The Forgotten. Faye Kellerman
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to anything, but a good nuance is worth a thousand words.”
The Goldings weren’t home, leaving Decker to wonder if they were hiding out somewhere. Just as likely, they were out to dinner. It was only a little past eight. Decker called Jacob and was apprehensive when no one picked up the phone. He tried Jacob’s car phone. The boy answered after two rings. “Yo.”
“Are you two all right?”
“Oh, hi, Dad. We went out for ice cream.”
In the background, he heard Hannah scream, “Hi, Daddy!”
“Hi, Hannah Rosie.” To Jacob, Decker said, “Is she in the backseat?”
“Backseat with her seat belt on,” Jacob replied. “We’re on our way home.”
“I was thinking about stopping by the shul to see Eema.”
“That’s fine. Don’t worry about us. I can put Hannah to bed.”
“Could you do me another favor?”
“What?”
“Before you put her to bed, can you two come down and bring me some junk clothes and my sneakers from home in case I want to help paint later tonight.”
“No problem.”
“Or maybe I should just go home, so Hannah won’t be subjected to—”
But the line had already gone dead. He thought about calling Jacob back. He didn’t want Hannah reading all that hate-filled graffiti or seeing those dreadful pictures. Then again, Rina had been there for a while: the shul was probably somewhat sanitized by now.
He arrived at the shul by seven and parked on the street because the tiny lot was full. A few broken windows had been boarded up, but light shone through the translucent curtains covering the intact glass doors. When he went in, he entered a construction site. Tarps and drop cloths had been laid down everywhere. More than a dozen people were working, brushes and rollers in hand. The walls had been primed, and open paint cans were everywhere. Rina was wearing overalls and a big red bandana over her head. Her face was dotted with Navaho white. She gave him an air kiss.
“How’s it going?” Decker asked.
“Baruch Hashem!” She was smiling and it was genuine. “Let me introduce you to some of our volunteers that you don’t know.” She walked over to two African-American women. One was tall and skinny, the other was short and fat. Mutt and Jeff. “This is Letitia and this is Bernadette. They’re friends of Wanda Bontemps from her church. As soon as she called them, they came right down to help.” She patted Decker’s shoulder with a paint-splattered hand. “This is my husband, Peter.”
“Your husband.” It was the one named Bernadette. She had a smooth, round face and a stern look. She rocked from side to side. She was as tall as she was wide. “The police lieutenant.”
It sounded as if she was holding his title against him; in light of the past allegations of his department, that could very well be the case. He held out his hand to her and she took it.
Decker said, “Nice of you to help out.”
“It was nice of Wanda to call them down,” Rina said.
“Our church has an outreach program to help,” Bernadette said. “No one should be able to get away with defaming a house of God.”
“I agree,” Decker said.
“We need to start something like that in our community.” Rina turned to her new friends. “It’s not that we’re so provincial, although that’s part of it. It’s just that we’ve been so busy trying to make this congregation work. We barely have enough time and money to get our own services in order. But that’s going to change. We have to get more involved.”
“This was an eye-opener to me,” Letitia said. Her face was long and she had a wide, horsey smile. “I always thought the Jews had the big synagogues.”
“Some do,” Rina said. “We sure don’t. We’re lucky to pay the rent.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s my own prejudice talking,” Letitia said. “I’d better stop yakking and get back to painting.” She smiled again. “Go with my strengths.”
“How about some more coffee?” Rina asked. “I need more coffee.”
Decker was happy to see Rina so charged up and filled with action. It helped mitigate the pain of why she was there in the first place. He said, “The way you’re flitting around, do you think you really need more caffeine?”
“I don’t flit, I move in a purposeful manner,” Rina explained.
Bernadette said, “She just appears to be flitting because she’s so graceful.”
“Uh-huh,” Decker said. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”
Rina yelled out, “Moishe, we could use some fresh coffee.”
Moishe Miller—a big bear of a man—was standing in front of several folding tables piled high with shredded paper and abused books. At the moment, the bearded dentist was painstakingly piecing together torn bits from prayer books. “Reg or decaf?”
The women looked about the room, then at each other. “Full strength,” Rina ordered. To Decker, she said, “Are you going to help out? We took down all the bookshelves. We need someone to paint them and put them back up.”
“Yes, I’m going to help out. Jacob’s bringing over some junk clothes. I have a little more work to do, and then I’m all yours.”
“Good to have someone who knows what he’s doing. House painting is a lot harder than it looks. It’s not just slopping paint over the walls.”
“So you’ve discovered.”
“It actually takes some practice.”
“Does this mean you appreciate me more?”
“I’ve always admired your manual skills. You just don’t work fast enough.”
“But I do a good job. And the cost is cheap. You get what you pay for.”
Rina nodded, then smiled at the women. But the expression was a taut one.
Bernadette caught the tension. “Well, nice meeting you … Lieutenant.”
“Peter is fine,” Decker said.
“Peter then.” Again, Bernadette shook his hand, then nodded to Letitia. The two of them went back to their artwork. Rina used the moment to take Peter aside. She said, “Yonkie called me—”
“I can’t talk about it,” Decker said. “The party is a minor.”
“The party is a kid named Ernesto Golding,” Rina whispered. “You didn’t tell me, Yonkie did.”
“Do you know this kid?” Decker asked Rina.
“Never heard of him until Yonkie told me. There must be someone else involved. This isn’t the work of just one person.”
Decker shrugged.
“C’mon. Yes or no? Is there someone else?”
“No comment.”
“Now you’re sounding like a politician.”
“If you’re trying to get me angry, I’ve had worse insults.”
Rina grew impatient. “Peter, this is your shul, too.”
“I’m painfully aware of that, Rina.” Then he said, “Please tell me that you haven’t mentioned Golding’s name to anyone else.”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
Now she was glaring at him. He said, “Don’t we have enough on our minds without fighting?”