Prayers for the Dead

14

Stifling hot from a houseful of packed flesh, yet the men still wore jackets. Decker wiped his brow, reaching a compromise. He’d leave the jacket on, but loosen the tie and undo the top button of his white shirt. Good that he was tall. Standing on the landing steps of the Sparkses’ home, he could see over the human yardage. Even from this vantage point, with so many people, he couldn’t keep a definitive watch over the siblings. Kept scattering from place to place like little black ants. Especially the twins, both of them wearing almost identical black suits and glasses. True, the priest had longer hair and wore a collar. But without putting the two side by side, Decker was easily confused.

The widow, Dolores-known as Dolly to her friends-was holding court in the back of the living room. At present, she was mobbed by well-wishers offering her solace, surrounding her, patting her hand, stroking her shoulder, wiping her wet cheeks. It would have been inopportune for Decker to intrude upon her grief. Yet, he knew he was going to have to question her.

Because her husband was murdered in the back of a fancy restaurant.

Which could mean a paramour.

Which could mean a jealous husband or boyfriend.

Or, dare he say it, even a jealous wife.

Because as yet, Decker still lacked a damn motive.

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.

The swing door opened again. Rina broke away, dabbed her cheeks.

Bram’s eyes rested on Rina’s face, then moved on to Decker’s. Something had passed between them-a glance that bespoke deeper things. An evaluation of his worth as Yitzchak’s replacement? A longing for what might have been? Or maybe exhaustion and irritability were pushing his imagination into overdrive.

Decker maintained eye contact with the priest. “You spoke beautifully, Father. A very eloquent eulogy.”

“Thank you.” Bram nodded somberly. “Even though words fail to express what’s in your heart, you try your best. Thank you for coming.”

The door opened again. The maid returning with empty plates. She saw Bram. “¿Usted quiere comida, Padre?”

“Nada, Bonita. Gracias. No tengo hambre ahora.”

“¿Señor?” She looked at Decker.

“Nada, gracias.”

The maid shrugged, her eyes saying, I can’t give the stuff away. She went back to the counter and reloaded the platter.

Bram pushed hair off his face. “The man who sold my father his first motorcycle is here. His name is…no joke…Grease Pit. He and his leathered entourage just walked through the door.”

“Are they creating problems?” Decker asked.

“Not at all. I was just wondering if you’d like an introduction.”

“Yes, thank you.” Decker swallowed the wrong way and began to cough. “And…can…you introduce…”

He broke into a spasm of hacking. Rina banged his back. “Are you okay?”

“S’cuse…” The two maids were holding large platters of cookies. Coughing, Decker moved out of their way.

“Gracias.” They walked out of the kitchen.

Decker coughed, held up a finger. “Your…mother…”

“I’d be happy to introduce you to her,” Bram said. “Let me get you something to drink.” He walked over to the counter and began to pour punch into glasses. The kitchen door opened yet another time, reminding Decker of the old Ernie Kovacs skit…person after person coming out from the bathtub.

It was Paul and he was fuming, eyes going a mile a minute. So focused on his ire, he didn’t notice Decker or Rina, just headed straight for his brother.

To Bram’s back, he shouted, “He’s drunk! He’s saying vicious things! And I’m about to lose my cool! Rein him in now, Bram!”

Eva barged in. “Bram, you’ve got to do something about Luke. He’s upsetting Mother!”

Pink-cheeked, Bram said, “We’ve got company, people.”

Paul pivoted, eyelids fluttering like wings when he spotted Decker. Eva’s pale face had reddened. Bram walked back to Decker, handed him a glass of punch. “Can you excuse us for a moment?”

“Of course.” It came out a hoarse whisper. Decker drank and cleared his throat. “I’ll just wait outside.”

“Thank you.”

Decker smiled, took Rina’s arm, and led her back into the living room. He cleared his throat again. “Well, that was pretty ugly.”

Rina said nothing.

Decker’s eyes scanned the room. Casually, he said, “Do you know the family, too?”

“No, just Bram.”

“Never met any of his siblings…his parents?”

“Once.” Rina hugged herself. “Before Yitzchak became ill Bram invited us to his twenty-fifth birthday party-he and his two brothers, Luke and Paul. You know he’s a triplet?”

“Yes.”

“He’s also an identical twin with Luke.”

“Yes, I know that as well.”

The one who’s drunk and is saying vicious things and is upsetting Mom.

Decker prodded. “What was it like? The birthday party.”

“I don’t remember too much. I do recall sticking out rather pointedly among all the church ladies. I didn’t talk much.”

“Where was Yitzchak?”

“Talking to the men. Not that there was a formal mechitza. But there was an invisible one.”

“The sexes were separated?”

“Informally, yes.”

Offhandedly, he asked, “You recall any of his siblings? Surely he introduced you to them.”

“I’m sure he did. But I don’t remember anyone too well except Bram…and Luke. And that’s only because he looked like Bram.”

“Did you meet the doctor?”

Rina thought. “Yes, I remember his father. A very…dignified-looking man. Very regal. But stiff.”

“Goyishe?”

