Harry Kemelman - Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home

“Come on, Pearl, you’re making a big deal—do you think if Bill wants to take a girl out, he’s going to bother about what temple her folks go to?”

“No,” she said, “but he’ll have less chance of meeting them.”

“Well, a temple is not a matrimonial bureau.”

“There are lots worse things that it could be, especially in a Yankee town like Barnard’s Crossing. Why do you suppose the Sisterhood works so hard to make a go of it? You think it’s so that you men can go there two or three times a year to mumble your prayers? We put on bazaars, and we put on shows. We have luncheons and brunches and whatnot. We have a big educational program. And at the end of the year, we hand the temple organization a whopping big check. We do it. I suppose, because some of it is fun and keeps us busy. But Marjie Arons does it partly to increase the chances of her Sue marrying a Jewish boy, and I do it to help insure that Bill marries a Jewish girl.”

“The rabbi—”

“He doesn’t know any more about it than you do. He’s a man, too. I’ll bet the rebbitzin understands though.”

“I see.” Jacobs said with a laugh. “And how long have you girls been plotting? When do you plan to take over?”

“Who needs it? You men want to run things? Go ahead. Big shots! You’re like kids with a toy. You play with it, and then you get tired of it and leave it lying around or break it. You go ahead and plan and appoint committees, take votes, pass resolutions, make—what did Ben Gorfinkle call it?—‘an active voice for social reform in the community’ or what the rabbi is always talking about, ‘a house of study and prayer’—but don’t break it. Because it isn’t only for you; it’s for us—and for the kids.”

“I see, so the kids are in on it, too?” he asked sarcastically.

“Don’t run down the kids. Sometimes they show more sense than their parents. Our Bill is no fool. He was talking to me about it. He was concerned that the rabbi might leave. Now the kids like him and respect him. That’s why Bill told the police—because the rabbi said he ought to, and Bill trusted him.”

“Does Mrs. Paff think the way you do?”

“She has no children, so she doesn’t feel about these things the way I do, I suppose. But Paff himself—if I were in his business that depends so much on kids. I wouldn’t go out of my way to antagonize them.”

Well, what do you think?” asked Lanigan.

“I don’t think you learned too much, did you?” the rabbi countered. “Still, there were a number of points brought out that I thought interesting. They seemed quite unanimously agreed that it was the Carter boy who first suggested that they invade Hillson House and who assured them that they would not be seen.”

Lanigan grinned. “Sure, it was safe to blame him; he can’t answer back.”

“There is that, of course—”

“I found that little dig by the Epstein girl about the Marks girl having dated Moose quite a bit last year interesting.”

“You attribute any significance to that? You didn’t pursue it at the time.”

“I thought it would be more profitable to inquire about it later on.”

“Really? I regarded it as normal female cattiness.” observed the rabbi. “About the only other bit of evidence I found worthwhile was the matter of the front door.”

“What was that?”

“Bill Jacobs saying that he remembered fixing the latch on the front door so that they could come back and get Moose.”

“Oh yes.” said Lanigan. “Why do you regard that as especially important?”

“Because it means that after they left, anyone could have got in.”

“If they had known.” Lanigan interjected swiftly. “But it wouldn’t have made any difference to someone with a key.”

“Like who?”

“Like a man named Paff. Know him? He’s a member of your temple.”

“Meyer Paff?”

“That’s right. He had a key to the place and was around there that night at about the right time.”

Rabbi Small did not answer immediately. “Look here,” he said at last, “obviously there’s much about this case I don’t know. There’s no reason for me to know it. It’s police business. But if it concerns members of my congregation and you want me to cooperate—”

“Keep your shirt on. Rabbi. I was planning to give it all to you.” He went to the hall closet and returned with an attaché case. “Here’s a copy of Paff s statement.”

The rabbi read it through and then looked up and said mildly, “It seems straightforward enough.”

“Oh, it is.” said Lanigan hastily. “And yet, there are some interesting aspects to the very fact that he was there. For one thing, he knew the boy. Moose worked for him.”

“Mr. Paff is an active member of the Boosters Club here in town and knows most of the high school athletes. He would certainly know Moose Carter.”

“It’s just a little detail. Here’s another. The Lynn bowling alley has been under the surveillance of the Lynn police.

They suspect it of being a distribution point for pot. Paff owns it, and that was where Moose used to work evenings as an assistant manager.”

“Are you suggesting that Moose did the distributing and that Paff killed him for it?”

“That’s a possibility.” said Lanigan judiciously.

“Almost anything is.” said the rabbi with a shrug. “But I doubt if you’re really serious about Mr. Paff—”

“No, and why not?”

“Well, for one thing. I don’t think you would have gone to the trouble of rounding up these youngsters and questioning them all evening.”

“That’s for sure.” he grinned. “But unlike you. Rabbi. I found this meeting with the kids very enlightening.”

“Indeed!”

“In fact, it practically proved what I’ve suspected all along, but I had to have this meeting to confirm it. A definite pattern developed—and it all points unmistakably to

Jenkins.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, it started when Moose first joined the group. He began to ride Jenkins, and there is no doubt from what the kids said that the colored fellow was burning about it. They were all in agreement on that.”

“But Jenkins didn’t do anything about it. None of them reported him as saying anything,” the rabbi observed.

“No, and he didn’t come out swinging at any time either. Maybe it would have been better if he had. That kind of thing builds up. He doesn’t say anything until Moose is being wrapped up in the sheet. Then he cracks they ought to put it over his head. The Jacobs boy said he was joking, but you know that a lot of jokes—things that just pop out—are meant seriously.”

“Go on.”

“Next point: Jacobs leaves the door off the latch. Now who knows that? Why, only Jacobs. You remember I questioned him on that rather closely. He was the last one out, and he set the latch. Now later, when they were in the

Epstein house and were planning to go back for Moose. Gorfinkle asked how they were going to get in and it was then that Jacobs told the others that he had set the latch so that it wouldn’t lock. It’s the usual front-door lock with two buttons. One releases the latch, and the other locks it. And notice, that’s when Jenkins said he had to be getting right home because he was setting out for New York the next morning early.”

“And you think he rode off and on the wav to Boston stopped off at Hillson House.”

“I’m damn sure of it. He had the opportunity; that is, he had transportation—his motorbike. And he had the motive. He’s the only one we know definitely had a motive.”

“Because young Carter made fun of him? Did it ever occur to you that Jenkins might be used to this kind of embarrassment? That this incident probably was merely another of a long series of similar incidents he has had to suffer all his life?”