“I’ve just spoken with Steven and Matthew, and Baruch Hashem, they’re gutten neshamas.” He translated for Hollander: “Good souls. They want to help out and have volunteered to patrol Friday nights when we’re in shul.”

The audience turned to the teachers with grateful smiles, but Hollander was skeptical. He suspected everyone connected to the place, and the teachers were no exceptions. But he kept his opinions to himself and smiled approvingly.

“That’s nice of you,” Rina whispered.

“At least until Steve gets married,” said Rabbi Schulman smiling. “And that’s going to be when, Steven?”

“Three months.”

“So”-the old man clasped his hands-“we’ll all work together. The police will do their job, and we will be especially vigilant. If it be the will of Hashem, justice will be served.”

He turned to Hollander.

“We will fight back if we have to, Detective. Never again will we be lambs led to slaughter.”

He looked as hard as an old Baptist preacher, thought Hollander. Gazing at the roomful of angry faces, the detective groaned inwardly. He could just see it. Some kid throws an egg at the gate and winds up in the hospital minus a pair of nuts.

“I understand your feeling of frustration, Rabbi, but please, if something comes up, I strongly urge you to leave it up to the police. It’s dangerous to take the law into your own hands, and it could get you in a heap of trouble, legally.”

The rabbi was not daunted. “That may be a chance we’ll have to take,” he said, firmly.

“Rina Miriam,” the Rosh Yeshiva called out as she was about to leave.

She walked back to him.

“Yes, Rav Aaron.”

“Rina Miriam,” he said softly, “a yeshiva isn’t the ideal atmosphere for a young widow with two children. Are you happy here?”

“I’m content. My boys have found a home here.”

“Then I am glad we can do honor to Yitzchak, alav hashalom, by providing his family with a community.”

“Thank you,” she said.

But she knew there was more.

“We will always have a place for you and your boys, Rina Miriam. You have a very important role here. You teach, you lecture irreligious women on Taharat Hamishpacha. Many women now go to the mikvah because of you.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You and your children will always be welcome, but…” The old man’s eyes became as hard as granite. “But there’s no room for a goy.”

She turned a deep crimson.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re a very smart lady. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what kind of rumors you’ve heard-”

“I don’t listen to rumors, Rina Miriam.”

“Of course you don’t.” She looked at the floor.

“But, Baruch Hashem, my eyes still work, and I see things. Like the expression on your face last Thursday when you talked to the big detective. And the one on his face when he talked to you. He’s a nice boy-rugged looking, hard working, well-mannered-a mensch. It’s easy to get caught up, especially if you’ve been alone for a while.”

“There is nothing between Detective Decker and me.”

“I’m glad you’ve convinced your head of that. Now work on your heart.”

11

Shit. She’d brought her kids.

Decker glanced at his watch. It was two past twelve. At least Rina was punctual. She was trudging toward him, weighted down by shopping bags while her two boys ran ahead and chased each other across the grass. He met her halfway, relieved her of the sacks, and escorted her to an empty bench.

She was goddam beautiful. No doubt about that. Even the long-sleeved shirt and dowdy skirt couldn’t hide a curvaceous body that brushed against the material as she walked. But it was her face-the combination of innocence and sensuality-that got to him. The yeshiva had her well hidden, isolated from the outside world. Otherwise there’d be no way she’d be walking around without ten guys following her, tongues lolling out like panting dogs. If she only knew…Then again, if she knew, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“You brought company,” he said, making an attempt to hide his disappointment.

“My older boy came down with a scratchy throat last night that turned into croup. I took them both to the pediatrician for throat cultures, and we just got out. I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Not at all.”

She called her kids, and they came plowing toward her full speed, managing, somehow, to stop short an inch from impact.

“Is this the policeman, Eema?” the smaller one asked.

“Yes. This is Detective Decker.” She looked at Peter. “This is Sammy and this is Jake.”

Decker extended an arm. “Pleased to meet you, boys.”

They each took a turn at shaking his hand. At least she dressed the boys like normal kids, he thought. Baseball caps, shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers. Even if strings were sticking out from under the shirts.

“Do you have a gun?” Sammy asked.

“Shmuel, that isn’t-”

“It’s all right,” Decker said with a smile. “Every boy I’ve ever met has asked me the same question.” He turned to Sammy and tousled the black hair that stuck out from under the skullcap.

“Yes, I have a gun.” He unsnapped the holster and lifted out the butt of the service revolver. After the boys had a peek, he nudged it back in and closed the flap.

“Is it real?” Jake asked.

“You bet.”

“Did you ever shoot anyone?” asked Sammy with growing excitement.

“Did you ever kill anyone?” asked Jake with a gleam in his eye.

“Boys, I think that’s enough with the questions. Why don’t we eat lunch?”

“I’m not hungry,” Sammy croaked.

“Throat’s still sore, huh?” Rina asked.

“A little. I’ll just take some juice.”

“I’m not hungry, either,” Jake said.

“Don’t eat if you’re not hungry.” Rina took out a carton of cranberry juice.

“Well, I’m starved,” Decker announced.

“Can I hold your gun?” Sammy asked.

“No,” Decker said firmly. “But I’ll tell you what. How about you boys giving me a few minutes to eat and talk to your mom in private? Then, I’ll take you for a ride in my car.”

“I don’t see a police car,” Jake said, dubiously.

“I drive that beat-up old brown thing parked over there.” Decker pointed to the Plymouth. “Doesn’t look like much on the outside, does it?”

“Sure doesn’t,” the little boy agreed.

“If I was a criminal, I wouldn’t be impressed,” Sammy added.

Decker let go with a full laugh.

“I’ll pass the information on to my watch commander. Anyway, it’s stocked with a police radio and a gun rack.”

“Does it have a siren?” Jake asked.

“Yes.”

“How fast does it go?” inquired Sammy.

“Fast.”

“Can you race it for us?”

Rina interrupted the interrogation.

“Boys, let the man eat.”

“What d’you got, Eema?” Sammy asked.

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” said Rina.

Sammy parked himself next to Decker. “I changed my mind.”

“Me, too,” added Jake, taking the other side.

No matter how hard Rina tried, the boys couldn’t contain themselves from asking questions. Decker finally told her to give it up. He didn’t mind.

He related well to kids, she thought. In a short period of time he’d managed to get a good rapport with the boys. Too good…

After lunch, she instructed the kids to play by themselves. At first they protested their exile, but Decker reminded them of the excursion that awaited if they behaved, and they left without a fuss.

“Nice boys,” he said.

“They are. They’re usually not so nosy.”

“They’re inquisitive. It’s healthy.”

“They’re excited at meeting a detective,” she said, smiling.

He looked at her.

“Nice to know I can excite somebody.”

She turned away.

He chuckled self-consciously. “That was a ridiculous thing to say.”