Rabbi Gabrielle's Defiance (23 page)

"I don't know, but I can call around. What do
you want?"

"Assorted pizzas for seventy-five hungry and
cold people. No. Make that ninety. Delivered hot and as soon as
possible to 8120 Corporate Dr., Lanham, Maryland. Tell the
deliveryman that the building is dark and cold. It's the building
in the rear, not the one up front with the Politicstoday logo. The
main door is open. Warn the driver it's on the dark side there,
too, but he'll find people on the first floor."

'Ninety?" Chuck sounded incredulous. "That's
some pizza party."

"Charge it to my Visa number. Or if they
won't take it, to my account at the synagogue and I'll repay it
tomorrow. If they won't take either, use your own Visa and I'll
give you a check first thing in the morning. I'll call you as soon
as I get home."

"That's what I love about you, Rabbi Gabby.
My girl's always trying to save the world. Feed the hungry. Shelter
the homeless. Heal the wounded."

"Hey, Chuckyboy," she interrupted. "Don't get
carried away with your metaphor. This isn't manna from heaven, you
know. Just common, everyday pizza, okay?

***

That evening in bed, Gabby's mind kept
returning to Kye's kisses in the cold at
South
Pole
and yearned for more of them. She could no longer hide
from herself a fondness for him. Everything she knew about
successful romances between couples with such different backgrounds
told her to control her emotions. That he was a practicing Baptist
was reason enough, to say nothing about being Korean. And this was
more than her hormones talking. Her career, for a starter. An
affair with a Gentile Asian was certain to upset the delicate
relationship she enjoyed at Ohav Shalom. There wasn't a single
encouraging factor in this relationship. Still she could not ignore
her fascination with Kye, who lived on the cusp of convention. Nor
the stirring in her body that felt wonderful when near him. Sleep
arrived fitfully that evening and only came when she agreed that
sometimes one is compelled to be foolish, to reject conventional
wisdom and listen to new music.

***

As expected, counsel for the prosecution,
Marc Sutterfeld, barred Gabby from Asa's deposition on the grounds
that she would later be deposed herself. That didn't prevent her
escorting Asa from his study to the synagogue boardroom, but when
she went to collect him, he wasn't there, so she waited outside the
boardroom to encourage him where the deposition was scheduled to
convene.

Ohav Shalom's boardroom was originally
designed to inspire a sense of solemnity and purpose and, in this
respect, provided a perfect venue for a legal deposition. Already
in place sat a handsome looking silver-haired woman in a dull gray
pantsuit, adjusting a stenographic machine with a compact keyboard
and an oversized roll of paper. A video technician tucked into a
corner of the room was making final preparations to his
equipment.

Shirley Delinsky, whom Stan Melkin had
assigned responsibility for monitoring this deposition, sat at the
mahogany table with a cell phone to her ear and fumbling through a
folder. Anthony Horace Corcoran, counsel representing Dominion
Mutual Insurance, was scribbling notes on an 8x14 inch legal pad.
Four minutes later, two Morrison and Grand lawyers breezed through
the door with effusive excuses for being tardy. Both had cultivated
the demeanor of extremely busy, Type A personalities.

Asa arrived still later, looking bewildered.
After receiving a quick word of encouragement from Gabby outside he
dashed in. A large swath of whiskers had escaped his morning razor
and his necktie was poorly knotted. Darting eyes looked around the
table for friendly faces. Before he could sit, Shirley Delinsky
rose to escort him outside again for last minute instructions.
Gabby had already retreated to wait in her study.

"Please remember, Rabbi Folkman," Shirley
said in a modulated professional tone, "what Mr. Corcoran and I
emphasized to you by phone. The person being deposed can't win
anything, but he has much to lose. Bad answers now will be cited
later in the courtroom. I'm not worried because you need only tell
exactly what happened with the Morgenstern girls. But please answer
only the questions. The ground rules of this proceeding don't
require you to do any more than respond to the immediate questions.
Above all, don't volunteer information not specifically demanded.
That's what usually does a witness in, so don't be a star by making
good argumentative points. If you do, you'll only help the
Morgenstern attorneys prepare for the trial. Save your ammunition
for the court where your testimony can do some good. And don't let
Mr. Sutterfeld intimidate you into saying something you don't mean.
He has a reputation for being a bully. I'll do what I can to
prevent bad behavior, but my powers in a deposition are limited.
And beware the quick follow-up question that comes immediately on
the heels of another question. Go slow. Take your time. Don't be
afraid to say you don't know the answer or say that you don't
remember. Nobody expects a human being to know or remember
everything."

