Fuck it. Tomorrow, he'd be flying to Paradise - where the sun shines bright and the babes are bitchin' all year long.
But in the meantime, it was waiting, waiting, waiting.
He remembered someone saying that all good things come to those who wait.
He thought about that for a moment.
Then he decided whoever said that was a fucking idiot.
'Ezra, my pearls are gone,' Breina Levine announced.
Groggy and nauseated, functioning on only three hours of sleep, Ezra Levine rubbed his eyes. 'You're worried about your pearls at a time like this?'
Breina pushed around the trinkets in her jewelry box. 'My pearls, my gold necklace, my gold hoops—'
'We were robbed last night?' Ezra said.
'I don't know,' Breina said. 'I'll check the silver.'
Ezra sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes were puffy and raw, his skin ultra-sensitive, prickling when hit by the slightest draft. His temples ached from clenched jaws.
Hashem was testing him. That could be the only reason for such bad fate. Hashem was testing him just like Job.
Where was Noam now? Ezra wondered. At this very moment, where was his son? He prayed that the boy was unharmed. Salty rills ran down his cheeks, feeling like liquid fire. He didn't think he had any more tears left, but here they were again.
Breina came back in the bedroom. 'The sterling's still in the breakfront.'
Ezra brushed his cheeks, whispered, 'In all the confusion, you probably left the pearls at Eema's house.'
'No,' Breina said. 'I didn't wear them yesterday—'
'Breina, I don't care about your necklace right now.'
'Do you think /do?' Breina shouted. 'Do you think / care about it?'
'So why are you going on and on about it—'
'I'm not going on and on—'
'Just drop it!' Ezra said.
'OK!' Breina said. 'OK! It's dropped! Happy?'
Ezra buried his face in his hands, lifted his head a moment later. 'Let's not fight.'
Breina's lower lip trembled. She leaned against the wall and exploded into deep sobs. Ezra sighed, rose from the bed, and walked over to his wife. He put his hand on her shoulder; she turned and fell against his chest. He held her for a minute, patting her back as she cried against his undershirt, letting her wring out her grief. When she seemed to have quieted, he pulled away, saying he had to get ready for shul. Breina nodded, said she might as well dress also.
She thought about her second son, always a difficult child. A premature baby, he was colicky and a poor sleeper. As he grew, he became willful and restless.
There were times she felt immense sadness for him, his loneliness was so palpable. She'd reach out and hug him, wrap him in the cocoon of a mother's arm. Noam would respond, embrace her back with such ferocity she could hear her bones crunch. But then he'd pull away, retreat into his shell or lash out and act like a wild animal.
She would try to talk to him, get him to tell her what was on his mind. Again he'd act silly, ask her childish questions.
How do we know Hashem is all around if we can't see Him?
Questions like these she expected out of the mouth of a four-year-old, not from a teenager. He seemed to be making fun of her. But she took him seriously and told him to ask his rebbe. Of course, he never did.
So unlike Aaron - the model child.
How could two brothers be so different?
Then she thought of Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau.
She went inside the walk-in closet, closed the door, took off her robe, and slipped on her dress. Quickly, she zipped it up and fitted her wig atop her head. When she reopened the closet door, Ezra was sitting on the bed, putting on his socks.
•Ez?'
'What?'
'Do you think Noam took the pearls?'
Ezra looked up. 'Why would Noam take your pearls?' A look of horror crossed over his face. 'What? You think he's &faygalaV
'No, no,' Breina said. 'I was thinking that maybe Noam took them for money—' She stopped herself. 'My emergency money!'
She moved toward the door, but Ezra held her back. It was still yom tov; he would not allow her to touch the money and violate the law for something as trivial as this. If Noam took the money, so be it. If he didn't, the money would still be there when yom tov was over. Breina agreed not to count the bills but wanted to see whether they were there or not. At least, if the money was gone, she'd know that Noam instead of a burglar had taken her pearls. No burglar could have found her secret cache without turning the house upside down. To know that they weren't robbed last night would be a small, comforting thought. Ezra hesitated, then told her
she could look at the money, but she shouldn't touch it at all. Breina stated she had no intention of touching it and dashed out of the room. A moment later, she returned.
'It's gone.' She sank down into the bed. 'Noam took it. He must have taken my jewelry, too. I can't believe that even he would do such a thing.'
Ezra said, 'Not that it matters, but how much did you have?'
'Two hundred and thirty-five dollars,' Breina said. 'I've been putting away pennies for ten years to save up that much. How could he do that to me?'
Silence was her answer.
'I'm going to check on the girls,' Breina whispered. 'Do you want some tea, Ez?'
'Nothing, thank you.'
Ezra felt his wife's hand on his shoulder. He patted it gently. A moment later, he heard soft receding footsteps, then the bedroom door close.