“You said it, not me.” Rina looked up. “I owe him big, though. When Yitzchak fell ill, he gave us referrals. I never spoke to him directly. It was all through Bram.”

“Bram set up the appointments?”

“No, I set up the appointments, but Bram gave me the numbers. Looking back, Dr. Sparks must have made some prior phone calls. Because we got red carpet treatment.”

“What about Bram’s mother? Did you meet her?”

“I suppose I did although I don’t have a clear memory of her. I believe she, like most women, spent most of the time in the kitchen, supervising the food and help. There was a ton of food, none of which we could eat. Too bad because it looked good. And it was also a topic of conversation. ‘You’re not eating, dear? Are you feeling all right, dear?’” Rina smiled. “They all thought I was pregnant.”

Decker smiled back. “Everyone seem to get along?”

“I wasn’t paying any attention. Too busy being painfully uncomfortable. Can we stop talking about the past?”

Decker was quiet. “I’m treading on sensitive ground here.”

“Yes. It brings back memories that I’d just as soon forget.”

“I’m sorry, Rina. Inconsiderate of me.” Decker rubbed his neck. “Although I am curious how a yeshiva bocher like Yitzchak hooked up with a Catholic priest.”

Rina pretended not to hear, spotted Bram, his eyes searching the room. Once they found their target, Bram moved swiftly through the crowd, stopped at his twin’s side.

Decker straightened up, observing. Neither he nor Rina spoke.

Bram threw his arm around Luke’s shoulder, began to steer him toward the kitchen. Luke staggered as he walked, got sidetracked with people, giving them overstated hugs and big loopy smiles. But otherwise he made no attempt to break away from his brother.

“The roping of tranquilized steer,” Decker said. “Rein him in, he did.”

Rina said nothing.

“Guy has a bad chemical problem, doesn’t he?”

Rina shrugged ignorance.

Decker tried to appear casual. “Yesterday, Luke admitted having a past problem. Yesterday, he also claimed he’d been sober for three years. Obviously, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Wonder what else he’s been lying about.”

“Maybe the stress brought about a relapse.”

Decker rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Did Bram tell you that?”

Rina’s eyes met her husband’s. “No. Any more questions, Lieutenant?”

Decker held up his palms. “Okay, I’m pumping you. I’m just trying to get some insider background.”

“Peter, I wish I could help you solve this. I wish I could tell you more about the family’s dynamics. But honestly, I didn’t know them. Just Bram. And since he’s not a suspect, I don’t see how I’m of any use.”

Decker was quiet.

Rina said, “He’s not a suspect, right?”

“Right now I have no suspects. So everyone’s a suspect.”

“C’mon-”

“I’m serious-”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Rina, you’re entitled to your privacy. I won’t put you in the middle. But if something should happen, and your friend suddenly finds himself involved in this case, I don’t want you interfering on his behalf.”

“Bram can take care of himself.”

“No matter what, Rina. I’ve got a job to do. Which means I don’t want you talking to him until the case is resolved. Otherwise, my investigation will be tainted.”

“You’re right. I understand.”

Decker paused. “You do?”

“Yes.”

Decker was in awe. “You’re being so reasonable.”

“It happens. But don’t get too used to it.”

“Nah, don’t want to spoil myself.”

Rina smiled, hugged his arm again. Bram was trying to come their way, but kept getting waylaid by grim ladies in gray suits embracing him. If he was annoyed by the interruptions, his face didn’t reveal it. He had almost made it over when an attractive but anorexic blond woman with a severe haircut grabbed his arm, yanked him to her. Rina couldn’t tell what she was saying, but she was giving him an earful. His expression grew impatient…drained. The woman, dressed in black, seemed vaguely familiar.

Dana?

They looked funny together. Probably because his hair was so long and hers was so short. Within minutes, she broke down, wept on Bram’s shoulder. He held her, but wasn’t happy about it.

“Who’s that?” Decker asked.

“I thought you weren’t going to put me in the middle.”

“Simple identification question,” he scoffed.

“Peter, you’re being bad. But I’ll answer you anyway. I think she’s Luke’s wife, Dana. But I’m not positive.”

Bram was trying to direct the woman away from the crowd, but he was less successful with her than he had been with Luke. Feet rooted on the floor, she kept clinging to him, sobbing and talking at the same time.

Decker said, “He’s uncomfortable with her. Animosity, or is he like that with women?”

Rina stroked her husband’s cheek. “Do I look like Freud?”

Decker laughed. Rina hit his good shoulder and smiled.

But it was an astute observation.

Bram had always been reserved with women, including herself. He had only opened up after misfortune and grief had thrown them together. Rina had always chalked it off to his disastrous relationship with Dana. Her eyes moved away from Bram and landed on a well-dressed man talking expressively with his hands. Way too showy to be a member of the Sparks ’s Fundamentalist Church.

She said, “Do you know who that man is?”

“Which man?”

“All the way back and to the left. The one in the three-piece, pinstriped suit.”

Decker’s eyes skied across the room. “You know, I bet that’s…excuse me, darlin’.”

