Hi, Jake. This is Ernesto Golding. Long time, huh? I don’t know if your stepdad told you what was flying. Probably not. At least, he shouldn’t be talking about me, but you never know. Anyway, don’t go postal, but you’ll probably hear it from someone. So I figured you might as well hear it from me…that I B-and-E’d your temple…messed up some stuff, spray-painted some swastikas, and threw around some Nazi shit on the floor. I was just fooling around, getting stoned one day, and one dare led to another and things kinda got outta hand. I dunno…it was nothing personal against Jews or anything. It was just something to do. I feel bad about it, but like I said, it was nothing personal. And I don’t know how much you and your stepdad talk, but you can tell him that if you talk about it. I’m sorta rambling, I know. Anyway, I haven’t seen you around in a while. I suspect I won’t see you around anymore. I’m going to hang up now.

There was a click, then the droning buzz of the phone line.

Jacob looked at his stepfather with curious eyes. “Did you arrest Ernesto Golding for vandalizing the shul?”

“What he tells you is his business. But as far as I’m concerned, he’s a juvenile, and I don’t talk about juveniles.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jacob began to pace. “What a prick! What an absolute prick!”

“Why do you think he called you?” Decker asked.

“I don’t know. I barely knew him.”

“Do you have any opinions about him?”

Jacob gave out a breathy laugh. “I have four grandparents who are camp survivors—two of them with numbers. This guy vandalizes the shul and leaves Nazi crap and hate graffiti all over the place. But I’m not supposed to take it personally?” He bit his lip. “Yeah, I have opinions about him. I think he’s a butt wipe.”

Decker restrained a smile.

“He’s a rich kid,” Jacob said. “But he makes a big point of not flaunting it. He’s so concerned about not flaunting it that he flaunts it. Money meant nothing to him because he was always flush.”

“Is he a smart guy?”

“No dummy. He took the SAT twice. Did over 1400 the second time.”

“Better than I could have done,” Decker said. “Of course, that’s not in your league—”

“Stop it!” Jacob snapped.

“Good Lord, take it easy, will you!” Decker barked back. “I’m trying to be nice.”

Jacob looked away. “I’m sorry.” He touched his forehead. “I think I’ve inherited your tendencies toward headaches. Pretty good trick, considering we’re not genetically related.”

Decker wanted to smile but couldn’t get it out. “I’m going now. If you need anything, call me, not Eema. She’s got her hands full.”