Anointest My Head With Oil Read online

  She shoved him up against the car, wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him. After a few seconds she pulled slightly away. “Does that answer your question?”

  His hands drifted down to her hips. “Are you sure we can’t elope?”

  She smirked. “Good things come to those who wait.”

  He groaned. “You don’t make waiting easy.”

  She batted her eyes at him. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

  His phone rang and he grimaced. He took it out of his pocket.

  “It’s Marie. I swear somedays it feels like that woman is my keeper.”

  He answered. “Hello, Marie.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Oh, just contemplating the nature of temptation,” he said as Cindy nuzzled his neck.

  “You should get back here.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “There’s a rabbi here who really wants to see you.”

  “Did I know he was coming?”

  “No, it was a surprise visit,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Bye.”

  He hung up and turned on Cindy. “That was so not helpful.”

  She giggled as she stopped kissing his neck. “Was it supposed to be?”

  “Wow, you are just… I don’t know what,” he said.

  She smiled up at him in a way that made his heart start to beat faster.

  “I’ve got to get back to the synagogue,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” she asked before kissing his cheek.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Too bad.”

  “You love playing with fire,” he said.

  She smiled and let go of him, stepping back. “Just making sure you miss me while you’re at work.”

  “There was never any question that I wouldn’t,” he said.

  Cindy turned to get in the car and let out a scream.

  “What?” he asked, heart starting to race.

  She pointed back at the building they had just left. He followed the direction she was pointing and saw what she had.

  The building was on fire.

  2

  Cindy shouted in alarm as Jeremiah ran back toward the building. A second later she followed after. It had looked like the side of the building was on fire, but she quickly realized it was the trash dumpster that was up against the outside wall. The flames were licking at the building, though.

  “We have to move the dumpster!” Jeremiah yelled. He ripped off his shirt, buttons flying in all directions, and wrapped it around his hands. He grabbed the edge of the dumpster and kicked the brake on the wheels off with his foot. The muscles along his back rippled and flexed.

  Cindy ran to the other side and kicked the brake off over there. Jeremiah was making progress, but the dumpster was angling away only on his side. She touched the metal and yanked her hand back when it burned her fingers. Without thinking she pulled off her shirt, wrapped her hands like Jeremiah had, and grabbed the other side.

  Together they moved the dumpster a dozen feet away from the building and into the parking lot. Then they jumped back as the flames rose higher. Jeremiah got out his phone and called 911 while Cindy stared in shock at the flames.

  Jeremiah ended the call and they heard a shout coming from the buildings. They both turned to see Ezra approaching them, eyes wide. He stopped next to them, took them both in, looked at the burning dumpster and then back at them.

  “I guess you weren’t joking about wanting to tear his clothes off,” he said wryly. “Couldn’t you have at least picked a more private place?” he asked.

  To her surprise Jeremiah burst out laughing.

  “I mean, talk about the flames of passion,” Ezra said.

  Jeremiah laughed harder.

  “Hello, there’s an actual fire,” Cindy said.

  “Yes, dear, I noticed.”

  “It could have burned down the synagogue.”

  “And thanks to the two of you it didn’t. I guess what they say is true. One should always fight fire with fire.”

  At that Jeremiah started wiping his eyes as he laughed. Ezra started laughing, too.

  “You are both crazy,” she said.

  “If it’s crazy to choose to laugh instead of cry at life’s little mishaps, then I’m happy to be crazy,” Ezra said.

  “Little mishap? It could have burned the whole synagogue down!”

  “But it didn’t. Indeed, it seems that all that was truly destroyed were two nice shirts. We will be happy to reimburse you for them, of course.”

  Cindy looked down at the shirt she was holding. It was singed pretty badly. She hastily put it back on, though, as she realized that she was standing there in just her bra. In the distance she could hear a siren.

  “The firemen will be sorry they didn’t get here sooner,” Ezra said with a gleam in his eye.

  She blushed fiercely as she inspected her shirt more closely. It was warm, charred, and very smoky smelling. There were two large scorch marks from where she’d been holding it against the dumpster. They were strategically placed on her chest. She stared at it, realizing she couldn’t have made it worse looking if she’d planned it. An embarrassed giggle escaped her and then she lost it completely and was laughing with the others.

  “That’s the spirit,” Ezra said.

  Seconds later the firetruck came zooming into the parking lot, lights flashing. It came to a halt and as the firefighters jumped off the truck Cindy couldn’t help but wonder what they thought when they saw the three of them laughing like idiots.

  Jeremiah quickly put his shirt back on even though he could no longer button it. He did manage to secure it well enough that barely any of his chest was showing and absolutely none of his scars. Like hers it was charred.

  At least we match.

  The firefighters put out the fire in the dumpster and then spread out to check the building to make sure no errant sparks would be causing any problems. The man who seemed to be in charge stayed behind and came over to them.

  “I’m Ezra, the rabbi here,” Ezra said, extending his hand.