Asa sniffled nervously.

"And one last thought," she said. "What the
stenographer records on her machine is your testimony for later use
in court. That should drive home a simple point. While Marc
Sutterfeld or his associate will be asking the questions, the
stenographer will be taking down your responses. Think of it as a
triangle. Sutterfeld asks you, and you answer to the stenographer.
You're not required to look at Mr. Sutterfeld. You're free to talk
directly to the stenographer. Sutterfeld won't like that, but hey,
that's his problem, now isn't it?"

When they re-entered the boardroom, Corcoran,
who knew Asa from two previous rehearsals, positioned himself
protectively at his left, while Shirley Delinsky guarded his right
flank. Sutterfeld's associate, a prematurely balding young man not
many years out of law school in an expensive dark silk suit and
mauve silk necktie, sat beside his senior. Sutterfeld, a gaunt,
intense man without an ounce of extra fat and the concaved cheeks
of a dedicated jogger, withdrew a bundle of documents from a black
leather case. He abstained from conversation while shuffling
through notes. A nervous check of his wristwatch indicated he was a
busy man with no time to waste. The stenographer, in her role as an
officer of the court, asked Asa to stand and take an oath, then
Sutterfeld opened with a series of quick introductory
questions.

"Rabbi Folkman, do you have an employment
contract with Ohav Shalom?" he inquired in a clipped interrogator's
voice.

"Yes, I think so."

"Please tell us what you mean when you say
you
think
so."

"When I was appointed I got a letter from the
congregation. Is that a contract?"

"Let me ask the questions, if you please,
Rabbi," Sutterfeld snapped, raising his voice to establish
authority. "We'll have to examine that letter. At the end of the
session we'll give you a list of documents we will need in addition
to those already supplied by the congregation. This letter will be
one of them. Are there any other employment agreements, either
written or oral?"

He thought about that and shook his head
negatively.

"Rabbi, you must answer verbally since
everything goes down on the record," Sutterfeld said, pasting a
plastic smile on his face and glancing around the room to let
everybody know he was in charge. "For the record, Rabbi Folkman,
answer the question verbally."

"No."

"Thank you. Now tell us specifically if there
are any other documents regarding your duties at Congregation Ohav
Shalom."

"None that I'm aware of."

"Please tell us what you do as Associate
Rabbi in this synagogue."

"How about conducting religious ceremonies?
Supervising the religious school? Teaching students and adults?
Officiating at life-cycle events, such as circumcisions, weddings,
funerals, Bar and Bat Mitzvah ceremonies? Visiting the sick?
Representing the Jewish community at ecumenical events? Writing
sermons and studying Torah? Oh, yes, I must also help plan social
and education programs. And I fill in for Rabbi Lewyn when she's
busy. I also interview new members. Counsel the depressed and sick.
That sort of thing."

"It sounds as if you're not certain and are
asking me what your duties should be. Please answer in declarative
sentences. If I can assume you were outlining the scope of your
duties, that's a lot. I never sat down to think about how many
things a rabbi might do, but that's quite an impressive list. It
must be exhausting, right?"

Asa had been warned about trick questions and
this one sounded suspicious. "Sometimes. Yes, but you get used to
the pressure. There's never enough time to get all your work
done."

"Would you describe this as
intense
pressure
?"

"Yes. But not all the time."

"Airline pilots and physicians argue that
under daily stress, they're inclined to make mistakes that affect
their passengers and patients. Would you say that the same goes for
you?"

Asa attempted to navigate through the
question without making an error. "It's stressful, but not the type
of stress that affects my ability to function on the job."

"Please tell me why this type of stress does
not cause you to make mistakes, when it would in other
professionals."

