He grinned. "Okay. I heard you-know-who confirmed Martin had an affair with his boss's wife. I just wanted to say you were right about talking to you-know-who alone." He lifted his head and sniffed. "Smells good in here. Like home."

"I'm fixing Shabbat dinner for my uncle Isaac."

"Shabbat dinner? It's been a while."

It's Shabbat, Martha. You won't be alone with him. Uncle Isaac and Hilda will be here.

"Would you like to join us?"

Crusher put his huge hand over his heart. "I'd be honored."

Great. There goes half the kugel.

The three women came out from the sewing room.

Lucy took one look at the bearded giant. "I'll bet you're Crusher."

He looked at me. "You've been talking about me. That's a good sign."

Darn it, Lucy!

I introduced him as Yossi Levy, and the doorbell rang again. Sonia stood there, smiling.

She walked in wearing a gauzy white Indian blouse and her colorful bangles tinkled on her wrist. After a brief h.e.l.lo, she stood next to Crusher and smiled at him. As soon as Sonia saw Crusher from her window, her curiosity must have compelled her to rush right over. There was something un-Sonia-like in the way she smiled at him. Hmmm.

"Sonia Spiegelman, this is Yossi Levy, a friend of Ed's. You may have seen him around lately."

Sonia stuck out her hand and smiled demurely. She still held his hand and looked at him. "I sure have. You're kinda hard to miss, big fella."

No way. You didn't just say that!

I introduced her to Birdie and Hilda. She already knew Lucy.

Sonia inhaled deeply and looked at me expectantly. "Something sure smells good in here."

It's Shabbat, Martha. Sonia's alone in this world. It would be a mitzvah.

"Would you care to join us for Shabbat dinner, Sonia?"

"I haven't had Shabbat dinner in a long time. I'd love to. Oh, and I've already collected a lot of items for Sunday. Shall I bring them over?"

"Sure. We can put them in my sewing room."

I should have seen what was coming next.

"Yossi, would you please help me carry all those things? I need someone really strong." She tapped his large bicep with her finger.

"Yeah, sure." Poor Yossi looked clueless.

As soon as they left, Hilda burst out laughing. Then Lucy joined in. Soon the four of us were howling.

Lucy wiped tears from her eyes. "That was just plain pathetic. I'm going to need to change my pad."

I opened a bottle of wine. "Come on, girls. This may turn out to be a long night. Lucy, Birdie, will you stay for dinner too? There's plenty to go around. I actually made extra food, thinking I might send some home with my uncle and freeze the rest."

"No, hon. I'll have a small gla.s.s of wine, though. We worked like slaves today and there's more to do tomorrow."

Birdie reached for a gla.s.s. "Ditto."

Hilda checked on her laundry and then took a gla.s.s of wine. "I usually don't drink, because I've got to stay alert, but tonight I'll make an exception."

She took tiny sips of wine. At the rate she was going, the gla.s.s would last all evening. After about ten minutes, she said, "Where are those two, anyway?"

Lucy raised her gla.s.s to her lips. "Sonia must have an awfully big load."

More laughter.

The doorbell rang again and Sonia walked in carrying several blankets, followed by Crusher, carrying two cardboard cartons full of toiletries and packages of white athletic socks from a big-box store. He looked at me with wide, clued-up eyes. After depositing the donations in my sewing room, they each took a gla.s.s of wine. I cut some pita bread and put out a bowl of hummus.

From inside my house, we couldn't miss the loudspeakers at the Beaumont School baseball field. Even the death of their head coach didn't deter them from playing ball and disturbing the peace of our neighborhood.

CHAPTER 20.

Lucy and Birdie left at five-thirty and Uncle Isaac came at six. My elderly uncle, Isaac Harris, was starched and clean-shaven. Covering the top and sides of his curly white hair sat a kippah made in the Bukharian style-a brimless round hat, with elaborate embroidery, covering his skull. He'd gotten shorter with age; and when he hugged me, we were almost eye to eye.

He looked around, surprised to meet so many other people.

I introduced him to the odd a.s.sortment of people.

"So, where's Arlo?" my uncle asked.

Crusher looked down. My uncle liked Arlo Beavers. He had high hopes I'd found a permanent relationship with a good man. It didn't bother him that Arlo wasn't Jewish. Uncle Isaac liked the fact Beavers was Native American and grew up on the Rez. "They're spiritual people. We have a lot in common," he'd said.

My heart sank. "Arlo couldn't make it."

He studied my face. "The life of a lawman is hard work, I guess." He always knew when I was hiding something. For sure I'd be hearing from him later and he'd make me tell him every humiliating detail, starting with the fact that I'd discovered a dead body and was now looking for witnesses to the murder. I'd rather stick a fork in my eye.

He sat. "It's a good thing Morty dropped me off and didn't have to park his car. There's no s.p.a.ce. The streets around here are full of expensive cars. I even saw a boy speeding by in a black BMW convertible. He couldn't have been more than sixteen."

"Yeah. The Beaumont School is having a baseball game this evening."

"So that's what all the noise is about. What a shande. It used to be so peaceful around here." He shifted in his seat and faced Crusher. "So. It's Yossi, is it? Yossi Levy?"

Crusher sat up a little straighter and played with his winegla.s.s. He was three times larger than my uncle, but he was clearly a little nervous. "Yes, Mr. Harris."

Uncle Isaac adjusted his gla.s.ses, squinted, and looked at the red do-rag. "What is that covering your head? Some kind of new kippah?"

