“Where are you meeting this client?” Decker asked.

“Clients. Fifty-third and Second. They’re from Japan, so my brilliant boss figured that I should take them to this Japanese kosher restaurant. It’s a good place, but it’s kind of like bringing coals to Newcastle. I’m sure they would have preferred a deli.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Decker said.

“What do you want, Lieutenant?”

“You said that Ephraim was edgy right before he was murdered. Any ideas?”

“No.”

“Tell me that again, Schnitman. This time, do it with eye contact.”

The Chasid looked away.

Decker took his arm and held him in place. “Look, Ari, I can understand your not wanting to say too much in front of the police, that maybe it’ll bring attention to your secret organization-”

“It’s not a secret organization,” he answered testily. “We’d just like to assure as much anonymity as possible. Otherwise, people don’t come and get the help they need. Believe me, it’s hard enough reaching out without cops butting into internal affairs.”

“Which is why you should help me. Right now, it’s one-on-one, and maybe I can help you. Turn me away, city police are bound to come back.”

He rubbed his hand over his face and beard. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Ephraim didn’t talk to me, but he did talk to someone in the group-his sponsor. I didn’t tell you this initially, because I just found out about it last night-at our weekly meeting. Don’t ask me for the name, I won’t give it to you. You can threaten me with exposure, embarrassment, jail time, the works, but I will not, under any circumstances, break a confidentiality by giving you a name.”

“You’re not a lawyer, doctor, or pastor-”

“I have smicha, so technically I am a rabbi. If I have to use it, I will do that.”

Decker looked around. Scores of people in dark overcoats whistling down the streets, scarves streaming behind them, waving in the breeze like banners. Harsh pewter clouds clotted on the sky’s surface like chrome plating peeling from dross metal. The atmosphere was saturated with dirt and the smell of noontime frying oil. Traffic was fierce. A sudden gust of wind whipped up under Decker’s coat. He tightened his scarf, suddenly realizing he was hungry. “What did he or she tell you?”

The Chasid stuck his gloved hands in his pockets. “That Ephraim was clearly troubled, wrestling with issues.”

“Go on.”

Schnitman said, “He couched the specifics in Halachic terms-what was the Jewish obligation of brother toward brother?”

“Interesting.” Decker nodded. “Are we talking metaphorical?”

“Exactly, Lieutenant. Usually, Jewish brotherhood isn’t blood brotherhood. It’s the larger family of klal Yisra’el-Jew to Jew. But this time, it was literal. Ephraim was having conflicts with his brother.”

“Business conflicts?”

“Yes, it was business.” Schnitman nodded. “Ephraim told his sponsor that he had talked several times to his brother about what was bothering him. But the problem didn’t stop.”

“And?”

“Ephraim was at a crossroads. Either he had to turn a blind eye or jump to the next step… telling his father about it. His soul was in turmoil.”

“Did Ephraim mention what the troubling practices were?”

“No,” Schnitman admitted. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. At the stores, Ephraim was in charge of inventory. Ephraim had told us that Chaim had taken some rather sizable loans for expansion-”

“Wait, wait, wait… what was this?”

“About two years ago. Ephraim was very excited. He felt that more stores would mean more responsibility, more chances for him to prove his mettle.” Schnitman blinked several times. “Don’t you people do your homework?”

“I just got out here last Friday. I’m not with the NYPD. Talking to you is doing my homework. Now go on.”

“That was rude. I’m sorry.”

Decker looked at his watch. “You have around six minutes. I don’t want to make you late.”

“It’s all right. It’s an old story, Lieutenant Decker. Old man works up the stores from nothing; then the son gets in with grandiose ideas to make it bigger and better. It appears that Chaim took out loans for expansion; then the recession hit. If that wasn’t bad enough, the city was hit with the terrorist attacks. Business fell drastically. So not only was the expansion put on hold, but now Chaim was facing the more pressing question-how to pay back the bank?”

“Chaim stole from the coffers,” Decker said.

The Chasid shook his head. “Chaim was in charge of the coffers. Stealing from your own store’s inventory would be like stealing from your own wallet. You need a third party to rip off.”

“Insurance fraud.”

“Exactly. You put in claims for stolen items that you’ve never owned. Or you steal your own items out of warehousing, put in claims for them, then resell them on the black market-double-dipping. The problem is that it’s all penny-ante stuff-pocket change. Plus, you do too much of it, red flags go up. When you’re in real trouble-and I don’t know if Chaim was or was not in real trouble-then it’s time to hire the professional fire starter.”

Decker regarded the Chasid. “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”

“Emek Refa’im is a haven for those of us addicted to drugs. Many of us had big problems that led to drug addiction.”

“Things like guilty consciences.”

“Precisely,” Schnitman said. “Ephraim appears to be no exception. Maybe that’s what he was conflicted about, wondering if the store was going to burn down-”

“No,” Decker interrupted. “I think if Ephraim knew that Chaim was planning to burn the store down, he would have definitely gone to the old man.”

“Yes, you’re probably right about that.”

“It had to have been something else,” Decker said. “You’re sure it was business practices that were troubling him?”

“I’m not sure of anything. I’m just repeating what someone told me.” He looked upward. “I probably shouldn’t have even done that.”

“I’d like to talk to the sponsor.”

“The truth is, I don’t know where the person lives. I don’t even know the last name. Some people are like that, I’m a little more progressive, but even I play it really close to the bone. It’s not for my sake-I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing-but if it got out-my problems-my children would suffer greatly, especially in the future. It would be hard for them to find a shiddach.”

A shiddach-a proper mate set up by a matchmaker. “Sins of the father,” Decker said.

“Correct.” Schnitman held on to his hat as the wind kicked up. “But I do want to help. If you come next Tuesday, maybe the person will show up at the meeting. I’ll give you an introduction, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Next Tuesday, I’m back at work in Los Angeles.” He remembered what he told Donatti-sixty hours, now down to less than forty-eight hours. “But thanks. You helped confirm what I suspected.”

Schnitman regarded Decker. “You’re a good man to come all the way out here to help your fellow Jews. You’ve probably gotten nothing but grief for your efforts.”

“You’re right.”

“Moshe Rabainu got nothing but grief for his efforts as well.” Schnitman smiled. “You’re in very good company, Lieutenant.”