Marge said. “Mike and I did some poking around at the
yeshiva last night. Rabbi Schulman told me Stein was studying, but it turns out it wasn’t in a group. Seems the only one who could attest to Stein’s whereabouts was his friend Mendelsohn. They were studying together in a deserted classroom, and no one remembers seeing them. They could have slipped away without being noticed.”

“Mendelsohn have a record?” Hollander asked.

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Marge said. “All weirdos start out clean.”

“What would be the motive?” Hollander asked.

“Let me run this by you,” said Decker. “We know weirdos sometimes find each other and pool their pathology, right? Let’s suppose that both Stein and Mendelsohn are psychos. And they find each other at the yeshiva and become friends. They talk, and bizarre ideas pop into their heads—rape, murder.”

“Like Bianchi and Buono,” Hollander said.

“Exactly,” Decker said. “I’ll check them out. I’ll also poke around the yeshiva for anyone else who looks interesting. Mike, how about you picking up Cory Schmidt and friends? They’re also possibilities. He admitted vandalizing the yeshiva, so we know he’s been there before. Maybe he saw women coming out of the mikvah and came back one night to take advantage.”

“But we’re right back to where we started, Pete,” Marge said. “How could Cory have overtaken Florence?”

“Maybe he did the rape alone the first time and brought his friends back for a gang bang. What if he wasn’t alone the first time? Had his friends along keeping watch. When Rina called out, it scared them all away, and the others didn’t get their turn with Mrs. Adler.”

“But how would the boys know about the Marley woman?” Hollander asked. “She wasn’t there at the time of the Adler rape.”

“They might have come back another time and seen her patrolling,” Decker suggested. “Next time they came prepared. They got her out of the way and tried to break into the mikvah to get to what they were really after.”

“So they had to know that Rina was there,” Marge said.

Decker tensed. “Or at least know someone was in there. Maybe not Rina.”

“Or maybe they came back to seek revenge on Rina
specifically
, for the rousting we gave them last week,” said Hollander. “Cory may have felt it was all her fault.”

“The possibilities are numerous,” Marge said. “It could be the linebacker psychopath, but personally I like the boys for the bad guys. First, there’s a bunch of them. They could really get a grip on the woman. Second, boys of their ilk tend to ingest a lot of illicit chemicals. The murder smacks of drug-frenzied adolescence. The dismembered arm and leg, the slit throat. Spaced-out teenage boys who love gore and have low impulse control.”

“Okay,” Hollander said. “I’ll look into Schmidt and his buddies.”

“Then that leaves me to check out the list of giants,” Marge said, then looked at Decker. “Someone should talk to Rina. Find out if she can tell us a little bit more about the break-in at the mikvah.”

Decker nodded.

“You know, Pete,” Marge continued, “if she’s the target, maybe she should split for a few days.”

“Exactly my thought.” Decker felt a rush of anxiety and changed the subject quickly. “What do you two make of Feldman’s clothes and shoe prints at the scene?”

“Maybe he’s the original wandering Jew and was hanging around the area before the whole thing took place,” Hollander said through a cloud of blue smoke.

“Let me run
this
by you,” Decker said. “Guy is roaming in the woods, sees something unusual, and goes over to investigate. He spots Florence lying there dead and mutilated. It freaks him out, but he’s too psychologically incapacitated to tell us about it. Or…”

“He could have witnessed something,” Marge said.

“Exactly,” Decker said. “How are we going to penetrate that warped mind?”

“See the rabbi,” Hollander said.

“I already have,” said Decker. “I laid out the same scene for him. The rabbi admits that Feldman was exceptionally incoherent last night and agrees it might be because he saw the murder take place. The old man knows a
shrink who may be able to pull something out of him.”

“I hope he’s better than the last doctor of theirs that we used,” Marge said. “She really fucked up.”

“True,” Decker agreed. “But this guy—Dr. Marder—sounds very well qualified. I checked him out with Behavioral Sciences, and he’s considered an expert in hypnosis. Most important, he was Feldman’s original shrink, treated the guy when he first started to decompensate.”

“Wasn’t too successful,” Hollander said.

“No, but he does have a rapport with him.”

The door to the interview room opened, and Fordebrand popped his head inside.

“Phone call, Pete.”

“Thanks, Ed.” Decker stood up. “Anything else?”

“I’m fine,” Hollander said.

“Ditto,” answered Marge.

