Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Rina stared at him. “Are we talking about the same man?”

“Yes, we are.”

“My Peter?”

“Yes, your Peter. Trust me, Rina, I know these things. If he were any more overt about his love for you, he’d be wearing his heart on a sandwich board instead of his sleeve. I’m very happy for you. For the boys as well. Your family is a gift from God.”

“So we both have things to be thankful about.”

“True.” But his face was pale, sketched with worry lines. Rina wanted to hold him, comfort him as he had done with her. But that was impossible. Different places, different times.

“Are you going to be all right, Bram?”

“Who knows?” He shrugged. “God gave Abraham ten trials. Let’s see how Abram does with one.”

If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, Rina had a monopoly on cardiac tissue. By five o’clock Sunday evening, the entire house had become aromatic with the scents of savory herbs, onions, and garlic. Evocative smells. Of Decker’s bimonthly childhood Sunday dinners. A rotating affair with the relatives. His mother toiling in the kitchen, wet with heat, a starched apron covering her best black dress, a small strand of pearls around her upright neck. The men in her life-Decker’s father, his brother Randy, and him, sitting at the table, stiff in ill-fitting suits. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. As soon as the food was served, things began to loosen up. The adults conversing, kids acting like kids, good times…

He entered the kitchen. Rina’s face was damp, her hair falling down her back in a neat, compact braid. She wore a free-flowing cotton maroon dress that ended midcalf, with midelbow sleeves. Her feet were housed in flats. Though simply dressed, she was still a stunner.

He said, “Looks like you only made enough for the U.S. Army. What do I tell the Navy when it shows up?”

“Funny.” Rina stirred a pot of soup. “I know I cooked too much for five adults. But it’ll freeze.”

“You need a taste tester?”

“You’re volunteering for the assignment? What a jewel you are, Peter.”

“It’s a nasty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Rina gave him a spoonful of soup. Split pea with beef marrow bones. Decker’s taste buds were in heaven. “Good.”

“Thank you.”

“This looks like enough for me. What are the others going to eat?”

Rina hit him, returned her attention to the rack of lamb in the oven, basted the riblets with a mustard seed-honey sauce. She stood, wiped her hands on a towel. “Why did you invite Marge over?”

“Just to be friendly. Why?”

“You weren’t planning to discuss your cases?”

Decker paused. “Maybe something’ll come up in passing. But that wasn’t the purpose of the invitation. Are you worried we’ll say things in front of the boys?”

“No, of course not.” She checked on the pilaf and turned down the fire.

Decker approached her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her neck. “No talk about work tonight, okay?”

She turned to him. “I’ve got a confession to make.”

He loosened his grip on her. “This sounds ominous.”

“I saw Bram last Friday,” she said. “Actually, I saw him on Thursday, too. But that was a very short visit. First time, I came to see him. Second time, he came here.”

Decker looked at her. “Here.”

Rina nodded.

“Here meaning the house?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Entertaining a murder suspect on the chief investigator’s premises.” He dropped his arms to his side. “That’ll sit well with my boss.”

“He’s not a suspect. You released him.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Decker snapped. “He posted bail.”

“Well, you’re the one who lowered his bail.”

“Rina, he’s still a suspect! You had no right-”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“You promised no interference!” he said.

“Yes, I did.”

“You broke your promise, Rina! How could you do that?”

“You know, according to Jewish law, a husband can nullify his wife’s promises.”

“What?”

“A husband can nullify vows and/or oaths made by his wife. Which means you can absolve me of my promise.” She frowned. “I don’t really know if you can do it ex post facto.” She smiled. “But I’m willing if you’re willing.”

“Stop it. I’m not in the mood for games.”

“You can be mad. Just say you nullify my oaths. At least, I won’t have the sin of breaking my vow-my shevuah. Or is it a neder?”

“Oh, for chrissakes!” Decker stomped out the back door. Rina followed him to the stables. Decker picked up a pitchfork.

“Peter, you’re in good slacks and a white shirt.”

“The animals won’t mind if I go formal,” he said angrily.

“Peter, c’mon!”

Decker ripped open a bale. “Uh, excuse me. Could you kindly move unless you want a face full of hay.”

“Can I just talk to you?”

“First move.”

Rina moved. “Can you put down the pitchfork?”

“No.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Fine.” He jabbed the fork into the packed bundle and loosened the yellow reeds. “You’re absolved of your promise. Now, can I get a little solitude, please.”

“Don’t you even want to know why I went to see him?”

“Not particularly.”

“Don’t you want to know what we talked about?”

Decker began tossing a fresh layer of hay over the stalls’ floor, trying to feign apathy. But he was curious. In a bored tone, he said, “If you talk, maybe I’ll listen.”

“I can’t talk to you while you’re working.”

“Then you’ll wait.”

“Oh, you’re impossible!” She turned on her heel and marched back into the house.

Decker threw down the fork and trailed her footsteps. “I’m impossible? I’m impossible? Last I heard, I didn’t break any promises. I didn’t compromise anyone’s job-”

“I didn’t compromise your job-”

“Yes, you did, Rina. The long and the short of it is yes, you did.”

“This is what I get for being honest.”

“No, this is what you get for being dishonest and breaking a promise.”

She turned to him, eyes blazing with passion. “I couldn’t let him…sink, Peter! You don’t do that to a friend!”

“Your loyalty is to me-”

“Loyalty to your job versus the life of a human being? Thank you very much, I’ll pick a human being.”

Decker lashed out. “Why are you putting yourself and my job on the line for this guy? Traditionally, you only do things like that for people you love.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes boring into his. “Just what are you really asking me, Peter. Why don’t you just spit it out?”

Decker took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “I’m not asking you anything, all right?” He looked at his shirt, soaked with sweat. “I’d better go change.”

Rina licked her lips. “Wait a second. I’m not done. I’ve got another confession.”

He stared at her, mouth agape. “There’s more?”

“Unfortunately yes. I’ve eavesdropped on one of your phone conversations…the one where you conferenced with Marge and Scott Oliver. I know about Bram’s safe…and the magazines.”

Decker continued to stare. “Anything else?”

“No…that’s about it.” She smiled weakly. “Looks like I’ll have a busy Yom Kippur.”

Decker closed his mouth, ran his tongue along his cheek. “Whatever your reasons were, your behavior was inexcusable, Rina.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t cut it, babe.” He walked away.

Rina turned to her cooking, her eyes wet with tears. She shoved open the oven door and painted the meat with more sauce. Everything looked wonderful, smelled delicious. She had no appetite.