Alone, Ezra thought of the four sons mentioned in the Passover story. The wise one, the simple one, the one who doesn't even know how to ask a question. And the rasha, the wicked son.
No, that was terrible. How dare he think such a thing. Noam was not a rasha, just a confused boy, needing a little more guidance than the others. More attention.
At least that was what the rabbis at the school had told him. They had called Breina and him into conference one day, sat them down on two folding chairs, stared at them with grave eyes. The oldest - Rav Leider - was the only one who spoke. The others nodded in agreement with what he had said.
He's a troubled boy. He can learn but doesn 't seem to want to. Furthermore, he's distracting the other boys
from learning. It is clear to us that he needs more attention.
Ezra could still feel Rav Leider's eyes boring into him.
More fatherly attention. You must learn with him.
Ezra had tried. He and Noam had agreed to try Sanhedrin - a very difficult tractate of Talmud. He had his doubts but Noam had been insistent, claiming he had an interest in learning how capital crimes were punished by the rabbinical high court. But after the third session, Noam had begun to act up. Started asking questions that had no answers.
IfHashem created everything, who created Hashem?
Hashem didn't have a creator, Ezra had explained. Hashem always was, always will be.
That doesn't make any sense.
That's the way it is, Noam.
But it still doesn't make any sense.
What was the sense of arguing? So he stopped debating Noam. Another mistake. Noam started asking stupider questions. Like how much did Moses Malone make a year? He'd made learning such a miserable experience that, in desperation, Ezra had lost his temper. Yet Noam hadn't seemed the least bit upset. In fact, he'd seemed happy.
They had stopped learning together, a big mistake. He must ask Hashem to forgive him for his failure as a father.
Without thinking, he found his lips moving in silent prayer - tehillim - the psalms of David. It was so natural, the Hebrew words just spouting from his subconscious. He had said tehillim for Breina's mother two days before she succumbed to cancer. He had said
tehillim the day his father underwent a double bypass, when his best friend was hit by a car, when his niece was born with a hole in her lung.
So many times he had said tehillim, he knew all the psalms by heart.
Decker listened as Ezra told
him about the stolen money and jewelry, noticing that Ezra chose his words carefully. He emphasized that the money wasn't important to him - as a matter of fact, he was grateful his son had something in his pockets. But the theft might mean something to Decker as a policeman, and since he'd been kind enough to help out with this dreadful business, he should know everything.
When Ezra finished the story, he thanked Decker, then immediately followed it with grateful prayer to Hashem for sending a Jewish policeman. Decker being here was Divine Intervention - basheert - fated.
To Decker's ears, Ezra's thinking was childlike. But he'd seen people act irrationally under stress. All logic breaks down...
Ezra asked what the next step was.
'Well..." Decker stifled a yawn. 'The whole community knows that Noam is missing. That's good, Ezra. You have hundreds of eyes working for you. Maybe someone will remember something.'
'Eemyirtzah Hashem,' Ezra said.
If God wills it...
'I want to have a personal talk with some of Noam's friends,' Decker said. 'We'll wait until after shul—'
'We can go now,' Ezra said.
Decker shook his head. 'Some may already be in shul, some may still be sleeping, some may be getting dressed.
If we catch them after services, they should all be indoors, eating lunch.'
'A good point,' Ezra conceded. 'We'll go to shul first, then I'll take you to their houses afterward.'
Decker said that sounded fine.
Ezra brushed the floor with the tip of his shoe. 'And what do I say if people ask me questions?'
'That's up to you,' Decker said. 'You don't have to say anything if you don't want.'
"They'll think I'm hiding something.'
'Ezra, at a time like this, you don't have to worry about what people think. Besides, your neighbors seem like fine people. Rina has already had a dozen offers from women willing to help—'
'What did she tell them?'
'Nothing. She said everything was under control.'
'But it's not, is it?' Ezra began to pace. 'He's still missing.'
'At least we have a plan.'
'And the police are looking for him?' Ezra asked.
'As much as they can. He's not top priority, but they'll keep their eyes open.' Decker paused, then said, 'You don't have any idea where Noam might have gone?'
'I've been racking my brain all night,' Ezra said. 'He's never, never disappeared from Boro Park before. Sure, he goes places and forgets to tell his mother, but never like this. As far as I know, he's never even been out of Brooklyn.'
Part of the problem, Decker told himself, the boy is overly sheltered. Then he thought: stop being so damn judgmental. This kind of thing could happen in any family. His thoughts shifted to Cindy, how he'd been blessed to have a daughter as terrific as she was. He was a
good father, but not a great one. He kept long hours at work when she was growing up, wasn't home a lot. But he had tried to be there whenever she had needed him, whenever she had performed in a school pageant. He had even addressed her class on Parents' Careers Day. All her schoolmates thinking it was cool when he had taken them for a ride in his cruiser. He remembered her face - her eyes had actually sent out beams.
