Do Not Go Gentle by James W. Jorgensen Page B

including two cutouts. From his oak desk the size of a small aircraft carrier, ibn Ezra could look out over the bustle of the Newbury Street crowds. Built-in floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves lined the sides of the room, and two large tapestries adorned the walls at the rear of the room, depicting the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life. A small conference table and four chairs sat before one of the tapestries. Several cushioned chairs and a coffee table before the other. The room was huge—maybe the size of the entire squad room back at the station, and the polished hardwood floor was covered in the center of the room by a silk Hebrew Kashan rug of rich brown, gold, and red hues.
    â€œDetectives,” purred a baritone voice. Achan ibn Ezra appeared to be in mid-to-late forties, with close-cropped black hair and beard, both of which were threaded with gray. He wore a black cap similar to a yarmulke. As the man rose from behind a set of oversized color monitors and a computer, Jamie could see that ibn Ezra was of average height and slender, although it was hard to figure his exact body type within the flowing dark red and brown tunic the man wore. “Please, please,” he said, coming out from behind his desk and gesturing toward the comfortable chairs in the front of the room. “Let us sit over here and be comfortable. Can I offer you any refreshments? Kaffe, water?” Jamie could detect a definite Mediterranean accent, although the man’s English was excellent.
    The three men walked to the chairs and sat, ibn Ezra on one side of an octagonal coffee table, Jamie and Cal on the other.
    â€œNo thank you, Mister ibn Ezra, “replied Cal. “We just have some questions we need to ask you.”
    â€œVery well, Detective, ah, Cushing, was it?” ibn Ezra’s dark eyes glittered as he picked up Cal’s gauntlet. “However, please be so kind as to refer to me either by my title,
Ganzibra
, or as ‘
kohen,’
much in the same manner you would address your religious representatives as ‘Father’ or ‘Reverend’.” Cal and ibn Ezra gazed without blinking at each other for a few seconds before he continued. “How may I be of service to the Boston Police Department?”
    â€œ
Ganzibra
,” Jamie said, speaking deferentially as if trying to avert confrontation, “we are not familiar with your sect or its traditions. Please forgive us if we fail to observe any of your customs.”
    ibn Ezra turned his gaze upon Jamie and smiled. “It is no problem, Detective Griffin. I merely wished to point this to your partner. What brings you to our offices today?”
    Jamie continued. “We are investigating a homicide,
kohen
, and what we have found has led us to your group for answers.”
The cleric’s face lit up with surprise. Whether real or feigned, Jamie could not tell. “Homicide? Surely such a thing does not involve any of our disciples. We teach tolerance and peace, living in harmony with both man and God, and we strictly observe His rules.”
    â€œWell,
kohen
Ezra…” began Cal.
    â€œI’m so sorry to interrupt you, detective, but again, just so you know, my last name is ibn Ezra, not Ezra. So the proper address would be
Kohen
Achan or
Kohen
ibn Ezra.” A grim smile played about ibn Ezra’s face as he corrected Cal.
    Cal paused and, then resumed. “As you say,
Kohen
ibn Ezra. While I’m sure the majority of your ‘disciples’ as you call them are good people, I’m also sure that you don’t believe them to be above the occasional transgression. It happens in our congregations as well, I can assure you.”
    â€œJust so, detective,” sallied ibn Ezra in return, “but such transgressions are always dismaying to any cleric, whether myself, or one of your priests or ministers.”
    â€œVery true,
kohen
, very true.” Jamie again injected himself into the