The Ritual Bath by Faye Kellerman

to patrol Friday nights when we’re in shul.”
    The audience turned to the teachers with grateful smiles, but Hollander was skeptical. He suspected everyone connected to the place, and the teachers were no exceptions. But he kept his opinions to himself and smiled approvingly.
    “That’s nice of you,” Rina whispered.
    “At least until Steve gets married,” said Rabbi Schulman smiling. “And that’s going to be when, Steven?”
    “Three months.”
    “So”—the old man clasped his hands—“we’ll all work together. The police will do their job, and we will be especially vigilant. If it be the will of Hashem , justice will be served.”
    He turned to Hollander.
    “We will fight back if we have to, Detective. Never again will we be lambs led to slaughter.”
    He looked as hard as an old Baptist preacher, thought Hollander. Gazing at the roomful of angry faces, the detective groaned inwardly. He could just see it. Some kid throws an egg at the gate and winds up in the hospital minus a pair of nuts.
    “I understand your feeling of frustration, Rabbi, but please, if something comes up, I strongly urge you to leave it up to the police. It’s dangerous to take the law into your own hands, and it could get you in a heap of trouble, legally.”
    The rabbi was not daunted. “That may be a chance we’ll have to take,” he said, firmly.
     
    “Rina Miriam,” the Rosh Yeshiva called out as she was about to leave.
    She walked back to him.
    “Yes, Rav Aaron.”
    “Rina Miriam,” he said softly, “a yeshiva isn’t the ideal atmosphere for a young widow with two children. Are you happy here?”
    “I’m content. My boys have found a home here.”
    “Then I am glad we can do honor to Yitzchak, alav hashalom , by providing his family with a community.”
    “Thank you,” she said.
    But she knew there was more.
    “We will always have a place for you and your boys, Rina Miriam. You have a very important role here. You teach, you lecture irreligious women on Taharat Hamishpacha . Many women now go to the mikvah because of you.”
    “That’s good to hear.”
    “You and your children will always be welcome, but…” The old man’s eyes became as hard as granite. “But there’s no room for a goy.”
    She turned a deep crimson.
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “You’re a very smart lady. You know what I mean.”
    “I don’t know what kind of rumors you’ve heard—”
    “I don’t listen to rumors, Rina Miriam.”
    “Of course you don’t.” She looked at the floor.
    “But, Baruch Hashem , my eyes still work, and I see things. Like the expression on your face last Thursday when you talked to the big detective. And the one on his face when he talked to you. He’s a nice boy—rugged looking, hard working, well-mannered—a mensch . It’s easy to get caught up, especially if you’ve been alone for a while.”
    “There is nothing between Detective Decker and me.”
    “I’m glad you’ve convinced your head of that. Now work on your heart.”

11
    Shit. She’d brought her kids.
    Decker glanced at his watch. It was two past twelve. At least Rina was punctual. She was trudging toward him, weighted down by shopping bags while her two boys ran ahead and chased each other across the grass. He met her halfway, relieved her of the sacks, and escorted her to an empty bench.
    She was goddam beautiful. No doubt about that. Even the long-sleeved shirt and dowdy skirt couldn’t hide a curvaceous body that brushed against the material as she walked. But it was her face—the combination of innocence and sensuality—that got to him. The yeshiva had her well hidden, isolated from the outside world. Otherwise there’d be no way she’d be walking around without ten guys following her, tongues lolling out like panting dogs. If she only knew…Then again, if she knew, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
    “You brought company,” he said, making an attempt to hide his disappointment.
    “My older boy came down with