Гарри Кемельман - Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red

"The Talmud has a little of everything." the rabbi admitted, "but perhaps the most useful function it serves is the method it developed."

The technicians had finished and had packed up. Schroeder asked Ames whether he could give him a lift downtown.

"Just a minute. Sergeant, the rabbi is giving me a lesson in the Talmud." He chuckled. "And what was this method. Rabbi?"

"Basically/ said the rabbi seriously, "it consisted of examining every aspect of a problem from every possible point of view, which is what I assume your encyclopedia meant when it suggested that some of the cases were highly improbable, they had plenty of time, those old Talmudists, and the more recent ones, too, and they didn't share the concern that you find in Common Law about the irrelevant, the immaterial, and the incompetent. Take this empty drawer, for example—"

"Yes, what would your Talmudists have said about an empty drawer in a bureau?"

The rabbi smiled. "Well, they would certainly have considered the two possibilities: A) That the drawer had never been filled; and B) that it had been filled and then emptied."

"I don't get it." said Schroeder. "Meaning no disrespect to this Talmud, whatever it is, what difference does it make whether it was filled and then emptied, or never filled. It's empty right now."

"Well, if it had never been used, wouldn't you wonder why?" said the rabbi. "Obviously it's not because he had nothing to put into it. Look where these sweaters have been piled on top of the undershirts."

"So maybe he was a guy who didn't like to bend down."

"But he had to bend down. His shoes were on the floor of the closet." the Rabbi observed.

"All right." said Ames impatiently. "Let's assume there was something in the drawer originally. Where does that lead us to?"

"To the next question: who emptied it? It was either Hendryx or someone else."

"Well, that sure is logical." said Schroeder sarcastically. "You could also say it was either me or someone else, or George Washington or someone else."

Ames grinned, but the rabbi continued as though there had been no interruption. "Or it could be both."

"It hardly seems that two people would be required to empty one bureau drawer." said Ames.

«I didn't mean they did it together." said the rabbi. "I was suggesting that Hendryx probably emptied the drawer to make room for something else, and that this something else was then removed."

"And removed by someone else? Is that what you're driving at?" asked Ames. The rabbi nodded. Light broke suddenly on the sergeant. "Hey, I get what he's driving at! Hendryx clears out that drawer to put something special in it, like papers or documents, then he gets killed, and— now get this— Roger Fine comes here to get them, because naturally they're important to him— the confession and the exam papers, they're the only proof that he leaked the exam. So once he's here, he sees how easy it is to make it look like Hendryx returned to his apartment after the cleaning lady left, which would put Fine in the clear because he'd have an alibi, so he puts the pipe in the ashtray and lights a few matches."

The rabbi nodded approvingly. "That's very good. Sergeant, except that it couldn't be Roger Fine."

"Why not?"

"Because Fine has no alibi. Besides, Hendryx wouldn't have to clean out a drawer for the papers you mention, he'd probably put them in his desk."

"Then what did he put in the drawer?"

"I suppose the sort of thing anyone puts in bureau drawers— clothing."

"You mean it was the murderer's clothing and he came to get it?" asked Ames. "But why? I still don't get it."

"Try she," suggested the rabbi." She came to get it."

"A woman?" Ames thought about it for a moment. "Well, if she were—"

"Yeah, why not?" exclaimed Schroeder. "The guy was a bachelor, you'd expect him to shack up with a broad every now and then." He remembered Ames and stopped.

"It's all right. Sergeant." said Ames. "I know the facts of life."

"Well, what I mean, sir, is that if he had a woman drop in on him every now and then, naturally she'd stay the night."

"Naturally."

"And maybe she'd keep a nightgown here, and some pretties if she came often enough." He snapped his fingers. "Of course! Betty Macomber! They were secretly engaged, they don't wait nowadays, and come to think of it, she didn't seem so terribly cut up, not what you'd expect of a girl whose finance had just died."

"You said her father was not terribly upset either." remarked Ames.

"That's right, hey, look—he's a golf nut," said Schroeder excitedly. "The kind that keeps his clubs right there in the office. Matter of fact, when I went up to see him, he was practicing putting on the rug."

"What's that got to do with it?" snapped Ames.

"Don't you see, sir, a golf club has a hook on the end like a cane."

"Hm." Ames nodded slowly. "Father and daughter. If he resented her marrying him—"

"Or say he found out she was sleeping with him," suggested Schroeder.

"Then he would kill him?" The rabbi looked his surprise. "Even though they were engaged? And come here to retrieve his daughter's nightgown so that her honor would not be besmirched? It does sound silly the way you put it." Ames admitted. The rabbi pressed on. "And does President Macomber have an alibi? Or his daughter?"

"No one in the case seems to." Schroeder admitted. "Except Millicent Hanbury," said the rabbi. "The dean?" Schroeder exclaimed. "Cummon!"

"An attractive woman." the rabbi pointed out. "Still quite young, and unmarried. It was you who first suggested her, Sergeant."

"I did?"

"When you first came to see me with Lanigan, you suggested she might be involved, we ridiculed the suggestion as I recall." the rabbi went on smoothly, "but it just shows that the intuitions of an experienced investigator are not to be lightly dismissed."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Ames chuckled. "This alibi you mention—"

"There were actually several." said the rabbi. "The meeting with the student committee at two-thirty— It was she who picked the time. I understand, then walking out of the meeting was an excellent alibi because it was not immediately apparent. To ask someone for the time is automatically suspicious. But to leave a meeting and not return is to insure that after a while people will get restive and start looking at their watches. But the clincher was when she got back to Barnard's Crossing and called the police to report that she had found a window open, they could produce no evidence that it had been forced, of course, but the call had served its purpose— to record the time on the police blotter. Quite by accident I found out that the Barnard's Crossing Police Department is very strict about it."

"All police departments are." said Ames. "But the murder was committed earlier, probably around twenty-past two. And all those alibis are for later."

"That's why she had to make it look as though Hendryx was alive after she left, and the students would back her alibi."

"But what about the medical examiner's autopsy?" Ames persisted. "She'd have to know that he would report the actual time of death."

"Ah, but that's because he examined the body shortly after death," said the rabbi. "And that was only because of the bombing. In the normal course of events, the body would not have been discovered until Monday morning, probably by me when I came in for class, that's some sixty hours later, and no medical examiner could have fixed the time within an hour or so, so long after the event. Besides, the evidence in his apartment would show that Hendryx was alive long after she had left the building."

Ames nodded. "And knowing we'd check his apartment, she stopped to retrieve her nightgown? Panties? Stockings? Yet how could they be identified as hers?"