Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Some of the guests were eating, popping things into their mouths, or drinking something unnaturally red out of plastic glasses. Obviously, there must be food somewhere. Holding his breath, Decker dove into the pool of humanity. He intended to pay his respects to the widow. But first he’d take a look around.

The family room held the bulk of the people. To its immediate left was an enormous dining room, windows facing the front lawn. It was also packed. A giant flower arrangement sat in the middle of a long table; around it were plates of assorted cookies, finger-sized danish, bite-sized muffins, sugared ladyfingers, and bowls of candies. On the buffet was a coffee urn with cream and sugar and hot cups. A sideboard held a filled punch bowl with cold cups. Put the scene in another context, add a little music, and it was party time.

Decker squeezed his body out of the dining room, back to the main drag. Yet he wasn’t quite ready to introduce himself to Dolly Sparks. He noticed that off the dining room was a swinging door. Decker pushed it open, found himself staring down an empty hallway. And since no one was telling him it was off-limits to foot traffic…

Glancing over his shoulder, he ventured down the foyer. Opened a few doors. A bathroom, an office with a computer, a butler’s pantry. At the end was another closed swinging door.

What the heck. He’d gone this far.

Decker leaned on it, allowing him entrance to a massive kitchen/breakfast nook area. At least a thousand square feet. An oversized refrigerator, an eight-burner stove. Walls and walls of cabinets-white, scalloped frames surrounding lemon-yellow panels hand-painted with flowers and scrolls. But they were old, the designs being chipped, faded, or missing altogether. Paper goods and boxes of pastries had been strewn over the counters. Hand-painted tile. Though the grout was clean, it had grayed with age. Several uniformed housekeepers scurried about: setting up cookie platters, bringing in empty plates, taking out pitchers of punch, or making more coffee.

Decker suddenly noticed that except for the help, he was alone. Nice. He could breathe. But it looked funny.

A maid carrying two platters of cookies winked at him as she passed by.

Decker held back a laugh.

The swing door opened. Immediately, Decker’s eyes grew in diameter.

“I thought I might find you here skulking about,” Rina said. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

Involuntarily, he felt his anger rise. He was working on a big murder case, his attention focused on business. Rina’s presence was not only a supreme distraction, but a problem. Personal digressions could screw up his credibility. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you keep your voice down to a civil level?”

Decker looked around. The hired help was staring at him. He took a deep breath. “Sorry.” He leaned over, kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect-”

“I know. You’re working on a case. I’m interrupting your concentration. But I couldn’t help it.” Rina began kneading her hands. “I know Dr. Sparks’s son Abram. He asked me to come.”

Decker paused, weighed his words because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “He asked you to come?”

“Yes.”

“He called you?”

“No, I called him. Last night.”

“You called him.” Decker smoothed his mustache. “Okay. That must mean you know him well.”

“Bram had been a dear friend to Yitzchak. At one point, I knew him very well. I know I should have said something as soon as you told me about the murder. But frankly, I was in shock. I have been trying to reach you all day.”

Decker softened. “I know you have, honey. And I got the messages. They told me it wasn’t an emergency.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Is this what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes.” Her face crumpled. “This has been a very stressful day for me. At best, I don’t do well with these kinds of things. And seeing Bram brought back all these memories and I…”

She erupted into tears. Decker pulled her into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s fine…no big deal.”

It was a very big deal.

Decker kissed his wife’s hat. “Honey, it was nice that you came. But you shouldn’t have to go through this. It might be better if you just went home. We’ll talk later.”

She dried her tears with a tissue. “I came with Bram. Can you take me back to the yeshiva? The Volvo’s there.”

“Bram drove you here?”

“Yes.”

Decker was silent. For a woman as religious as Rina to be alone with a man-even a priest-implied a close relationship. “Just the two of you?”

She pulled away. “Yes, Peter, just the two of us. We met at the yeshiva at his request. Because he had business with Rav Schulman. Then we drove together to the service. Afterwards, he asked me if I wouldn’t mind coming back to the house. He wanted to spend a little time with his family before he drove me back.”

Decker looked at her, said nothing.

Rina said, “Is my acquaintance with Bram going to mess up your investigation?”

“It’s going to have to be dealt with. How’d you come to know him so well?”

Rina stared at him, not angry, just weary. “He just about moved in after Yitzchak fell ill. He read to him when Yitzy’s sight failed, he carried him from room to room when he couldn’t walk, he fed him…bathed him…put on Yitzy’s tephillin, oh God-”

She looked away, attempting to hold back tears.

“Towards the end, Yitzy became a twenty-four-hour job. I had two small children who didn’t know what was flying…only that their father…Bram took care of Yitzchak so I could take care of them. So I could catch my breath! There were times…if Bram hadn’t been there…I think I might have gone insane.”

No one spoke.

Decker threw up his hands. “Where were his Jewish friends? Where were your parents, where were his parents, for godsakes?”

Rina wiped her eyes. “They all came to visit…his friends, the rabbaim. All of them. And lots of them. Faithfully. But eventually they all went home. Because they had families, Peter. They had lives.”

“Bram didn’t have a life?”

“He was unattached. I think he had just graduated seminary or was about to graduate. He hadn’t taken his orders yet, that much I remember.”

“At loose ends?”

“I suppose. I never questioned his motivation. They had been friends before Yitzchak fell ill. Two scholars on the opposite sides of the fence. Looking back, I now realize how much Yitzy enjoyed those intellectual debates. Brought fire to his eyes…Bram’s, too.”

Then Decker remembered something the priest had told him about an old friend. The passion in his voice.

We used to spend hours together, arguing about God. I loved him like a brother. Then one day he took sick. Ten months later, he was dead.

One of those once-in-a-lifetime relationships, forged from something that defied rational explanation. Just as he’d had with his old war buddy, Abel.

Rina clutched her hands, looked at her husband. “As far as my parents lending me a hand…they were more work than help. They couldn’t deal with the situation. Neither could Yitzy’s parents. Something we both recognized at the onset of his illness. Not that I blamed any of them…four concentration camp survivors…it was too much. So Yitzy made a decision to keep his parents in New York because he couldn’t stand to see the suffering in their faces.”

Her lower lip trembled.

“We kept them at bay, telling them things were better than they were…until the final weeks…when we couldn’t lie anymore.”

Spontaneously, Decker brought his wife to his chest and hugged her tightly. She embraced him back, swayed to his rocking, allowing herself comfort from the man she loved.