“Except that there are way too many stab wounds for the amount of blood we found at Elsie Schulung’s house. And when we checked Elsie’s car, we didn’t find any blood there.”

McAdams said, “She was stabbed and did most of the bleeding somewhere else. Then she somehow made it home.” He paused, then said, “We’re missing a crime scene.”

“Exactly.” It was almost seven and Decker was cranky. He’d been on airplanes for the last two and a half weeks. Combined with long hours of desk work, his stiff back had been on strike, shooting little sparks of pain. He got up, and it took him a few seconds to stretch to his normal height. “I need some sustenance. Are you interested in dinner?”

“Theoretically yes.” McAdams returned his eyes to his computer. “What do you have in mind since Rina isn’t here to feed us?”

“Our choices are limited to takeout,” Decker answered. “Vegetarian or the kosher deli.”

“Vegetarian. Tell me what you want and I’ll place the order online.”

“I usually get the Asian stir-fry with noodles and a side of tofu chicken wings.”

“That sounds good, actually.” McAdams looked at the computer screen. “There’s nothing about Brock Baer’s demise in Philadelphia.”

“That would be too easy. I’m betting that he’s still alive.” Decker placed his hand on the small of his back and arched his spine.

“You okay, boss?”

“Just sore.”

“Deck, how are you going to do backbreaking work like remodeling an apartment, and in a foreign country to boot? Do you even speak Hebrew?”

“Not really, no.” He blew out air. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you don’t hit a man when he’s down?”

“Sorry. I’ll place the order now. When do you want it delivered?”

“I’ll pick it up. I need to walk.”

“Whatever you want.” McAdams placed the order. “Okay, it’s done. Ready?”

“Yep.”

The two men walked in silence. It was still light outside, but the summer heat and humidity had dropped a notch. The shops were closed, but the restaurants and bars were bristling with business even though things were usually quieter in the summer. There were some classes being held, but the student population was about a quarter of what it was during the school year. In several weeks, the kids would start streaming in with their parents. Another semester, another year, and time ticked on and on and on.

McAdams said, “I was thinking, Deck. We’re not making any headway locating Brock Baer. Even if we find him, he may have nothing to do with Pauline’s murder.”

“Of course.”

“And if we’re looking for another crime scene, it has to be close to Elsie Schulung’s house. Otherwise, how did Pauline manage to get there, still alive, with mortal stab wounds?”

“You’re right.”