This Thing of Darkness by Barbara Fradkin Page A

dispel his sense of unease.
    â€œI think Sergeant Levesque should get photos of that graffiti over to the Hate Crimes Unit anyway. See if we can connect it to any group here or elsewhere.”
    â€œWaste of time, but why not?” Sullivan shrugged as he drained his coke. With a grin, he wiped his lips and crumpled up his napkin. “This buys you a bit of wasted time. Thanks, Mike.”
    Green suppressed his annoyance. “Muslims can get into some pretty serious anti-Semitism too,” he added. “Including the scary belief that all Jews are legitimate targets in the holy war to destroy Israel.”
    â€œThat’s what most anti-Semitic incidents are about these days. Muslim kids, not white power punks. Must be nice to be so popular.”
    Green managed a wry smile. “As they say, couldn’t God choose someone else for a change? I’m not saying it was an anti-Semitic attack. Just that it’s an angle we shouldn’t overlook.”
    Sullivan gathered up his cellphone and his jacket. “I’ll pass it on. She’s good, Green. Let her do her job.”
    Green watched the big man thread his way through the crowded tables. He looked marginally more relaxed now, but Green knew he had a lot on his plate, with several dozen active cases to supervise and other units to liaise with. Unlike Green, who trusted no one to work a case as well as him, Sullivan was a natural leader who thrived on coordinated teamwork. However, Sergeant Levesque also had a lot on her plate. Green didn’t doubt that she would follow up, but he chafed at the low priority she was likely to assign to the anti-Semitism angle. It would be a simple matter for Green to find out whether Jews were being targeted in the old inner-city neighbourhood, which had once been heavily Jewish but was now taken over by more recent immigrant groups.
    Rabbi Tolner looked surprised to see him for the second time in two days. This time Green found him in the shed at the back of his building, oiling his bicycle. A colourful knitted yarmulke had slipped a little on his bald pate.
    â€œI should be getting paid. Police consultant,” he laughed, wiping his greasy hands on a rag hanging on the handlebar. “Any word on who killed Sam?”
    Green shook his head and chose his words carefully. Tolner had a love of gossip and far too much time on his hands. For someone as energetic and outgoing as him, it was a dangerous combination. Green erected the standard police stonewall.
    â€œWe’re pursuing a number of leads. But so far we haven’t been able to connect with his son.”
    Tolner’s eyebrows arched. “He’s a suspect?”
    Green shook his head again, intrigued that should be Tolner’s first thought. “He’s next of kin.”
    He thought the man looked faintly disappointed. “Well, I haven’t seen the son in years. Not since the wife’s funeral.”
    â€œAnd how were things between father and son then?”
    â€œTense.” Tolner hesitated. “I don’t think it’s easy growing up with a psychiatrist for a father. Especially one who specializes in young people. And Sam—may he rest in peace —Sam could be arrogant.”
    â€œKnow-it-all?”
    Tolner rolled his eyes. “And how. But David was no pushover either. Wore blinkers his whole life through so he would see only what he wanted to. Nearly killed the family dog once, I remember, kicked it down the stairs in a fit of temper. The fights in that house must have been stupendous. Poor Evie was the glue who kept that family together.”
    And when she was gone, it flew apart, Green thought. However, that was no reason for murder years later, and that line of speculation was better saved until Levesque’s team had located the son. He switched gears, trying to sound as casual as possible.
    â€œDo you know if there have been any threats or attacks around the neighbourhood against elderly