"Do you believe in God, Tesser?"

Tess squirmed on the molded plastic chair, which had probably been in the Kibbitz Room since President Jimmy Carter's visit, which was featured on the wall above her in a series of newspaper articles, some framed, some shellacked to pieces of wood. She didn't want to talk with her uncle about her love life, but she was even more reluctant to discuss religion.

"Sure," she said. "Why not? So did Rubin get involved in this group because his father-in-law was in prison?"

"Oh, no. He met Natalie at the prison because her father was one of the men in our group. You see, she sought Mark out, very keen that her father embrace his faith, eager to know what she could do to help. She had found great comfort in Judaism after her father's arrest. But Boris Petrovich… well, Boris couldn't have been less interested in the program. I think he signed up because it was a nice diversion and we brought in good food. The man knew nothing about his own religion."

"Not unusual for a Soviet Jew. In fact, I'd say Natalie's the odd one, from what I know, choosing to live an observant life after almost twenty years of being wholly ignorant of Judaism."

"True, but Boris always seemed to be working some angle." Uncle Donald frowned at the memory. "It's a funny thing, charitable work. You might not go in expecting people to be overwhelmed with gratitude, but you think they'll be polite at least Petrovich was a bit of a jerk, a schemer through and through, whether he was asking for an extra macaroon or wheedling one of us to write a letter to get some privilege reinstated. But the daughter-the daughter was nothing but lovely."

"She wasn't part of the group, though? Rubin met her through the prison connection?" So there went the touching little story about the Carvel stand, a lie through and through.

"Yes. I admit I thought it was one of Petrovich's schemes at first. He may not have known how rich Mark was, but he had him pegged as a mark, a prosperous prospect. Hey-try saying that three times fast. Prosperous prospect, prosperous prospect, prosperous-"

"You're the king of the tongue twisters," Tess agreed.

"Anyway, Natalie contacted Mark about her father, and they ended up getting married. Then Mark dropped out of the program, saying he didn't have time for it anymore. That was at least eight, nine years ago, so maybe that's why he didn't mention it to you."

Tess rescued a few pieces of fallen corned beef from her plate.

"Only here's the part that's bothering me, Uncle Donald. Rubin's the one who keeps saying he thinks his wife disappeared for some reason she can't tell him. So why withhold the information that her daddy is a convict who killed a man?"

"Well, for one thing, people sometimes forget that others don't know what they know about themselves. Maybe he thought I'd tell you about Natalie's father. Besides, Mark's always been… an elliptical man. Formal and reserved. I think it comes from spending a lifetime of telling overweight women that they don't look fatter in a fur coat."

"His mother-in-law suggested he's not always truthful."

"Really?" Donald picked up a pickle from his plate and sucked on it before taking a bite. "I never had that sense. He's extremely reticent with most people, but he's charming when you get to know him, funny even."

"Rubin?"

"Not a jokester. No lamp shades on the head. But a very-I don't know-dry wit. Like Mort Sahl."

"More salt?"

"No, Mort Sahl. He was a Jewish comedian-"

Tess patted her uncle's forearm. "I'm teasing you. I'm much better on the details of our cultural history than I am on the religious stuff. Why did Mark come to you when he needed a private detective? Are you two close?"

Uncle Donald shook his head. "Not particularly. He's a wealthy businessman, living up in the county in some Architectural Digest house, with a wife and kids. I'm a state employee, with my little rental in Mount Washington. He says his prayers three times a day. I go to shul on Rosh Hashanah, fast on Yom Kippur, and try to find a relative to take me in on Passover."

"So why did Mark Rubin come to you with this very delicate matter?"

But now she had offended him. "Your uncle is still known as a man who can get things done, Tesser. Maybe I can't do things directly, but I know who to call."

"He didn't know I was a private investigator, then, he just asked for your help in finding a PI?"

"When he came to me, he wasn't even talking about private investigators. He thought the police were putting him off, not taking him seriously, because… well, because, you know…" He made a strange, helpless gesture with his hand.

"I don't know."

"Because he's Jewish. I mean, Jewish-Jewish, really Jewish, not just Jewish-surname-Jewish. Different-Jewish."

"Oh, Uncle Donald, that's paranoid beyond belief." Tess had already forgotten how quick she had been to take the other side of this argument with Nancy Porter.

"Yeah? One detective even asked him if this was an arranged marriage or a mail-order bride."

"So? There are still arranged marriages of sorts among the Orthodox, and there are mail-order brides from Russia, where Natalie was born. They were just doing their jobs, asking those questions."

"Oh." He chewed with intense concentration, as if the act of grinding his molars also helped his brain to work. "At any rate, when I determined that the police weren't being obstinate, that they really couldn't help him, I told him he needed a private investigator-and I knew just the person. The idea of a female investigator was a bit of an obstacle for him, but I persuaded him that you were more discreet than anyone else he could hire." He wiggled his eyebrows in best Groucho fashion.

"Thanks, Uncle Donald. It's nice for a family member to steer me toward a wealthy client for once. But if he doesn't start being more forthcoming with me, I'm not sure how much I can help him."

"Are there other things he's not telling you?"

"I don't know. Something. Maybe it's just, you know…" She shrugged, unsure how to broach this topic with her uncle. "Maybe his wife wasn't, um… fulfilled in their relationship."

"Fulfilled? Oh, you mean sex. No, I never got that impression that was the issue."

"So there was an issue?"

"I'm just assuming. She left, so something must have been wrong. Right? No one walks out on a perfect relationship."

"One person's perfect could be another person's hell." Tess took out a pad and pen. "What about the other men you visited, particularly in Jessup where Petrovich was held? Do you have a list of their names?"

"I don't, but the organization might keep such records. I'm sure we had correspondence with the Department of Corrections, to get clearances and the like. Why?"

"A man's wife and children disappeared. Now, I'm still betting she just took off, for whatever reason, but he's adamant that there's something more sinister involved. Looking at known criminals in his past makes sense. I also need to find out who his father-in-law killed, don't I?"

"Oh." He furrowed his brow. "You're not mad at me, Tesser, for making this referral? It's good money, isn't it?"

"It's great money. But one of the stinky things about my line of work is that the longer it takes me to solve a problem, the more money I make. Doesn't that seem a little backward to you?"

"So you asked me here today to talk about Mark, this case?"

"Well, yeah. But to see you, too," she added. "And to gossip about Kitty's wedding."

"But mainly to talk about work?" He seemed adamant about scoring this point, which was not Uncle Donald's way. He was one of the few relatives who never tried to make her feel guilty.

"Yes, okay? Yes, I asked you here to talk about the Rubin case."

He pushed his check across the table. "Then you pay for me and put it on your expenses, mameleh. I would hope you should know that by now."