I’m speaking too quickly. I try another subject.
“How are the children?”
“The children are fine.”
“Fine?”
Miriam nods. “They are very sad.”
I look at Miriam. She’s looking at my notebook. I write down kids v sad. “Can you tell me a little about Rivka? Was she born here? What did she like to do?”
“We were both born in Borough Park.”
“And you both live here, together?”
“My husband and I live on the third floor. It is a separate apartment.”
A door slams. We all turn and see that Aron Mendelssohn has come in through the front. As soon as he sees me, he stops. He looks truly shocked that I’m there, as if I’m some sort of winged beast that just dropped through the ceiling. Like, how the fuck did this creature get in my hallway and how can I kill it before it kills me?
“Miriam!” he roars. Miriam jumps toward me. She actually grabs my arm, as if I might protect her.
Saul moves quickly past us, and the two men begin shouting in Yiddish.
“Go!” hisses Miriam, pushing me toward the door. “Write something nice. She was beautiful. Say she was beautiful.”
I run out the back door, turning once to make sure Aron Mendelssohn hasn’t followed me outside. I can hear him yelling. I lift the latch on the back gate and jog past George to his car. I have no idea if Saul is behind me. Fred Moskowitz has returned from his coffee run and sees me coming out.
“We’re not getting a photo,” I say when George gets inside.
“Oh yeah?” says George. “Figures.”
“I’m gonna call in what I’ve got.” I pull out my notebook and my hands are shaking. I can barely read my writing, but I remember exactly what Miriam said. I call Cathy’s number directly. She picks up on the first ring. I tell her I talked to the sister-in-law.
“Perfect. Give me what you got.”
“Her name is Rivka. She’s thirty, married, has four children. Lives in a big house in Borough Park. Her husband is scary.”
“Her husband is scary? Is that a quote?”
“No. Sorry. That’s me. The rest is from the sister-in-law. I got in the house after the cops and talked to her, but when the husband came home he started screaming and I left.”
“What’s the sister-in-law’s name?”
“Miriam.”
“Last name?”
“Fuck.” I forgot to ask. “I forgot to ask. It’s probably not Mendelssohn. That would be her maiden name and she said she was married.”
“And she lives there?”
“Yes. There are two entrances. It’s a really big house. It’s split into two residences.”
“Okay, we can just say the sister-in-law. Anything else?”
“The last time she saw her was Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“Yeah.”
Moskowitz is coming toward me and George. His coat is buttoned improperly, so the collar pokes up at his chin on one side. I can’t talk to him while I’m talking to my editor. I point to the phone and make a sign to wait. He nods. I think Moskowitz might have worked for the Trib before striking out on his own. Or maybe it was the Ledger.
“That’s three days before she was found.”
“Right.”
“But they didn’t report her missing?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Okay. Any quotes?”
“Not much. She said, ‘She was a good mother.’ And, ‘She was beautiful.’”
“Really?”
“Really.” When she said it, it seemed somehow adequate as a description. Not so much now. “She was pretty shook up. She said the kids were very sad.”
“That’s a quote? The kids are sad.”
“The children. She said the children are very sad.”
“Is photo there?”
“Yeah, but I got chased out before I could even ask for a photo. And I don’t recommend anybody going back there. At least not tonight.”
“Is anyone else there?” She means other press.
“Just The Brooklyn Beacon. ”
“Not the Ledger ?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Go home. Great work. Don’t forget to put in for overtime.”
“Does Larry at the Shack have anything? A cause of death?” The Shack is how
“How are the children?”
“The children are fine.”
“Fine?”
Miriam nods. “They are very sad.”
I look at Miriam. She’s looking at my notebook. I write down kids v sad. “Can you tell me a little about Rivka? Was she born here? What did she like to do?”
“We were both born in Borough Park.”
“And you both live here, together?”
“My husband and I live on the third floor. It is a separate apartment.”
A door slams. We all turn and see that Aron Mendelssohn has come in through the front. As soon as he sees me, he stops. He looks truly shocked that I’m there, as if I’m some sort of winged beast that just dropped through the ceiling. Like, how the fuck did this creature get in my hallway and how can I kill it before it kills me?
“Miriam!” he roars. Miriam jumps toward me. She actually grabs my arm, as if I might protect her.
Saul moves quickly past us, and the two men begin shouting in Yiddish.
“Go!” hisses Miriam, pushing me toward the door. “Write something nice. She was beautiful. Say she was beautiful.”
I run out the back door, turning once to make sure Aron Mendelssohn hasn’t followed me outside. I can hear him yelling. I lift the latch on the back gate and jog past George to his car. I have no idea if Saul is behind me. Fred Moskowitz has returned from his coffee run and sees me coming out.
“We’re not getting a photo,” I say when George gets inside.
“Oh yeah?” says George. “Figures.”
“I’m gonna call in what I’ve got.” I pull out my notebook and my hands are shaking. I can barely read my writing, but I remember exactly what Miriam said. I call Cathy’s number directly. She picks up on the first ring. I tell her I talked to the sister-in-law.
“Perfect. Give me what you got.”
“Her name is Rivka. She’s thirty, married, has four children. Lives in a big house in Borough Park. Her husband is scary.”
“Her husband is scary? Is that a quote?”
“No. Sorry. That’s me. The rest is from the sister-in-law. I got in the house after the cops and talked to her, but when the husband came home he started screaming and I left.”
“What’s the sister-in-law’s name?”
“Miriam.”
“Last name?”
“Fuck.” I forgot to ask. “I forgot to ask. It’s probably not Mendelssohn. That would be her maiden name and she said she was married.”
“And she lives there?”
“Yes. There are two entrances. It’s a really big house. It’s split into two residences.”
“Okay, we can just say the sister-in-law. Anything else?”
“The last time she saw her was Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?”
“Yeah.”
Moskowitz is coming toward me and George. His coat is buttoned improperly, so the collar pokes up at his chin on one side. I can’t talk to him while I’m talking to my editor. I point to the phone and make a sign to wait. He nods. I think Moskowitz might have worked for the Trib before striking out on his own. Or maybe it was the Ledger.
“That’s three days before she was found.”
“Right.”
“But they didn’t report her missing?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Okay. Any quotes?”
“Not much. She said, ‘She was a good mother.’ And, ‘She was beautiful.’”
“Really?”
“Really.” When she said it, it seemed somehow adequate as a description. Not so much now. “She was pretty shook up. She said the kids were very sad.”
“That’s a quote? The kids are sad.”
“The children. She said the children are very sad.”
“Is photo there?”
“Yeah, but I got chased out before I could even ask for a photo. And I don’t recommend anybody going back there. At least not tonight.”
“Is anyone else there?” She means other press.
“Just The Brooklyn Beacon. ”
“Not the Ledger ?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Go home. Great work. Don’t forget to put in for overtime.”
“Does Larry at the Shack have anything? A cause of death?” The Shack is how
Similar Books
