Faye Kellerman - The Ritual Bath

“Ma’am, why don’t you rest here a moment or two? Try to calm your nerves. Would you like something to drink?”

“No,” she answered quietly. “I want to go home.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Rina Lazarus. You can get the exact spelling from Detective Decker.”

“Peter Decker?” Walsh asked.

She nodded.

“You’re a friend of his?”

“Yes.”

Walsh took his junior partner aside. “Let’s call Decker and make it easy on ourselves. He’s working Juvey anyway. One more case won’t kill him, and he’ll be more likely to get something out of her than we will.”

Folstrom looked angry but didn’t say anything.

“Call up the station and find his unit number,” Walsh said. “I think it’s 16- 552.”

Folstrom complied but was steamed. Why didn’t Walsh give him a chance with the lady? He could have gotten the information. He could have handled her.

Walsh went back to Rina. “We’re calling up Detective Decker now. Would you like to wait and talk directly to him?”

She nodded wearily. “Can I sit in my car?”

“Go ahead. If you want anything, you might as well ask. You may be here for a while.”

She touched the crown of her head.

“I’d like my kerchief back,” she said.

“Did the kid use it in any way as a weapon against you? A gag, a whip, an object of strangulation-”

“He just pulled it off my head.”

“When?” the officer asked.

Rina looked at him. “I’ll tell Detective Decker. Can I have the kerchief?”

“What’s that garbage in your hair now?”

“An egg.”

“Boys do it?”

She nodded.

The policeman gave her a sympathetic look. “We may need the scarf as evidence. I’m sorry. Detective Decker should be here shortly.”

They still had Cory spread-eagled on the ground when the Plymouth pulled up. Decker got out, glanced at the punk, waved to Walsh, and went over to the Volvo. He knocked on the windshield, and Rina got out of the car. She took one look at his face and tears started to flow.

The hell with religion, he thought. He threw an arm around her shoulder protectively, and she sobbed against his chest. He hugged her tightly and stroked the back of her head, noticing it was wet and sticky.

“You’re all right, Rina,” he soothed her. When she had calmed down, he asked: “Did they physically hurt you in any way?”

“I’m fine.” She pulled away from him and wiped her eyes, amazed at how relieved she was to see him. “That one,” she said, pointing to Cory, “pulled a knife on me. But I didn’t get hurt.”

Her hand drifted to her neck.

Decker’s eyes clouded with fury.

“You’ve been through the wringer,” he said with feeling.

“Peter, I’d like to go home. The boys will be back from camp in less than twenty minutes.”

“Did you make a statement?”

She shook her head.

“Briefly tell me what happened. I’ll get an official statement from you later. All right?”

She nodded and related the incident as quickly as she could.

“Rina, we’re going to need the car and its contents for evidence. Eggs, empty bottles, the whole bit. This is going down as an assault with a deadly weapon and possibly an armed robbery, so I’d like photos and good detailed notes. I can have one of the patrolmen drive you home.”

“That’s fine.” She hesitated, then asked: “Do you need a photo of the egg in my hair?”

“Goddam assholes,” he muttered. “No, I saw it. I’ll record it. Look, don’t say anything about this to anyone at the yeshiva. At least keep it under wraps until I’ve talked to you officially. And it’ll be a while before I’ll make it over there. I’m swamped with work. It’s the heat. Brings out all the roaches. And for some reason, this week they’ve all been juveniles. The three of us have pulled so much overtime, we’re ready to camp out at the station.”

He took a long drag and blew out a wisp of smoke.

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

Her words rang in his ears, and he shook his head and laughed.

“Will you listen to me? You’ve been threatened with a knife, and I’m prattling on like some five-year-old brat. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

She gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’ll try to be at your place by nine,” he said.

“I’ll be at the mikvah by then.”

“Tell you what. I’ll pick you up there and walk you home.”

She knew what the others were going to think, but too bad. She told him to be there around ten-fifteen.

“How’s the new guard working out?” he asked.

“Fine.” She laughed shakily. “At the rate I’m going, I think I’ll hire her as my full-time bodyguard.”

Decker smiled, but he was beginning to think that that might not be a bad idea. He loaded her into a police car, and she rode away, thankful the kids hadn’t been there.

“Call a transport vehicle, Doug?” Decker asked Walsh.

“One should be here in about an hour. Must be a hell of a busy day.” He turned to his partner, Folstrom. “Chris, you know Pete?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” The young cop extended his hand.

Decker shook it and regarded the rookie. “You’re the kid who tried to bust me for running a light,” he said.

Folstrom smiled back, but his cheeks had turned pink.

“Don’t worry about it.” Decker grinned. “The only people who drive like that are assholes and cops. And sometimes it’s mighty hard to tell the difference.”

“The girl’s from Jewtown?” Walsh asked.

Decker winced at the reference, which now seemed like a racial slur.

“Yeah.”

“Was she involved in the rape case over there?”

“As a witness, not as the victim.”

“You think there might be a connection?” Folstrom asked.

“Who knows?”

Decker related Rina’s version of the incident to the officers. When he was done, he asked: “You boys have any details to add?”

“Her side of the story jibes with the good Samaritan’s,” said Doug.

“Poor guy,” said Folstrom. “He saw the boys rousting the girl and tried to help out. All he got for his efforts was a bloody nose.”

“He’s fucking lucky that is all he got,” Walsh said.

“And the kid pulled a knife on her?” Decker asked.

Walsh nodded. “By the time our unit arrived, the other three punks had fled the scene, but this little prick had a knife at the girl’s throat.”

“Why didn’t he split with the others?” Decker asked.

“Seems the little gal from Jewtown had the presence of mind to kick him in the balls. It held him back, delaying his escape time considerably.”

Decker broke into full laughter. Good for Rina, he thought.

“She didn’t tell you that?” Folstrom asked.

“Must have slipped her mind,” Decker replied. He stared at the prone figure on the ground until he placed a name with the face. Cory Schmidt. A bad apple. He’d had a few minor dealings with the kid in the past-disturbing the peace, loitering, malicious mischief. The punk was preordained to fuck up big, and this time he had. He walked over to the boy and gently poked the kid’s side with the tip of his shoe.

“Hey, Cory,” Decker said. “What’s happening? Looks like you pissed in your pants.”

“Fuck off, Decker. I wanna lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer.”

“I mean a real lawyer. Not some goddam pig.”

“You’ll get a lawyer. You’ll get a lawyer and your parents, too. We’re going to make sure you’re well protected. Then all of us are going to sit in a little tiny room that’s hotter than hell and talk for a long time. Doesn’t that sound like a shit load of fun, Cory? Almost as good as getting blasted on snowflake.”