“Okay. Meeting adjourned.” Decker walked over to his desk and punched the flashing white button.

“Decker.”

A familiar background noise. Jesus, everything all at once. It was her. Keep her on the line. The longer the better.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hi.”

He coughed.

“Excuse me, Miss.” He checked his watch, then let go with a series of hacking coughs. Don’t overdo it, he warned himself.

“Pardon my coughing. I’ve got this cold that just won’t quit. Tried everything, but…Anyway, what can I do for you, Miss?”

“I was wondering…That sounds like a nasty cough.”

Decker coughed again.

“It is. I’ve had the darn thing for a week. Can’t seem to shake it. Just when I think it’s abating—”

“Yeah, anyway, I was wondering about the Foothill rapist.”

“Well, I’m the man to talk to. Excuse me.” He coughed again, took a sip of water, and got back on the phone. “How can I help you?”

“That description of the man that the nurse gave the police. They showed it on TV, on the news. Do you have a copy of it?”

“The composite drawing?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a copy of it.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’d be glad to send it to you if you’ll just give me your name and address.”

Just a whir on the other end.

“Hello, Miss?”

The line disconnected.

Shit! But at least the tap was hooked up. Hopefully, he’d stalled her long enough. He dialed the police operator immediately. She told him that someone would get back to him right away. Five minutes later the phone rang.

“Decker.”

“It’s Arnie, Pete. Got some specific boundaries for you.”

“Shoot.”

“The call is in the Sylmar vicinity, north of Glenoaks, south of San Fernando Road, eastern border is Astonia, western is Roxford, inclusive.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“A little more time and I could have gotten even more specific.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?” Decker said. “Pay phone?”

“Naturally. Hope this helps, Pete.”

“It should. Thanks.”

“Bye.”

Decker got up and went over to the squad room’s receptionist. Shirley was an overweight, big-busted brunette in her early forties. Her best feature was an infectious smile.

“Hello, Shirley.”

“What do you want, Decker?”

“The yellow pages for Sylmar.”

She opened up a drawer and handed him a canary-colored directory.

“If it’s the massage parlors you want, ask MacPherson.”

“I’ll look on my own. I don’t trust his taste.”

She winked and flashed him a grin that he had to return.

Decker took the phone book to his desk and looked up laundromats, laundries, and dry cleaners. An hour later he had narrowed the list down to two dry cleaners, two laundries, and three laundromats in the area. His watch told him it was half past ten. First he’d talk to Rina.

The aftermath of
last night’s horror had left Rina drained and riddled with anxiety. She was short-tempered with her boys and more than happy to send them off to camp. But once they were gone, depression overtook her. She berated herself for failing as a parent, for being an uncaring human being, for talking too much to the goy, for her shortcomings as a Jew. She sank into a corner and cried. When the tears stopped, her mood changed abruptly, and she began to pace with nervous energy. She’d been wanting to clean out the closets, and today was as good a day as any. She tried to concentrate on the task single-mindedly, but her nerves were frazzled, and midway through the overhaul she left piles of unsorted clothes on the floor, fell down on the sofa, and sobbed.

She had just about finished her second bout of hysteria when the doorbell rang. She didn’t want to answer it looking terrible and in a mood to match, but running away never solved a damn thing. Getting up from the sofa,
she peered through the peephole and opened the door.

Peter looked just as haggard as she. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes were red and swollen, and the normal ruddiness of his cheeks had turned to paste.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“No.”

“I have to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Decker looked around.

“Rina, please. Unfortunately, this isn’t a social call. If you won’t let me in, meet me down at the station. That way we can make the whole thing nice and official, and you won’t have to be so afraid of what the neighbors might think.”

“How long do you think it will take?”

“I don’t know, but you’re wasting time right now.”

She let him in.

Decker looked at the heaps of clothes strewn about the room.

“Are you planning to go somewhere?”

“Just cleaning out my closets.”

She saw he was weary. Felt his fatigue. She shouldn’t be sniping at him. Ultimately, they were on the same side.

“Have a seat, Peter,” she said quietly. “Would you like some coffee?”

He smiled. “Thank you, I would.”

“How do you take it?”

“Black…and strong.”

She busied herself in the kitchen and came
back with two steaming cups and a basket of fruit.

She sat down and tucked her bare feet under smooth, silky legs. Decker glanced at them, then averted his gaze and closed his eyes altogether, imagining her caressing his body. He could sure use a soft touch right now.

