All the walls had been tattooed with one vicious slogan after another, each derogatory, each advocating different ways to exterminate Jews. So many swastikas, it could have been a wallpaper pattern. Eggs and ketchup had been thrown against the plaster, leaving behind vitreous splotches. But the walls weren’t the worst part, minor compared to the holy books that had been torn and shredded and strewn across the floor. And even the sacrilege of the religious tomes and prayer books wasn’t as bad as the horrific photographs of concentration-camp victims that lay atop the ruined Hebrew texts. She averted her eyes but had already seen too much—ghastly black-and-white snapshots depicting individual bodies with tortured faces and gaping mouths. Some were clothed, some nude.

Shearing was staring, too, shaking his head back and forth, while uttering “Oh man, oh man” under his breath. He seemed to have forgotten about her. Rina cleared her throat, partially to break Mickey’s trance, but also to stave back tears. “I suppose I should look around to see if anything valuable is missing.”

Mickey looked at Rina’s face. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Did the place have anything valuable…? I mean, I know the books are valuable, but like flashy valuable things. Like silver ecumenical things…is ‘ecumenical’ the right word?”

“I know what you mean.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Decker.”

The apology was stated with such clear sincerity that it brought down the tears. “No one died, no one got hurt. It helps to get perspective.” Rina wiped her eyes. “Most of our silver and gold objects are locked up in that cabinet…the one with the grates. That’s our Holy Ark.”

“Lucky that you had the grates installed.”

“We did that after the Jewish Community Center shootings.” She walked over to the Aron Kodesh.

Shearing said, “Don’t touch the lock, Mrs. Decker.”

Rina stopped.

He tried out a tired smile. “Fingerprints.”

Rina regarded the lock with her hands behind her back. “Someone tried to break inside. There are fresh scratch marks.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Because you have the lock, they musta figured that’s where you keep all your valuables.”

“They would have been right.” A pause. “You said ‘they.’ More than one?”

“With this much damage, I’d say yeah, but I’m not a detective. I leave that up to pros like your husband.”

Abruptly, she was seized with vertigo and leaned against the grate for support. Mickey was at her side.

“Are you all right, Mrs. Decker?”