“Five minutes after the news broke. He wanted to come to the service, too. But he told me he’s not feeling too well lately. What does that mean?”

“He had a minor stroke about a year ago. He’s as alert as always. But it’s hard for him to walk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s been a while since I’ve visited him. Anyway, I’m going out there. I’m giving the eulogy tomorrow. I’ve found a couple of verses of Tehillim that I think are particularly appropriate for my father.”

Rina noticed that Bram said Tehillim instead of Psalms.

“I want to go over them with Rav Schulman,” Bram continued. “I’m sure he’ll give me a fresh insight. The man is a wellspring of knowledge.”

Rina mumbled a “yes” as the word Tehillim bounced around her brain. Tehillim. Prayers that spoke of God’s many praises. How many times had she uttered them as her first husband, Yitzy, lay dying. They were prayers for the dying. Prayers for the dead.

Rina said, “Two o’clock in front of the yeshiva. I’ll be there.”

Bram hesitated. “Have you told your husband? That you know me…through Yitzy?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since he got the initial phone call. He’s been gone all night. Besides, it’s not really relevant, is it?”

“It’s not relevant. But it is a good idea. To tell him we’re…well acquainted. He is investigating my father’s murder. It’s best to keep everything in the open. If he finds out we know each other through a third party, like Rav Schulman for instance, he might get upset.”

Rina said, “I’ll tell him tomorrow after the service.”

“Rina, he’ll probably be at the service.”

“If he is, I’ll handle him, Bram. I can handle my own husband.”

“I won’t say another word.”

Rina bit her lip. “I’m an idiot, jumping on you—”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Bram, every time I mention Yitzy, it unnerves him.”

“I can understand his feelings.”

“I do understand them. That’s why I want to tread lightly. But you’re right. I’ll tell him first thing tomorrow morning. He should know we’re friends. Certainly from a professional standpoint. I don’t want anything hidden that might interfere with your father’s investigation.” She sighed. “Even if it means opening past wounds.”

“Rina, if it’s too painful for you, I can pretend this phone call never happened.”

“Absolutely not, Abram. I wouldn’t hear of it.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll meet you…tomorrow at two.”

“Thanks for calling, Rina. It means the world to me.”

She hesitated, then said, “You knew I’d call, Abram.”

“Yes, Rina,” he answered. “This time I knew you’d call.”

Sadness washed over Rina. She said nothing.

Bram said, “Good grief, that was stupid!”