“Try to have a good time,” Decker told his wife.

“You know, that just might happen. They’ve completely taken over Hannah’s care. They even bought her a TV.”

“That’s right,” Decker said. “These people don’t have TVs, do they?”

“These people!” Rina elbowed him. “Well, now they do have a TV. So there!” Her smile was wide. “I think I’m going to take a hot bath. Then I’m going to relax!”

Decker felt content. It was good to see Rina so happy. She always seemed calm and content in this ultrareligious environment. He had always thought of himself as the one and only giver, the person who had completely changed his ways to please her. Now he was aware that she, too, had adjusted her life to make a home with him. He kissed her modestly on the cheek. “I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That after you relax, you take off your shoes and relax some more.”

Her blue eyes were dazzling. “That’s a very good idea. I’ll see you in about six, seven hours.”

“That’s right. It’s Shabbos tonight.”

“How much can you really find out in six hours?”

“Depends. I’ve solved cases in thirty minutes.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What’s the longest it ever took you to solve a homicide?”

Decker laughed. “Don’t know. The files are still open.”

Quinton was a town divided. On one side of the main municipal park—Liberty Field—was an upscale upstate rural suburb. Two-story Federal-style brick houses were perched on large lots with SUVs and Mercedes parked in the driveways. Sinuous lanes and roadways were edged by tall trees and old-fashioned street lighting with fixtures that looked like a sprig of flowers. Some of the sidewalks weren’t even paved. There were lots of big sycamores and oaks that would provide much-needed shade in the summer, although they were bare at the moment. The exceptions were the pines, and a few stately early bloomers with budding branches, greening the wood as if it were covered in moss.

Taft, Taylor, and Tyler streets held the local shopping. Lots of the usual names—The Gap, Banana Republic, Star$s, Ann Taylor, Victoria’s Secret, Pottery Barn—chains, yes, but at least they were individual stores, not units housed under one big roof with adjacent parking lots the size of Lake Tahoe. Here, the parking was the diagonal kind—on the streets and free. Decker commented to Jonathan about the absence of a mall and asked where Shayndie found one.

“There’s one in the next town—Bainberry.”

“It’s pretty here… old-fashioned.”

“This side is, yes.”

“This side as opposed to…”

Jonathan stared out the window.

“How far away are we from the religious side?” Decker asked.

“Don’t worry. You’ll know when you’re there.”

Tree studded and filled with multicolored tulip beds, Liberty Field contained the requisite courthouse, the hall of records, the main police and fire stations, and a library. There was also a small lake, a botanical garden, an indoor skating rink, a bowling alley, and a community center, where the Quinton High School production of The Pajama Game was playing.