Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The rabbi climbed into the front seat beside Lanigan. “The doctor says it will be hours.”

“I thought as much. I’ll drop you on my way back to the lab.”

“It was very decent of you to come and get us, Chief,” said the rabbi. “Things were pretty rough there for a few minutes until Sykes came along.”

“I understand he offered you his car and you refused. Those little foreign jobs are actually no different from ours, except you have to shift a little more often and they respond to the wheel a little quicker than you’re used to. But you would have got the hang of it before you’d driven a quarter of a mile.”

“Oh, I had no doubt I could drive it. I just didn’t want to be indebted to a murderer for the birth of my child.”

“Murderer? Sykes?”

The rabbi nodded soberly.

Lanigan stepped on the brake and brought the car to a halt at the side of the road. “Now. Let’s hear it.”

The rabbi settled back in his seat. “The man who drove Hirsh home had to be on foot. That’s basic. If he’d been driving, and stopped to take the wheel of Hirsh’s car, he would have had to leave his own. You had alerted the state troopers, so they were patrolling the road. An empty car would have been spotted. Chances are that it wasn’t a hitchhiker, because they’re expressly forbidden on Route 128. There are signs posted at each entrance, and the state troopers would pick up anyone they saw.”

“So.”

“But the people at Goddard regularly leave their cars to be serviced or repaired at Morris Goldman’s garage because it’s just a few hundred yards from the lab. They drop off their cars in the morning and walk along the embankment of 128 to get to work. At night-and Goldman’s, like most garages, stays open late-they walk back, pick up their cars, and drive home.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Well, to get to the lab from the garage, you have to pass the turnoff where Hirsh was parked. It’s just about halfway.”

“Yes, you can see the turnoff from the lab.”

“Right. Well, now I know that Sykes had his car serviced at Morris Goldman’s garage that Friday, because when I got behind the wheel I saw one of his lube stickers on the doorjamb. It was dated the eighteenth. That was Friday.”

“It still doesn’t place him on foot. After all, he could have picked up his car after work-before Hirsh returned to the lab after his dinner.”

The rabbi shook his head.

“Why not? You yourself said Goldman’s stays open late.”

“But not that Friday night. It was Kol Nidre. He would have closed well before six. And we know Sykes was at the lab that late because he phoned Mrs. Hirsh and left word that her husband was to call him when he got in.”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t get home. He could have called a cab-why not?” as the rabbi shook his head vigorously.

“You can ask Miriam if you wish. The nearest cab company, the only one for practical purposes, is the one in Barnard’s Crossing. And when Miriam had me stop off there the proprietor told us the only calls he got that evening were to take people to the temple.”

“All right!” Lanigan sounded exasperated. “But it’s all conjecture.”

“No, Sykes had no car all weekend.”

“How do we know that?”

“He didn’t pick up his car Friday. And he couldn’t pick it up on Saturday, because that was Yom Kippur and Goldman was closed. And I know for a fact he had no car on Sunday.”

“Oh?”

“You see, when he came to my house to arrange for Hirsh’s funeral, he arrived and departed by cab. Why would he do that if he had his car? Yet we know he had it on Monday, because he drove it to the funeral.”

Lanigan was silent for a minute. “So your theory-and it’s no more than a theory,” he said finally, “is that Sykes sat around waiting for Hirsh to call back. When he didn’t, he started out on foot to get his car, saw Hirsh parked in the turnoff on 128, and offered or Hirsh asked him, to drive him home and-”

“And Hirsh passed out on the way.”

“But why would he want to kill him? Sykes was probably his closest friend here in Barnard’s Crossing. He went to bat and covered up for him half a dozen times. I got that from Amos Quint who admitted he would have fired Hirsh long before if Sykes had not interceded for him.”

“And why would Sykes have to intercede for him?” the rabbi demanded.

“I don’t understand.”

“Quint never spoke to Hirsh except on the day he hired him. Everything there went through channels. Whatever communication there was between Hirsh and Quint passed through Sykes. Now if Sykes didn’t want Hirsh fired-if he was such a good friend-why mention his mistakes to Quint in the first place? Why go to bat for him? Quint is no scientist, he’s an administrator. If Sykes wanted to cover for Hirsh, all he had to do was refrain from mentioning his name and Quint never would have known. But evidently there were errors-at least half a dozen, according to you. Now suppose they were the fault not of Hirsh but of Sykes? It would be mighty convenient to have Hirsh there to take the blame.”

“All the more reason for not wanting to kill him. Why give up a good thing? In any case, Quint was going to fire him Monday, so Sykes would be off the hook.”

“Then there’s your answer!” said the rabbi triumphantly. “This time apparently there was an important mistake-one Quint couldn’t overlook. We know he always made a point of seeing a man he was going to fire. He saw him, told him just why he was firing him, and that ended it. Isn’t that the way you reported it? So he tells Hirsh the reason for his dismissal, and Hirsh says, ‘Oh, no, sir, it was Ron Sykes that did that; I discovered the error.’ There’s a confrontation, Hirsh shows his work notes…”

The chief folded his hands behind his head and leaned against the car seat, absorbed in thought. Then he shook his head. “It hangs together, Rabbi, and it sounds plausible, but you’re just guessing. It’s all surmise and conjecture. We don’t have a bit of proof.”

When the rabbi spoke, his tone denoted both certainty and finality. “Just ask Sykes how he got home from the lab Friday night. Just ask him that.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” He smiled. “You know, Rabbi, somehow or other, you do manage to take care of your flock.”

“You mean Goralsky and Brown?”

“Oh, we didn’t really have anything on Brown. We were just floundering, looking for some line we could follow. You know why he left the temple early? He was ashamed to tell you, but he made a statement to us. He had a business deal on-a big policy, and the customer insisted on getting the papers signed that night.”

“I suspected it might be something like that.”

“I guess from your point of view it was a pretty terrible thing for him to do.”

The rabbi thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think it was terrible. In a way I’m rather pleased.”

“Pleased that he ran out on your Yom Kippur service to consummate a business deal?”

“No-pleased that he was ashamed of it.”