I looked at my beautiful, recently washed-and-waxed Lexus. I frowned. What could I do? The drawbacks of altruism, but on balance, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives.

46

To T. S. Eliot, April was the cruelest month, but for Angelinos September was the hottest. And if you asked Rina, the hottest day of the year always fell on Yom Kippur, when religious Jews refrained from food and drink for over twenty-six hours. It wasn’t Yom Kippur today, but the afternoon had been a scorcher, not all that unusual even at this late date in the ninth month.

Even now, as the hour approached six in the evening, the temperatures in the West Valley were still in the high 80s. Koby’s newest set of wheels, a ten-year-old black BMW 323, had workable air-conditioning, but the temperature gauge had been steadily rising as we tooled down the freeway. So as soon as we hit local streets, he turned it off and we opened the windows. When we got to my father’s house, the sun was an orange ball of fire sinking in the sky. I checked my watch. We had made good time.

We both had dressed for the heat—comfortably but appropriate for Shabbat. Koby had on an off-white linen suit over a white T-shirt. No tie, obviously, calling it Israeli style, but he satisfied his color fix by wearing a gigantic red-green-and-yellow-striped yarmulke, the colors of Ethiopia. This evening, he was my chieftain prince—tall, lean, aristocratic, and incredibly handsome— real eye candy. My heart did a little tap dance every time I looked at him. I had on an ice blue sleeveless dress, but I carried a white cotton blazer to cover my bare arms in case I decided to go to synagogue.

I paused before I knocked on the door. I regarded Koby’s eyes made gold by the strong light of sunset. “Will you sing ‘Eshet Chayil’ for me tonight?”

He grinned. “Of course. In my heart, I sing it for you every night.”

“But tonight is different.”

“Indeed. If you want, I will sing it for you a hundred times.”

I leaned my head against his arm. “Once with meaning will suffice.” I exhaled and smiled. “Here we go.”

I knocked and my father opened the door. First his eyes went to Koby’s face, then to mine. He gave me a stern look. “What brings you here on my off-hours, Detective?”

“Well, Lieutenant,” I answered, “Yaakov and I were trying to figure out how to celebrate my promotion. We ran through some ideas. One of them was Shabbat dinner with you and the family.”

Dad broke into a smile exuding pride. “I’ll see if Rina has any champagne.”

Koby lifted a bottle of Kedem bubbly. “I’m one step ahead of you, sir.”

“Hmm …” Dad sneered at my date. “And just what have you personally done to celebrate my little girl’s promotion?”

Koby lifted up my left hand. “I’m one step ahead of you, sir.”

My father’s eyes widened. They went from my hand to my face to Koby’s and back to my hand.