Stuart Kaminsky - Lieberman's thief

It was almost six. The sun was going down fast. Lieberman called a good night to Catherine Boyd and hurried out the door. It was Shabbat, the Sabbath, and Lieberman was late. Maish and Yetta would be coming too, at least for dinner. Abe had invited Hanrahan to join him and his family and to bring Iris, but he had declined, saying he had someone he had to talk to.

It was still raining.

Hanrahan sat in the booth of the Black Moon Restaurant across from Iris Chen's father. Iris was waiting on tables and being careful not to glance at their booth. In the kitchen, Iris's uncle Chou, called out of retirement for the night, was cooking and frantically filling orders, all of which challenged his arthritic fingers.

"Look at it this way, Mr. Chen," Hanrahan said, hands folded on the table in front of him. "If Iris wants to marry me and doesn't, how is she going to feel? Who is she going to blame?"

Chen looked at him and allowed only an involuntary blink in reply.

"I don't drink anymore and I won't again. My divorce is final. I earn a good living, have a decent house, and I love Iris. Do you know what the other policemen call us? Iris and Irish? We've even got nicknames. A perfect couple."

Chen said nothing.

Dishes clanked. People at other tables talked. The kitchen door swung open and closed.

"I love her," Hanrahan said. "But she's not going to marry me unless you tell her it's all right."

"It is all right," Chen said finally, softly. "If Iris want, it is all right."

"I'll talk to Mr. Woo again," Hanrahan said, holding back a grin. "I'll explain."

"Don't need talk to Mr. Woo," said Chen.

"Listen," Hanrahan went on. "I know you're close to Mr. Woo and you don't want to upset him, but-"

Chen said something quickly, probably hi Chinese.

"Mr. Woo don't like it, he can sit on the toilet with a monkey," Chen said. "It is something we say in Chinese."

"I'll remember," Hanrahan said.

"This is America, not China," Chen said, easing out of the booth. "You hungry?"

"Starving," said Hanrahan, smiling at Iris, who met his eyes across the room.

"We got special tonight," Chen said and hurried toward the kitchen. "You'll like."

Lieberman walked through his front door just before six-thirty and was met by his wife with, "Services are at eight. Maish and Yetta are late. We have to eat. You need a shave, and a lawyer named Seymour Greenblatt is sitting in the kitchen talking to Melisa and Barry. Put your gun in the drawer and get rid of Greenblatt. You can shave later."

He kissed her and she smiled. She was wearing the green dress, the one she had bought for her cousin Dorothy's daughter's wedding.

"You look great," he said, and meant it.

Beyond the living room Lieberman could see the dining room table set for seven.

"Lisa's not here yet either. Her car had a flat tire. Maish and Yetta are helping her fix it"

"The kids know about Lisa going to San Francisco without them?"

"They know. Barry asked if he could have his mother's room and Melisa said she didn't want to go to Saa Francisco in six months or ever because they gaze at you and give you AIDS," Bess said.

" 'They gaze at you and give you AIDS'?"

"Gays, Lieberman. She's smart but she's eight. You'd better talk to her."

Lieberman moved across the room, saying, "I'll talk to her. Maybe we should skip services tonight?"

"Lieberman," Bess said behind him. "I'm the president of the temple."

"What does the legendary Lawyer Greenblatt want?" asked Lieberman, moving toward the bedroom.

"To talk to us both."

"You brought the check back to Rabbi NathansonT "I wanted it back in their hands today, so I handed it to his wife right after lunch," said Bess. "I'm going to check the food. Lieberman, a small helping of meat and no wine."

And Bess bustled off.

Lieberman took off his jacket and removed his holster and gun, putting them inside the night table drawer and locking the drawer with the key he wore around his neck. He wanted to shave but he wanted to have it out with Lawyer Greenblatt first When he opened the door to the kitchen, he found his grandchildren seated at the kitchen table looking at an overweight man with several strands of hair brushed over his bald head. In front of the man, who wore a sport jacket and suspenders, lay a briefcase amid the bowls of food.

The dinner smelled strong and full of garlic.

"Mr. Lieberman," Greenblatt said seriously.

"Mr. Greenblatt," Lieberman answered, leaning over to kiss Melisa's offered cheek.

Bess was standing at the sink, her arms folded.

"Your wife returned this check to my clients this afternoon," Greenblatt said, removing the check from his briefcase.

"Yes," said Lieberman.

Greenblatt nodded and returned exhibit A to the briefcase.

"This is a matter of great emotional distress," said Greenblatt. "Agreements violated, time and effort expended."

"Come to the point, please," said Lieberman. "My family is hungry and we're going to be late for services."

Beyond die kitchen door, the front door opened to the sound of voices. Maish, Yetta, and Lisa had arrived.

"All right," said Greenblatt. "My clients, the Nathansons, are willing to settle for five hundred dollars. With the five hundred dollars there would be an agreement that no more would be said about this unfortunate incident."

"I think you'd better leave, Mr. Greenblatt," Abe said. "You have anything to demand, you can call our lawyer."

Barry leaned forward, fascinated by his grandfather's anger.

"Mr. Lieberman," Seymour Greenblatt said, rising with some difficulty. "You misunderstand me."

"I'm not paying you a nickel," said Lieberman.

"No," said Greenblatt. "It is the Nathansons who are offering you five hundred dollars and their sincere apology."

Lieberman stood silent.

Bess stepped forward and said, "They want to give us five hundred dollars?"

"I have the check right here," Lawyer Greenblatt said, delving back into the briefcase to emerge with the check. "In return for which, you make no issue of Rabbi Nathanson's behavior. Ira hasn't been well. Lots of pressure. A move to get him removed as rabbi at B'nai Shalom. He's been going around giving thousand-dollar checks and trying to make deals on houses all over the neighborhood. Ira and I have been friends for years. All he needs is some time at peace."

"We won't bother them," said Bess. "And we don't want a check."

"Five hundred dollars," cried Melisa.

Lawyer Greenblatt opened the briefcase and solemnly returned the check to it.

"Thank you," he said, clicking the briefcase shut and holding out his pudgy right hand.

Lieberman shook it as the kitchen door opened and Maish poked his head in to say, "So, are we eating or what?"

"What are you doing for dinner, Lawyer Greenblatt?" Lieberman asked. "You're welcome to join us."

Greenblatt smiled and said, "Funny you should ask."

Laio Woo sat alone in the sanctuary of his seven-room apartment on Wentworth Avenue. There was not an item in the room that had not been imported from China. There was not an item in the room, with the possible exception of Mr. Woo himself and the black silk robe he wore, mat was less man two hundred years old.

In front of Woo on a low, black enameled table, sat a vase, a colorful vase with the subtle narrow curve of a young woman. Painted on the vase was a garden and a young woman in the costume of a long-past dynasty.

This vase was but a copy of the original. This vase was no more than four or five hundred years old, but it was a good copy.

When he was a boy in Beijing, Laio Woo had first heard the tale of the woman in the vase, the trapped goddess who came out once every hundred years knowing that if she could keep from falling in love with a mortal, she would never have to return.