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The Ritual Bath
The Ritual Bath
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The Ritual Bath

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Decker gave them a smile, but not a reassuring one.

They walked a few steps, then Marge said, “Notice how they looked at me?”

“They didn’t.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

They’d arrived before the black-and-whites.

Marge knocked on the door and a young dark-haired woman opened it, allowing them to enter after a flash of badges. Immediately, the murmuring that had filled the room died. The detectives were greeted with icy, suspicious stares from four kerchief-headed women crammed into the reception area. In the corner, an elderly bearded man who looked like a rabbi was whispering into the ear of a younger man who was rapidly rocking back and forth.

The young woman motioned them outside.

“I’m Rina Lazarus, the one who called the police,” she said. “The women inside were here earlier tonight. We’ve called a meeting to find out if anyone heard or saw anything unusual on their way home. Unfortunately, no one did.”

“What happened?” Decker asked.

She hesitated and looked around. “A woman was raped.”

“Where is she?” Marge asked.

“With one of the women in a dressing room. She’s about to take a bath—”

“She can’t do that until she’s been examined,” said Marge sharply.

“I know,” Rina said. “The officer I spoke to over the phone mentioned that, but I don’t know if she’s going to be willing to have herself examined.”

Marge eyed Decker, then said: “I’ll talk to her.” Turning to Rina, she asked: “What’s her name?”

“Sarah Libba Adler.”

“Miss or Mrs.?”

“Mrs.”

“Is she dressed?” asked Marge.

“I’m not sure. Her husband brought her a change of clothes, but I don’t know if she put them on yet. You’ll have to knock on the door to the bathroom and ask.”

“Where are the original clothes?” Decker asked.

“In a paper sack to the left of the bathhouse door. They’re nothing more than shreds but I thought you might want them.”

“We do,” Marge said. She slapped Peter on the back and disappeared inside.

Rina wasn’t comfortable being alone with a man, even a detective, and suggested they go back inside. That was fine with Decker since the mikvah was air-conditioned. Then seeing two uniforms coming toward the building, Decker motioned them over. He excused himself for a moment, then brought the policemen back to Rina.

“Ma’am, do you know where the rape took place?” Decker asked.

“Over there.” She pointed to an area two hundred feet to the right of the entrance to the bathhouse.

“Could you show us the exact spot so we don’t accidentally trample on evidence?” asked Decker.

She led them to the depression in the brush.

“I don’t know if he actually”—she paused to catch her breath—“if he actually raped her here, but this is where I found her.”

“You found the victim?”

She nodded.

“Was she conscious at the time?”

“Yes. Baruch Hashem.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Mrs. Adler was conscious.”

“That’s fine,” Decker said. He faced the uniforms. “Cordon off this area and call the lab boys. Then poke around and see what you can come up with.”

He turned back to Rina.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Can we go back inside the bathhouse?”

“Certainly.”

Rina led him back into the building and to a quiet corner. He was a big man, she thought, with strong features and, despite the fair skin and ginger hair, dark penetrating eyes. He looked intimidating yet competent, a man who’d know how to hunt an animal like a rapist. Although she knew size had nothing to do with apprehending a criminal, she was still glad he was big.

“You told me your name, but I didn’t catch it,” said Decker.

“Rina Lazarus,” she answered, then quickly added, “Mrs.”

Decker smiled to himself.

“Exactly what happened, Mrs. Lazarus?” he asked.

“I was grading papers right there”—Rina pointed to the armchair—“and I heard a scream. I went outside and saw something take off into the woods. Then, I found her wig lying on the ground and knew something was wrong …” Her voice trailed off, and she shuddered.

“You saw something fleeing into the brush?” he asked, slipping out a pocket pad.

She nodded.

“Where?”

“From the spot I showed you … Maybe a little farther down to the right.”

“Did you see something or someone?”

“I’m not sure. It happened so fast.” Rina sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. You’re doing fine. Let’s try taking it from the beginning. You’re inside this mikvah … What’s a mikvah, by the way? Like a health club?”

“It’s a ritual bathhouse. Women come here to dunk for spiritual purification.”

“Like a baptism?”

Rina nodded. It was close enough.

“Okay, you were inside and you heard a scream outside. What did you do?”

“I opened the door and looked outside. I heard panting.”

“Panting?”

She nodded. “Next thing I knew something fled into the bushes.” Her eyes lit up. “I think it was a person because it was upright.”

“Could you describe any details at all?”

“No. It was nearly pitch black, and his clothing was dark. I only saw him for a second.”

“Tall, short, fat, thin, muscular?”

“Average.”

“Did the figure look shorter or taller than me?”

“Offhand, I’d say shorter than you”—she looked up at him—“but you’re very tall, so I guess that isn’t saying a lot.”

“But you think the figure was human.”

She nodded.

“Could you tell if it was male or female?”

“No.”

Decker began to scrawl some notes on the pad, then looked up: “Okay. After the figure disappeared, what did you do?”

Rina’s eyes darted about. Several of the women were staring at her, Chana in particular. Rina looked back at Decker and lowered her voice. “I saw Mrs. Adler’s wig. Then I found her in the bushes. Her clothes had been ripped off and she’d been …” Her eyes welled up with tears.

Decker liked this one. She had an intangible presence—a quiet elegance. And she didn’t cover her hair with a kerchief like the others, allowing him a view of her thick, black mane. There was something classic about her face—the oval shape, creamy skin, full, soft mouth, startling blue eyes. Doll her up and she’d blend nicely into high society.

“It must have been quite a shock,” he said, offering her a tissue.

She took it and wiped her cheeks. “To say the least. All of us are stunned. We’re so closely identified with one another, and now we feel so vulnerable. It could have been anyone of us, especially me. I happened to run a little late tonight. She was attacked at the time I usually go home.”

“Do you live on the grounds?”

“Of course.”

“How do you usually get home?”

“I walk. It takes me five minutes.”

“And no one has ever approached you?”

“Nobody, Detective. Nobody. We’re isolated out here. I guess that makes us perfect victims for some lunatic, but it never occurred to us before. The mikvah door isn’t even locked.”

“You’ve been hit by vandals—”

“Mostly kids. Both we and the police know who they are. They’re a nuisance, something we wish we didn’t have to deal with, but we’ve never thought of them as … as rapists.”

Decker thought a moment, then resumed the questioning.

“There’s no lock on the door?”

“That’s right.”

“You mean women regularly come here to dunk in holy water in an unlocked building?”

She shrugged sheepishly.

“As I said, we’ve never thought about it.”

“Do you have any security patrol on the grounds?”

Rina shook her head.

“This place is an anachronism, Mrs. Lazarus. You’re sitting ducks. It’s amazing you’ve lasted this long without an assault. Call a locksmith tomorrow, and get a dead bolt on the door. And discuss with your neighbors the possibility of getting a wired fence and gate. Anyone can break through the one you have now and escape into the forest.”

“It wouldn’t work because on the Sabbath—” She stopped herself. He wouldn’t understand.

Decker looked at her, expecting to hear more. Instead she cast a flurry of glances around the room.

A pretty one, he thought, but very jumpy. Then again, she was stressed. He wouldn’t mind talking to her again in a couple of days if the occasion presented itself.

“Is that all?” Rina asked.

“Just about, for the moment. How do you spell your name, Mrs. Lazarus?”

“R-i-n-a L-a-z-a-r-u-s.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-six.”