“Don’t say anything to the others, but yes, it was Mrs. Marley.”

“Such a fine woman…” The old man shook his head. “I interviewed her. She has young children, four of them. Her husband works two jobs so between the two of them they can afford to send them to private school…I can’t believe this! What in the name of Hashem is happening here?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Why are they doing this to us?”

“Rabbi-”

“Do something!”

There was nothing Decker could say to him. He placed his hand on the rabbi’s shoulder.

Marge walked over.

“Nothing so far, Pete. The hills are empty.”

“Marge, do me a favor and get Rina Lazarus over here. She’s talking.”

“Sure.”

“We have a right to know what’s going on,” broke in the Rosh Yeshiva.

“She may inadvertently say something she shouldn’t,” Decker answered.

“We feel the burden of this horrendous crime, Detective. Hiring Florence Marley was our doing. Her death is our responsibility.”

Decker understood the old man’s concern, but had to do his job.

“Rabbi Schulman, I suspect the incidents have little to do with the yeshiva, but a lot to do with Rina. If she leaks something she shouldn’t have, she could be putting herself in danger.”

“No one here would hurt her.”

“We can’t be positive of anything right now, Rabbi.”

“Do you possess information to which I’m not privy?”

“Rabbi, right now I’m not sure of anything.”

“Are you holding back, Detective Decker?”

Decker was silent.

Marge brought Rina over.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Rina, you shouldn’t be talking to anyone.”

“They just wanted to know who it was-”

“I don’t care. If they want to know something, tell them to ask me.”

“They’re scared.”

“Rina, you’ve got to keep your mouth shut, plain and simple.”

She looked to the Rosh Yeshiva for advice.

“Rina Miriam, I think the good detective suspects one of the bochrim as a rasha. Does he have reason?”

Decker was furious. He didn’t know what a rasha was, but he knew it wasn’t a compliment.

“Don’t say anything.”

“Rina Miriam-”

“I mean it.”

Rina’s eyes darted back and forth between the two men.

“Rina, you once told me that saving a life takes precedence over everything in Judaism,” said Decker. “By talking, you’d be endangering your life.”

The old man’s lips turned upward in the hint of a smile.

“It’s a strange world when a gentile enlists halacha for the purpose of persuasion. I give you credit, Detective.”

The rabbi pulled out his cigarette case and offered hand-rolled cigarettes, first to Decker, then to Marge.

“I will break this impasse and make it easy on you, Detective, as well as on you, Rina Miriam. You told him about Shlomo Stein, am I correct?”

Rina said nothing. The Rosh Yeshiva turned to Decker.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Shlomo Stein was learning in the bais hamidrash the entire evening. His chavrusa can confirm this. A chavrusa is-”

“I know. A learning partner.”

The old man looked at Rina.

She turned red.

“The chavrusa’s name is Shraga Mendelsohn. Feel free to interview both him and Mr. Stein, Detective. I can guarantee you they have nothing to hide.”

Schulman focused in on Rina.

“I agree with the detective, Rina Miriam. You need to learn the virtue of silence.”

“TV people are here, Pete,” said Marge.

“Well, I think this is one time when we all can agree on silence,” Decker said.

“Absolutely.” Schulman nodded and puffed on his cigarette. “Newspeople. Human vultures.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.” Decker looked at Marge. “You want to handle it?”

“I think they want you, Pete.”

“They want blood,” Decker said under his breath. “Marge, take Rina home. I don’t want her face on the news-”

“Oh, no!” Rina exclaimed.

Two patrolmen were leading Moshe Feldman out of the forest. The cameras zoomed in on the emaciated man who was mumbling incoherently and followed his pilgrimage down to Decker.

“We found him wandering around, Detective-”

Decker cut the officer short. “Read him his rights?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take him down to the station.”

“Peter, please-” Rina tried.

“Take him in,” Decker said, louder.

“Detective Decker, you don’t understand about Moshe-”

“I do understand, Rabbi. There’s nothing more to say. Marge, get Rina the hell out of here. They’re coming this way.”

Decker stomped away, but Rabbi Schulman caught up with him and grabbed his arm. The old man had a vise grip and kept up with Decker’s brisk pace without a wheeze.

“Detective, Moshe has lived here seven years and spent the last two wandering around in the hills. Every man, woman, and child knows he’s out there, and no one has ever been worried or perturbed by his peculiar habits. There have never been any rapes or murders before all of this. Orthodox people don’t rape and murder. That includes Moshe. He’s harmless. He baby-sits children in the shul-”

“People can snap, Rabbi.”

“Moshe snapped a long time ago, but he never was and never will be violent. He couldn’t do something like this.”

“You had your chance, Rabbi. He was released into Mr. Adler’s custody-damn, here they come.”

A bright-eyed Asian woman spoke up first, wielding her microphone like a weapon: “Detective Decker, who’s the man being led out of the woods? Is he a suspect in the murder?”

“Detective, does this killing have any connection with the Foothill rapes that have been plaguing this area?”

“Detective, how was the victim murdered?”

“Was it someone from the yeshiva?” (Mispronounced yesh-eye-va.)

“There’ve been reports the victim was a woman. Was she raped?”

“Do you suspect the Foothill rapist?”

“Rabbi, do you have any information about the suspect now in custody?”

“Rabbi, is the victim one of your students?”

Decker turned around and faced them.

“I have no comment at this time, and we are withholding identification of the murder victim pending notification of kin. Thank you.”

He squeezed into an unmarked, pulled the old man in with him, and took off.

“I thank you kindly, Detective.”

“I wouldn’t throw my worst enemy to those wolves. Where’s a safe place to drop you off?”

The rabbi ignored the question and continued debating. The man was relentless.

“If it’s Moshe, Detective, where is your evidence? Was there a weapon? The last time you were here someone shot at you. Moshe wouldn’t know how to shoot a gun. He’d blow his toes off. You saw Moshe. Does he look like a man who could tackle a two-hundred-pound security guard? Does he look like a man who had just finished murdering-winded and exhausted or full of scratches and blood from a struggle?”

“His clothes were torn.”

“He wears torn clothing. Check his room. All of his clothes are worn, all of his clothes are old.”

Schulman’s eyes were bright and active. It was pointless to continue, thought Decker.

“Where can I drop you off, Rabbi Schulman?” he repeated.

“I’m coming down to the station with you.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Rabbi.”

“If you would give me time, I could convince you that Moshe is harmless-”

“Someone very convincing swayed me the first time. Now a woman is dead, and I want some answers. I pray to God it’s not Feldman, because if it is, I’m responsible for her death.”

“I insist Moshe had harmed no one. Arrest me instead.”

“Rabbi, this is the twentieth century. If the cup was found on Benjamin, Benjamin is going to be tried for theft. And try as he may, Judah can’t do a damn thing about it.”

The old man looked perturbed.

“Rina has been teaching you Torah?”

“I learned that in Bible school. That’s the Christian equivalent to your place.”