The Rabbi's Wife Plays at Murder

By Naomi Graetz

Professor Toby Kramer, the ambitious chair of the Women's Studies Program at her local college, reluctantly admits to being a Rabbi's Wife. She loves playing tennis and radiates confidence and an aura of professionalism. Into her carefully planned life enters Gordon, a philanderer and former tennis partner asking for help. He is in trouble and is trouble. Within days the Jewish community are embroiled in gossip, runaway wives, murder, divorce and domestic violence. As Toby seeks the murderer and tries to protect the innocent, she is forced to take an unflinching look at her values and recognizes that all is not as it seems in her staid Jewish community. Questions of morality and justice are central to this provocative suspense novel. In the Rabbi's Wife Plays at Murder, Naomi Graetz decided to adhere to the adage of writing about what she knows best--life as a rabbi's wife. She combines likable characters with a superb mystery plot, while offering the reader a voyeuristic peek into modern Jewish life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Naomi Graetz
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9789659074600

Book preview

A Novel

ISBN 965-90746-0-3

ALSO BY NAOMI GRAETZ

S/He Created Them:

Feminist Retellings of Biblical Stories

Silence is Deadly:

Judaism Confronts Wifebeating

Unlocking the Garden:

A Feminist Jewish Look at the Bible, Midrash and God

First Shiluv Press Edition, December 2004

Copyright © 2004 by Naomi Graetz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities in the book to events, locales or actual persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

Published in Israel

Shiluv Press

P.O.B 193, Omer

ISBN 965-90746-0-3

1. Tennis players—Fiction. 2. Rabbis—Fiction. 3. Murder—Fiction. 4. Wife Beating—Fiction. 5. Women’s Rights in Synagogue—Fiction. 6- Academia—Fiction. 7. Teaneck NJ –Fiction.

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Printed and bound in the State of Israel

Cover design by Michal Ben-David,

Ha-Machpil Ba-Negev, Beersheba

This book is dedicated to the memory of

Professor Marianne Amir

A woman of great courage and inspiration

To her friends.

She gave life a good run

And taught us all lessons about

A time for being born and a time for dying,

A time for weeping and a time for laughing,

A time for embracing and a time for

Shunning embraces;

A time for seeking and a time for losing,

A time for silence and a time for speaking.

(Excerpted from Ecclesiastes 3.2-7)

PROLOGUE

TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Whup! Whup! Swoosh!

The sounds penetrated the unrelieved stillness of the park.

The woman parried the blows to her head.

Stop! Stop! Help me! she screamed.

Her assailant struck her again and said, This is your first warning, and the next time may be your last.

The woman crumpled listlessly into a half-sitting position on the park bench. She keeled over.

Her attacker left.

She lay there, open game for any passer by.

******

The weekend had begun with a match between equals; by mid-week it had ignited into murder.

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CHAPTER ONE

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FIVE DAYS EARLIER, FRIDAY MORNING: THE MATCH

The sun was shining on the green grass in Andreas Park. The occasional whine of a distant airplane disturbed the stillness. It was too early for dogs to be out walking with their masters. Squirrels and pigeons alike were waiting with restrained patience for the regulars who normally fed them. All except one park bench was deserted, but the occupant of this bench did not interest the resident birds and squirrels for they knew him well: No breadcrumbs or peanuts for them in the Styrofoam box he brought.

The man had a good view of the tennis courts below. He could see, but not be seen. When the two women in designer tennis outfits appeared, he noted the time in a little black pad. He wondered which of the two would win. Would it be the short Jewish-looking brunette or the hippy tall blond? Both women were attractive and in their early forties. They looked good in the short white skirts. He preferred them younger, but this was a job: to decide the fate of the tennis courts he was surveying. He had The Hustler, a takeout breakfast from McDonald's; it was a beautiful day in April. This is the life! He thought.

The whoop, whoops of balls hitting rackets and occasional grunts were the major sounds emanating from the tennis court below. The score was six serving five. This first set had taken an hour.

