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Birnbaum, but only if she could reimmerse in the mikvah afterward. Being the mikvah lady, could Rina please help out?
    Of course she’d help out. Even if it meant waiting up the rest of the night, trembling with fear, jumping at the slightest sound.
    She got up from the couch and made herself another cup of tea in the kitchen. With no air-conditioning and all the windows closed, the house had become a furnace. Her clothes were soaked with sweat. Her tichel —the head covering she wore in the presence of outsiders—was hot and itchy against her scalp. But she couldn’t shake the chills.
    She glanced at her watch. It was close to two A.M. How much longer would it take? At least she’d used most of the waiting time wisely bycooking for Shabbos. The room smelled wonderful.
    The timer on the stove went off. The bell startled her, causing her heart to pump wildly. She brought her hand to her breast, then went over to the oven and took out the noodle kugel. Despite all her anxiety, the food had turned out perfectly—chicken juicy, roasted to a golden brown, six braided challahs, full and fluffy and topped generously with poppy seeds, the soup brimming with fresh vegetables. She was expecting company for the Friday evening meal. The Kriegers and their three kids, plus two of her tenth-grade students. With her two boys and herself that made ten altogether. By tomorrow, she hoped she’d be calm enough to pull off the role of gracious hostess.
    The doorbell rang and she bolted up. Looking through the peephole, she saw the two detectives. She opened the door and invited them inside.
    The living room was tiny. Most of the floor space was taken up by the sofa, coffee table, an armchair, and bookcases overflowing with volumes of Hebrew books. The walls were covered with artwork on Jewish themes and family photographs. Though the place was neat, Decker felt cramped and claustrophobic—Gulliver in the land of Lilliput. He loosened his tie and stood at the threshold of the open door.
    “Something smells great,” Marge commented.
    “Thank you,” answered Rina, nervously. “I had to do something with myself.”
    “We appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Lazarus,” said Decker. He noticed that she’d covered her hair.
    “If Sarah Libba was willing to help, how could I say no?”
    “It’s late. We’d better get on with it,” he said. “One of us will stay here to watch your kids. The other will walk you over.”
    She knew he was giving her the choice, and it wasn’t an easy one. According to the halacha, Decker should be the one to stay and the woman should walk with her. But Rina knew that should her kids wake up they’d be more terrified by a strange man than a strange woman.
    She made her decision and felt it necessary to explain why.
    “Do you mind if I open up a window?” Marge asked.
    “No, no. I’m sorry about the heat. But after what happened, I was afraid to keep them open.”
    “It’s probably a good idea for the time being to keep them closed at night.” Decker held the door open for her. “Let’s get going.”
    Rina stepped outside and basked in the fresh air. The night had cooled a bit. No moon was out, but starlight filtered through the thick branches of the eucalyptus and pines. A lone nightingale sang its aria to the spangled heavens, the crickets provided the chorus. She tried not to look at the detective, but her eyes keptdrifting toward his face. He finally caught her glance and smiled. She quickly lowered her gaze and kept it fixed on the ground. Their footsteps seemed abnormally loud. Finally, she spoke just to ease her anxiety.
    “I take it Rav Schulman was helpful?”
    “Invaluable.” Decker noticed she was walking a good ten feet away from him.
    “He’s a brilliant man,” she said.
    “I can believe that.”
    “He’s a lawyer as well as a rabbi, you know.”
    “No, I didn’t.” Decker slowed his pace slightly. “Where’d he go to law school?”
    “First in Europe. Then he graduated