the school. They are all part of our community. We have cleaning people, same. Only one person is not of the tribe. He's a good man.'
'You're talking about Harold Walker?' April asked.
'Yes, a good man,' he said wearily.
'Never had any trouble with him?' April probed a bit more. In fact, a background check on the dignified Jamaican revealed that he'd been arrested twice for assault in bar fights. At the time Mr. Walker had only good things to say about Rabbi Levi. But he had a temper. Maybe he wasn't treated as well as he claimed and had a beef.
Rabbi Levi hesitated a long time. Finally he shook his head. 'No trouble.'
So there were some little things about Harold. Okay, they'd come back to it. She saw a slight movement of Mike's hand. He wanted her to move on.
'We need a list of everyone who works in the building, everybody who has a key. We'll be talking to everyone connected to the synagogue as well as everyone who attended the event. What about the photographers? Was anyone filming at the time the shots were fired?'
'No, it's strictly forbidden during services. They did videos in the party room and of the girls getting ready.' He lifted his shoulders.
Too bad. It would have helped them to have a video of all the people in all the rows so they could know for sure who they could eliminate as suspects. The rabbi went on.
'Do whatever you have to do. I don't know everyone who was here. I just met the boy and his people last week.'
'What did you think of them? Was it a good match?' The word didn't trip easily off April's tongue.
What was a good match, anyway? Mike was listening, taking notes. She could feel his warmth, smell his aftershave in the airless room, almost hear his thoughts churning.
'They did some upsetting things yesterday. I'm sure you heard.' Now he was speaking to the bookcase.
April hadn't heard. 'What things?'
'A terrible thing. When the ambulance got here, people were screaming. You couldn't tell what was going on. The technicians—whatever you call them— they came in and cut her dress open down the front.' He demonstrated with his finger down his own front. 'Terrible.'
April nodded.
'They were trying to save her. Her parents were crazy. No one knew she was dying. People were afraid to go out the front doors; they were panicked.' He talked without looking at her.
'When the girl was on the stretcher, and they were about to wheel her out, the boy's father reached over and pulled the ring off her finger.' Rabbi Levi put a liver-spotted hand over his eyes.
'The ring?'
'The engagement ring,' he said impatiently, as if she were some kind of oaf who didn't know that nice people had two rings.
'Did anyone try to stop him?'
'No, no. He did it quickly. The ring fit the girl's left hand, but it was big on her right hand. Ribikoff yanked it off and put it in his pocket.' He shook his head. 'I've seen many disputes over property of deceased loved ones in my time, but I have never seen anybody grab a piece of jewelry off a dying girl.' He looked shocked all over again.
April, however, had seen these tilings. She'd seen two sobbing relatives on the street stop grieving long enough to fight over which should get the watch of the man just murdered in front of them. She'd seen a widow, out of control on the scene of a traffic accident in which her husband had died, suddenly notice with pleasure that her best friend who'd emerged from the crash unscathed was wearing the diamond bracelet she'd wanted for her birthday.
'Do you think the ring has any relevance?' she asked.
'No, probably not. You just asked me about the people who were there, and I was thinking that the boy's people are from Brooklyn. I don't have much information about them, don't even know how Suri found them. The mothers don't always seek my advice in these matters. The women, they do it their own way.' He went on, after a reflective pause. 'I can tell you it was a large function. We have so many happy occasions to celebrate here, a bar mitzvah or a wedding almost every week. But this was the most elaborate party we've ever had here. Too bad, too bad.' Rabbi Levi leaned back in his chair, contemplating the irony of a murder occurring at the most elaborate function the synagogue had ever had.
'Rabbi, tell me about the Schoenfelds.'
He shook his head. 'What is there to say? They are a wonderful family, very observant, generous people.' He spread his fingers and touched his newspaper with a pinkie.
'You must have known Tovah well.'
'Yes, since she was born. A very sweet girl, a wonderful girl.' He nodded as if to confirm that to himself.
'What was she like?'
'Like?' He seemed puzzled by the question.
'Her personality, her likes and dislikes. Her hopes and dreams for her life with her husband. Did she love him? Was she excited?'
His features didn't register this line of questioning.
'Did she have boyfriends, someone who might have been disappointed?' April tried again.
'No, no, no,' he answered sharply. 'I told him yesterday.' He pointed at Mike. 'She was a good girl. No boyfriends. She didn't know anyone outside of here.'
April had the feeling Tovah's spiritual leader hadn't known her very well, or maybe hadn't liked her. It was just a feeling.
'Somebody didn't like her enough to kill her, Rabbi. Somebody didn't want her married.'
He made an angry gesture with his hand. 'The girl was eighteen years old. She was beautiful. Who wouldn't like her?'
April shifted in her chair. The girl was beautiful. That was all he could say. Was beauty a motive to kill? Well, sometimes it was.
'Tell me some more about your congregation. You have many wealthy members.' She tried another tack.
'Wealthy, no. Comfortable maybe ...'
'But the Schoenfelds are wealthy.'
The rabbi's fingers played with the newspaper. He glanced at Mike. It was clear he didn't want to talk to April. She waited, sweating a little at the snub. He was pale; he was small. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything for a long rime. 'When can we clean up?' he asked.
'Soon,' she said. 'Can you tell me anything more about the party?'
'Ah.' He became more animated with that subject. 'We try not to encourage too much display here. Competition excites envy. People get hurt feelings when they can't do for their children what their wealthier neighbors are doing. But what can you do when people want to share their good fortune?' Again the shoulders went up.
'You should have seen today. Our custom in funerals is the opposite of the joyous occasions. In death we are always simple, modest. The remains of our loved ones are washed by our own members. You'd be amazed the people who choose to do it. The remains are wrapped in white cloth. They go into the ground in a plain wooden box. Everyone the same.' His eyes strayed for a moment directly into April's face, and she was surprised to find herself blushing. This was how the women must feel when the men took notice of them. Trapped for a moment in the light.
'We were at the funeral,' she murmured. And competition was the same everywhere.
She thought of Ching's upcoming wedding at the Crystal Pavilion on Mott Street. In Chinatown there was the eight-course wedding, the twelve-course wedding, and the twenty-course wedding. Ching was having the twelve- course feast, and she planned to change her clothes three times while the guests stuffed themselves. No one would remember the last two dresses because they'd all be drunk by the time she got them on, but the photos would last forever.
During her years as a cop, April must have seen hundreds of wedding parties coming out of churches and
