Wounds by Alton Gansky

up the fear from mom and dad? Police cars on the street and strangers milling around the house would certainly have started a stream of questions, the kind only young children could ask. Carmen smiled at the children.
    Bud Tock took the lead. “Rabbi, this is my partner Detective Carmen Rainmondi. We need to have a word with you and your wife, if we may.”
    The children inched closer to their mother.
    â€œI don’t think my children should be left alone at the moment, and I don’t want them to hear what we have to talk about. This has been very frightening for them—for us.”
    â€œYes, sir, but—”
    Carmen cut Bud off. “We can chat with them individually.” She stepped to the children and crouched in front of them. “Hi. I’m Detective Carmen.” She looked at the little girl first. “What’s your name, darling?”
    The child looked at her mother. Mom nodded.
    â€œNeria. It means ‘Light of the Lord.’”
    â€œThat’s beautiful. Neria. I like that.” Carmen faced the boy. “How about you, champ? What’s your name?”
    Like his sister, he looked to his mother for permission and got the same nod. “Aviel.”
    â€œAviel. It’s a strong name.”
    The boy smiled. “It means ‘The Lord is my father.’”
    â€œNice. Listen kids, I need to talk to your dad here for a little bit. You know, grown-up talk. Do you mind waiting in another room? Your mother can go with you.”
    The woman rose. “Come, children.”
    Carmen pushed to her feet and wondered when getting up from a kneeling position required a grunt. “May I have your name, ma’am?”
    â€œNaomi. Naomi Singer.” She didn’t bother to say what the name meant. Instead, she led the children down a hall.
    Carmen moved to Rabbi Singer. He motioned to the dining room. Like the living room, the space faced the front yard. Also like the living room, the window shades had been drawn. Carmen couldn’t blame him. They sat around a simple wood table stained by craftsmen to look like walnut. They sat. “I can make some coffee if you like.”
    â€œNo, thank you, sir.” Bud took the lead, as Carmen had expected. Her job was to listen and watch. “How did you come to find the body, Rabbi?”
    â€œIt’s in my front yard; how could I not find it?”
    Bud smiled. He wielded a smile that could calm an angry, starving bear.
    Singer lowered his head for a moment. “Sorry. I’m a little shaken.”
    â€œI imagine you are, Rabbi. I’ve been in this business longer than I care to admit, and this has put me a little off my game. Start from the beginning.”
    â€œI rose early. I usually do. It’s quieter then, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œI know, Rabbi. I’ve got kids at home. Boy and a girl. Eight and four. They can make more noise than a room full of monkeys.”
    Singer smiled at the image. “Anyway. I’m the rabbi at Beth Shalom. I guess I already told you that.”
    â€œNo problem, sir. My partner hasn’t heard any of this. You said earlier you were going to the synagogue. Why?”
    â€œI wanted to pick up a couple of books. It’s Pesach and I wanted a few things for my sermon.”
    â€œPesach?” Bud tilted his head.
    â€œPassover.” Singer rested his hands on the table. “It’s one of the high holidays. An eight-day celebration of the deliverance of the children of Israel from Egypt. The first two and last two days of the Pesach are . . .” He seemed to search for a term that his Gentile visitors would understand. “. . . non-work days. Only work that has to do with health and welfare can be done. Well, that and worship. The days in between allow for more kinds of work. Today is one of those days.”
    â€œAnd you were going to walk?” Bud put his hands on the table, mirroring the rabbi.
    â€œYes, sir. I