The Silent Bride (13 page)

"In the synagogue?" she asked, glancing at Mike, who'd asked her to conduct the interview.

"Everywhere. Those yellow tapes. Bloody floors."

Ah.
Sometimes people went on the offensive when they were hurt. They threatened to hire lawyers, to sue anyone and everyone they could think of. The rabbi was a complainer. April nodded sympathetically. She knew that the Crime Scene Unit had taken all the refuse from their own materials with them, but he didn't mean that. He'd wanted the place cleaned up last night after they'd finished. Literally the floors and pews washed so they could have their services in the sanctuary today.

April had already checked out the situation. There were several other synagogues in the area where people could pray today and tomorrow. That was as far as she could go. In the movies, you might see bad guys cleaning up their murder scenes, but the police were the good guys. They provided other services.

"I know you talked with Inspector Bellaqua about anti-Semitism in the community," she murmured.

The rabbi leaned forward and looked hard at Mike for the first time. "Good, hardworking people live here. I told the inspector we had a small incident last year—a swastika in shaving cream on one of the windows. Not even spray paint. A prank. Since then, a broken window. A few things..." He seemed of two minds about pursuing it. If he let that angle go, where would the police look next?

"That's what Sergeant Hollis told us," April said.

"He's a good policeman. We had a car theft once. He was helpful." Rabbi Levi looked away. He'd played the hate crime card. Experienced bias detectives were all over the place. They were turning the area upside down. They would continue with every lead they could dig up. But not a lot was there. No follow-up to the crime had occurred so far. The killer had gone to ground. That put the motive back in the family arena. Rabbi Levi clearly wasn't comfortable with it.

April glanced at Mike again. He'd told her to lead, but the rabbi didn't want to acknowledge a female. Or maybe it was the Chinese tiling. Maybe both. Some people didn't think a Chinese female could investigate a crime. Mike wasn't going to jump in and help. April made a note to call Dr. Jason Frank, a psychoanalyst and the only Jew she knew well enough to ask about how the Orthodox thought.

She changed the subject. "Tell us about your staff here. Any problems with them?"

Rabbi Levi gummed the insides of his cheeks as he recited the information. "We have a large staff, teachers in the school. They are all part of our community. We have cleaning people, same. Only one person is not of the tribe. He's a good man."

"You're talking about Harold Walker?" April asked.

"Yes, a good man," he said wearily.

"Never had any trouble with him?" April probed a bit more. In fact, a background check on the dignified Jamaican revealed that he'd been arrested twice for assault in bar fights. At the time Mr. Walker had only good things to say about Rabbi Levi. But he had a temper. Maybe he wasn't treated as well as he claimed and had a beef.

Rabbi Levi hesitated a long time. Finally he shook his head. "No trouble."

So there were some little things about Harold. Okay, they'd come back to it. She saw a slight movement of Mike's hand. He wanted her to move on.

"We need a list of everyone who works in the building, everybody who has a key. We'll be talking to everyone connected to the synagogue as well as everyone who attended the event. What about the photographers? Was anyone filming at the time the shots were fired?"

"No, it's strictly forbidden during services. They did videos in the party room and of the girls getting ready." He lifted his shoulders.

Too bad. It would have helped them to have a video of all the people in all the rows so they could know for sure who they could eliminate as suspects. The rabbi went on.

"Do whatever you have to do. I don't know everyone who was here. I just met the boy and his people last week."

"What did you think of them? Was it a good match?" The word didn't trip easily off April's tongue.
Match.
What was a good match, anyway? Mike was listening, taking notes. She could feel his warmth, smell his aftershave in the airless room, almost hear his thoughts churning.

"They did some upsetting things yesterday. I'm sure you heard." Now he was speaking to the bookcase.

April hadn't heard. "What things?"

"A terrible thing. When the ambulance got here, people were screaming. You couldn't tell what was going on. The technicians—whatever you call them— they came in and cut her dress open down the front." He demonstrated with his finger down his own front. "Terrible."

April nodded.

"They were trying to save her. Her parents were crazy. No one knew she was dying. People were afraid to go out the front doors; they were panicked." He talked without looking at her.

"When the girl was on the stretcher, and they were about to wheel her out, the boy's father reached over and pulled the ring off her finger." Rabbi Levi put a liver-spotted hand over his eyes.

"The ring?"

"The engagement ring," he said impatiently, as if she were some kind of oaf who didn't know that nice people had two rings.

"Did anyone try to stop him?"

"No, no. He did it quickly. The ring fit the girl's left hand, but it was big on her right hand. Ribikoff yanked it off and put it in his pocket." He shook his head. "I've seen many disputes over property of deceased loved ones in my time, but I have never seen anybody grab a piece of jewelry off a dying girl." He looked shocked all over again.

April, however, had seen these tilings. She'd seen two sobbing relatives on the street stop grieving long enough to fight over which should get the watch of the man just murdered in front of them. She'd seen a widow, out of control on the scene of a traffic accident in which her husband had died, suddenly notice with pleasure that her best friend who'd emerged from the crash unscathed was wearing the diamond bracelet she'd wanted for her birthday.

"Do you think the ring has any relevance?" she asked.

