Lieberman's Law by Stuart M. Kaminsky Read Free Book Online

in a Cubs baseball cap.
    â€œWe’re ready,” said Al Bloombach, who suffered from asthma, was almost eighty, and shouldn’t have been there.
    â€œHowie’s kids and a few of the grandchildren are coming over,” said Syd. Howie Chen nodded solemnly.
    â€œWe’ve got to wait till the Skokie police are done with the photographs and fingerprints,” said Lieberman, holding back the rising number of congregation members and friends who were now choking the corridor.
    â€œLeo,” called Herschel Rosen.
    Leo Benishay stepped through the door into the corridor and looked at the growing throng. Bess was trying to get through with a group of women, some of whom were the wives, daughters, and granddaughters of the men who had first arrived.
    â€œMr. Rosen,” Leo called back. “If everyone will just wait a minute or two more …”
    â€œI was at his bris,” Herschel told those around him. “He was a little pisher. Now he’s a policeman giving orders.”
    â€œWe’ve got the photographs,” said Benishay softly to Lieberman. “No point in trying for prints except on the things that were torn and thrown around. Lab says the walls are so full of prints it would take us forever to get them and check them against the FBI lists and we’d have to fingerprint every member of this congregation. My men are gathering the things that have been tossed and torn. We’ll call the FBI and have them go over them. Might take some time.”
    â€œTake some time?” Lieberman said, as Bess made her way through the crowd and moved to her husband’s side taking his hand.
    â€œFive synagogues were attacked last night,” said Benishay, suddenly looking very haggard. “This one and four in the city. One in your district, B’nai Zion. The FBI is going to be very busy.”
    â€œSo …?” asked Lieberman.
    Benishay shrugged. “We seal off the chapel. Wait for the FBI. They give the OK and your people can clean up.”
    Rabbi Wass suddenly appeared from his sanctuary. The noise level was high. An old woman in the back was shouting something about Arabs. Wass looked at Bess, who took him in her arms and said, “Be strong, Rev. Be strong.”
    Rabbi Wass shook his head, wishing his father were here, that his father were still the rabbi of Mir Shavot, but he was over a thousand miles away in Florida with a weak heart. Wass shook his head and stood up straight.
    â€œThe police still have work to do,” Bess shouted. She was wearing a yellow dress, her cleaning dress. Her short silver hair was perfectly in place and she had taken a moment to put on makeup while she made her phone calls.
    Some in the front heard her. Those in the back shouted, talked.
    â€œPlease,” shouted Rabbi Wass. “Quiet.” They grew silent.
    â€œThe police still have work to do,” Bess repeated. “They’ll tell us when we can start cleaning up.”
    â€œWhat did they do?” shouted someone.
    â€œGraffiti on the walls,” said Lieberman. “Some pews and prayer books damaged. The podium on the bema smashed.” Lieberman looked over at the rabbi who adjusted his glasses and stood erect.
    â€œThey destroyed three of our Torahs,” Rabbi Wass said. People gasped. A woman began to weep. “And they stole the velvet Torah.”
    Now there were wails, people clutching each other in confusion and fear, a few, both young and old, with a look of anger on their faces Lieberman had never seen before. Herschel’s daughter Melody stood at her father’s side. She was a quiet woman, who had lost her husband in a car accident almost ten years earlier. Now she worked at Bass’s Department Store on Devon not far from Maish’s T & L. There was anger, death, and determination clear and frightening on her face.
    â€œWe’ll go into the small chapel,” said Rabbi Wass. “I think we can all fit. Mr.