Decker turned around. Now, Merv Baldwin looked older than the computerized image—in his mid-fifties, which meant there was about a fifteen-year difference between Dee and him. Not that Decker was judging—he was twelve years older than Rina—but it was something he just noticed. Dee was as pretty as Merv was plain. The man was bald and paunchy with a round face vanquished by sag. He had short limbs and short fingers, and no doubt had short toes, since his shoes—croc loafers with tassels—looked to be a tiny size. He wondered how the man balanced on such wee soles. He was dressed in an expensive suit—hand-fashioned because of his size with working buttonholes. Good color sense—blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and a gold tie.

“Merv Baldwin.” A hearty handshake. “I apologize for being late. Crisis! Not unexpected, not to me anyway, but it caught certain parties by surprise.” He began pacing. “So you’re the detective who extracted the confession from Ernesto. A physical confession as well as a confession of the soul. I must tell you that I did not approve of this meeting.”

“Neither did I,” Decker said.

He stopped pacing, regarded Decker, then continued to walk back and forth. Decker looked at the distaff Baldwin, trying to gauge her facial reaction to Merv’s perpetual motion. But her face was relaxed, as if this was totally natural.

Merv called out, “Perhaps we both didn’t approve because we’re on opposite sides of the fence, eh?”

“I don’t know about that,” Decker said. “We both want to know the truth.”

“Yes, but you want to know a tangio/sensory truth. A truth you can see or hear or feel. I, on the other hand, want to know the truth up here.” He pointed to his temple. “To me, what happened at that synagogue, although terrible, is not as significant as what was happening in the boy’s mind. The why. With you, the why isn’t of chief importance. Oh sure, you’d like to have a motivation. It helps clinch a case. But the mere fact that it was done—that is your primary concern.”

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Decker said.

“Oh, no?” Merv shouted as he trod the carpet. “The law takes into account some extenuating circumstances, but not all of them. In the mind, there are always extenuating circumstances.”

The man was irritating. Decker was irked. “Why am I here, Doctor?”

Merv hopped about. “Ernesto requested that I present my therapy for your approval. Not that I care if you approve or not. I’m just trying to do an old friend a favor.”

“You’re friends with the Goldings?” Decker asked.

“We marched together.” He stopped to regard Decker’s face. “You must be of that same generation vintage.”

“As a vet, I was on the opposite side, Doctor.” Decker smiled. “Seems to be a pattern.”