That Day the Rabbi Left Town (22 page)

“All right.” He went to the counter, was given a mug of coffee, and returned to join Lanigan at the table. “The missus said you wanted to talk to me because I went to see Kent the day before Thanksgiving. So I did, but I didn't see him.”

“What did you go for?”

“For money, what else?”

“He owed you?”

“Nah.” Donofrio squirmed in his seat as he tried to explain. “It's like this: He's an old geezer, and Lorraine, and I guess me and Josephine, are the only family he's got. So here he is living in this big house, a regular mansion, in the Back Bay in Boston. And here are we, just barely managing. So what's he going to do with all his money? Give it to the college? He's got nobody else.

“So you know how it is when you're running a business. Something comes up; something doesn't go right.”

“And if things didn't go right, you'd come to see him and he'd give you money? What kind of money?”

“Oh, a couple of hundred. Once he gave us a thousand.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, the missus and me. For the shop.”

“Oh, I see. You'd have—”

“Like a plumber's bill, or once it was the oil.”

“You'd be short and you'd go to see him, and he'd help you out.”

“That's right. Mostly for the shop, but once it was for the dentist for the missus.”

“And why did you go to see him last Wednesday?”

“You seen the shop. Look at this street. What kind of trade can we draw? All we get is a bunch of old ladies, and that's because they've been with us for years. So I wanted to talk to him about modernizing the place; maybe do some advertising.”

“I see, and what time did you get there last Wednesday?”

“Let's see, I took the three-forty from Lynn, which gets into North station at four-o-two. Then the streetcar to Kenmore. Must've been around a little after four. I rang the bell and I knocked. I waited around about five minutes, thinking he might be in the john or something. Then I went to his office in the school, thinking he might still be there. A guy there said he was going to some fancy party up at Breverton, and maybe he started out already. So I went back to the house and rang again. Again no answer. So I figured he'd gone off and I went away.”

“And you came back here to Lynn?”

“Well, I had to grab a bite of supper, so I went to the North End where I got a lot of friends, and just hung around for a while.”

“So you got home when?”

“Pretty late, I guess. Maybe around eleven. Look, Chief, I got to get back. I got somebody coming in a couple of minutes.”

“All right.” And Lanigan nodded in dismissal.

Chapter 34

Al Bergson rapped on the table with his knuckles and said, “All right, let's come to order.”

“Shouldn't we wait for the rabbi?” asked Norman Salzman. “He was at the minyan, so he should be along pretty soon.”

“No, he won't be coming today,” said Bergson. “He thought we might be talking about him and the business of the body in the snow, and he didn't want to hamper our discussion.”

“That's one sweet guy,” said Irving Cohen.

“Maybe he didn't want us to—to maybe ask him questions about it,” suggested Dave Block, who was inclined to be cynical.

“The secretary will read the minutes,” Bergson announced, to stop further discussion.

The secretary read the minutes: “The meeting was called to order at nine-o-five—”

“Discussion.”

“What's to discuss? Nothing happened.”

“Oh yeah? How about the roof? Wasn't the Building Committee supposed to get bids to repair the roof?”

“So that comes in Committee Reports.”

“Seems to me there was a long discussion about this Purim party the Sisterhood is planning.”

“Yeah, but nothing was decided.”

“But the secretary ought to mention there was a discussion.”

“That was the week before,” said the secretary, “and it was in the minutes of last week's meeting.”

“Oh, I was absent last week. I had to go to New York, and I—”

“Hey, let's get on with the meeting. You can tell us about your adventures in the Big Apple after the meeting.”

It was after ten o'clock when they got through with Old Business. Not that there was any old business to discuss, but as always, they found it pleasant to just sit around and talk. But finally Bergson was able to bring up the matter that concerned him. “Rabbi Selig came to see me about a bunch of phone calls he'd received.”

“Yeah, I got some, too,” said Larry Sobel, who was in the real estate business. “These guys were Gentiles. There were two of them, guys I showed some properties to. One said I should be proud of my rabbi, and the other said he didn't blame him.”