Asa looked to Shirley, whose lips remained
sealed but whose eyes were ice. He expected her to interrupt but
she didn't. Horace Corcoran proved no more helpful. "I don't know.
I never gave it any thought until you asked. But I'm sure my
performance doesn't suffer under pressure and it might even
improve."

"Now that's hard to believe even for one as
gullible as myself, Rabbi. But I won't belabor the question at this
moment. I will, however, come back to it in a minute and at that
time ask you to make a guess. Now is it true that you have primary
responsibility for the religious school while Rabbi Lewyn focuses
on other matters?"

"Rabbi Lewyn and I share responsibilities in
the religious school."

"Tell us what you do there."

"I work with the principal, Ziporah
Kleindeinst, who frees me from all administrative duties so I can
spend time with the kids, teaching and interacting. There's rarely
a Sunday when I'm not teaching in one class or another."

"And did you teach in the fifth grade class
of Deborah Seligman, on the morning of November 24th?"

"Yes, sir. I think so."

Sutterfeld's eyes rose over his thin-rimmed
round glasses. "Once again, we'll need something more specific than
that you
think
so. Ms. Seligman's class
curriculum called for a half hour with the rabbi. Are you
suggesting that was Rabbi Lewyn and not yourself?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I think I
taught in that class. But we were in and out of many classes before
Chanukah."

"Was Tybee Morgenstern in Ms. Seligman's
class?"

"Yes."

"And did you also teach in Howard Tillian's
seventh grade on the same day?"

"As I said, I taught in many classes before
Chanukah and didn't keep a record."

Sutterfeld dropped his chin over a page of
notes, before sharply lifting it to view Asa. "Is it fair to say
that you came in contact with the Morgenstern girls through the
religious school?"

Asa felt being led by the questioning but saw
no alternative. "Yes. I guess you could say that."

"Any other contact with these girls?"

"Yes," his voice was low and gravely.

"Can you explain to us what that contact
was?"

"In the classes I covered history of the
Maccabees. I also talked with the kids about the holiday
celebrations."

"And do you drink the wine, too?"

"No alcoholic wine if that's what you have in
mind. For the kids, grape juice works just fine. We don't serve
alcoholic beverages of any kind to the kids."

"I didn't suggest that, Rabbi. And do you
also light candles?"

Asa was slow to answer, recalling Shirley
Delinsky's counsel not to offer unsolicited information. "Yes,"
then fell silent.

"So," Sutterfeld became animated as if
unearthing a great discovery, "you stand before class and
physically light Chanukah candles. Is that right?"

"Not always. Sometimes the teacher ignites
the matches and sometimes I do."

"Do the children also use matches?"

"Absolutely. How else are they going to
learn?"

"At all ages?"

"No. As soon as their teacher believes they
are old enough."

"Are eight and ten, the ages of Tybee and
Janean Morgenstern, old enough for this practice?"

Asa didn't appreciate Sutterfeld's
inquisitional tone. "Sometimes."

"How do you know that?"

"I haven't given thought to the subject. I
guess by their hand coordination and general maturity."

Sutterfeld pouted for dramatic effect while
listening to the stenographer peck away at her machine. When the
clicking paused, he resumed. "Now let me get this straight, Rabbi.
You let children use matches on the synagogue premises, but you
haven't any established policy about who is too young to
participate? You evidently don't regard matches as dangerous, do
you?"

Asa was uncertain how to continue and
received no sign from Corcoran. "Well, you could say… maybe under
certain conditions. The question is ridiculous."

Sutterfeld growled. "Rabbi Folkman, I don't
ask ridiculous questions. Your job is not to pass judgment on the
quality of my inquiries, but simply to answer them.
Understand?"

"Is that a question?"

"Yes, it is. Do you understand who is being
deposed here and what your obligations are?"

With a pointed finger at Sutterfeld, Shirley
signaled to the video technician that she specifically wished him
to train his camera on the prosecution team, then barked. "Marc,
you're talking to a distinguished member of the clergy who deserves
more courtesy. I demand that you ask your questions respectfully
and stop goading Rabbi Forkman."