Win this game and you stay in the tournament! Toby thought, as she tossed the tennis ball high above her head. She was the short Jewish-looking brunette with curly hair. It was a smash serve: fifteen-love. The next two points made it forty-love. She served the ball into the corner and missed. Damn it! Second serve, forty-love! she called.

Natalie, the hippy tall blond, returned Toby's second serve with a sliced ball that lazily meandered over the net. Toby conserved her rapidly diminishing energy by not running up for the elusive ball. Fortunately her next serve was perfect, an ace, and she won the match.

Nice game, Natalie said. With mock politeness they shook sweaty hands.

Thanks, I'm bushed!

Me too! When do I get my chance at revenge?

Sunday sounds good! Toby said.

I'll let you know later today. You may find this hard to believe but someone has been watching us old ladies for the last half hour. Don't turn around! Natalie continued sharply as Toby glanced to her right.

Are you sure?

Absolutely! When I missed your first serve, it was because I saw this weirdo passing by. And...I'm sure I've seen him here before!

I could have served again, you know, Toby said.

Nothing would have helped me today, she said airily. But it's strange having someone watching us.

We'll play at the Teaneck Public Courts next time.

We'll talk about it this afternoon. I'm running late.

Me, too! Thanks for the game. See you.

The watcher, after noting the time in his pad, walked on to the court and picked up a dark object from under the bench.

******

Toby got out of the shower. She heard the phone ring and looked at her watch. When she saw it was ten already, she decided not to answer it. She glanced at the mirror and finger-combed her curly hair. She noticed some flecks of gray and decided they gave her character.

Toby was not beautiful, but she had more assets than debits. She never wore perfume or jewelry and her makeup consisted of a touch of lipstick. Toby considered herself short. Tanned and slender, she looked more like a sportswoman than a rabbi's wife. She radiated confidence and projected an aura of professionalism.

********

Good morning, Toby. Professor Davis just called, her secretary said after greeting her.

Do me a favor, Alice, and dial Natalie's number for me while I look through my mail. I'll take the call in my office.

Associate Professor Toby Kramer, currently in line for tenure, was Chair of the Women's Studies Program at Fairleigh Dickinson University. Although Women's Studies was a minuscule division of the History Department, its size suited Toby since the Jewish community she lived in expected her to be available when needed. It was an attitude she would have liked to ignore, but had to live with.

Toby normally threw away the junk mail without opening it, but a catalogue from SAGE, which included a list of books about family violence in ethnic groups, caught her eye. Family violence was often a code name for wifebeating and some of her students were writing papers and asking her pertinent questions about battering.

That's an interesting combination: wifebeating and ethnicity. I think I'll order some books for the library. Pen in hand, she marked off those books that looked promising.

The phone rang.

Toby? It's Natalie. Get yourself another partner for Sunday. I can't play with you then.

Thanks for letting me know early enough. I'll see if Liz Finger is available then. See you at the club around four.

Having checked off the books she wanted to order, she drafted a letter informing a highly qualified woman that she was unable to expand the department to include her. She promised she would contact her if (she could twist the Dean's arm for another slot and) an opening became available.

She boiled some water, made a cup of coffee and spent a few hours reviewing a student's proposal for a pilot study about academic women who were undergoing mid-life career crises. This was one research project she identified strongly with. Unlike family violence, women's insecurity in academic life and the blatant discrimination against older women in universities were familiar topics to her.

I'm starved! Time to stop. She pushed back her curly dark hair from her face, looked at her watch and saw that it was 4.10. Toby quickly gathered up her papers and dashed across Campus just in time to catch Natalie who was on the way out of the Club.

Sorry, I'm late.

I was getting ready to leave.

I see. My running all the way is my penance.

No, it's not! You've burnt off those calories at my expense.

Oh, Oh! Look who's there! Natalie said as they entered the Lounge.

Toby nodded at Aaron Goodstein who was sitting by himself.

He's going to join us, I predict. What do I do? Toby whispered. I can't refuse him, he's the pillar of our synagogue.

Can't your synagogue stand up by itself? Natalie retorted.

Goodstein got up and asked them to join him, saying, This place is a ghost town Friday afternoon.

Toby and Natalie remained standing.

