“And?”
“Ephraim was at a crossroads. Either he had to turn a blind eye or jump to the next step… telling his father about it. His soul was in turmoil.”
“Did Ephraim mention what the troubling practices were?”
“No,” Schnitman admitted. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. At the stores, Ephraim was in charge of inventory. Ephraim had told us that Chaim had taken some rather sizable loans for expansion-”
“Wait, wait, wait… what was this?”
“About two years ago. Ephraim was very excited. He felt that more stores would mean more responsibility, more chances for him to prove his mettle.” Schnitman blinked several times. “Don’t you people do your homework?”
“I just got out here last Friday. I’m not with the NYPD. Talking to you is doing my homework. Now go on.”
“That was rude. I’m sorry.”
Decker looked at his watch. “You have around six minutes. I don’t want to make you late.”
“It’s all right. It’s an old story, Lieutenant Decker. Old man works up the stores from nothing; then the son gets in with grandiose ideas to make it bigger and better. It appears that Chaim took out loans for expansion; then the recession hit. If that wasn’t bad enough, the city was hit with the terrorist attacks. Business fell drastically. So not only was the expansion put on hold, but now Chaim was facing the more pressing question-how to pay back the bank?”
“Chaim stole from the coffers,” Decker said.
The Chasid shook his head. “Chaim was in charge of the coffers. Stealing from your own store’s inventory would be like stealing from your own wallet. You need a third party to rip off.”
“Insurance fraud.”
“Exactly. You put in claims for stolen items that you’ve never owned. Or you steal your own items out of warehousing, put in claims for them, then resell them on the black market-double-dipping. The problem is that it’s all penny-ante stuff-pocket change. Plus, you do too much of it, red flags go up. When you’re in real trouble-and I don’t know if Chaim was or was not in real trouble-then it’s time to hire the professional fire starter.”
Decker regarded the Chasid. “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”
“Emek Refa’im is a haven for those of us addicted to drugs. Many of us had big problems that led to drug addiction.”
“Things like guilty consciences.”
“Precisely,” Schnitman said. “Ephraim appears to be no exception. Maybe that’s what he was conflicted about, wondering if the store was going to burn down-”
“No,” Decker interrupted. “I think if Ephraim knew that Chaim was planning to burn the store down, he would have definitely gone to the old man.”
“Yes, you’re probably right about that.”
“It had to have been something else,” Decker said. “You’re sure it was business practices that were troubling him?”
“I’m not sure of anything. I’m just repeating what someone told me.” He looked upward. “I probably shouldn’t have even done that.”
“I’d like to talk to the sponsor.”
“The truth is, I don’t know where the person lives. I don’t even know the last name. Some people are like that, I’m a little more progressive, but even I play it really close to the bone. It’s not for my sake-I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing-but if it got out-my problems-my children would suffer greatly, especially in the future. It would be hard for them to find a shiddach.”
A shiddach-a proper mate set up by a matchmaker. “Sins of the father,” Decker said.
“Correct.” Schnitman held on to his hat as the wind kicked up. “But I do want to help. If you come next Tuesday, maybe the person will show up at the meeting. I’ll give you an introduction, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”
“Next Tuesday, I’m back at work in Los Angeles.” He remembered what he told Donatti-sixty hours, now down to less than forty-eight hours. “But thanks. You helped confirm what I suspected.”
Schnitman regarded Decker. “You’re a good man to come all the way out here to help your fellow Jews. You’ve probably gotten nothing but grief for your efforts.”
“You’re right.”
“Moshe Rabainu got nothing but grief for his efforts as well.” Schnitman smiled. “You’re in very good company, Lieutenant.”
29
It was quarter to one when Decker made it back to the synagogue, but Jonathan was still in conference. Five minutes later, Decker saw his brother walking out of his office with a forty-plus black-suited woman and a teenage boy. The woman held a balled-up tissue to her eyes, and the kid wore a sullen moue, his eyes focused on the exit door. Problems, problems, problems. Jonathan accompanied them outside, returning a minute later, trotting back toward his office.
“Jon,” Decker called out.
The rabbi spun around. “Akiva. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He did a little jog to catch up with him. “You were in there for a while. How about some lunch?”
Jonathan said, “If it’s a social thing-and I suspect not-I can’t afford the time. If you need me, I’m here for you.”
“Where are you off to?”
“I have to go back to Quinton.”
“Perfect! You can drive and we’ll talk in the van.”
Instant hesitancy registered on the rabbi’s face. Decker came to his rescue. “I have no intention of visiting your in-laws. I have other business there-on the north side.”
Now his eyes were curious. “What kind of business?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. How about if I grab a cup of coffee and meet you at the van? It’s parked down the street.”
Jonathan said, “You found a parking space?”
“After a half hour of circling. Go get your things. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
It took more like fifteen minutes. And even when Jonathan did pull out, he couldn’t get very far. Traffic was solid steel, distance measured in inches as the van crept over to the Henry Hudson Parkway, horns blaring in protest and frustration.
Jonathan remained stoic. “There must be some dignitary in town.”
“I read something about a conference-National African Resource Agenda-over at a church.”
“That’s right. The Riverside Cathedral is only blocks from the shul. I’ve been through this before. It’s going to take time to get out of here.”
“It’s fine with me.” Decker finished his coffee, placed it in a cup holder, then regarded his brother in his heavy wool three-piece suit and tie. Heat was blasting from the vents. “Why don’t you take off your jacket, Jon, while you have the chance?”
“Good idea.” The cars were at a standstill anyway. “You suggested lunch. Are you hungry?”
“I can wait.”
“I have a couple of sandwiches in my briefcase.”
“In a few minutes, thanks.” Silence. “Have you talked to Raisie at all?”
“Not since this morning.”
“I won’t ask.”
“It’s probably best that you don’t.”
Decker ran a finger across his mustache. “I need some confidentiality right now. I have to know that whatever I say won’t go beyond the two of us.”
“I understand,” Jonathan answered. “Go on.”
“I talked to some people this morning, Jon. It seems that there was conflict between your brothers-in-law. I don’t know the details, but it was over business. In a sentence, I think Ephraim was having some difficulties accepting some of Chaim’s marginal business practices.” He recounted the conversation. “Ephraim was thinking about going to your father-in-law, but then he was murdered. Anything you can add to help me with this?”
“Who’d you talk to?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Is this person reliable?”
“No reason to lie.”
“I have no problem keeping your words confidential, Akiva. I’m a rabbi; I have privileges. But the confidentiality only goes one way. I’m not as free to talk as you are.”
Decker thought a moment. “Attorneys have confidentiality. I’m a lawyer. I passed the bar. I even practiced a long time ago.”