Free The Bar Mitzvah Murder by Lee Harris Page B

burning everywhere, and I lit my usual ones, in memory of my parents and Aunt Meg. How pleased they would be to know where I was today. And how sad that they had not lived to see it for themselves.
    There was so much more—the Via Dolorosa, several stations of the cross, long, narrow covered streets through which Arab women walked in their long dresses with heads covered, hundreds of shops selling all kinds of things from the Mideast. Mel and I both bought saffron at a wonderful-smelling spice store so we could make paella when we returned. (Mel promised to show me how to do it.) The spices were all in open sacks and were scooped out and weighed to order. Besides smelling very fresh and pungent, they cost much less than we were accustomed to at home.
    There were shops selling fine jewelry and shops selling less expensive jewelry. We found the Armenian potter’s shop and went inside. It was a shop with a few small rooms, walls and floors of stone, and beautiful, colorful handmade pottery. Mel found the set of eight different plates that she had been looking for, and I got a wonderful bowl that we could use for fruit or salad or just leave on a table to look beautiful.
    Raouf took us to churches with fine tile work on the floors and walls. He saw to it that aggressive shopkeepers kept their distance, and I realized I was glad we were accompanied by a man. Between twelve and one we stopped at an Arab-run restaurant for lunch. Mel and I ordered several small salads and shared them while Raouf selected his own fare. We treated him; I’m sure we didn’t have to, but we appreciated him so much, it was hard to express.
    By the time the tour was coming to an end, Mel and I had both acquired a number of small bags with pottery, olive wood carvings, spices, and some other things we would enjoy at home for a long time. The last place we visited was the Cardo. This ancient Roman street of shops a couple of stories below street level had been unearthed recently by archaeologists working over a period of years. Today these modern shops sold jewelry and interesting clothing, small embroidered bags, silk, and lace. When we reached the end, we were once again in sunlight. We had walked through all four quarters of the Old City, the Jewish, the Muslim, the Christian, and the Armenian. We had passed the Citadel, which Raouf suggested we visit at another time, and we had seen more than I could remember without prompting.
    Raouf drove us to my hotel, and Mel and I sat in the courtyard over coffee and dessert and talked about what a wonderful day it had been.
    â€œMy cinnamon smells fantastic,” Mel said, sticking her nose into a brown paper bag. “I wish I’d gotten more spices. But that’s what I always say when it’s too late.”
    â€œI’m looking forward to making paella. Jack and I had it once somewhere in New York and I remember how yellow the rice was. This has just been an incredible day.”
    â€œI’ve seen so many pictures of the wall. It’s hard to believe I’ve actually been there. You must feel the same way about your church.”
    â€œI do. I’ll write a note to Joseph tonight and tell her. I hope she’s able to visit here someday.”
    â€œWhat are you guys doing over the weekend?”
    â€œOh, Mel, they don’t have weekends here. Everything closes early on Friday for the sabbath, but Sunday is a workday. I’m afraid all we’ll have is Friday afternoon and Saturday. Jack wants to drive around and see some other parts of the country.”
    â€œIt’s a small country. You can do that.”
    â€œWhat are we going to do about Cousin Gabe?”
    Mel shrugged. “I think we’ve done a lot, more probably than the police. I’d let them take it from here. Unless you have some ideas.”
    â€œI always have ideas. Think about Judy Silverman. What’s going on there?”
    â€œChris, Judy didn’t kill her father. She may