We'll take pity on you for a few minutes, but Natalie and I are meeting about our project, Toby said. You know each other, don't you? Natalie Davis of the Sociology Department and Aaron Goodstein, District Attorney and part-time lecturer in Criminology.

We should since we're in the same department but I know your ex-husband even better...from Synagogue. I don’t believe you’ve ever come to our synagogue, have you?  Natalie snickered and replied that she had no use for formal religion, though she didn't object to his need for it. Toby tuned out of their conversation. She had heard many variations on the theme. However, when she heard Aaron say, The Rabbi's giving a lecture on family violence in Jewish tradition, she tuned back in.

Aaron, where did you hear that? Toby interrupted.   Don't you and your husband talk to each other?

Occasionally.

It was in the Synagogue Bulletin.

It's not a holy missive. I read it to know the time for candle lighting erev Shabbat, she said. Speaking of which it's Friday afternoon and I absolutely must talk to Natalie before I run home to cook. She smiled apologetically, Please, excuse us!

The Faculty Club was a retreat for those of professorial rank. Members' privileges included use of the facilities: an exercise room, squash courts and showers. Most important, the Faculty Lounge was the only place on campus where you could get a an alcoholic drink during daylight hours.

They found a secluded corner and Natalie proceeded to tell Toby what was on her mind.

Do you remember Gordon Lieberman?

Toby was startled by the question. Who? Gordon? Yes, of course! Why do you ask?

What do you know about him?

Toby regained her composure and answered, Plenty! He's on leave from the History Department. He ran for Dean against Stuart. When he lost he went to Texas University at Austin on a sabbatical. His ego couldn't take the loss of face. We used to play tennis regularly, Tuesday mornings. He's a great player. His wife Diane is a born loser, but she has money — lots of it—her father is the only Jewish banker in Austin with connections to the Texas Oil barons and has poured money into the Jewish community. That's why Gordon stays with her. She and her father’s money are completely under his thumb, only if he stays with her. There was much more which Toby was not prepared to tell.

You certainly have a talent for annihilating people.

Well, I get a lot of practice in the synagogue, Toby said modestly. But don't get off the topic. What's your sudden interest in Gordon?

He's back, but without his wife.

Again! Toby said. It's happened before. Did she leave him?

"How did you guess? Diane walked in on him and Felicia Kahan and caught them in flagrante."

I wonder why he chose Felicia? Toby mused.

Why, isn't she his usual type? Natalie asked.

Felicia's husband is in the History Department. This time he's pissing where he drinks, Toby said.

I'll overlook your vulgarity, Natalie said. Actually it gets worse. Felicia left her three kids in Austin with Barry, and Gordon left Diane and their two kids with her and Daddy. The faculty at Texas U has been busy gossiping.

I won't ask you to divulge your source of information, Toby said. But, why the sudden interest?

Because Gordon and I are playing tennis on Sunday.

Toby felt an unaccustomed pang of jealousy, one she had not felt for years. When did he call? she asked casually.

Around ten. Why?

Just curious. My phone rang just as I was walking out the door and I didn't bother to answer it, figuring it must be for Daniel. Now I'm wondering if it wasn't Gordon.

You're probably right. I thought it strange that he called me. Of course we knew each other, but not as tennis partners.

Knew? In the biblical sense?

Actually he did start up with me once at a faculty party. I made it clear that I wasn't interested in married men.

Well, if you play tennis with him you won't have to worry. He always compartmentalizes his tennis from his affairs, she said with unaccustomed acerbity. I speak from experience, having played with him for years, Toby said while nervously playing with a curly strand of her hair. She added quickly, Tennis, that is.

Natalie snorted, No one would suspect the rabbi's wife of anything but!

Her closest friend did not mean to be cruel, but that was a sore point with Toby. She was very much a woman who still enjoyed being desired. She doesn't have a clue to my past, but surely Natalie should know better than to rub it in! To play safe, she looked at her watch and said, "Nat, it's getting late. I have to pick up food for our Shabbat meal. Daniel expects a four-course dinner before going to the Synagogue.

Aha! I thought it was strange that you told Aaron you had to go home to cook. That would be a first one for you!

Have a nice weekend.

I'll just finish my drink, then be off.

