Decker took the coffee can, emptied the contents into the toilet and flushed several times. Gonna be lots of mellow rats in Brooklyn for the next few hours. He walked back to the living room and motioned the boys to the door with his thumb. The interview was over.

After he dropped off the teenagers at the yeshiva, he filled Rina in on the details and asked her if she knew any religious shrinks.

“No,” Rina said. “Shrinks aren’t big in this community.”

“I bet,” Decker said. “I’ve got to find someone.”

“Couldn’t you have promised him a trip to Disneyland instead?” Rina said.

Decker gave her a dirty look.

“Some people have no sense of humor.” Rina was quiet for a moment. “I bet Jonathan might know of a good therapist. As a matter of fact, I think Jonathan has some sort of counselor’s license.”

“Wonderful,” Decker said. “I’ll call him as soon as I get back to your in-laws’ house.”

“You know what, Peter?” Rina said. “You try to hide it, but you really are a good guy.”

“Aw shucks.”

She pinched his cheek. “So, what’s next?”

Decker said, “First, I’m going back to the liquor stores on Empire Boulevard. I asked the owners about a guy named Hersh. Now I’m going to go back and ask about a guy named Tony. If I’m extremely lucky, one of the men may even know Tony’s assumed last name. I don’t want to be looking for Hersh Schwartz when he’s going by the name Tony Palumbo.

“Then, we’ll hit Flatbush. See if we can find Tony/Hersh’s apartment. I’m going to check in with the local precinct there. I want to see if Hersh aka Tony has a record—maybe a drug bust. Or maybe he’s been involved in a local incident. You start talking to these guys, they start to remember all sorts of things. That’s how these cases go forward—legwork and mouthwork. Talk and walk. I just hope this Hersh holds the key to Noam’s disappearance. If not, we’re back to square one.”

He smiled at Rina; she returned his smile. For the first time, he noticed she’d become a little pale.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Decker asked.

Rina shook her head.

“Let’s go grab a couple of big sandwiches at a local deli,” Decker said. “You need some protein.”

“You know,” Rina said, “there’s a wonderful kosher dairy Italian place in Flatbush on Coney Island Avenue. Red-checkered tablecloths, sawdust on the floor. There are even wine bottles hanging from the doorway. And they make a mean eggplant parmesan.”

Decker shook his head. “Don’t want to waste the time. I need to cover as much ground as possible before it gets dark.”

“Of course,” Rina said. “I mean, we’re here to find Noam, not eat.”