"Hello, Mickey, how are you?" Kuntz said.

"I won't say you shouldn't have done this, because you should have," Lowenstein said.

"Don't let it go to your head, theBulletin's paying for it."

The young woman with Mickey O'Hara, Kuntz thought (almost simultaneously realizing that it was not a kind thought), was not what he would have expected. She was-he searched for the word and came up with-wholesome. More than that. She was tastefully, conservatively dressed, with just the right amount of makeup. She had a full head of well-coiffured dark brown hair.

And she was, Kuntz saw, more than a little surprised, even shocked, at the exchange between Lowenstein and O'Hara.

"I'm Stephen Kuntz," he said.

"Eleanor Neal," she said. "How do you do?"

"If you understand that these two are old friends," Kuntz said, "it explains a good deal."

She smiled. "And is there a reason Mickey called you a rabbi?"

"I happen to be a rabbi," Kuntz said.

"Oh?" she said.

"I'm Matt Lowenstein. Don't mind Mick and me. Welcome to Chez Lowenstein."

"Thank you for having me," Eleanor said.

"I just got to ask this," Lowenstein said.

"No, you don't," Mickey said.

"Mick!" Eleanor protested.

"What he's going to ask is 'what is a nice girl like you doing going out with me?' "

"Well, I don't think he would have asked that, but if he did, I would have said that finally you're introducing me to your friends."

"What I was going to ask," Lowenstein said, more than a little lamely, "was how is it he's never brought you here before?"

"Why haven't you, Mick?" Eleanor asked.

"Well, you're here now, and that's all that counts," Kuntz said.

"And if you'll make us a drink, I'll give you something else," O'Hara said.

"Excuse me," Lowenstein said, sounding genuinely contrite. "What can I fix you, Miss Neal?"

"Eleanor, please," she said. "Would you happen to have any white wine?"

"Absolutely," Lowenstein said, and took a bottle from the refrigerator.

"No, I don't mind helping myself to the Scotch, thank you very much," O'Hara said.

"There's an open bottle," Lowenstein said.

"Yeah, but you've refilled it with cheap hootch so often the neck is chipped," O'Hara said, and pulled the cork from the bottle he had brought.

Kuntz laughed.

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side," Lowenstein protested.

"I am a simple man of God trying my very best to bring peace between the warring factions," Kuntz said piously.

"I think you have your work cut out for you," Eleanor said.

Lowenstein handed her a glass of wine, and then turned to O'Hara.

"Okay. What else have you got me that somebody else paid for?"

O'Hara took an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to him. Lowenstein, suspiciously, took it from the envelope and unfolded it. Then his expression changed.

"What the hell is this?"

"It was delivered to theBulletin, left with the girl downstairs in an envelope marked 'urgent.'"

"Where's the envelope?" Lowenstein snapped.

"With the original. Youdid notice that was a copy?"

"Where's the original?"

"I had a messenger take it, and the envelope, to Homicide." Lowenstein handed the sheet of paper to Kuntz.

There Is No God But God,

And Allah Is His Name

PRESS RELEASE:

Be advised that the events at Goldblatt's Furniture Store today were conducted by troops of the Islamic Liberation Army.

It was the first battle of many to follow against the infidel sons of Zion, who for too long have victimized the African Brothers (Islamic and other) and other minorities of Philadelphia. Death to the Zionist oppressors of our people!

Freedom Now!

Muhammed el Sikkim

Chief of Staff

Islamic Liberation Army

"What in the world is this?" Kuntz asked when he had read it.

"There was a robbery, and a murder, at Goldblatt's furniture store on South Street this afternoon," Lowenstein said.

"But what'sthis?"

"The Islamic Liberation Army just confessed to the job," O'Hara said dryly.

"What's the Islamic Liberation Army?" Kuntz asked.

"Offhand," Lowenstein said, "I would guess it's half a dozenschwartzer stickup artists who saw Malcolm X on TV, smoked some funny cigarettes, and then went to Sears, Roebuck and bought themselves bathrobes."

Kuntz saw the look of confusion on Eleanor's face.

"May I show her this?" he asked.

"Sure," O'Hara said. "It's not like it's a secret or anything."

"Did the other papers get this, Mickey, do you think, or just Philly' s ace crime writer?" Lowenstein asked.

"I didn't ask, but I'll bet they did."

"What's a-what did you say before, 'Schwartz'?" Eleanor asked.

"Schwartzes,"Lowenstein explained. "It's Yiddish. Means 'blacks.' "

"I don't understand," Kuntz confessed.

"Offhand, Rabbi," O'Hara said, "it's obviously one of two things: a group of master criminals cleverly trying to get Sherlock Holmes here and his gumshoes off their trail, or the opening salvo of the Great Race War."

"What the hellis it, if you're so smart, wiseass?" Lowenstein asked.

"Or it could be a couple of guys named O'Shaughnessy and Goldberg, college kids, maybe, trying to pull the chain of the newspapers," O' Hara said.

"You really think so?" Lowenstein asked, his tone of voice making it clear that possibility had not occurred to him.

"I really don't know what to think, Matt," Mickey replied.

"What did youwrite!"

"About the Islamic Liberation Army, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Just because somebody sends me a piece of paper that says they're the Islamic Liberation Army and that they've declared war on the Jews doesn't make it so.You tell me you think the Islamic Liberation Army shot up Goldblatt's and murdered that maintenance man, and I'll write it. But not until."

"You got that after the robbery, right?"

"Of course," O'Hara said. "And Joe D'Amata told me that the Central Detective is on the job, Pelosi?"

"Jerry Pelosi," Lowenstein furnished.

"He's got a damned good idea who the doers are. And he doesn't think they're a bunch of looney-tune amateur Arabs."

Lieutenant Jack Malone was not equipped with the necessary household skills for happy bachelorhood. He was the fourth of five children, the others all female. Jack and his father (a Fire Department captain) had met what the Malone family perceived to be the responsibility of the male gender: They moved furniture, washed the car, cut the grass, painted, and even moved the garbage cans from beside the kitchen door to the curb, and then moved them back.

But the other domestic tasks in the house were clearly feminine responsibilities, and Mrs. Jeannette Malone and her daughters shopped, cooked, laundered, ironed, made beds, set and cleaned the table, and washed the dishes.

This arrangement lasted until, a week after he graduated from North Catholic High School, Jack enlisted in the Army. For four years thereafter, except for the making of his bunk in the prescribed manner and shining of boots and brass, the Army took over for his mother and sisters. He ate in mess halls. Once a week he carried a bag full of dirty clothing to the supply room and picked up last week's laundry, now washed, starched, and pressed by an Army laundry for a threedollar-a-month charge.

When he got out of the Army, he immediately took both the Fire Department and Police Department tests. The Police Department came up first, and he became a cop. He really had not wanted to be a fireman, although, rather than hurt his father's feelings, he would have joined the firemen if that test had come back first.