Confluence. Stephen J. Gordon

offered, “a beating is one thing…”

      “Yeah, I had the same reaction. There has to be more to this.”

      “That’s also why I’m here,” Sakolsky said.

      He had our attention.

      “We’d like to hire you.”

      “We?” I asked, and then, “I’m not for hire.”

      “ ‘We’ is my partner and me. Robert Levin. I’m President of the congregation and Bob is Chairman of the Board. We’re both very good friends of the Mandels. We think they’re terrific people and they’re in danger. You’re investigating it anyway, right? Let us pay your expenses, whatever they are.”

      I shook my head. “No.”

      “You don’t have to report to anyone, you don’t have to answer to anyone. Just do what you’re going to do anyway. We want the Mandels safe and don’t want you to hesitate to do whatever’s necessary because of an expense. We’re not going to miss the money.”

      “If you’re looking to get rid of some cash…” Jon offered.

      He ignored my student. “The Mandels are good people. You know that. They did something they’re probably not even aware of and now they need help.”

      I still didn’t say anything.

      He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a thick business envelope. The imprint on the top left said Sakolsky & Levin with an address. “Just return what you don’t use. If you want, you can even take out a daily fee. That’s up to you. If you need more, just call.” He handed me the envelope.

      I looked at Katie who just looked back with eyebrows raised.

      “I trust you,” Sakolsky said. “We trust you…Shelley and Josh trust you.

      “You don’t know me,” was all I could say.

      “We know what you did Friday night. You also stopped by to see the Mandels after shul. You care. You’re not going to let this go. Do whatever you need to do,” he said once again. “Call us, don’t call us, update us, don’t update us. It doesn’t matter. Just come to us when this is over and say the Mandels are safe.”

      “I don’t know if I’m going to use this,” I said holding up the envelope.

      “That’s up to you, but it’s there just in case.”

      I tucked the envelope into one of my BDU pockets and buttoned the flap. I wasn’t sure I liked this.

      My cell phone in one of my other cargo pockets vibrated. I dug it out and saw it was Nate, my cop friend.

      “Hi.” I answered, turning to the side. “What’s up?” I felt a little dazed.

      “News. We found the home of those two guys from Friday night. You need to see something.”

      “More bodies?”

      “No, just some interesting items in their basement.”

      “You’re there now?”

      “Yup.”

      “Let me get a pen and paper and I’ll write down the address.”

      Before the words were barely out, Sakolsky pulled out a pen and a tri-folded letter from his pocket. He nodded, indicating it was okay to write on the back of paper.

      “Go ahead, Nate.” He gave me an address on the edge of Patterson Park in East Baltimore. When I had finished writing, I said into the phone but looked at Sakolsky, “And I have some news about Josh Mandel, maybe an avenue to explore.” I was thinking of his Torah rescues.

      “Okay.”

      “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

      “I’ll be here.” We hung up.

      I looked at Katie, Jon, and Sakolsky. “I gotta go.”

      Before anyone could answer, the phone which was still in my hand, vibrated again. I had a new voice mail message. I checked to find a seventh grade American History teacher at Katie’s school wanted me to substitute tomorrow.

      “What is it?” Katie asked.

      “Carol Cayhan wants me to sub tomorrow.”

      “Timing is always interesting, isn’t it?” All of a sudden it felt like there was a lot going on. “Can you do it?” she asked.

      “Yeah. I like seeing the kids. It’ll keep me balanced. I’ll call her back in a few minutes. Meanwhile, Nate wants me to look at something. He found the house of the two guys from Friday night. I have to check it out. Sorry.”

      “I’ll walk out with you,” Katie said.

      “Me, too.” This from Sakolsky.

      I turned to Jon. “You staying?”

      “Maybe another half hour. Want to work out some more and straighten up.”

      “Okay, we’ll see you later.”

      Katie and I went back to clean up our lunch wrappers, and then headed for the door. I said “Lehitraot” – see you later in Hebrew – to Jon, Katie kissed him on the cheek, and Sakolsky, Katie, and I walked out.

      At the top of the entry steps, I stopped and looked at Katie while Sakolsky continued down ahead of us.

      “What?” she looked back at me.

      “I was going to ask you out tonight.”

      “And you’re changing your mind?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Ask me out.”

      “Let’s go out tonight.”

      “That’s not asking.”

      Sakolsky spoke up from the foot of the steps, “Have you been to Canton?”

      Why was he still there? I didn’t know whether I should have felt annoyed by his eavesdropping or not.

      “There’s a great promenade,” he continued, “that runs from Canton to Fells Point and then to the Inner Harbor. Great place to walk.”

      Katie looked at me. “We can eat down in Canton and then go for a walk.”

      “Sounds nice.”

      We set a time, thanked Sakolsky for the idea, and then went our separate ways. Actually, Sakolsky stayed where he was, but I escorted Katie to her Mustang. We said goodbye and I turned to see my potential benefactor waiting for me. “What’s up?” I looked at him.

      “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your help.”

      Not knowing what to say, I just nodded and walked to my Jeep.

      10

      Patterson Park is a large, square shaped area of green – 137 acres – just northeast of Fells Point. Within its setting are a boat lake, tennis courts, a swimming pool, an ice rink, and a four story pagoda that dates back to the late 1800s. For a long period, the neighborhood of classic Baltimore row houses adjacent to the Park had become depressed, but now it was an up and coming area, with many of its units being bought and remodeled by young professionals.

      The address Nate had given was toward the middle of a run of row houses near the southwest corner of the Park. Due to a dearth of parking spaces, I had to leave the Grand Cherokee around the corner and walk back. As I came up the block, the row houses stood wall-like on either side of the narrow street, with some second story windows blistered out in a bay construction. In general, the exteriors were well kept, and mainly faced in brick, however a number had the Baltimore kitschy formstone façades. Three police cars parked near a door halfway down the block left no doubt where to go.

      “Major Aronson for Captain D’Allesandro,” I said approaching