Part 11 (1/2)

He grinned. ”Okay. I heard you-know-who confirmed Martin had an affair with his boss's wife. I just wanted to say you were right about talking to you-know-who alone.” He lifted his head and sniffed. ”Smells good in here. Like home.”

”I'm fixing Shabbat dinner for my uncle Isaac.”

”Shabbat dinner? It's been a while.”

It's Shabbat, Martha. You won't be alone with him. Uncle Isaac and Hilda will be here.

”Would you like to join us?”

Crusher put his huge hand over his heart. ”I'd be honored.”

Great. There goes half the kugel.

The three women came out from the sewing room.

Lucy took one look at the bearded giant. ”I'll bet you're Crusher.”

He looked at me. ”You've been talking about me. That's a good sign.”

Darn it, Lucy!

I introduced him as Yossi Levy, and the doorbell rang again. Sonia stood there, smiling.

She walked in wearing a gauzy white Indian blouse and her colorful bangles tinkled on her wrist. After a brief h.e.l.lo, she stood next to Crusher and smiled at him. As soon as Sonia saw Crusher from her window, her curiosity must have compelled her to rush right over. There was something un-Sonia-like in the way she smiled at him. Hmmm.

”Sonia Spiegelman, this is Yossi Levy, a friend of Ed's. You may have seen him around lately.”

Sonia stuck out her hand and smiled demurely. She still held his hand and looked at him. ”I sure have. You're kinda hard to miss, big fella.”

No way. You didn't just say that!

I introduced her to Birdie and Hilda. She already knew Lucy.

Sonia inhaled deeply and looked at me expectantly. ”Something sure smells good in here.”

It's Shabbat, Martha. Sonia's alone in this world. It would be a mitzvah.

”Would you care to join us for Shabbat dinner, Sonia?”

”I haven't had Shabbat dinner in a long time. I'd love to. Oh, and I've already collected a lot of items for Sunday. Shall I bring them over?”

”Sure. We can put them in my sewing room.”

I should have seen what was coming next.

”Yossi, would you please help me carry all those things? I need someone really strong.” She tapped his large bicep with her finger.

”Yeah, sure.” Poor Yossi looked clueless.

As soon as they left, Hilda burst out laughing. Then Lucy joined in. Soon the four of us were howling.

Lucy wiped tears from her eyes. ”That was just plain pathetic. I'm going to need to change my pad.”

I opened a bottle of wine. ”Come on, girls. This may turn out to be a long night. Lucy, Birdie, will you stay for dinner too? There's plenty to go around. I actually made extra food, thinking I might send some home with my uncle and freeze the rest.”

”No, hon. I'll have a small gla.s.s of wine, though. We worked like slaves today and there's more to do tomorrow.”

Birdie reached for a gla.s.s. ”Ditto.”

Hilda checked on her laundry and then took a gla.s.s of wine. ”I usually don't drink, because I've got to stay alert, but tonight I'll make an exception.”

She took tiny sips of wine. At the rate she was going, the gla.s.s would last all evening. After about ten minutes, she said, ”Where are those two, anyway?”

Lucy raised her gla.s.s to her lips. ”Sonia must have an awfully big load.”

More laughter.

The doorbell rang again and Sonia walked in carrying several blankets, followed by Crusher, carrying two cardboard cartons full of toiletries and packages of white athletic socks from a big-box store. He looked at me with wide, clued-up eyes. After depositing the donations in my sewing room, they each took a gla.s.s of wine. I cut some pita bread and put out a bowl of hummus.

From inside my house, we couldn't miss the loudspeakers at the Beaumont School baseball field. Even the death of their head coach didn't deter them from playing ball and disturbing the peace of our neighborhood.

CHAPTER 20.

Lucy and Birdie left at five-thirty and Uncle Isaac came at six. My elderly uncle, Isaac Harris, was starched and clean-shaven. Covering the top and sides of his curly white hair sat a kippah made in the Bukharian style-a brimless round hat, with elaborate embroidery, covering his skull. He'd gotten shorter with age; and when he hugged me, we were almost eye to eye.

He looked around, surprised to meet so many other people.

I introduced him to the odd a.s.sortment of people.

”So, where's Arlo?” my uncle asked.

Crusher looked down. My uncle liked Arlo Beavers. He had high hopes I'd found a permanent relations.h.i.+p with a good man. It didn't bother him that Arlo wasn't Jewish. Uncle Isaac liked the fact Beavers was Native American and grew up on the Rez. ”They're spiritual people. We have a lot in common,” he'd said.

My heart sank. ”Arlo couldn't make it.”

He studied my face. ”The life of a lawman is hard work, I guess.” He always knew when I was hiding something. For sure I'd be hearing from him later and he'd make me tell him every humiliating detail, starting with the fact that I'd discovered a dead body and was now looking for witnesses to the murder. I'd rather stick a fork in my eye.

He sat. ”It's a good thing Morty dropped me off and didn't have to park his car. There's no s.p.a.ce. The streets around here are full of expensive cars. I even saw a boy speeding by in a black BMW convertible. He couldn't have been more than sixteen.”

”Yeah. The Beaumont School is having a baseball game this evening.”

”So that's what all the noise is about. What a shande. It used to be so peaceful around here.” He s.h.i.+fted in his seat and faced Crusher. ”So. It's Yossi, is it? Yossi Levy?”

Crusher sat up a little straighter and played with his winegla.s.s. He was three times larger than my uncle, but he was clearly a little nervous. ”Yes, Mr. Harris.”

Uncle Isaac adjusted his gla.s.ses, squinted, and looked at the red do-rag. ”What is that covering your head? Some kind of new kippah?”