encoded job. The dog gave Hannah the bottle again, only to see the baby throw it in the other direction. Again, the setter was up on her feet. The dog loved the game.
Rina said, “So, Honey, when exactly are you coming out?”
Honey clucked her tongue. “Would tomorrow morning be too soon?”
Actually, it would be very soon. But there was something needy in Honey’s voice. Rina said, “Anytime you want.”
“Wonderful!”
Rina could almost see Honey’s smile through the line.
“And don’t you dare put yourself out,” Honey insisted. “Just putting us up is dayenu. It’s enough! I don’t know the flight yet so I’ll call you when we arrive in LA. If you’re not home, don’t worry. We’ll wait at the airport. It’s the first time the younger kids have flown, so they’ll be very excited about everything.”
Rina said, “I’ll be sure to be home all morning.”
“Thanks, Rina,” Honey said. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
“A safe?” Orit looked surprised. “Why would he have a safe? He keeps all his loose stones in the vault downtown.”
“Surely your sister-in-law has some nice pieces,” Marge said. “Where does she keep them?”
“Downtown.” Orit walked around the entry hall, rubbing her arms. “When she wants to wear a piece, she calls Arik up and asks him to bring it home. That’s what I always do.”
Decker said, “You keep pieces with him?”
Orit nodded. “They’re family pieces—for me, for my brother, too. If Dalia wants to wear it … okay. Someday my daughter will wear them at her wedding, ken yirbu.”
As Orit smiled, webbing appeared at the corner of her eyes.
“My father is a very clever man. He managed to smuggle out of Europe some beautiful pieces. They are in the family for hundreds of years. What jewelry Papa didn’t use to bribe the border guards, he swallowed stone by stone. On the boat, he had a very bad case of diarrhea.”
She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness.
“They almost didn’t let him into Israel—it was British Palestine back then. But the British were as bad as the Germans. A stone here, a stone there, all of a sudden the guards changed Mendel Stein into Moshe Yalom. They gave him a new identity, a new passport, everything. That’s why my father taught Arik and me to cut stones—a profession to carry on the back.”
Decker said, “Let me ask you this, Orit. You call up your brother and ask him to bring home the piece you want to wear, right?”
“Nachon,” she answered. “Correct.”
“So you go out for the evening, wearing the jewelry. Then you go back home, right?”
“Yes.”
“Where do you keep the piece until you give it back to your brother the following morning?”
Orit didn’t answer.
Decker said, “You’re going to have to trust someone, Orit, if you want to get to the bottom of this.”
“You think something’s wrong, don’t you?”
“We’re a little concerned,” Marge said.
Orit shrugged. “On my dresser. If I want to hide it I don’t put it in my safe.”
“So you do have a safe,” Marge said.
“Yes, but only for the robbers.”
Decker and Marge looked at each other.
“They know you’re in diamonds, you have to give them something if they break in. Otherwise, they get mad. But you don’t keep the good stuff there … only junk.”
Again, Marge and Decker traded glances.
“I learned that from my father, too,” Orit said.
“What else did you learn from Dad?”
Orit hesitated, then spoke in a burst. “Before my father got a vault at the diamond center in Tel Aviv, he had to keep lots of loose stones at home. He used to hide them in the toilet.”
Marge said, “We checked.”
“You did?” Orit was shocked.
“Drug dealers keep their goods in the water tank,” Decker explained. “We also checked the freezer—another common spot. Nothing. Any other suggestions?”
Orit stared at them, then shook her head no.
Marge looked around. “If I were diamonds, where would I be?”
Decker tapped his foot. Again his eyes went back to the mezuzah. Being new to the Jewish religion, Decker realized, was why it had taken him so long to see what was wrong. Outside-door mezuzahs were supposed to be posted on the outside of the doorframe. This one was on the inside. Maybe because it was so fancy, they didn’t want it sullied.
But then again.
Decker slipped on a latex glove. “Detective Dunn, could you get me a screwdriver from the trunk of the car?”
“You got it, Sarge.”
“What you’re going to do?” Orit asked.
“You stick around,” Decker answered. “I want a family witness here in case we find the mother lode.”
“What do you mean—mother lode?”
“Cash, money … possibly diamonds.” Decker pointed to the mezuzah. “There.”
“What?” Orit said. “You’re crazy. That’s a religious article.”
“I know what a mezuzah is, Ms. Bar Lulu. I also know where they are supposed to be posted. Beytecha oovesha’arecha—your houses and gates—on the outside.”
Orit stared at him. “You speak Hebrew?”
“No, but I know the Sh’ma.”
“I knew I liked you.”
Marge came back in and handed Decker the screwdriver. Carefully, he unwound the top and bottom screws that affixed the scroll holder to the wall. They came out more easily than he had expected. He peered inside the hollow rut of the silver casing.
Empty—where was the parchment that contained the holy prayer?
Was there ever a parchment?
He showed the empty holder to Orit. “Can I bag this for evidence?”
“Evidence of what?” Orit asked.
“I