“And what did you say?” asked Bergson.

“Well, I thanked them, but then I said I didn't know what they were talking about. One of them just laughed and hung up, but the other said that he could understand the rabbi pushing the guy over the ledge because he'd made a pass at the rabbi's wife.”

Bergson nodded. “Anybody else get any calls?”

Three raised their hands. One said, “I got a call from a woman who said we ought to be ashamed to have a minister who was a murderer.”

“Anybody else get any hostile calls?” asked Bergson.

“A guy called me, wouldn't give his name, but said he could understand how the rabbi felt, but that as a man of God, he didn't think he ought to resort to violence.”

“And what did you say?”

“Pretty much what Larry said, that I didn't know what he was talking about. And he said, ‘Aw, c'mon,' and hung up.”

“Anybody else?” asked Bergson.

Andy Taitelbaum raised a timid hand. “I got a call from a fellow I went to school with. I bump into him every now and then, but he's never called me before. We talked for a couple minutes. You know, just kidded around, and then he says, ‘I saw your rabbi jogging the other day. He's pretty good.'”

“And?”

“That's all. He says, ‘Gimme a ring sometime, Andy.' And he hangs up.”

“So he didn't say anything.”

“I figure he thought maybe
I
would.”

“Maybe he was ribbing you about your rabbi running around in shorts or a sweat suit.”

“What's wrong with the rabbi jogging in a sweat suit?”

“Would you go to a doctor or even a lawyer if he wore Levi's; in his office, I mean?”

“Yeah, but Rabbi Selig doesn't wear a sweat suit when he comes to the temple.”

Bergson rapped on the table. “All right, all right, let's get back to what this meeting is supposed to be about. This business may fade away and die out, or it may get worse and more of you might get phone calls. So let me set the record straight and tell you what happened as near as we can make out. First of all, keep in mind that Rabbi Selig had nothing to do with the guy's death, neither deliberate, nor by accident. So anybody who calls to tell you they admire the rabbi for what he did, you tell them flat out that he did nothing.

“This guy seems to have started out from Boston to go to a formal wedding reception in Breverton. Then, either his car broke down, or he parked it because the snow was getting heavier and he took the bus. Instead of taking the Breverton bus, which goes up the State Road, he took the Barnard's Crossing bus, which goes up the old Boston Road. And he got off at the rabbi's driveway because he had a friend living on Evans Road where he used to visit during the summer. He'd use the right-of-way alongside the rabbi's house to get to his friend's house. He was an old man and probably had a heart attack going up the hill on a cold, snowy day, and he fell off.

“Now, the rabbi plowed his driveway around two o'clock because the rebbetzin had to go to Salem where she was taking a course. Chances are the guy got off the bus around five, maybe a little after. And if he had a heart attack and fell, he got covered by the falling snow in a matter of fifteen minutes or a half hour at the most.”

“Yeah, but the rabbi plowed again, didn't he?”

“That's right. The rebbetzin called to tell him she was bringing some people home for coffee and doughnuts around half past seven or eight. Since there would probably be several cars, the rabbi plowed the terrace at the head of his driveway, and went over the driveway again: And some of that plowed snow fell on this guy Kent, who was already covered. So if anyone calls to tell you what a great guy the rabbi is for hitting back because his wife was insulted, you tell him the rabbi did no such thing. Get it? Because in the long run it could hurt us with the community.”

“Still, you got to admit that if we had a rabbi like Rabbi Small, a scholarly type, we wouldn't get any of this flak,” said Jerry Andleman.

“Oh no? Well, for your information,” said Taitelbaum, “my father told me that the first year Small was here, a girl's body was found in the bushes beyond the parking lot, and for a while it was thought that Small had something to do with it.”

Chapter 35

Chief Lanigan sat at his desk in the station house and doodled on a pad as he thought about Professor Miller and his mother. Although he had recorded in his journal the occasion of his visits to the Miller house, he had made no notes on what had taken place while he was there. Thinking about it now, it seemed to him that Mrs. Miller was more supportive of Kent than her son had been. He wondered idly if it was because she was more emotional. Or was she perhaps personally involved with the man? He could not very well ask her, but it occurred to him that he might ask Ada Bronson since she “helped out” at the Millers' frequently.