"No, probably not. You just asked me about the people who were there, and I was thinking that the boy's people are from Brooklyn. I don't have much information about them, don't even know how Suri found them. The mothers don't always seek my advice in these matters. The women, they do it their own way." He went on, after a reflective pause. "I can tell you it was a large function. We have so many happy occasions to celebrate here, a bar mitzvah or a wedding almost every week. But this was the most elaborate party we've ever had here. Too bad, too bad." Rabbi Levi leaned back in his chair, contemplating the irony of a murder occurring at the most elaborate function the synagogue had ever had.

"Rabbi, tell me about the Schoenfelds."

He shook his head. "What is there to say? They are a wonderful family, very observant, generous people." He spread his fingers and touched his newspaper with a pinkie.

"You must have known Tovah well."

"Yes, since she was born. A very sweet girl, a wonderful girl." He nodded as if to confirm that to himself.

"What was she like?"

"Like?" He seemed puzzled by the question.

"Her personality, her likes and dislikes. Her hopes and dreams for her life with her husband. Did she love him? Was she excited?"

His features didn't register this line of questioning.

"Did she have boyfriends, someone who might have been disappointed?" April tried again.

"No, no, no," he answered sharply. "I told him yesterday." He pointed at Mike. "She was a good girl. No boyfriends. She didn't know anyone outside of here."

April had the feeling Tovah's spiritual leader hadn't known her very well, or maybe hadn't liked her. It was just a feeling.

"Somebody didn't like her enough to kill her, Rabbi. Somebody didn't want her married."

He made an angry gesture with his hand. "The girl was eighteen years old. She was beautiful. Who wouldn't like her?"

April shifted in her chair. The girl was beautiful. That was all he could say. Was beauty a motive to kill? Well, sometimes it was.

"Tell me some more about your congregation. You have many wealthy members." She tried another tack.

"Wealthy, no. Comfortable maybe ..."

"But the Schoenfelds are wealthy."

The rabbi's fingers played with the newspaper. He glanced at Mike. It was clear he didn't want to talk to April. She waited, sweating a little at the snub. He was pale; he was small. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything for a long rime. "When can we clean up?" he asked.

"Soon," she said. "Can you tell me anything more about the party?"

"Ah." He became more animated with that subject. "We try not to encourage too much display here. Competition excites envy. People get hurt feelings when they can't do for their children what their wealthier neighbors are doing. But what can you do when people want to share their good fortune?" Again the shoulders went up.

"You should have seen today. Our custom in funerals is the opposite of the joyous occasions. In death we are always simple, modest. The remains of our loved ones are washed by our own members. You'd be amazed the people who choose to do it. The remains are wrapped in white cloth. They go into the ground in a plain wooden box. Everyone the same." His eyes strayed for a moment directly into April's face, and she was surprised to find herself blushing. This was how the women must feel when the men took notice of them. Trapped for a moment in the light.

"We were at the funeral," she murmured. And competition was the same everywhere.

She thought of Ching's upcoming wedding at the Crystal Pavilion on Mott Street. In Chinatown there was the eight-course wedding, the twelve-course wedding, and the twenty-course wedding. Ching was having the twelve-course feast, and she planned to change her clothes three times while the guests stuffed themselves. No one would remember the last two dresses because they'd all be drunk by the time she got them on, but the photos would last forever.

During her years as a cop, April must have seen hundreds of wedding parties coming out of churches and temples all over the city. She'd seen the brides in their white gowns and the men in their tuxedos, but she knew very little about them.

"Can you tell me anything about the wedding that was unusual beyond the extravagance?" April asked.

"They had a wedding planner. That was unusual, since Suri Schoenfeld is such a competent woman."

"Why did they, do you know?"

"I don't know; that woman put everything out of proportion. There was bad feeling about it. The spending was crazy. They had real flowers, real silver. The girl had her own gown from some store in Manhattan. Party favors for everyone. Such a waste."

"I don't know your customs, Rabbi. How is it generally done?" April asked.

"With our large families most people don't go in for too many extras. The trend is for the girls to rent their gowns, use the caterer's centerpieces. They're not real flowers, but they look very good. They might have one or two arrangements of real flowers in the sanctuary. And of course, there's always lots of food." A small smile lit up his eyes at the mention of food.

April nodded. Just like Chinatown. In Chinatown flowers were for funerals. At weddings, the families of the happy couple gave a wedding feast with lots of Scotch or cognac, plum wine, beer, soda. The decorations consisted of a few red carnations set on red tablecloths. For special show there might be red-lacquered chopsticks instead of the generic wooden ones. Personalized banners with slogans for good luck and long life in Chinese characters hung from the ceiling and were stuck on the walls with Scotch tape. Everything was red and gold. And cash went from friends to happy couple. As much cash as possible. The guests went away drunk and full but not with gifts and party favors.

April remembered the baskets of candy, the large floral arrangements so strongly scented, both in the sanctuary and on the tables: the palm trees, the orange trees with real oranges on them, the silver flatware, the gold-rimmed crystal glasses, the blue Tiffany boxes at many of the seats. They'd had favors from Tiffany!

"This party must have excited a lot of envy," April murmured.