Harry Kemelman - Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home

Lynn, who were the sole agents. Fortunately, I remembered that Bellmore was originally Bell and Morehead and that John Morehead lives here in town. So I called him and he told me that he was supposed to meet a group who were interested in buying the property at the house at half past eight, that he had given the key to one of them because something had come up and he wouldn’t be able to meet them.”

“Did he say who they were?”

“He didn’t know, except the man he gave the key to. He was the only one he’d be dealing with, anyway.”

“And who was that?”

“Meyer Paff. He’s the—”

“Yeah, I know, the bowling alley man.”

“Sure. He’s got one in Lynn and Revere, all over the map, as far up as Gloucester.”

Lanigan’s eyes were shining. “And just the other day Kevin O’Connor called me to ask what I knew about him. The Lynn police had been watching that alley of his for pot.”

“Hell, they watch every place where kids hang around, and kids hang around bowling alleys.”

“Yes, but look here. We find pot on Moose, and he’s dead. And we find there’s a witness that can swear that earlier in the day he visited this guy Wilcox in Boston. And Wilcox was suspected of dealing in pot. And he’s dead. And where do we find Moose? In Hillson House. And now here’s Meyer Paff, who owns a place that the Lynn police suspect is a distribution point for pot. And Moose Carter works for Paff. And Meyer Paff has a key to Hillson House. And what’s more, he had an appointment to meet some people there tonight.”

“Yeah, but most of that is just coincidence.”

“Sure, and it was just the coincidence of both having some connection with pot that led me to call the Boston police, which is how we found out that Moose had been to see this Wilcox earlier in the day. Have you called Paff yet?”

Through his pale-blue, watery eyes Lieutenant Jennings looked reproachfully at his chief. “I just finished talking to John Morehead, Hugh.”

“All right. That’s fine. Go dig him up.”

“You mean tonight? Right now?”

“Sure. Bring him down and let him make a statement. He’ll sleep better for it.”

Jennings grinned. “Gotcha.”

Chief Lanigan was startled when he saw his visitor. “You psychic or something. Rabbi?”

“What do you mean?”

Lanigan’s broad red face relaxed in an easy smile. He ran a hand through his short white hair and eased back in his swivel chair. Although the smile remained on his face, his candid blue eyes were guarded. “Always happy to see you, you know that, but I’m sure you wouldn’t come down to the station on a rainy Monday night just to say hello. Or were you passing by?”

“I’m here about Moose Carter. His father—”

“Don’t tell me Carter is a member of your congregation.” said Lanigan with a grin. “You know, you have no standing in the matter. Rabbi.”

“I’m here at his request. Surely that gives me some position.”

“Some, but not enough.” His grin broadened.

The rabbi could not understand Lanigan’s attitude, but he plunged ahead. “You told Carter that his son had died of alcohol poisoning. All right, he accepts your finding, and now all he wants is to give him proper burial. As I understand it, you refuse to surrender the body, and you hinted to him that you might order an autopsy. He has strong principles on the matter. His religious convictions are opposed to the idea.”

“Religious convictions? Hell, the guy’s a nut.”

“He’s not as crazy as you think. He would not oppose an autopsy if it meant finding out the cause of death, but here you know the cause of the death.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. Rabbi. I told him I thought it was alcohol poisoning, but I didn’t say we were certain. There’s an awful lot that needs explaining. Did you know the boy?”

The rabbi shook his head.

“He was a big boy, over two hundred pounds, and alcohol poisoning, you know, depends a good deal on body size. It takes more of the stuff to have the same effect on a big man than it would on a little man. The wav it works—if you take enough of it and you take it fast enough before the body can get rid of it—the nerve controlling the breathing apparatus is paralyzed, and you’re asphyxiated. And on the basis of the available evidence, it just doesn’t look as if he had enough to kill him. And there are other angles. Come with me, and I’ll show you something.”

He led the way into a small room off the front entrance. From the filing cabinet he drew a large manila envelope and emptied its contents on a table. He held up a plastic tobacco pouch, unrolled it, and passed it to the rabbi. “What do you think of that?”

The rabbi sniffed at it and then took a pinch of the greenish flakes. Gingerly he touched it with the tip of his tongue.

“Careful. Rabbi, you’re breaking the law.”

“Then this is—”

“Grass, pot. Mary Jane, marihuana. We found that in Moose’s trouser pocket. And here’s his wallet.” He held it by a corner and shook it in front of the rabbi’s face. “It contains two crisp new twenty-dollar bills. Rabbi. Now ask me what makes them so interesting.”

“All right, what makes them so interesting?”

“Because up until around noon today Moose Carter didn’t have a dime. He was going into Boston, and he had to borrow a couple of dollars from his mother for bus fare.”

“You mean he’s been selling this stuff?”

“Maybe. But what makes it really interesting is that earlier today a man was murdered in Boston, in the South End, name of Wilcox. It came over the teletype. Boston narcotics squad had been suspicious of him for some time. Just before closing time, he had cashed a check at the local branch of his bank for five hundred dollars and got it in crisp new twenties. But when you get your money in new bills, the numbers run consecutively. So when we found the grass on Moose. I called the Boston police on he chance that there might be a connection. And that’s when we found out about the money. Wilcox had four hundred and sixty dollars on him when he was found, and the two bills that Moose had were the next two numbers.”

“You mean that Moose murdered this Wilcox?”

“No. As a matter of fact we know that he didn’t, because Wilcox was alive after Moose was seen to leave.”

“Then it is definite that Moose went there?”

“The two twenty-dollar bills pretty much prove that.” said Lanigan drily. “That would be proof enough for me.”

“And yet, he could have got them from whoever got them from Wilcox.”

“Could have but didn’t. Boston has an eyewitness that saw Moose going to visit Wilcox. So you can understand why I’m not releasing the body just yet.”

The rabbi nodded slowly.

“All right.” Once again Lanigan was grinning. “And now ask me how we found Moose in the first place.”

“Go on.” For some reason the rabbi was apprehensive.

“We got a call from the next door neighbor, man named Begg, who said he had seen a light in Hillson House. So we sent the cruising car around to check it out, and they got there just in time to catch a couple of young fellows coming out. They had a car parked in front of the house, and there was a young girl behind the wheel. Now they might interest you. Rabbi, because one of them is the son of the president of your temple, and the other two. William Jacobs and Diane Epstein, are also your people.”

You bothered about something, lover?” asked Samantha as she sipped her coffee.

“Troubled? No. Why?”

“Well, you’ve been pretty quiet all evening.”

“Oh, I was just wondering how Ben made out with the rabbi.” said Roger Epstein. “I thought he might call and tell me about it.”