“Honest when it counts?”

“What does that mean?” Marge asked.

“It means I was never cheated.”

Decker waited for more. When nothing came, he said, “Why do you think he didn’t tell you about his travels to Africa? Do you think he was investing in schemes again?”

“Not with business money. I keep watch on that.” Gold flicked his wrist and checked the time. “I call Orit. Maybe she knows when the funeral is.” He looked up. “Or maybe you know?”

“We haven’t released the bodies yet, Mr. Gold.”

“Then I wait until she calls me. It’s terrible what happened, terrible for Dalia. She really was a lovely woman.” He took a deep puff of his cigarette and blew out a cloud of poison. Decker squirmed in the smoke. Going on four years and the lust for nicotine had yet to leave his bloodstream.

“You liked Dalia,” he said.

Gold said, “I know her many, many years back in Israel. Many, many, many…” He took another drag off his cigarette. Marge brushed away the smoke, but Decker inhaled deeply.

“You were jealous when she married Arik?” he asked.

“No, I was not jealous.” Gold’s lip quivered. “What difference it make? She’s…”

Marge looked at the Israeli. His eyes were wet. She thought about Arik’s travels, which he apparently kept secret from his partner. Then she thought about Gold’s car parked outside the Yalom house. Just who was screwing whom.

Finally, Marge said, “You were close to Dalia.”

Gold snapped his head up. “Yes. As friends. I already explain that to your partner.”

Decker said, “Mr. Gold, are you angry that your partner traveled to Africa-”

“Yes, I’m pissed off,” Gold broke in. “I have to wonder what Arik was doing there? Was I being cheated? He also took money for travel. I thought he goes to Israel or Antwerp. Now I think he takes a safari vacation on my money.”

Decker said, “Except his wife didn’t go with him.”

“That means nothing,” Gold said. “He left her alone many times.”

“Was Arik Yalom having an affair, Mr. Gold?”

Gold paused, then said, “Dalia suspected, yes. I tell you we were good friends.”

Decker said, “She ever mention a name?”

“No. Dalia is a lady.”

Marge said, “And you don’t know where Arik’s sons are?”

“No, Detective, I don’t know.” Gold pursed his lips. “Maybe I make it easy for you. Maybe I find them for you.”

Decker stared at him. “Keep out of police business, Mr. Gold.”

“Ah, but the boys are my business.” Gold’s smile became cryptic. “I am honest when I say I don’t know where the boys are. But I tell you this much.” He picked up his semi-automatic and shoved the clip into the release catch. “When I find them, I am prepared.”

In all the years Rina had lived at Ohavei Torah, she had never seen the Bais Midrash devoid of students. As a young widow, she had had many sleepless nights, praying for her departed husband’s soul as well as some personal peace of mind. When prayer had failed-as it often had done in the early days-she had bolted out of bed into the cool night air to take aimless walks and clear her mind. Several times her journeys had led her over to the study hall. Inside, she had always found a few of the truly dedicated poring over volumes from the many religious tomes that lined the room. Though women were not forbidden to enter, Rina had always felt that there were unspoken restrictions. She had never gone inside the study hall to learn-even at dinnertime when the Bais Midrash was quiet and peaceful as it was right now.

Her sons had no such qualms. Suitcases in hand, they marched into the room, each one headed for a different bookcase. Sammy scanned the volumes of the Mishna Torah authored by the Rambam. Yonkie went straight for a set of Shas-the Talmud.

Rina watched her sons from the doorway. Sammy was actually more tall than big, but his shoulders were starting to widen, his musculature beginning to fill out. Rina thought him objectively very handsome. A mop of sandy-colored hair surrounded an unusually clear, adolescent complexion napped by peach fuzz. His eyes were dark and alert, and though his teeth were encased in braces, she could make out the future man in the teenager’s face.

Jakie was still a boy. He had just started his growth spurt, but his arms and legs continued to be thin and bony. His complexion was baby-smooth peaches-and-cream; his blue eyes held a mischievous sparkle.

Both of her sons wore untucked, long-sleeved white shirts that fell over dark pants. Their feet were protected by high tops. Neither was wearing a hat, which immediately marked them as visitors rather than live-in students.

Rina felt a presence behind her. She turned to see Rav Schulman walking down the hallway some fifty feet away. He was walking by himself-a rarity-and headed toward the Bais Midrash. Right on time. Rina straightened her spine and, without thinking, cast her eyes downward. Some habits were impossible to break.

A twinkle in his eye, he nodded to her as he entered the study hall, and she nodded back. It wasn’t that he was ignoring her. He didn’t want to embarrass her by being overly solicitous. The students in the room immediately stood upon the old man’s arrival and the great Rav motioned them to sit back down. He crooked a finger at Sammy, then at Yonkie. The two boys came over, their heads lowered, hands straight down at their sides.

Stroking his long, white beard, Schulman welcomed them with a warm smile. Rina always felt his kind expression combined with crinkly, alert eyes opened up the Rosh Yeshiva’s face, made him seem younger than his eighty years. Yet he was an old man now. His spine was bent, his fingers, once long and graceful, were now spindly and misshapen. But the great Rav still had spark left in his earthly body. As usual, he was dressed immaculately-a dark suit, starched white shirt, and shiny black oxfords. A new, stylish homburg covered his snowy hair.

Sammy stood up straight, then realized his shirttail was untucked. Quickly he remedied the situation only to realize he wasn’t wearing his hat.

“I left my hat at home, Rav,” he said, softly.

“Is your head cold, Shmuel?”

Sammy stifled a smile. “No, Rav. I just…”

Schulman placed his hands on Sammy’s shoulders. “You’ve grown into nearly a young man, Shmuli. If you’d like to wear a hat, I’m sure I have something to fit you at home.”

“Thank you, Rav.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned his eyes to Jacob. “And you too, have grown, young man. It’s so good to see you both developing and in good health.” He placed his right hand over Shmuel’s head, his left over Jacob’s. Closing his eyes, he said a prayer for their well-being.

Afterward, Schulman opened his eyes and smiled. “So what are you two learning. Yonkie first.”

“Baba Kama.”

“That is a difficult masechet for sixth grade.” Schulman tousled the boy’s hair. “It is a difficult masechet for any grade. I am happy your new school is challenging your mind. Now you, Shmuel. How is school taxing your gray matter.”

Sammy lowered his eyes. “We’re learning Makkot and…Baba Basra. We just started Baba Basra.”

“A good choice. I miss you both but I can see you two are in able hands.” He turned to Rina, then turned back to her sons. “I’m sure your eema made sure of that.”

Both boys nodded. The Rosh Yeshiva looked around the Bais Midrash, always interested in who was learning when it wasn’t required.

“You boys seem anxious to learn. It restores my faith in the school you attend. But even scholars must have food in their stomachs. Go into the dining room and have some dinner. If you two have eaten, go anyway and catch up with old friends.”

Sammy and Jacob exchanged looks.

“Go, go!” Schulman shooed them away. “You’ll have plenty of time to learn tomorrow.”

Sammy said, “Should we take our suitcases, Rav?”