“I’m sure you’re right,” Decker said.

“What do you want, Lieutenant?”

“You said that Ephraim was edgy right before he was murdered. Any ideas?”

“No.”

“Tell me that again, Schnitman. This time, do it with eye contact.”

The Chasid looked away.

Decker took his arm and held him in place. “Look, Ari, I can understand your not wanting to say too much in front of the police, that maybe it’ll bring attention to your secret organization—”

“It’s not a secret organization,” he answered testily. “We’d just like to assure as much anonymity as possible. Otherwise, people don’t come and get the help they need. Believe me, it’s hard enough reaching out without cops butting into internal affairs.”

“Which is why you should help me. Right now, it’s one-on-one, and maybe I can help you. Turn me away, city police are bound to come back.”

He rubbed his hand over his face and beard. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Ephraim didn’t talk to me, but he did talk to someone in the group—his sponsor. I didn’t tell you this initially, because I just found out about it last night—at our weekly meeting. Don’t ask me for the name, I won’t give it to you. You can threaten me with exposure, embarrassment, jail time, the works, but I will not, under any circumstances, break a confidentiality by giving you a name.”

“You’re not a lawyer, doctor, or pastor—”

“I have smicha, so technically I am a rabbi. If I have to use it, I will do that.”

Decker looked around. Scores of people in dark overcoats whistling down the streets, scarves streaming behind them, waving in the breeze like banners. Harsh pewter clouds clotted on the sky’s surface like chrome plating peeling from dross metal. The atmosphere was saturated with dirt and the smell of noontime frying oil. Traffic was fierce. A sudden gust of wind whipped up under Decker’s coat. He tightened his scarf, suddenly realizing he was hungry. “What did he or she tell you?”

The Chasid stuck his gloved hands in his pockets. “That Ephraim was clearly troubled, wrestling with issues.”

“Go on.”

Schnitman said, “He couched the specifics in Halachic terms— what was the Jewish obligation of brother toward brother?”

“Interesting.” Decker nodded. “Are we talking metaphorical?”

“Exactly, Lieutenant. Usually, Jewish brotherhood isn’t blood brotherhood. It’s the larger family of klal Yisra’el—Jew to Jew. But this time, it was literal. Ephraim was having conflicts with his brother.”

“Business conflicts?”

“Yes, it was business.” Schnitman nodded. “Ephraim told his sponsor that he had talked several times to his brother about what was bothering him. But the problem didn’t stop.”

“And?”

“Ephraim was at a crossroads. Either he had to turn a blind eye or jump to the next step… telling his father about it. His soul was in turmoil.”

“Did Ephraim mention what the troubling practices were?”

“No,” Schnitman admitted. “But it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. At the stores, Ephraim was in charge of inventory. Ephraim had told us that Chaim had taken some rather sizable loans for expansion—”