"It's a bandana, sir."

"Like the cowboys wear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oy va voy! What will they think of next?"

My good plain white Rosenthal china sat on the white tablecloth and my bubbie's twin silver candle-holders sat in the middle, in the place of honor. A silver kiddush cup, which was filled with wine, sat ready at the head of the table for Uncle Isaac, and a cloth embroidered with colorful fruits and flowers covered the challah.

I draped a sequined blue scarf over my head, lit the candles, circled my hands over the flame and covered my eyes as I recited the Hebrew blessing. I always felt a deep connection at this moment knowing Jewish women all over the world were doing exactly the same thing.

When I looked up, Sonia had maneuvered a seat at the table next to Crusher. My uncle lifted the silver cup of wine and recited the kiddush, a Hebrew blessing for the Sabbath. Crusher joined in. Hilda sat in respectful silence, listening to the four of us sing blessings over the wine and challah.

As we pa.s.sed the food around the table, Hilda looked at Uncle Isaac. "I've never been in a Jewish home before. Is this some special kind of holiday?"

"Special, but not unique. This we should do every week when the Sabbath begins."

"It's beautiful. Why do you wear your hat at the table?"

"Covering my head keeps me humble, sweetheart. It reminds me G.o.d is the boss. Even at the table."

The talk turned to our plans for the distribution of goods to the homeless on Sunday. I'd warned everyone ahead of time not to mention Javier and Graciela. I wasn't ready to tell my uncle I discovered a murdered corpse, and I especially didn't want him to know about my close call with Switch.

Uncle Isaac said, "What you're doing for those homeless people is a mitzvah."

"What's that mean?" Hilda asked.

"A good deed, sweetheart. One of the foundations of our religion is to care for the less fortunate. Nowadays people give money. In Bible times, most people were farmers. The Torah taught them how to help others. 'When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and the alien.'"

"It's from Sefer Vayikra, the Book of Leviticus," added Crusher.

I put down my fork and stared at him.

He blushed and put his hand on top of his bandana. "Hidden depths, babe. This ain't just a do-rag."

Crusher uses a bandana as a religious head covering? He knows Torah? Who is this man, outlaw or scholar?

Uncle Isaac asked Hilda, "So, what do you do, sweetheart?"

I was mortified, worried that his innocent question might embarra.s.s Hilda.

She smiled sweetly. "I collect trash for recycling and do casual janitorial services when I can get work."

Uncle Isaac looked confused. "'Collect trash'? Like with a truck?"

"No, Mr. Harris. I collect cans and bottles from trash cans and Dumpsters and walk them to a recycling center in Ralphs parking lot."

He still didn't get it. "Like the homeless people do?"

"That's me."

Now he was completely distressed. "Vey iz mir! You're homeless? How could a nice lady like you be homeless?"

I jumped in. "Maybe Hilda doesn't want to talk about it, Uncle Isaac."

Although we're all dying to know.

He reached over and patted her hand. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't mean to be nosy."

"I'm homeless because I can't find steady work. People don't like to hire ex-cons."

Crusher swallowed his food. "I know what you mean. I spent some time in prison too. After I got out, I couldn't get a job. Luckily, some friends loaned me enough money to open my own shop. Everything's cool now."

Uncle Isaac turned to Hilda. "So if someone loaned you money, could you do the same thing?"

"Not really. I used to be a licensed vocational nurse. I lost my license when they convicted me of grand theft."

Sonia could keep quiet no longer. She asked the question we all wanted to hear. "What happened?"

Hilda took a dainty bite of her kugel and looked at me. "This sure is good." Then she put her hands in her lap, sat back in her chair, and looked around the table.

"I worked in a nursing home with wealthy patients. We all rotated in and out of the Alzheimer's ward on a regular basis. They said permanent a.s.signments to the ward were too stressful on the staff. Well, it turns out a man in senior management arranged the schedule that way so none of the staff would notice when expensive jewelry went missing."

Uncle Isaac asked, "The man stole things from the patients, who trusted him?"

"Once, when he thought n.o.body was looking, I saw him pocket something, but I didn't know what really went down until it was too late."

Sonia leaned toward Hilda. "So then what happened?"

"The family of that patient discovered a three-carat diamond ring missing from her room. I put two and two together and went to the manager's office. I told him to return the ring or I'd tell the police what I saw. The next thing I knew, the police were searching staff lockers. They found the ring in my locker. I tried to tell them the manager planted it there, but no one believed me. I spent the next five years in prison." Hilda looked around the table defiantly. "I was innocent!"

Uncle Isaac balled his fists. "A great evil was done to you, sweetheart. Feh!"

Then he spat out a curse in Yiddish. May G.o.d bestow on the man everything his heart desires, and may he become a quadriplegic and not even be able to use his tongue!

Sonia asked, "Aren't there organizations helping women who get out of prison?"

Hilda shook her head slowly. "Only for a short time. Then you're on your own. You can't help people find jobs when there're no jobs to begin with. Anyway, I'm used to street life now. The people call me 'doc.' They get hurt or sick, and then they find me. They know I'll help 'em as much as I can. I even helped birth a baby down in the wash a couple of years ago. Someone called the parameds, but they took twenty minutes to find us. By the time they showed up, it was all over."

Uncle Isaac's eyes brimmed with tears. "A gesind auf deine keppele."

"What does that mean?"

"He's heaping blessings on your head," said Crusher.