She turned to him. “I’ve got a confession to make.”
He loosened his grip on her. “This sounds ominous.”
“I saw Bram last Friday,” she said. “Actually, I saw him on Thursday, too. But that was a very short visit. First time, I came to see him. Second time, he came here.”
Decker looked at her. “Here.”
Rina nodded.
“Here meaning the house?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Entertaining a murder suspect on the chief investigator’s premises.” He dropped his arms to his side. “That’ll sit well with my boss.”
“He’s not a suspect. You released him.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Decker snapped. “He posted bail.”
“Well, you’re the one who lowered his bail.”
“Rina, he’s still a suspect! You had no right-”
“Please don’t be mad.”
“You promised no interference!” he said.
“Yes, I did.”
“You broke your promise, Rina! How could you do that?”
“You know, according to Jewish law, a husband can nullify his wife’s promises.”
“What?”
“A husband can nullify vows and/or oaths made by his wife. Which means you can absolve me of my promise.” She frowned. “I don’t really know if you can do it ex post facto.” She smiled. “But I’m willing if you’re willing.”
“Stop it. I’m not in the mood for games.”
“You can be mad. Just say you nullify my oaths. At least, I won’t have the sin of breaking my vow-my shevuah. Or is it a neder?”
“Oh, for chrissakes!” Decker stomped out the back door. Rina followed him to the stables. Decker picked up a pitchfork.
“Peter, you’re in good slacks and a white shirt.”
“The animals won’t mind if I go formal,” he said angrily.
“Peter, c’mon!”
Decker ripped open a bale. “Uh, excuse me. Could you kindly move unless you want a face full of hay.”
“Can I just talk to you?”
“First move.”
Rina moved. “Can you put down the pitchfork?”
“No.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Fine.” He jabbed the fork into the packed bundle and loosened the yellow reeds. “You’re absolved of your promise. Now, can I get a little solitude, please.”
“Don’t you even want to know why I went to see him?”
“Not particularly.”
“Don’t you want to know what we talked about?”
Decker began tossing a fresh layer of hay over the stalls’ floor, trying to feign apathy. But he was curious. In a bored tone, he said, “If you talk, maybe I’ll listen.”
“I can’t talk to you while you’re working.”
“Then you’ll wait.”
“Oh, you’re impossible!” She turned on her heel and marched back into the house.
Decker threw down the fork and trailed her footsteps. “I’m impossible? I’m impossible? Last I heard, I didn’t break any promises. I didn’t compromise anyone’s job-”
“I didn’t compromise your job-”
“Yes, you did, Rina. The long and the short of it is yes, you did.”
“This is what I get for being honest.”
“No, this is what you get for being dishonest and breaking a promise.”
She turned to him, eyes blazing with passion. “I couldn’t let him…sink, Peter! You don’t do that to a friend!”
“Your loyalty is to me-”
“Loyalty to your job versus the life of a human being? Thank you very much, I’ll pick a human being.”
Decker lashed out. “Why are you putting yourself and my job on the line for this guy? Traditionally, you only do things like that for people you love.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes boring into his. “Just what are you really asking me, Peter. Why don’t you just spit it out?”
Decker took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. “I’m not asking you anything, all right?” He looked at his shirt, soaked with sweat. “I’d better go change.”
Rina licked her lips. “Wait a second. I’m not done. I’ve got another confession.”
He stared at her, mouth agape. “There’s more?”
“Unfortunately yes. I’ve eavesdropped on one of your phone conversations…the one where you conferenced with Marge and Scott Oliver. I know about Bram’s safe…and the magazines.”
Decker continued to stare. “Anything else?”
“No…that’s about it.” She smiled weakly. “Looks like I’ll have a busy Yom Kippur.”
Decker closed his mouth, ran his tongue along his cheek. “Whatever your reasons were, your behavior was inexcusable, Rina.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t cut it, babe.” He walked away.
Rina turned to her cooking, her eyes wet with tears. She shoved open the oven door and painted the meat with more sauce. Everything looked wonderful, smelled delicious. She had no appetite.
The doorbell rang.
Great.
She took off her apron, but left her hair uncovered. It was only Marge. She opened the door and tried to keep the smile on her face. At Marge’s side was Scott Oliver.
“He followed me home,” Marge said. “Think you can throw him a bone?”
“I think we can actually feed him,” Rina answered. “Come on in. Both of you. Delighted to see you, Detective.”
“Hello, Mrs. Decker.” Oliver held out a bouquet of spring flowers. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”
Rina took the flowers. “Well, thank you.”
Marge handed her a bottle of wine. “I hope this kind is okay. It’s got that Circle O-U on it.”
Rina looked at the bottle. “This is fine.” A two-year-old Cabernet Savignon. “I’m going to age this one. I’ve got an older bottle in storage that Peter’ll pop open. Come sit down. Peter’s just changing his shirt. I’ll go get him.”
She disappeared into the other room.
Oliver took a deep whiff, smiled, then rubbed his hands together. “Laissez les bonstemps rouler. You know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten home cooking?”
“She’s a great cook.”
“Man, she’s a great everything. I’d cut off a nut for a chance to do her.”
Marge glared at him. “You are so…”
“Rude? Crude? Tasteless? Disgusting? Horny? Pick a card, any card.” He sat down on one of the buckskin chairs. “I know you did it out of pity. But thanks for asking me to come.”
“No problem.”
“I must have sounded really pathetic over the phone.”
Marge sat on the leather couch opposite the chair. “Just a little lonely.”
Oliver said, “It’s these Sundays. Used to be family day. Sometimes, I miss the noise.” He exhaled. “Anyway, it was nice of you to ask me along. Nice of the missus to be so welcoming.” He looked up, saw Decker. “Ah, the host with the most.”
Decker shook hands with Oliver, kissed Marge’s cheek. “What’s up, Scotty?”
“She felt sorry for me.” Oliver jerked a thumb in Marge’s direction. “Hope it’s not a problem.”
“Not at all,” Decker said. “Sit down. Get either of you something to drink?”
“Beer’s fine,” Marge said.
“Ditto.”
“I heard it,” Rina called out. “I’ll get it.”
Decker sat on the couch, smiled. But it lacked warmth. “So…”
“So how ’bout them Dodgers?” Marge said.
Oliver leaned forward. “You know, I’ve been running this whole thing over in my mind and-”
“What thing?” Marge asked.
“What thing?” Oliver threw up his hands. “Decameron’s murder scene! I’ve got a real good fix-”
“Scott, this is a social visit,” Marge chided.
Oliver drew his head back. “You can’t be serious.”
“She’s right,” Decker said. “This is a social dinner. No shop talk. I promised Rina.” He flashed a smile of ice. “And I keep my promises.”
Marge looked at Decker. What was wrong with him? They sat in silence. A moment later, Rina came back into the room, balancing a tray of drinks. She had covered her hair. “Did I interrupt anything?”