Decker said, “My wife covers her hair.”
Schnitman looked surprised. “Oh. But you’re not Haredi, though.”
“No, and neither is my wife. But I know what you’re talking about.”
A waiter came to the table. “Anything else?”
All three men shook their heads.
He placed the bill on the table and left.
Schnitman looked at the carpet on the ceiling. “You’re modern Orthodox.”
“That’s what my wife says,” Decker answered. “To me, it’s still pretty fanatical. I’m a recent convert-a baal teshuvah.”
“How recent is recent?”
“Ten years. Believe me, that’s still recent.”
Schnitman bit his fingernail. “The modern Orthodox don’t like us.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because they don’t. They think we’re loafers and freeloaders and lazy bums. But it’s not true! Some people are raised to be doctors, others lawyers. Most of the Haredi have been raised to be scholars. That is what we consider worthwhile-the study of Torah. Nothing else matters.”
Decker nodded.
Schnitman looked away. “You’re probably thinking that it’s working people like you who support people who learn all day. But that’s how you get your schar mitzvah-your place in heaven.”
“No, Mr. Schnitman, I get my own place in heaven-if it exists-by doing my own good deeds. I don’t depend on people to do it for me.” Decker focused in on the man’s green eyes. “Look, Ari, let’s try to forget about the minuscule differences right now. Because compared to the world out there, all of us-you, me, Detective Novack-we’re all lumped together as those pesky Jews who are always causing problems.”
“That is the truth,” Novack said. “Just look at how the news portrays Israel.”
“Exactly. So let’s all of us do a mitzvah and try to figure out what happened to Ephraim. Because maybe that will tell us what happened to Shaynda.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know what happened to either of them!” His voice was thick with depression. “I’ve told you everything I could think of.”
“I dunno,” Novack said. “Maybe you haven’t told us everything because maybe you feel like you’re breaking a confidence or something.”
“Not with a young girl missing. And besides, there are no more confidences because Ephraim is dead.”
“So you can answer me if I ask you what was Ephraim’s addiction?”
“His addiction?”
“Was it pot, booze, coke-”
“It was cocaine. Ephraim was a cocaine abuser.”
“And…”
“That’s it. Just cocaine.”
“Crack or blow?”
“Blow.”
“You’re sure that was his only chemical bad habit?” Novack said.
“Addiction, Detective.”
“Addiction, then. He ever mention experimenting with other drugs?”
“No. Only coke. But he had it bad. He was, at one point, going through several hundred dollars a day.”
Novack whistled. “Enough to get him into some pretty heavy debt.”
“He was in debt,” Schnitman said. “But, as I understand it, he was in the process of paying everyone off. He claimed to be making great progress.”
“Maybe it was great progress for him,” Novack said. “Maybe it wasn’t so great for the people he owed money to.”
“Possibly. I don’t know.”
“Could that have been what he meant by personal problems?” Decker asked. “He was in deep debt, maybe?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Sure he wasn’t taking anything else?” Novack asked. “Like ecstasy, for instance?”
Suddenly, Decker knew what Novack was doing. The pill found in the hotel room: The analytic results must have come in. Imprinted or not, it must have been ecstasy.
“Only cocaine and only through his nose,” Schnitman insisted. “How do I know this? Ephraim wouldn’t take anything into his stomach that didn’t have a hechsher on it.”
A hechsher was kosher certification. Abruptly, Decker laughed. “I didn’t know that there was rabbinically supervised cocaine.”
“No, of course there isn’t.” Schnitman was offended. “I know it sounds crazy, but some of the most religious abusers won’t take drugs orally. Instead, they shoot poison into the blood or sniff toxins up their noses. Just so the object doesn’t pass through their lips. I know it’s a ridiculous point of law, but the Bible says lo toechlu; that you can’t eat nonkosher food.”
“It also says you can’t touch it,” Decker said.
“Well, that’s why they have straws to blow the stuff up your nose!” Schnitman was angry. “You can make fun of us, Lieutenant, or you can try to understand us. Yes, we have inconsistencies. I’m sure you have them as well.”
“Indeed, I do, Mr. Schnitman. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“Yeah, you’ve been real helpful,” Novack said. “Here. Try a sausage. Real spicy, so watch out.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Schnitman pushed away his plate. “I should be getting back. I have to bentsh.”
“That makes two of us,” Decker said.
After they were done saying the Grace after Meals, Novack handed Schnitman his card. “And if you hear anything-”
“I’ll call you, yes.” Schnitman took out his wallet, placed the card inside, then took out a ten-dollar bill.
Decker held him back. “I’ll take care of it.”
Schnitman said, “One of the things we learn to do when we face our problems head on is to pay our own way. So I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Decker said. “We asked you out. It’s our treat.”
Novack took the check. “This is a Homicide investigation. You’re a witness. As far as I’m concerned, let the City of New York pay for my heartburn.”
Decker buttoned his coat and rubbed his gloved hands together. He had forgotten a scarf, and his face felt the bite of the wind as he walked down Broadway. “The pill was ecstasy.”
“Yes, it was.”
“So if Schnitman is to be believed, it couldn’t have come from Ephraim.”
“Do you honestly believe that a blowhead would stop himself because the high wasn’t blessed by the rabbis?”
“As strange as it may seem, Micky, I can see that.”
“Well, you’re a step closer to it than I am, Pete.”
They walked a few moments in silence. Then Decker said, “Where would a kid like Shayndie hide in this town?”
“You kidding?” Novack said. “I wouldn’t even begin to guess. Look around. A million cracks in the naked city for kids to fall through.” He walked a few more steps. “I’ll ask Vice. And Juvie. Don’t expect too much.”
“It would probably be too soon for her to hit the streets,” Decker said.
“Nah, a pimp wouldn’t turn her out just yet.” Novack shrugged. “If she don’t show up back at home or if she don’t show up under a rock, maybe she’ll show up on the streets. All we can do is wait. Time to call it an evening. Where are you going?”
“Back to Brooklyn. How about yourself?”
“Queens, but I got someone waiting for me back at the two-eight.” They stopped walking. “We don’t get half a chance with the young ones, Pete. The locations are always changing. By the time we figure out where the kids might be hiding, the bad boys got ’em stashed away.”
“If you have a snitch, maybe we can talk to him.”
“Nobody’s gonna admit to having a fifteen-year-old. The jail time for that kind of shit is very bad. The young ones need someone with real clout who can hide them from the cops and protect them from the johns. Not a lot of pimps want to be bothered with the hassle with so many eighteen-year-olds willing to do the job. Plus, you add that the kid may be running from a murder… who wants that kinda heat?”