Toby waved to Aaron as she paid for her coffee.

After Toby’s leave-taking, Aaron brought his drink over to where Natalie was sitting and joined her.

******

Anyone home? Toby yelled.

Me, Mom. What did you buy for supper? asked her freckled-faced fourteen-year-old son, Josh.

If you help me with the groceries, you'll find out.

Hint, hint! he grumbled but went out to help. I hope it's not all disgustingly dietetic.

"It's Shabbat, so I splurged on the calories. I even bought a three-layered chocolate cake. She looked closely at him. How come there's no ecstatic response, no jumping for joy? Is anything the matter?"

Promise not to get angry if I tell you? Josh asked, as he helped her carry in the food.

You failed your math test!

No, nothing that serious. Well, it's like this. I borrowed your new Prince to play with Jeremy in the League Tournament.

That's okay. Isn't it a great racquet? I beat Natalie in the quarterfinals this morning and I've moved up to the semi-finals now. How did you do?

Well, not so good. A string broke.

That you call not serious! Do you know how expensive it is to restring gut?

I'll pay for it, Mom.

"We'll talk about that later. Meanwhile, put it in the back seat of my car and let's get Shabbat underway. Where's Sarah?"

She'll be back for dinner. She's at the Goodsteins, playing with Abby.

And is Daddy home yet?

Yeah, he's printing tonight's sermon.

Tell him we'll eat in half an hour. Then come set the table.

The next half-hour was a mad rush to get everything done before Shabbat began.

I caught you! Josh said as she licked her fingers from the gooey cake she was slicing for desert.

Josh, have you finished setting the table? Don't use the Rosenthal—it's just the four of us. I'm going to shower. I'll be ready in ten minutes and expect everyone to be seated at the table when I make my grand entrance.

Sure, Mom! Josh said. Anything else, I can do?

It's a shame about my racquet, but if that's why he's so agreeable, his guilt trip may pay off. She picked out one of her uniforms, a lightweight beige jacket and skirt, a navy top, a pearl necklace with matching earings, put them on the bed and slid open the shower door.

******

The first person on the receiving line at the reception, which followed the prayer service in Synagogue, was Stuart Silverstone. Much to Toby's annoyance, he greeted her by saying, "Rebbetzin, Gut Shabbos." Most of her friends and colleagues knew better than to address her as rebbetzin, a diminutive form meaning the rabbi's wife.

"Shabbat Shalom," Toby said, deliberately using the more Modern Hebrew salutation as a put down.

Lorraine Goodstein was next on line. She was wearing a long beige skirt with delicate violet flowers. She was wearing a matching purple scoop necked blouse. Her long hair was pushed back and combed in a braid. I enjoyed Daniel's sermon very much tonight, she said.

Thank you Lorraine, I'll tell him you said so. Thanks for sending Sarah home on time.

Aaron told me he had drinks with you and Natalie Davis at the club today. He was shocked about how rabid she is about our Synagogue. Can't you get her to tone down? She's your friend, isn't she?

Lorraine was jealous of Toby's close friendship with Natalie. As Toby's oldest friend in Teaneck, Lorraine felt she had an exclusive lien on her affection. Although Toby childishly felt like making a catty comment to her, like telling her that she needed an purple orchid in her hair to complete her outfit—or better yet in her mouth, to shut it up, she restrained herself and answered cautiously.

We're friends. We play tennis. We're working on a joint project. But we never, ever discuss synagogue affairs.

This wasn't quite true since Toby especially enjoyed discussing her synagogue friends with someone safe who was outside the Synagogue crowd. She knew how much Natalie hated what she referred to as organized religion. After the community had turned its Jewish back on her after her divorce, Natalie hated the Synagogue with a vengeance.

Toby and Daniel had to greet about a sixty people in the usual Friday night receiving line. Toby considered this to be her weekly torture chamber. She hated the artificial politeness, the need to remember names and smile. The worst aspect was that her tennis elbow was aggravated by shaking so many hands.

*******

That's over for another week, Daniel said as he carefully hung up his suit. Anything new?

"I had an interesting conversation this afternoon with Natalie about Gordon