He called out to the desk sergeant to have Sergeant Dunstable come in. Dunstable thought of himself as Detective Sergeant Dunstable because he did not wear a uniform and carried a pocket badge. Not that he did any undercover work; but it was simply useful to have someone who could make a call, or an inquiry, or deliver a message without having it appear to be a police matter.

“You know Ada Bronson?” Lanigan asked when the sergeant entered.

“Sure, Jim Bronson's wife.”

“Well, find out where she is now. If she's home or where she's helping out.”

“You want to see her, Chief? Should I bring her in, if she's free, I mean?”

“Yes, I want to talk to her, but don't bring her in. If she's free, ask her if she'd mind stopping by.”

“Gotcha, Chief.”

She came by shortly before noon. She was a woman of fifty, heavyset but surprisingly agile. Lumpy chin and almost lipless mouth were set in a worried frown. “Is it about Jim?” she asked.

“No, Ada,” Lanigan said kindly. “Sit down, won't you. I want to ask you about last Wednesday. You were at the Millers', weren't you?”

“That's right. I was there all day on account it was before Thanksgiving. I got there maybe ten o'clock and made the missus her breakfast. Then I did some shopping and then I made us some lunch.”

“But later in the afternoon—” Lanigan suggested.

“Oh, we was cooking and baking all afternoon. Then a little after five—see, I was listening to the early news at five—the phone rang, and it was the professor. He wanted to talk to his ma, but when I told him she was lying down, he said not to disturb her. Then he asked if Professor Kent had arrived, and I told him no. He said he must have gone straight to Breverton. Then he said he was taking the five thirty-two and would be home a little after six. See, he didn't drive into Boston, just to Swampscott, and took the train there on account of the snow.”

“And what time did he get home?”

“Like he said, a little after six. But then just after he took his coat off, he was all upset because he'd left his bag on the train. And that upset the missus because she thought it was this fancy attaché case she'd given him last Christmas. But he said no, it was the old briefcase with the broken strap, that he wouldn't take the new case in this kind of weather. So then he had the missus look up the North station number and he phoned and told them he'd left his case on the train, and they said the conductor would take care of it when the train got to Gloucester. But he was terribly upset about it, and because he was, she was.”

“And did the conductor find it? Do you know?”

“Yeah. I met the missus in the market Friday and she said he'd called and they had it. He wanted to go in and get it, but she wouldn't let him because he'd developed this terribly bad cold. Besides, there was no sense to it because if it was something he wanted to work on during the vacation, it was almost over.”

“You've seen it, the bag, I mean?”

“Well, I never seen it, but over the phone he said it had his initials on it.”

“All right, I guess he must have kept it in the trunk of his car. Were they expecting Professor Kent for Thanksgiving dinner? And were they disappointed when he didn't show?”

“Well, they were and they weren't. See, they thought he might drive down when the affair at the country club was over, and he'd stay the night and then have dinner with them the next day, and maybe stay until Monday morning. Which is why the missus had me do the guest room real nice. But they thought one of his fancy friends might invite him, and then he wouldn't come down.”

“I see. And weren't they surprised when he didn't call to let them know one way or another?”

“Oh, he never calls. He just comes.”

“And don't the Millers mind?”

“Well, they're from out west, you know, where I guess visiting is kind of free and easy. Besides, Professor Miller is a very obliging fellow. Before Professor Kent started coming to the house weekends, there was another professor who was engaged to a girl in town here, out in Charleton Park, and he'd go there for the weekend. Well, Professor Miller would drive him out there Friday afternoon and then go out there Monday morning to take him into Boston. Now, Charleton Park is quite a bit out of his way. It means going to Abbot Road and then driving around all those curvy streets in Charleton Park, but he didn't seem to mind. What's more, this fellow had a nine-o'clock class on Monday morning, and Professor Miller didn't have to get in until ten, but he'd get up early so as to get him in to his class on time.”