Decker walked away, leaving Rina alone. Her eyes went back to Bram and Dana. Amid the adult bodies, a little boy of around three pushed through everyone, ran up to Abram shouting, “Uncle Bram, Uncle Bram!”

The woman turned fierce, screamed loudly, “Can’t you see that I’m talking!”

People around them stopped conversing, stared at the woman. The boy’s face broke. Red-faced, Bram scooped the child into his arms, comforting him, patting his back as the boy snuggled into his uncle’s chest. The woman started crying again. This time, Bram was more forceful. Without grace, he grasped her arm and led her straight to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, the priest reemerged, still holding the child. He spotted Rina, came over. Rina smiled at the boy, brushed hair out of bright green eyes.

“Luke’s son?”

“Yep.”

“He looks exactly like you.” Rina laughed. “I mean your brother.”

“I’ve got a great setup. The kid looks like me. I get all the fun and none of the responsibilities.”

“Does Uncle Bram baby-sit a lot?”

“Uncle Bram does baby-sit on occasion. But Uncle Bram has his own life. Where’s your husband?”

“Talking to that man over there.” Rina pointed. “Who is he?”

Bram’s eyes followed her extended finger. “Reginald Decameron. One of my father’s colleagues.”

“Snappy dresser.”

“Indeed, especially in this conservative crowd.” He spoke to his nephew. “You okay, Pooch?”

The little boy nodded.

“This is Peter. Peter the Pooch. As opposed to Peter the Lieutenant. We call him Pooch because no one can bark like Peter. You want to show Mrs. Laza-…show Mrs. Decker your bark, Pooch?”

The boy shook his head, nestled deeper into the priest’s chest. Bram shifted the boy’s weight in his arms.

Rina mouthed, “How’s Luke?”

Bram’s face fell, shook his head. “How about getting Uncle Bram a cookie, Peter. A chocolate cookie. Think you can do that?”

He set the child down, kneeled to talk to him.

“Here’s a dime. You get me a big chocolate cookie, I’ll turn this dime into two dimes. You know I can do that, right?”

Pooch nodded somberly. Bram kissed his cheek. “Go.”

The boy didn’t move.

“Come on. I’ll time you.” Bram looked at his watch and said, “Ready, set…go.”

The boy scooted off. Bram stood up. “Works every time.”

Rina hugged herself. “I’m sorry about Luke.”

“If he’s that selfish, getting drunk at a time like this, I’m not going to waste my energies on him. I’ve got my mother to think about.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Thanks for asking. Actually, she seems better. At least, she’s crying. I find that healthy.”

No one spoke.

Bram said, “These things are good for her.”

“What things?”

“People…gatherings. Keeps her occupied. When we were growing up, she was very involved with the church. She held some sway being Doctor Sparks’s wife. But she used her position to get people motivated. Raised money by doing bakeoffs and yard sales. She spent a lot of time visiting the sick, comforting the bereaved. I’ve always admired her charitable nature. She’d cringe to hear me say this, because she’s not fond of Catholics, but I owe who I am to her.”

“Why doesn’t she like Catholics?”

Bram smiled. “She thinks we’re a bunch of foppish, overindulged idol-worshipers whose rituals border on paganism. And compared to the spare Fundamentalist service I grew up with, she has a point. I see Catholic tradition as beautiful, she sees it as theatrical. And of course, Protestants don’t recognize the Pope as the supreme head of the Christian Faith.”

Rina laughed softly.

“What?”

“I never thought about dissension among Christians.”

“No, to our shame, we are not a unified bunch. Just look at the Reformation, Martin Luther seducing nuns from the convent. He married one, as a matter of fact.”

“That lout.”

“Indeed. Even closer to home, Rina, look at your own religious denominations, look at your Orthodox Jewish sects. Didn’t you used to tell me how the Satmar Chassidim hated the Lubavitch Chassidim who fought with the Misnagdim-”

“You have a very good memory.”

“For some things.” He grew distant. “That was a long time ago. Yet, at this moment, the conversation is fresh in my mind. Funny how that works.”

Rina bit her nail. “Peter doesn’t want me talking to you until the case is resolved. You understand his position.”

Bram sighed. “Unfortunately, I do. And it’s a very good idea. Besides, we’ve both got our own lives now…separate lives…best to keep it that way.”

Rina nodded. “As sad as it was…as hard as it was, it was wonderful to see you again, Abram. May God be a source of solace for you and your family. May He shine His eternal light your way. I wish you and your family only the best.”

Bram regarded her eyes, his own warm and moist. “Thanks for coming down, Rina Miriam. You know you own a special place in my heart.”

“The sentiment runs both ways.” Rina rubbed her arms. “I’m going to leave now. Could you please tell Peter I took a taxi back to the yeshiva.”

“Of course.” Bram stuck his hands in his pants pockets, leaned against the wall. “Take care, Mrs. Decker. I’d hug you if I could. But as someone once told me, people talk.”

“Yes, they do.” Rina smiled at him. “Besides, Father, we have our proprieties.”

“Absolutely.” Bram regarded her with loving eyes. “Consider yourself hugged anyway.”

“Ditto.” Rina smiled back, then walked away.