Faye Kellerman - The Ritual Bath

“He’ll get off with a slap on the wrist. By the way, he ratted on his friends, so we’ve recovered your pen. Here it is.”

She took it absently; she was aghast.

“That’s the best they could do? A slap on the wrist? The kid held a knife to my throat.”

“Fortunately, you sustained no bodily injuries. Plus, he’s a juvenile with a basically clean sheet. And they plea bargained him down to the lesser charge of malicious mischief in exchange for the names of his friends. Old Cory’s going to walk.”

She buried her head in her hands.

“I can’t believe this.”

“Don’t fret too much. It’s just a matter of time before the kid messes up again. Eventually, he’ll dig himself a grave.”

Decker took a deep breath and let it out.

“Rina, I got him to admit the vandalism: breaking the temple windows, spray-painting the walls with swastikas, dumping the garbage on the lawn. When I questioned him about the rape, naturally he said he didn’t know anything about it. And, of course, he doesn’t remember what he was doing the night of the incident.

“Now Cory is a very skillful liar, so I’m going to check him out. But my own personal opinion is that he had nothing to do with it. An experienced rotten kid like Cory would have come up with a pat alibi immediately. The kid looked honestly puzzled.”

He loosened his tie and unfastened the top shirt button. Goddam heat refused to break.

“But that’s just a hunch, and hunches don’t take the place of good old footwork. So I’ll check it out.”

She said nothing.

“If that kid ever comes within fifty feet of you, tell me, and so help me God, I see to it personally that he wished he hadn’t.”

“I hope it won’t come to that.”

“Same here.”

When they got to her house, she paused before opening the door.

“My parents are baby-sitting tonight. I told them about this morning. They were pretty upset.”

“I don’t blame them.”

She hesitated, then placed the key in the doorknob and let Peter inside.

It was hard for Decker to imagine the sophisticated couple in front of him as Rina’s parents. The mother was taller than her daughter and as lithe as a cattail. She looked around fifty; her face bore some wrinkles, the complexion was pale, but the features were fine and delicate. Her makeup job was meticulous, perfectly accenting her bright blue eyes and full lips without being gaudy. Her jet black hair was a nest of soft curls that framed an oval face. She wore a pale blue silk shirt, navy gabardine slacks, and lizard-skin shoes. Around her neck was a braided gold chain that held a heart-shaped diamond solitaire.

The father was shorter than his wife by about an inch, but his build was muscular. His eyes looked tired, with drooping lids, and his nose was full, with wide nostrils partially obscured by a thick gray mustache. He had a prominent chin bisected by a deep cleft and a thick thatch of gray hair that was crowned by a small, knitted yarmulke. He was dressed casually but expensively and smiled when the two of them entered the room.

“You were late,” the woman said. Her accent reminded Decker of Zsa Zsa Gabor.

“I said I’d be here at ten-thirty, Mama,” Rina answered. “It’s around ten-thirty.”

“It’s a quarter to eleven.” She brought her hand to her breast. “I was starting to get worried.”

She looked at Decker.

“Is this the policeman?” she asked.

“Yes. This is Detective Decker.” Rina turned to Peter. “These are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Elias.”

“How do you do?” Decker said.

The woman looked at him and shook her head. “Horrible thing that happened to my daughter.”

“It’s a shame,” Decker said.

“Terrible, terrible thing when you go to the store and you can’t be safe.”

“Mama, I’m fine.”

“Why do you live here? It’s not safe here, Ginny. You can’t just think of yourself. You have to think of the boys, too.”

Rina said nothing.

“Do you have children, Detective?” asked Mrs. Elias.

“A daughter, ma’am.”

“And if this were to happen to her, how would you feel?”

“Very angry, ma’am.”

“That is how I feel. Very angry and very scared. She is a single woman, Detective.”

“Mama, I’m all right.”

The woman spoke to her in a foreign language.

“Mother, crime is everywhere.”

“You know your mother, Regina,” the man spoke up. “She is a worrier.”

“Why don’t you spend the weekend with us?” the mother asked. “You never bring the kids over anymore.”

“They have camp-”

“First it was school, now it’s camp,” she sighed. “The kids need a summer, too. I never sent you kids to camp. You had so much school during the year, I didn’t think it was good to have camp also. And you let them stay up too late, Ginny. They didn’t go to bed until ten-fifteen. Young boys need sleep.”

“They nap in the afternoon, Mama. They’re not tired at nine.”

“They’re too big to nap.”

“Mama, can we discuss this later? It’s very late, and I still have to give the detective a statement.”

The woman looked at Decker. “It’s not a good area here, no?”

“We have our share of crime,” he replied.

“It’s safer in Beverly Hills, no?”

Rina was fighting to maintain control.

“As long as there are cars, Mama, no area will be free of crime. Beverly Hills has plenty of crime.”

“Not teenage punks throwing eggs over the head.” Mrs. Elias turned again to Decker. “Beverly Hills is safer, no?”

“They have a lower crime rate, statistically, but unfortunately, things like this can happen anywhere.”

“But it’s less likely to happen in Beverly Hills, no?”

“Statistically, that’s true.”

“Mama, it’s very late.”

“Come this weekend. The boys had a wonderful time visiting with us. Come this weekend.”

“I’ll call you and let you know,” Rina said.

The woman kissed her daughter’s cheek. “It’s only because I love you that I worry about you. Come this weekend.”

“I’ll see,” Rina said, fighting back tears.

“We love you, Ginny,” the old man said. “We love you, and we love the boys. We miss you, you’re so far away from us.”

“I appreciate your coming tonight.”

“We could come more often if you lived closer,” her mother broke in.

“Mama, please. It’s really very late.”

“Too late for a single woman to be working.” The older woman turned to Decker. “Thank you for helping her. She said you were very kind. Tell her this is no place for a young woman with small children.”

The man got up and kissed his daughter. He took his wife’s arm and they left, whispering in Hungarian.

Rina’s eyes were wet.

“Have a seat, Peter.” Her voice cracked. “Would you like something to drink?”

“How about if I get you something?”

She buried her face in her hands and tried to prevent the onslaught of tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“It’s been a trying day.”

“You don’t have to do this now, Rina. Come down to the station tomorrow morning, and I’ll get a statement from you then.”

She looked up. Her cheeks were streaked. “No, I’m fine.”

“It doesn’t matter, Rina. The kid’s probably out by now anyway. Do it tomorrow.”

She sat down on the sofa, and he sat next to her.

“You know, living here hasn’t been easy, Peter. This isn’t an appropriate place for a woman in my position. This is a high school and college of Jewish studies for boys . The women here are the wives of the rabbis or wives of a special group of scholars studying in the kollel . That’s what my husband used to do. He used to learn in the kollel . That was his job. I worked as a teacher so he could study. That’s considered honorable. This place has no role for a single woman.