He returned his thoughts to the present and said, 'I talked to a lot of local Brooklyn boys last night. Noam seems unknown outside of Boro Park.'
'Just like I said,' Ezra said. 'I just pray and hope that you're right about him being a runaway. If it's the other
'I can't guarantee it,' Decker said, 'but big strapping fourteen-year-olds are unusual kidnap victims unless it's a kidnap for ransom—'
'I'm not a rich man,' Ezra said. 'I'm a bookkeeper for a sporting goods store and Breina teaches a little at the local girls' school. We get by but have nothing other than the house. Who would kidnap for a house?'
'How about your parents? Your brothers or sisters?'
'No one on either side is rich. My brother Shimmy is comfortable, but he's not exactly a millionaire. In this community, there are richer people to grab from.' Ezra sighed. 'It's bad, nuV
Decker said, 'It's only been one night, Ezra. It's way too early for gloom and doom.' He was about to bring up the notion of a private investigator, but the look in Ezra's eyes held him off. And those self-deprecating words: I'm not a rich man.
Ezra said, 'You are very reassuring, Akiva. Not full of
false promises... but calm... reassuring.' He took a deep breath and blurted out, 'I was a loudmouth yesterday—'
•Please—'
'No,' Ezra went on. 'Yom Kippur is in ten days. I ask you to forgive me.'
Such a plaintive note in his voice. Decker thought: Put the goddam P.I. on hold. Now was not the time. It was useless to tell Ezra there was no need for forgiveness. To him, forgiveness was the first step in the process of cleansing the soul.
'Of course I forgive you,' Decker said. 'And forgive me if I did anything to offend you.'
'You didn't,' Ezra said. 'But it just shows me once again, how wrong it is to go on first impressions.'
Mine was that bad? Decker thought.
Ezra said, 'Now I can see why Rina married you.'
Decker wasn't sure, but he thought that was a compliment.
Decker told Ezra to meet him at Frieda Levine's house after shul, then immediately wondered just why in hell he had designated her house as a rendezvous spot. Yes, there was some logic to it - it had been the center of activity yesterday - but he could easily have told Ezra to meet him at the Lazarus house.
Why did he do that?
Why?
Oh, the hell with analyzing. He'd figure it all out when he was back in L.A. When he was safe.
At the appointed hour, Decker arrived at the Levine house, opening the door and stepping inside without bothering to knock. The whole family was waiting,
greeting him with muted nods, with somber eyes, with unspoken pleas for help.
He felt twice his age, shackled by a not-so-subconscious motivation to prove himself to these people. Yes, he wanted out. But he also wanted them to like him even if he left them hanging. He nodded back at the clan and told Ezra he was ready to begin his interviews with Noam's friends.
Just as he and Ezra were about to leave, Ezra lurched forward. Shimon looped his arms around him as Jonathan grabbed a chair. Together, they eased their brother into a sitting position. His mother and sisters served him water, fanned his face. After he caught his breath, Ezra told everyone that it was simply a bad case of nerves, suddenly his knees had buckled. Decker told him he'd been under an extraordinary amount of stress, adding that he'd been holding up very well.
'Maybe it would be better if I went with Akiva,' Shimon said to Ezra.
'I'll go,' Jonathan said.
'Why don't you both go?' Frieda Levine said.
Decker forced himself to look at her. 'Too many people.'
'Of course,' Frieda said. 'You know best.'
Those eyes! They begged his forgiveness, pleaded with him for help. Goddamn her eyes. They drew him under like a riptide.
Decker focused in on his watch. 'I'll take Shimon along. No offense to you, Jonathan, but Shimon is better trusted in the community.'
Jonathan clasped his hands together. 'Whatever you say, boss.'
The way he said it. Decker had to smile.
When he and Shimon were out of the house, Shimon asked what his function would be other than to introduce him. Decker explained that he wanted to talk to the kids in private. Shimon was to reassure the families while he interviewed their children. Since he was a stranger, parents might feel skittish allowing him to be alone with their progeny. Shimon's job was to tell everyone what a great guy he was.
'And if the parents want to come with you?' Shimon asked.
'That's what I'm trying to avoid,' Decker said. 'I can get kids to tell me things they won't dare admit in front of their parents.'
'My kids tell you our deep dark secrets?' Shimon asked.
He had tried to keep h
is voice light, but Decker knew there was something behind it. Shimon was worried about what his children had told him yesterday, what kind of impression they had made. The truth was, they had been very nice and well-behaved.
Decker said, 'Your oldest told me you do funny things with a whip and a chain.'
Faye Kellerman - Decker 04 - Day of Atonement Page 12
