“Good idea.” The cars were at a standstill anyway. “You suggested lunch. Are you hungry?”

“I can wait.”

“I have a couple of sandwiches in my briefcase.”

“In a few minutes, thanks.” Silence. “Have you talked to Raisie at all?”

“Not since this morning.”

“I won’t ask.”

“It’s probably best that you don’t.”

Decker ran a finger across his mustache. “I need some confidentiality right now. I have to know that whatever I say won’t go beyond the two of us.”

“I understand,” Jonathan answered. “Go on.”

“I talked to some people this morning, Jon. It seems that there was conflict between your brothers-in-law. I don’t know the details, but it was over business. In a sentence, I think Ephraim was having some difficulties accepting some of Chaim’s marginal business practices.” He recounted the conversation. “Ephraim was thinking about going to your father-in-law, but then he was murdered. Anything you can add to help me with this?”

“Who’d you talk to?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Is this person reliable?”

“No reason to lie.”

“I have no problem keeping your words confidential, Akiva. I’m a rabbi; I have privileges. But the confidentiality only goes one way. I’m not as free to talk as you are.”

Decker thought a moment. “Attorneys have confidentiality. I’m a lawyer. I passed the bar. I even practiced a long time ago.”

“In California. We’re in New York.”

Decker grinned. “It would make an interesting test case, no?”

Jonathan paused, then took out a dollar. “You’re hired.”

Decker turned the bill over in his hands. “And it looks like I’m reasonable, too.”

“It’s no reflection on your legal aptitude.” Jonathan measured his words. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you what I do know. Chaim was in debt. He actually borrowed some money from me—which I gave him. Five thousand dollars.”

“Not exactly pocket change.”

“No, it wasn’t. When he asked for more, I gave him five, six hundred dollars. I told him that was all I could do. And in the future, to please remember that his sister wasn’t working and I had three kids in private school.”

“You did your bit.”

“I thought so. He wasn’t pleased, but he understood. A few weeks later, he came back to me. He said he knew I couldn’t afford any more loans, but what about the shul? Could he borrow from the shul’s gemach fund?”

“That’s the charity fund, right?”

“Yes, gemach is the charity fund. However, I didn’t consider him a charity case. Also, it was a terrible conflict of interest—bailing my brother-in-law out of debt. I told him it wasn’t an option. He got huffy. For a while, he and I weren’t speaking. Then about six months ago, we settled our differences. In the main, he apologized. He told me that at the time he was being squeezed by his creditors, that business had been terrible. He’d been desperate. But things had turned around. Business was slowly getting better. It was during Elul, so I figured he was taking stock in what lay ahead for him.”