Schulman stood and so did Rina.

“I will call the Leibbener Rebbe and ask about Gershon Klein and his family. Then I will report back to you and Akiva all that he tells me.” The old man shrugged. “It may have nothing to do with their mysterious disappearance, but at least you may learn something about your houseguests.”

“Thank you, Rav Schulman. And thank you for taking in the boys. I’m sure they’ll enjoy their stay here very much.”

“And I will enjoy having them.”

“They were very happy here at the yeshiva, Rav Schulman. I want you to know that. It was my decision—mine and Akiva’s—to take them out and put them in a more modern school.”

The Rosh Yeshiva’s eyes turned crinkly. “That being the case, let them learn here to their hearts’ content. And you can go to college in their places.”

The title of assistant bank manager belonged to a young Hispanic woman named Marie Santiago who wore a keyring bracelet on her wrist. She stood at a long marble counter topped with a computer and a phone, and shuffled through official papers. Then she looked at her wristwatch.

“It’s almost closing time.”

Decker’s eyes went to the wall clock—four-thirty P.M. “Still got a half hour.”

Marie was not easily swayed. “We’re supposed to put a hold on the boxes for the IRS.”

“You can freeze the assets,” Marge said. “We don’t want to take them, just have a look at them.”

“I’ll have to stay with you as a witness.” Marie attempted meaningful eye contact. “To make sure that nothing’s tampered with. This procedure is still very irregular.”

Marge said, “Yes, I’m sure most of your clients don’t wind up victims of double homicides.”

Marie winced.

Decker asked, “Did you know the Yaloms personally?”

“I wasn’t their personal banker, no. But I knew them by name.”

“Who used the box more?” Marge asked. “Him or her?”

“Him,” Marie said. “Mr. Yalom. She used it rarely, if at all. But I knew her from the teller lines. Often she’d ask if we could process out-of-state checks for immediate clearance.”

“And?” Marge asked.

“We complied. Their assets were very good and we considered them valued clients.”

“What country were the checks from?” Decker asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“How about Israel?” Decker stated.

“Yes, I think they were from Israel.” Marie bit her lip. “This is just awful!”

“Yes it is,” Decker said. “Thanks, Marie. Can you pull Mr. Yalom’s safe-deposit-box signature card for me now?”

Marie liberated her key ring from her wrist and opened a drawer. “I can’t believe…it’s just terri—ah, here’s the signature card.”