  The other man shook it. “Jim, I’m the fire chief. What happened here?”

  Ezra shook his head. “I’m uncertain. I don’t know what might have caused the fire in the dumpster.”

  “We saw it when we were leaving,” Cindy spoke up. “The dumpster was against the building.”

  Jim turned to her. “And you moved it?”

  She nodded.

  “That was quite brave and risky.”

  “We didn’t want it to set the building on fire,” Jeremiah said.

  “It looks like you acted in time to prevent something like that from happening. Did the two of you see anything suspicious, notice anyone around?”

  “No, we didn’t see anyone out here,” Jeremiah said.

  “You think someone deliberately set the fire?” Cindy asked.

  “Usually these things are accidents, caused by a bit of carelessness,” Jim said.

  He’s avoiding saying what he’s really thinking, Cindy thought.

  “Regardless, once the dumpster has had a chance to cool down we’ll make a thorough inspection and see if we can’t determine the cause,” he said.

  “So, you will be coming back later today or tomorrow?” Ezra asked.

  “No, I’ll wait here and check it as soon as I can,” Jim said, trying to sound casual about it and failing.

  “Are you afraid whoever set the fire will tamper with the evidence if you leave it unmonitored?” Cindy asked.

  Jim looked at her and narrowed his eyes. Before he could say anything a police car drove into the parking lot. A familiar figure got out of the car moments later. It was Taylor, one of the uniformed police officers they’d met before.

  “Everything okay, Jim?” Taylor asked the fireman before glancing at the rest of them.

  “Fire’s out, doesn’t look
like it caused any structural damage. Got my guys checking.”

  “Any word on cause?”

  “Nope. Hopefully, I’ll have something for you in a couple of hours,” Jim said.

  “That would be appreciated. Do you need anything from me right now?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be on my way then,” Taylor said before getting back into his car and heading out.

  “Why did he show up?” Cindy asked.

  “Someone called 911. I’m surprised ambulance hasn’t shown up as well,” Jim said dryly.

  Jeremiah touched her arm. “We should be getting back,” he said softly.

  She wanted to argue with him, but he was probably right. Jim seemed in no mood to be giving information.

  “Don’t forget to answer the questions and bring them in next time,” Ezra said. “Thank you again for what you did here.”

  “It was no problem,” Jeremiah said, half-dragging Cindy to the car.

  Once they were in the car she turned to him. “I think Jim is hiding something.”

  “I think so, too, but we weren’t making any headway figuring out what that was. Besides, we have enough of our own stuff to think about right now without borrowing trouble,” he said.

  She sighed. “Like Ezra’s list of questions?”

  “Exactly like.”

  Her curiosity was still in overdrive regarding the fire. Maybe she could talk to Mark later and find out why Taylor had been there and what he thought was going on. She just had to be patient and focus now on the other things in front of her. Like the fact that Hanukkah was starting in just a couple of days and they hadn’t discussed anything to do with the holiday.

  “So, Hanukkah,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “What do we do about it?”

  “Well, I know what I’m doing about it,” he said. “What do you want to do about it?”

  “Whatever a rabbi’s wife should be doing about it,” she said.

  That got a chuckle out of him. “Okay, what do you know about it?” he asked.

  “I know that it lasts eight nights.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “I know that it has something to do with the oil in the Temple not going out until they could get more.”

  “Okay, how much do you want to know?” he asked.

  “Everything. But start by telling me what you do at the synagogue.”

  “Not as much as you might think. It’s actually considered one of the minor holidays, but culturally it’s a much bigger deal in some parts of the world than others. It is traditionally much more celebrated in homes than in public, but our synagogue does organize a party every year. Also, even though it is not a requirement, we do hold morning prayers in the synagogue each day for those who wish to join.”

  “What does the rabbi’s wife do?” she asked.

  “Given that I’ve never had a wife, I’m not sure. I’d imagine your job would involve overseeing all the fried foods for the party.”

  She burst out laughing and he looked genuinely surprised.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oversee all the fried foods? How many are there?”

  “The holiday is all about oil and so it’s celebrated by frying a lot of different foods in oil. Some of the most popular are livivot or latkes, which are potato pancakes and sufganiyot which are like donut holes filled with jam.”

  “How about deep fried Twinkies? I had those at a fair once and I’ve been wanting them again ever since.”

  “Sure, we could give that a try.”

  “What other foods?”

  “There’s challah which is baked bread usually formed into a braid. It’s made with eggs. There’s rugelach which is sheets of flaky pastries filled with chocolate or cinnamon.”

  “That sounds good,” she said.

  “It is. Much better than the gefilte fish.”

  She wrinkled up her nose. “No thank you. Lisa got me to eat that on a dare when I was little. I never did figure out where on earth she got it from.”

  “You miss her still, don’t you?”