“You didn’t get much sleep, did you?” she asked.

Decker opened his eyes, took a sip of coffee, then set the cup down on an end table.

“Not really, I saw Florence’s family this morning. They’re good people, Rina. It hurt.”

“I know what they’re going through.” Her eyes began to mist. “At least Yitzchak died among loved ones and at peace. She went so horribly.”

She lowered her head and looked the other way.

He wanted to hold her, but resisted. Though he had only comfort on his mind, she was distraught enough to misinterpret his intentions. Instead he nodded sympathetically.

“I still can’t believe it,” Rina said wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry. This must be so rough on you.”

She didn’t say anything.

Her eyes were dull and sunken, her hands trembled. She hesitated when she talked. It ate at him to see her in such misery.

“I’ve got one piece of news that’ll cheer you up. We released Moshe.”

A spark ignited in her.

“Of course he’s innocent. You shouldn’t
have arrested him in the first place.”

Decker sipped his coffee and said, “Rina, I want you to promise me that you’ll keep what I tell you between the two of us.”

She nodded.

He related the incidents of last night, and his theories. When he was finished, he said:

“Rina, we’re going to have to face facts. Whoever it was who killed Florence, didn’t rape her. He wanted her out of the way to get to who he was really after.”

Rina swallowed hard.

“I think it would be a good idea if you visited your parents for a couple of weeks.”

“I’m not going to run away—”

“Just listen to me. I’m not talking forever. I’m talking until we can get a handle on this thing. We’ll pull Cory in for questioning, interview Stein and Mendelsohn, look around for something odd. Maybe we’ll get lucky. In the meantime, I’d like to know that you’re safe and sound, hidden somewhere out of reach.”

She smiled. “Do you worry about me?”

“Of course I worry about you. I worry about your boys, too. I’d invite you to stay with me, but I know what the answer would be.”

He looked at her hopefully, but she shook her head.

“So I think the safest and most logical thing to do is to have you conveniently disappear for a couple of weeks.”

“What if you pull Cory in and find nothing? What if nothing happens while I’m away? What am I going to do? Live in permanent
exile until something happens? If I’m the target, the monster or monsters are going to follow me. I’m not going to run away.
Hashem
will look after us. He always has.”

Decker frowned.

“Rina, be practical. Doesn’t God help those who help themselves?”

“Sometimes one just has to have faith.”

He wasn’t about to get into a theological argument with her. He tried a different approach.

“What about your boys?”

“What about them? They haven’t been bothered.”

“You’re going to wait for them to be attacked?”

She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking.

“Peter, why are you
scaring
me like this?”

“Because I want you out of here and safe.”

“And if he follows me? You won’t be around, and I’ll have no one to turn to. No. I refuse to go. I’m not going to run away. If need be, I’ll fight the S.O.B. on my own turf! I’ll learn self-defense! I’ll buy a gun!”

“And in the meantime?”

“I’ll start today. I’ll enroll in a karate program.”

“It takes awhile to learn these things, Rina. Do you think you’re going to get a black belt overnight? Besides, the man had a gun—”

“I’ll buy a gun and take shooting lessons.”

“Proficiency isn’t developed in a few short
lessons. I’ve seen how this guy handles a gun. He’s a goddam marksman.”

She said nothing for a moment, blinked, then tears spilled over her cheeks.

“My boys are going to get hurt, and it’ll be my fault.”

Decker sighed. “Honey, no one is going to get—”

“First Yitzchak, now this.” She looked at him. “God must be punishing me. I must be doing something wrong.”

“No one is punishing you. It isn’t—”

“My husband, my children…”

“No one is after your kids specifically—”

“It’s all my fault.
Hashem
has His reasons for putting me through this.”

What a crock of bullshit, Decker thought. He felt guilty. Initially, she’d reacted with anger, which was healthy, and he’d quelled her fire. Now, she was internalizing the bad hand she’d been dealt.

“Rina,
none
of this is your fault. And no one is after your kids. If they’re out of the way, they’ll be safe.”

She was silent.

“Compromise, Rina. It’s summertime. I know the high school boys here go to school year round, but your kids don’t. If you have it in your mind to stay, then stay. But at least send the boys to your parents for a week.”

“They’re on vacation,” she said weakly. “They’ll be back Monday.”

