Faye Kellerman - The Ritual Bath

“Detective Decker’s out there, somewhere in the hills,” Rina said breathlessly to Marge. “I think the guy shot at him, but I don’t think he got hit.”

Marge, Hollander, and the uniforms conferred. The patrolmen scattered quickly into the brush, and Hollander went off to search the yeshiva grounds, leaving the two women alone.

“Want to go inside?” Marge asked.

“I’m fine. I’d feel a lot better if I knew Peter was okay.”

“Peter?”

“Detective Decker.”

Marge had to smile. “Yes. Detective Decker.”

Rina looked up and laughed nervously. “I guess there was no need to explain who he was. I’m very jittery.”

Marge threw her arm around the quivering woman. “You’re holding up just fine. And don’t worry about Peter. He knows what he’s doing. You want to tell me what happened?”

As Rina related the events of the evening, students from the yeshiva began to converge upon the area. The boys stared wide-eyed at the squad cars and the circling ’copter and asked her what was going on. She turned away, weary of being the center of attention, just wanting to go home. She hoped to God the police would find this fiend and free her of the fear that was eating at her insides.

And she hoped nothing happened to Peter. Just let him be okay. He was her responsibility, she felt, since she’d called him down in the first place.

Within minutes a sizable crowd had gathered and Marge was working hard to contain the mass to one area.

Chana, Ruthie, and Chaya came up to Rina. They had been attending a bible class that evening and on their way home were attracted to the tumult. What had happened? Rina tried to say as little as possible, but they kept pumping her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone and go home? They meant well, but her patience was gone, and she turned away. Finally, they shook their heads and gave up.

The helicopter kept whirling overhead, flooding the ground with a hot jet of white light. The minutes turned hopelessly long. Finally, she saw Peter emerge from the trees.

“ Baruch Hashem ,” she said out loud, blessing God.

“Did they catch him?” Chana asked excitedly.

Rina looked at her, then at Decker. He was alone.

“No. I don’t think they caught him yet.”

“Then why the Baruch Hashem ?”

Rina ignored her and walked over to Decker who led her to an isolated spot beyond the crowd. She felt Chana’s eyes boring in on her. She was pleased when, a moment later, Marge and Hollander joined them. That made it look better.

“How are you holding up?” Pete asked her.

“I’m fine. Nobody shot at me . I’m glad you’re all right.”

Decker smiled at her. To the other detectives he said: “I lost the bastard. I saw him a couple of times, but I couldn’t close in on him because he kept popping bullets at me. Asshole’s a good shot. He came awfully close.”

He lit a cigarette.

“Couldn’t make a damn detail on him except he looked like he was shooting with his right hand. I’d put him at five eight to eleven with an average build. Dark clothing. And he was wearing a ski mask. That’s it. So damn dark up there. The last time I saw him was about five hundred feet behind the main building in the backlands. There’re four uniforms up there right now. It’s probably useless, but I told them to keep at it for another half hour. I’m going to poke around the grounds just in case the prick gets cute and decides to camp out overnight.”

“I’ll comb the buildings,” Hollander said.

“Good idea.”

A man was approaching them.

“The Adler woman’s husband,” said Marge. “Here goes nothing.”

“Luck, Peter.” Hollander saluted with his pipe and left.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Adler,” Decker said when Zvi was in hearing distance. “We’re still looking.”

Zvi’s eyes were full of rage. “I want to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do, Mr. Adler. It’s in the hands of professionals.”

“Professionals?” Zvi turned on Decker. “You can’t find this mamzer , and you have the nerve to call yourself a professional? Is this what professionals do? Stand around and gab while he’s still loose in the hills?”

“Detective Decker’s been in the hills for over an hour, Zvi,” Rina defended him. “That animal was shooting at him.”

Zvi peeled off some rapid Hebrew at her. She fired some back. They stared at each other.

“Seems to me everybody’s frustration is being misdirected,” Decker said calmly. “It’s the criminal’s throat we want. Not each other’s.”

The Rosh Yeshiva walked over.

“What is going on here?” he asked tensely. “Nobody is telling me anything.”

Decker filled him in on the details.

“And you called the police?” Schulman asked Rina.

“I called Detective Decker, actually.”

The old man said nothing.

“She did the right thing,” Decker said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Certainly not to catch bad guys,” Zvi muttered.

Schulman barked something to Adler in Yiddish. The younger man looked down.

“There is a mob out there,” Schulman said to Decker. “I’ll do what I can to get the boys back in the classrooms and dormitories, but tell your men to ease up with the threats and pushing. A few of them are becoming abusive.”

“I’ll go back with you, Rabbi,” Marge offered. “You talk to your boys, I’ll talk to the police.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

Dunn and Schulman left the three of them alone.

“ At smaycha? ” Zvi said sarcastically to Rina.

“ Maspeek, Zvi ,” she answered. She was almost in tears. “ Bevakasha .”

Zvi sighed.

“I’m sorry, Rina.” He looked at Decker. “I know this isn’t your fault. I’m frustrated.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” Decker answered. “I’m going to look around a little more. You’ll stay with Mrs. Lazarus?”

Adler nodded.

“You go home, Zvi,” she said, wearily. “Tell my kids, I’m fine. I’ll wait with the women.”

“Detective?”

The three of them turned around and saw two patrolmen flanking a yeshiva student in his late twenties. The man was stooped and thin, with scanty, black, untrimmed whiskers that grew from a gaunt face. His black jacket was oversized and torn at the pockets, his white shirt wrinkled and tucked carelessly into patched black pants. The shoes on his feet were scuffed and caked with dirt. His eyes were dark and dull and swirled aimlessly in their sockets. On his head was a black homburg with the rim coming loose. His arms had been pinioned behind him and cuffed. He seemed as insubstantial as a scarecrow as the policemen shoved him along.

“Look what we found wandering in the bushes.”

“Oh my God,” Rina muttered.

“Read him his rights?” Decker asked.

“First thing,” one of the policemen answered.

“Take him down to the station.”

“Peter, that’s not the rapist,” Rina said.

He looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“That’s Moshe. He’s the groundskeeper.”

“Well, he could also be a rapist.”

“Moshe’s harmless. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“We’ll find out how harmless he is, Rina.”

“He’s not the man you’re looking for, Peter. Please. He’s a waste of your time.”

“Why? Because you know him? Because he’s one of your own?”

Zvi mumbled something in Hebrew. Rina heard it and turned bright red. She was furious at both of the men, but fought to maintain control. “No, not because he’s one of my own, but because I know he’s not a rapist!”

“What should I do with him, Detective?” asked one of the patrolmen.