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kids. I was born in Brooklyn and went to yeshiva until I turned eighteen. Then I left home, traded my black hat for red boots, and joined the Israeli Army Special Forces. I left the army and traveled around the world, working security for El Al. I came back to the States when I hit forty.”
    I stared at him with my mouth slightly ajar.
    â€œWhat? You want more? I’m not a heavy drinker and I don’t do drugs anymore. Five years ago I opened the bike shop. Sometimes the cops come around and hassle me. I’ve even been busted a couple of times, but they’ve never proved anything. Why do you think that putz Beavers has such a hard-on for me? Trust me, babe, I’m a nice guy.”
    I propped myself on my elbow and looked at him wide-eyed. “You’re seven years younger than me?”
    His laughter rose from deep inside his barrel chest and shook the bed. “If age is the only thing you’re worried about, we should call the rabbi tomorrow.”
    He pulled my body closer when the phone rang. I reluctantly picked it up.
    â€œHey, girlfriend,” said Lucy. “You ready for another day at work? Birdie and I will be over in five minutes.”
    Holy crap! I’d completely forgotten about going to Harriet’s. The clock on the dresser read nine. “Uh, Lucy? Can you come in half an hour instead?” I flapped my hands frantically, motioning for Crusher to get out of bed. ”I just woke up and it’ll take me awhile to get ready.”
    â€œBabe.” Crusher reluctantly moved his six-foot-six body to an upright and vertical position.
    â€œWho’s there?” Lucy said. “Did I hear a man’s voice in the background?”
    Darn .
    â€œNo, no one’s here. I just cleared my throat.”
    â€œI don’t believe you. Birdie and I are on the way.”
    Before I could tell her to wait, she hung up the
    phone.
    â€œMy friends said they’ll be here in five minutes, which means ten, fifteen if I’m lucky. If I take a really fast shower and get ready, maybe you can hide in the bedroom until we leave. I don’t want them to know you were here. I could give you an extra key and the alarm code to lock up. Would you help me out here?”
    The skin tightened around Crusher’s mouth. “You ashamed of something?”
    I hurried out of bed. “No, I’m just not ready to face questions I don’t have answers for.”
    He thought for a moment and then looked at me. “No.”
    â€œNo what, for God’s sake?”
    â€œNo, I’m not that guy. I’ve already met your friends, remember?”
    Time was slipping by. “Fine.” I grabbed my bathrobe and huffed my way into the shower.
    Three minutes later I toweled off while Crusher showered. The doorbell rang. “Just a minute,” I shouted, even though I knew they couldn’t hear me.
    I jumped into my jeans and a T-shirt and ran to open the front door with wet hair. Two men wearing suits and serious expressions stood there. The older one was obese and the younger one seemed bored.
    The fat one pulled out a badge. “Mrs. Rose? I’m Detective Gabe Farkas and this is Detective Frank Avila from the West LA Division of the LAPD. May we come in?”
    I opened the door wider and stepped aside. “What’s this about?”
    â€œYou’re the executor of Mrs. Harriet Oliver’s estate?”
    I nodded. “You said West LA. Did something happen at Harriet’s house?”
    â€œNo. The house is fine.”
    What, then? I led them to the kitchen. “I’m making a pot of coffee. My friends will be here shortly.”
    â€œGo ahead. This will only take a minute.”
    I filled the carafe with water.
    â€œWe received a call this morning from the mortician at Gan Shalom Memorial Park. He used to work as a coroner’s assistant and noticed something suspicious about Mrs. Oliver’s remains.”
    I put down the carafe