Run You Down Read Online Free PDF

A man in work boots and paint-splattered jeans is sitting at the counter with a beer and the Trib in front of him. A couple, both men, one wearing dramatic eye makeup, whisper across a table along the back wall. Saul and I choose a booth by the west-facing window looking out at the Intrepid docked in the Hudson. It was so cold this winter there were ice floes in the river. One of the Trib photogs snapped a shot of an eagle on one, and it ran with a story about the record-breaking temperatures. The ice is gone now, and with the heat cranking in the diner and the sun shining outside I can almost imagine what it might be like when the weather finally gets warmer.
    I asked Saul to come with me because I figured Levi would be more comfortable talking to me with another man present. Other than Saul, all of my sources in the Haredi world have been female. I’m not sure if that’s because men are actually more reluctant to speak to outsiders, or if they’re just unpracticed in interacting with women they aren’t married to. Maybe a little of both.
    I see a man in Hasidic dress coming up the block, his head bowed against the wind off the water, one hand pressed down on his tall black hat, sidecurls blown horizontal behind his head. When he comes through the door he looks around expectantly. I wave and Saul stands. They shake hands. I know enough not to extend mine for a greeting. Levi is a good-looking man. Short, with eyes so dark they almost appear black, and a full beard covering half his face. He sits down next to Saul and the waiter comes over with a menu.
    “Just tea, please,” says Levi, taking a Kleenex from his pocket. He blows his nose.
    “Thank you for meeting us,” I say. “I’m sorry about your wife.”
    Levi nods. “Thank you,” he says. He puts his Kleenex back in his pocket and looks at me. “What do you need to know?”
    “Well, Saul said you had some questions about Pessie’s death.”
    “I have lots of questions. Although I seem to be the only one.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “My wife should not be dead,” he says. “She was twenty-two years old. She was a mother. Her family seems to think it was…” He shakes his head. “I do not understand them.”
    I open my notebook. “Can you tell me how she died?”
    “That is what I am trying to find out.”
    I’m not making myself clear. “I mean…”
    “Our son, Chaim, was scheduled to go to the doctor for a checkup. A woman from the office called me at work and said that they had missed the appointment. I called Pessie, but she did not answer her phone. I thought something had happened, perhaps with her father. He has diabetes and Pessie’s mother often calls her to help with his insulin. But when I got home…” He pauses. “I could hear Chaim crying from outside the front door. When I got inside I saw he was strapped into his car seat, just sitting there on the floor in his dirty diaper. Pessie would never have left him like that. I heard the water running in the bathroom. The door was closed. She was in the bathtub.”
    Levi rubs his hand across his face. I look at Saul, who raises his eyebrows as if to say, your move. What’s my next question? To me, dying in a bathtub conjures up images of slit writs, or maybe an overdose. Should I ask if he saw blood? Or vomit? Or spilled pills? I decide to wait.
    “I called 911,” he continues. “And Pessie’s mother. She called the chevra kadisha .” I must look like I don’t understand him, because he translates. “The burial society.” Ah. “The Roseville officer arrived first. He was very professional. He asked me if I had touched her, and when I said no he took some photographs. But when Pessie’s family and the chevra kadisha arrived…” Levi purses his lips, like he’s trying to press back whatever emotion is threatening to pop out. “There was an argument about who would take the body, and when Pessie’s mother learned the officer had taken photographs she became hysterical.