“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.
15
Decameron said, “This man is Lieutenant Decker, Liz. He’s in charge of Azor’s investigation. Lieutenant, Dr. Elizabeth Fulton.”
Decker shook her hand, noticing long, slender fingers. Her face was grave, but childlike-waifish with big brown eyes. Her hair was auburn and bushy. Little Orphan Annie had grown up to be a doctor. She wore a trim black wool suit, the short skirt showing long, shapely legs.
“I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything,” Liz said.
Decameron said, “Darling, even Sherlock needed a couple of days before he pronounced.”
Liz said, “Don’t they say most homicides are solved within forty-eight hours?”
“Then the man still has thirty to go,” Decameron stated. “No smoking gun?”
“Wish it were so.”
“Keep digging, Lieutenant. Everyone has a past.” Decameron smiled. “Would you like to hear about mine?”
“I’m listening, Doctor.”
“Reggie, don’t be tasteless.”
“Two charges of solicitation, both over eighteen,” Decameron said. “I’m not a baby raper, I detest NAM-BLA and its perverts, disavow anything that harms children. I’m simply queer-”
“Reggie-”
“One charge was thrown out, the other stuck. Azor just about boxed me when he found out. But I ate shit and he relented.” Decameron looked away. “For all his rigidity and fanaticism, Azor was a soft touch.”
“Court put you on probation, Dr. Decameron?”
“Six months plus one hundred hours of community service.” Decameron grinned. “I worked in Boys Town.” He grew serious. “It wasn’t bad actually. The critters grew fond of me. This was back…maybe two and a half years ago. I still pop in about once a month. How’s that for being Joe Q Citizen?”
“You read them alternative bedtime stories, Reggie?” Liz said.
“Hansel and Hans.” Decameron cocked his hip. “Actually, I do bona fide patient care. You’d be proud of me, Liz. I’m very doctorly.”
She looked at him. “That’s nice, Reg.”
“What do you do?” Decker asked.
“Not much. Most runaways are in deplorable health. Their bodies are battered from drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, malnutrition plus adolescent hormones. Basically, I put Band-Aids on surgical wounds. Give them medicine for the obvious infections and dispense words of Welbyan advice. Tell them there’s a better way, tell them there’s a life out there, tell them to be more cautious. It’s like telling me to be straight. One ear and out the other. C’est la vie. You can’t save the world. Speaking of miscreants, how’s your husband, Elizabeth?” He turned to Decker. “Have you met Drew?”
Liz glared at Decameron. “Thank God you’re back to normal. For a moment, I almost liked you.”
“Where is the little puppy?”
“Reggie, knock it off.”
“What about Myron Berger, Lieutenant?” Decameron asked. “Have you met the last of Azor’s three stooges?”
“This morning.”
“I suppose he brought up my tiff with Azor.”
“I brought it up, Reg,” Liz said.
Decameron’s eyes widened. “Et tu, Judas?”
“You’re mixing your metaphors.” Liz paused. “As a matter of fact, the police brought it up to me. They said you told them about it.”
“I did indeed…to head Myron off.” To Decker, Decameron said, “And what did Dr. Berger tell you? I was spouting smoke through my nostrils, ready to kill Azor for dressing me down in public?”
Decker said, “Actually, he spoke temperately.”
“That’s not temperance, Lieutenant, that’s fear of an opinion. But don’t take my word for it about Myron. Just ask around. Ah, the word of God cometh…and in such a pretty package.” Decameron waited a beat, then stuck out his hand. “Hello, Father Bram. How’s your mother holding up? I’d ask her myself, but she doesn’t like me.”
Bram shook Decameron’s hand. “Coping. Thanks for asking. How’s the hospital?”
“Myron’s doing a superb job calming the patients,” Liz said. “But your father is…missed. I sure miss him.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, grabbed Bram’s hand. “You spoke wonderfully today.”
“Not a dry eye in the house, Padre,” Decameron commented. “You’re quite the orator. Maybe I’ll show up one Sunday Mass.”
“You’d always be welcome.”
“Isn’t he wonderful!” Decameron said. “How’s the rest of the family doing?”
“Managing.”
“What can we do for you, Bram?” Liz said.
“Nothing at the moment.” Skillfully, the priest liberated his hand from Liz’s grip. “But if I need anything, I won’t hesitate. You’ve all been introduced?”
“More or less.” Decameron looked at his watch. “As interesting as it’s been, I should be getting back to the hospital. Do you need anything specific from me, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, I do need something if you don’t mind.”
“What?”
Decker looked around, dropped his voice. “I believe you met Detectives Dunn and Oliver last night.”
“That I did.”
“They went out to Fisher/Tyne this morning, interviewed a Dr. Gordon Shockley-”
“Oh God!” Decameron clucked his tongue. “Forgive me, Father. Sin number three of the Decalogue. Am I absolved?”
“Absolutely, as long as you refrain from doing it again.” Bram smiled. “At least in my presence.”
To Decker, Decameron said, “Gordon’s a toad. Did he give them a hard time?”
“Well, let’s say he played it pretty close to the bone.”
“What do you need?”