SINK LIKE A STONE: A REBECCA STONE MYSTERY

Chapter 5

Copyright (c) 2015 Phyllis Zimbler Miller

All rights reserved.

     Later in the afternoon Rebecca drove onto Forest Lawn from Barham, approaching the Mount Sinai cemetery. While at lunch with Josh she'd checked her emails and found the announcement of Helene's funeral that afternoon.

      She had then called Henry Brach and learned that, due to the Jewish tradition of buying the dead as soon as possible, the autopsy had been done and the body released for burial.

      Josh had not come with her to the funeral. As a Cohen, a descendant of the ancient priestly family of the Israelites, the prohibitions against coming into contact with a dead body – except for a close member of the immediate family of the Cohen – still held. That is, the prohibitions were still observed by Orthodox Jews, and although Josh wasn't Orthodox, he still tended to stay away from funerals and cemeteries. He would go with her tonight to pay a shiva call – the visit to comfort the family members during the first days following a death.

      Having parked her car in the lot to which she'd been directed, Rebecca entered the stand-alone chapel. As she entered, she spotted Elizabeth Silverstein motioning for Rebecca to come over.

      Rebecca slid onto the wooden bench next to Elizabeth, sliding close to allow others to have seats. As Helene was a native Los Angeleno the crowd could be large.

      The plain wooden coffin, a Jewish custom, had no flowers surrounding it, another Jewish custom. At the conclusion of the funeral there would probably be an announcement where to make donations in Helene's memory.

      Rebecca resisted the urge to reach into her purse for the small notebook she kept there. She had gotten here somewhat early to have a better view of who else attended. She would try to remember who was here and, more importantly, who she didn't see -- Adam Richman among the latter.

      Adam had been introduced to Rebecca by Helene at a film event reception at The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences on Wilshire in Beverly Hills. He had those boyish good looks and movie industry clothing that would probably make him distinctive in this crowd of conservatively dressed people. But in fairness to her opinion that Adam Richman wasn't here, her seat next to Elizabeth at the back of the chapel made it difficult to recognize people from the back of their heads.

      Rebecca's friend Rabbi Nancy Levine stood at the front of the chapel. Rebecca looked around for Nancy's husband Joel Wald but didn't see him. Perhaps he was home with their two children.

      Nancy started the service, and after the initial prayers, spoke about Helene. Apparently they had known each other first at UCLA.

      Suddenly Rebecca's mind switched to the question of suicide. Had the coroner ruled that Helene's death was not a suicide, in which case there was no question about Helene being buried in a Jewish cemetery. Or had the death been ruled a suicide and a legal way around the prohibition against burial had been found in Helene's case? Perhaps, if the sleeping pills were self-administered, an accidental death rather than a purposeful one.

      Rebecca looked around the chapel. Why did she feel that the murderer, if there were one, was one of the luncheon guests? Others might have known about Helene sleeping in her sukkah. Still, coming to lunch would give the murderer a legitimate way of watching the proceedings surrounding the discovery of Helene's body. If Rebecca hadn't walked ahead of the other guests, all the guests together would have discovered the body.

      Or perhaps the murderer had been a luncheon guest who didn't show up? While the table hadn't yet been set for the guests, Rebecca remembered overhearing a police officer saying that dishes and glasses had been stacked on a metal tray in the kitchen. Helene must have made some preparations the evening before – which would indicate murder rather than suicide. Could Rebecca find out how many dishes and glasses had been set out?

      At the conclusion of the service the official mourners, members of Helene's family presumably, were led out to the waiting cars. The others filed out row by row, directed by men in dark suits, back row to front row. They got in their own cars and followed the slow procession up the hill, where they parked along the side of the winding road.

      Rebecca got out of her car and followed the others up the incline, her heels sticking in the moist ground underneath. This appeared to be a newly opened section of the cemetery – no graves to try avoiding stepping on until they reached the level ground where a hole gaped at them.

      Pamela Tannenbaum and Henry Brach stood off to one side, and Rebecca joined them. She didn't need a ringside seat for this part. Instead she looked out over the Ventura freeway to the San Fernando Valley beyond.

       Now the coffin was lowed into the grave and people lined up to take their turn shoveling dirt onto the coffin, fulfilling the biblical injunction of returning to the dust.

      While they waited their turn, Henry repeated the details of the shiva minyans to Pamela. The address of the shiva house and the time for evening and morning prayer services had been announced at the end of the chapel service, but apparently Pamela hadn't heard all the information.

      Suddenly Rebecca knew what had been bothering her since she had found Helene's body.

      On Yom Kippur afternoon at the end of the additional service when the congregation took a two-hour break before starting the afternoon and concluding services, Rebecca and Helene had been exiting the chapel at the same time. They had acknowledged each other with the traditional Hebrew greeting for Yom Kippur – that each should be sealed in the Book of Life.

     As they walked out, Helene had talked about moral responsibility and the need to do what was right in God's eyes even if that act could hurt someone. Rebecca hadn't really been listening, more intent on getting home for a nap to help her fasting. She had mumbled empathetic sounds and parted from Helene when they left the building.

     Why had Rebecca been so preoccupied she hadn't paid attention to Helene. Now it was too late.

     She took the spade handed to her by Henry and plunged it into the mound of dirt. Then she threw the dirt onto the coffin, already overlaid with the dirt offerings of others. She felt tears forming in her eyes.

     "I'm sorry," she whispered to Helene. "Please forgive me. I'll try to find out the truth."

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SINK LIKE A STONE is the second Rebecca Stone mystery novel. The first, CAST THE FIRST STONE, is available on Amazon as are two Rebecca Stone mystery short stories in TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. See www.amazon.com/author/phylliszimblermiller