  Cindy began to give her perfunctory yes, but she stopped herself. She wanted to be real with Jeremiah, give him the honest answers and not just the nice ones.

  “I don’t know. It’s been a long time and I don’t know what our relationship would have been like if she had lived. That probably sounds dumb.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he said.

  “I don’t have to eat the gefilte fish, do I?”

  “No, but you’re going to smell it and that’s almost as bad,” he said with a laugh.

  “You laugh now, but you won’t be laughing when we discuss Christmas,” she said tartly.

  “What does the church secretary’s husband do for Christmas?” he asked.

  “Um, nothing,” she said, realizing he’d called her bluff.

  “I have a hard time believing that. Christmas lasts five weeks. You can’t tell me there isn’t a lot to do in that time.”

  “Christmas does not last five weeks,” she said. “People decorate that long, but that’s not the actual event.”

  “What about advent? I’ve seen the calendars counting down the days to Christmas.”

  “Advent is technically about the four Sundays leading up to Christmas.”

  “Okay, so there’s roughly four weeks. Then there’s the twelve days of Christmas and the epiphany on January sixth. So, technically, five weeks.”

  “Okay, fine, but some denominations put more emphasis on different aspects than others.”

  They pulled into the synagogue parking lot and Cindy sighed. It was getting harder and harder to leave his side once she was with him, even if it was just for a few hours. They got out of the car and lingered next to it for a moment.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said finally, giving her a kiss.

  She nodded and turned to walk through the hedge back to her side of the parking lot. Somehow it felt more symbolic to her than it usually did.

  ~

  Jeremiah always hated saying goodbye to Cindy which was why he tried his best to avoid saying it. He watched her walk back to the church with an aching in his heart. He couldn’t wait until they were married and there would be fewer partings between them.

  He turned toward the synagogue. He wasn’t looking forward to answering Ezra’s list of questions. In some ways the marriage counseling the rabbi was giving them seemed ineffectual. How could it be otherwise when they couldn’t truly discuss his past, his family situation, or even half the things that happened when he and Cindy were involved in a mystery?

  After all, his life had been anything but normal and the situations they faced together were also less than normal. It made being open and honest in that kind of counseling setting impossible.

  He took a deep breath. He was borrowing trouble. For all he knew the questions would spend more time getting them to focus on division of chores than anything else. It was best to read through them before getting any more worked up about it.

  He walked slowly toward the synagogue. There was a car he didn’t recognize in the parking lot. That wasn’t entirely unusual but it always made him cautious. Years of being paranoid couldn’t be given up so easily. Especially given the fact that he had two aching fingers to remind him not to. Still, he reasoned it must belong to the rabbi Marie had said was there to see him.

  He went into the office to find his secretary, Marie, talking with an older gentleman who was wearing more traditional rabbinic dress. Jeremiah stopped, wondering exactly what the other man was doing there.

  “Rabbi Silverman,” Marie said.

  He knew she was being so formal because of the other man present.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I would like to introduce you to Rabbi Kravitz.”

  “Rabbi, it is an honor,” Jeremiah said.

  “It is I who am honored,” the older man said. “And I owe you a grea
t debt for your help in these most troubling times.”

  Jeremiah glanced at Marie. Clearly something was going on that he didn’t know about yet.

  Marie spoke up quickly. “Two nights ago Rabbi Kravitz’s synagogue was burned to the ground.”

  3

  Detective Mark Walters had become completely and utterly paranoid. There really was no other word for it. He still had nightmares about the murder of Sandra Colbert. Nightmares were unfortunately all he had since he hadn’t been able to find one single clue as to who might have killed her or why. For a while he’d even wondered if he was the intended target and she’d just gotten in the way.

  Jeremiah had dissuaded him from that notion, though. The rabbi had pointed out that since Sandra had been shot in the middle of the forehead, and no other shots had followed, that it had been a sniper who had been specifically targeting her. The realization had brought Mark quite a bit of relief. As difficult as it was sometimes knowing his friend’s secret, it was moments like those that made him grateful for Jeremiah’s past.

  He still hadn’t found any reason why someone would have wanted to kill her. She’d lived her entire adult life as a recluse having almost no contact with the outside world. The more he dug into her life and her past the more he became convinced that the only thing that would have caught someone’s interest was her connection with Not Paul. The only question that really lingered in his mind was whether or not the unknown sniper or his boss knew about the child Sandra had given birth to.

  Darren Bradley Michaelson was the boy’s name. He was thirteen and he lived with his adoptive parents in Los Angeles. As far as Mark could tell both the boy and his parents lived normal, ordinary lives. He knew because he had been watching them on and off for weeks.

  He didn’t know what he was expecting to discover. At first it had been curiosity, a desire to see NP’s kid in the flesh. The boy looked remarkably like his father. Then, as Mark found no answers to Sandra’s murder, he had taken to watching to see if anyone else was watching the boy or his family. He had even contemplated approaching the boy’s parents with his fears.