“Okay, do this. Over the weekend take the boys and move in with Sarah Adler. Tell her
and Zvi what’s going on, and I’m sure they’ll understand.”

She nodded.

“Go about your Sabbath as usual, and on Sunday spend the day with me at the ranch. You were thinking of letting the boys come over and ride the horses anyway. This’ll be a perfect excuse. On Monday take the boys to your parents.”

“All right,” she said weakly.

She broke into tears.

“Come here,” he said extending his arms. She fell onto his chest and sobbed on his shoulder. He hugged her tightly. “We’re going to get the bastards, honey. I swear to you, we will.”

“What do I tell my parents?” she sniffed. “I certainly can’t tell them the truth.”

“How good a liar are you?”

“Not very.”

“Then keep your excuse simple.”

She sighed.

“I guess I could tell them the boys have been asking to visit. It’s not really true, but the kids do like to see them.”

“How much do the boys know?”

“I haven’t said anything and I try to be reassuring, but they know something’s wrong. They’re scared, Peter. I was like this when Yitzchak was dying. Maybe they think I’m going to die.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll talk to them, try to make it clear that this is only temporary. They’re trustworthy. If I tell them not
to mention anything to their grandparents, they won’t.”

“Good.” He stroked her hair. “I’d feel a lot better if you went with them.”

She shook her head.

“No. If anything happens next week, at least it will only happen to me.”

“All right. Just promise me you’ll keep in constant touch. Try not to be alone or at least have someone nearby. And call me if you leave the grounds.”

She nodded.

“Even if it’s just a quick errand.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes. You’re as bad as my parents.”

“I know I’m a nag. Cindy tells me the same thing.”

Rina snuggled in closer, and they sat embracing in silence. To his surprise, even in his current state of exhaustion, he was becoming aroused. Goddam it, he thought, enjoying the feeling and not knowing what to do with it. He felt awkward breaking away from her when they had fitted together so nicely, but knew he couldn’t go any farther. Back to business.

“Are you up to telling me about the mikvah break-in? If you’re not, just say so.”

“I’m okay. Anything I can do to help find this
mamzer
, I’ll do.” She gently slid out of his arms and sat next to him. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing much to tell. First, he tried to get in the door. When that didn’t work, he
threw that boulder through the window. He struck his arm in—”

“His arm?”

“Yes. One arm.”

“Was it gloved?”

“No. It was an arm sticking out of a shirt sleeve.”

“What color was the skin?”

“White.”

“A Caucasian,” he muttered to himself. “Do you remember the color of the shirt sleeve?”

“Dark. Navy blue or black.”

“Do you recall if the arm was scratched from the window?”

“No. I was too busy protecting my eyes from the flying glass.”

“You did right, Rina. You handled it perfectly.” He took a peach and bit out a chunk. “The lab boys went over the mikvah thoroughly. The prints they lifted from the door handle are useless—incomplete and smudged. They didn’t bother with the window. I’ll send a crime tech back and see if he can’t come up with some blood scraping or prints from the casement.”

“He can come anytime. The mikvah’s shut down anyway.”

“Do the women get some dispensation from their mikvah obligation?”

“It doesn’t work that way. But,
Baruch Hashem
, there are other mikvot in Los Angeles. They’re using the nearest one from here, which is an hour’s car ride away.”

“I’m sorry. But it’s probably for the best.”

It wasn’t for the best, she thought. But how could she begin to explain the importance of the ritual bath—how integral it was to all of Judaism? The rainwater pool was the symbolic essence of
Taharat Hamishpacha
—family purity. Its waters were used to cleanse the dead spiritually, and immersion in it was essential before a non-Jew could be converted. Even cooking and eating utensils made of metal were dunked to render them clean. Mikvah was a mainstay of Jewish life—as much a part of Orthodoxy as dietary laws, circumcision, or the Sabbath.

She didn’t try to educate Peter. She was much too weary, and he probably wouldn’t understand. No one would except another of her own kind.

She shrugged.

“Is there anything I can do for you now?” he asked.

“No. Nothing. But thanks for offering.”

“Okay,” Decker said, finishing the last bite of peach. “Rina, we’ve pretty much ruled out Moshe, but it wouldn’t hurt to let people think he’s still under suspicion. Might make the real killer get careless and do something stupid.”

She nodded and patted his hand maternally. “Take care, Peter. Get some sleep.”

“Later,” he said.

After I do my laundry, he thought.