Confluence. Stephen J. Gordon

cleanup crew. He didn’t say anything. “I know it’s Shabbat and you don’t want anyone working here, but it’s extenuating circumstances. Come back tomorrow.”

      “Besides,” Medrano said, “your kids are next door.”

      Shelley and Josh both nodded.

      A young Asian woman in a Baltimore Police Forensics windbreaker came out of the kitchen. She was carrying a small device not much bigger than a large cell phone. She looked at the group, “Major Aronson?”

      At then mention of my rank I looked at Nate who just smiled at me, and then turned to the woman, “Over here.”

      She turned to me: “I need to get your fingerprints so I can isolate any others on the gun.” The tech must have been processing the Czech pistol I left on the counter. She came over and I held out my right hand. She had me press each finger in turn onto her handheld device. After each digit she tapped an icon on the screen to enter the image and then clear the screen. I was not crazy about logging my fingerprints. I’d rather not be in another database, but realistically it didn’t matter. My fingerprints were already on record in Israel and also here, since every teacher has to be fingerprinted and I was an active substitute where Katie worked.

      “Thank you,” the tech said and walked back into the kitchen.

      At the thought of Katie, it occurred to me that I needed to let her know that the evening’s timetable had changed.

      “Excuse me,” I said standing up.

      I moved into the hallway, pulling out my cell phone. “Hey there,” I said once she picked up. “I’m going to be later than I thought.”

      “Okay. You still at dinner?”

      “Well,” I hesitated for a moment, then gave her an abridged version of what happened…I just said I was able to stop two intruders.

      “Is everyone okay?”

      “Yeah, we’re fine.” Except for the dead guy and the unconscious guy.

      “Do you want me to come by?”

      That was very sweet.

      “No. Thank you, though. I’ll be here a few or hours yet, and then I’ll come by.”

      “I’ll wait up for you.”

      “Thanks. See you in a bit.” I hung up.

      By the time I got back to the living room, Nate, Medrano, and the Mandels were standing.

      “The Mandels are going to gather a few things and go next door,” Nate offered.

      With that Josh and Shelley headed out of the room.

      Once they were out of earshot the three of us looked at each other. “This was not a robbery,” I said.

      Nate nodded.

      “It was a hit.”

      “You don’t know that,” Medrano said.

      “It was a hit,” I said again. “And I’ll talk to the Mandels after tomorrow.”

      “Why after tomorrow?” Medrano asked.

      “After Shabbat,” Nate responded. “Let them relax tomorrow if they can.”

      “I have a license plate for you,” I said. “The Buick that cruised by the synagogue this afternoon.”

      “And was carrying these two guys.”

      I nodded and gave them the Virginia plate. “I didn’t get a good look at the driver.”

      “If this car is a rental,” Nate was thinking of the Virginia license plate, “maybe the agency has a camera in their office. We may be able to get an image of the driver.”

      Unless it was one of these two guys who rented the car, I thought.

      “Unless it was one of these two guys who rented the car,” Nate said. “We’ll find out.”

      In a few minutes, the Mandels came down the steps. Josh had a small shoulder bag, and Shelley a large knitting-type bag.

      “Thank you for everything,” Josh said. He shook my hand as well as Nate’s and Medrano’s. “There’s gotta be a way to work this into my sermon tomorrow,” he smiled.

      Shelley came over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks.”

      “We’ll walk you out,” I said.

      We headed to the front door. On the way over, Josh handed me a key. “To the front door. It’s a spare. Just lock it when everyone’s finished. If you don’t mind.”

      I nodded, and we escorted them out.

      As soon as we stepped outside, we were faced with a small crowd milling about. They must have been neighbors drawn by the three cop cars with their lights still flashing. Josh and Shelley moved down the walk and were immediately surrounded by their friends. I could hear Josh say, “Everything’s okay.”

      Nate, Medrano, and I watched them from the stoop, trying to get next door.

      I looked at Nate.

      “What?” he asked.

      “You know.”

      “Yeah.”

      “This was not someone’s A Team.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “The guys panicked. They should have shot the rabbi or Shelley right away. Then walked out.”

      Medrano said, “You surprised them.”

      “Maybe.”

      “Maybe it was something else,” Nate commented.

      “Maybe,” I said.

      We stepped inside the house. By now, the uniformed officers were filing out, and the forensics people were packing up. Medrano peeled off to speak with one of the uniformed cops, and Nate and I walked into the kitchen. The body had been removed, but there was an eight inch pool of drying blood on the floor plus splatter on the wall.

      “You know there’s no cleanup crew,” Nate said. “You told Mrs. Mandel that a cleanup team would come.”

      “You’re looking at it. I can’t leave this for them and they wouldn’t let me take care of it, if I offered.”

      “Let’s find a mop and bucket.”

      With that, Nate and I looked around to see what we could find. In the back of the house there was a laundry area where we found a pail, some rags, and cleaning supplies. It wasn’t a big job. After donning some vinyl gloves Nate had for handling evidence, I cleaned the splotch on the floor, and Nate took care of the spray on wall.

      “By the way,” he said as he finished up and looked at me, “nice job. You saved their lives. Very clean. Glad you remember all that Sayeret shit.”

      I nodded, thinking that it worked this time.

      Nate had just finished with the wall when Medrano walked in. He looked at Nate, gloves on his hands and holding a rag. “Mr. Clean, I presume?”

      “Medrano, if you did stuff like this for your girlfriends, you’d get laid more often.”

      The three of us laughed. Well, not so much Medrano.

      Nate and I put the cleaning paraphernalia away, sealed the rags in a trash bag, and headed out with Medrano. We were the last to leave. On the stoop, I pulled the door shut and locked the deadbolt.

      “Call you tomorrow, if I have anything,” Nate offered.

      “Thanks.”

      With that, we left. They headed off in separate vehicles, and I crossed the street toward my Jeep. On the other side, near where I had first spotted the three guys in the Buick, I saw a bottle of Merlot lying sideways