“Can we come in first?” Jonathan asked.

“Oh, sure, sure.” Chaim had put on a freshly starched shirt. He had bathed, too. Even though he was technically in mourning for his brother, the official period usually didn’t start until after the funeral. Plus, it was permissible to bathe before the Sabbath. Lieber stepped away from the threshold. Everyone went inside.

Chaim said, “What did you find out?”

Decker sat down on one of the twelve dining-room chairs. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, of course. Weren’t you with the police all this time?”

“For most of the time, yes.”

“So what did you find out?”

Decker rubbed his forehead. “Mr. Lieber—”

“Chaim.” He began to pace. “What is this? We’re family. Why are you calling me Mr. Lieber? Is it bad news?”

“Right now, it’s no news,” Decker said.

“But you were there for four hours.”

“Three,” Jonathan said. “There was a lot of travel time—”

“Three, four… you must have learned something!” Lieber spun around and faced Decker with fiery eyes. “What did the police tell you? Anything at all?”

“It’s at the very early stages of the investigation—”

“Ach!” Lieber waved him off. “C’mon, c’mon. Now you’re stalling—”

“Chaim!” Jonathan broke in. “If he knew something, don’t you think he’d tell you?”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Decker said. “I saw the crime scene. I can’t swear to it, but, personally, I don’t think Shaynda was in the hotel room with your brother.”

“So where was she? Where is she?”

“That I don’t know.”

“C’mon! She’s an innocent! Where would she go?”

“I don’t know, Chaim,” Decker said. “I’m from L.A., not New York. I guarantee you the police are looking for her.”

“Ach!”

Decker’s head pounded. He tried a different approach. “Chaim, can I take a look at Shaynda’s room, please?”

“Why?”

“Just to get a feel for the girl.”

A shrill voice barked out Chaim’s name. He looked up at the staircase. “I’ll be right up, Minda.”

“I’m coming down. Who are you talking to?”

“The detective.”

“What does he want?” A woman materialized on the staircase. Her head was wrapped in a towel; her body was covered head to toe in a black caftan. Her eyes were swollen pink and raw, her skin red and blotchy. Her fingers played with one another—constant motion.

Chaim bounded up the stairs and offered the woman his arm. She shook it off. “I’m not an invalid!” She stared at Decker with feral eyes. “Did you find her?”

Chaim said, “This is my wife, Minda—”

“He knows who I am. Who else would I be? Did you find her?”

“No, Mrs. Lieber, not yet.”

“So what are you doing here?” She glared at him. “If you didn’t find her, why are you here?”

“I wanted to look in Shaynda’s room, Mrs. Lieber. It will give me a better understanding of who she was.”

“I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense.” Once she reached the ground floor, she began to pace like a caged feline. “Just get out there and find her.”