“So if you stopped seeing me, you’d stop being religious?”

“Yes.”

“But if we were to marry, would you be religious to please me?”

“Probably in the beginning. Then, quite honestly, I could see myself giving it up. But I’d never interfere with your beliefs.”

“It would be a very hypocritical example for the boys. How could I espouse religion to them if I go ahead and marry an irreligious man?”

“I suppose there’s a grain of truth to that.”

She sat motionless.

“I think I’m meeting you halfway, Rina. I’m willing to let you live your life. If you just wouldn’t be so rigid—”

“I have no choice!” she exclaimed. “I’m not going to be a hypocrite. I want my husband to be religious. What is so wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But that’s not me.” Decker sighed. “Look, we’re both really confused at the moment. Maybe we need a little time to ourselves, a temporary breather from each other—”

“I don’t want to see anyone else,” she answered.

“Maybe I don’t want to either,” he said. “But I want to keep the option open…just in case…So we both know the score.”

She stared at the wall and didn’t answer. Decker waited a few more minutes. When she remained silent, he got up and left.

“Somebody didn’t like us poking around,” Marge said to Decker.

It was nine o’clock Friday morning. She was sitting on his desk, sipping coffee. Decker had his feet propped up on his desk, hands behind neck, and eyes on the ceiling.

“Or somebody may have wanted to destroy evidence,” she added.

“Then why place a bomb in the front part of the studio?” he asked. “Place it in the underground room. I think it was a warning. Anyone seriously wanting us out of the way could have done so by now. I’ve got a call in to Culver City PD. We should know more as soon as they dissect the remains of the bomb.”

“Watch your ass, Pete.”

“I intend to.”

Mike Hollander walked up to Decker and placed a manila envelope on his desk. The return address was from a Dr. Arnold Meisner.

“As requested, Rabbi,” Hollander said. “Fresh off the press.”

“Please quit calling me rabbi.”

Hollander looked at him. “Go get a night’s sleep, Pete.”

“Who the hell is Arnold Meisner?” Marge asked.

“A doctor who used to work under Dustin Pode’s pediatrician,” Hollander said. “When the old man died, Meisner took over the practice. He was kind enough to dig up those records for us.”

“How’d you find out Pode’s pediatrician?” Decker asked.

“I asked Dustin,” Hollander answered.

Decker laughed.

“The direct approach,” he said.

“Don’t know any other kind,” said Hollander. “Dusty Pooh was so busy defending his father—calling the raid entrapment—I think the question was a relief. Something he could answer truthfully.”