Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home

Chapter Forty-Three

The manager of the Lynn alleys greeted Paff with, “Tough about the kid, huh?”

Paff shook his head regretfully. “It certainly is. A young fellow like that, a good-looking boy, an athlete—”

“You know. I called his house like you told me, to see why he hadn’t showed, and I spoke to his Ma. When I think that he was probably dead at the time—you know, it kind of gives you the shivers—I mean asking her what time she expects him back and all.”

“Yeah.”

“You got somebody else lined up to take his place, Mr. Paff? Because life got to go on, like they say, and I don’t mind working overtime a couple of nights to help you out, but—”

“I’ll get somebody to relieve you—tomorrow night for sure.”

“If you’re having trouble getting somebody, there’s this kid that lives right next door to me. He’s smart, knows how to handle himself.”

“Yeah? What’s he doing now?”

“Well, right now, he’s not doing much of anything, just sort of looking around.”

“Well—”

“I could have him come down tomorrow evening, and you could talk to him.”

“Right now. I’ve got things pretty well lined up.”

A customer tapped impatiently on the counter with a coin, and the manager hurried over to wait on him. As he came back he fished in his pocket and brought forth a bit of paper. “Say, I almost forgot. Did a Mr. Kallen get in touch with you the other night? He called right after you left. He said he was supposed to meet you”—he referred to the paper—“at Hillson House. He said he wouldn’t be able to make it. Say, wasn’t that the place that—”

“Yeah. I spoke to him. Look, er—” he nodded him down to the other end of the counter. “The other night I was kind of upset. I had a tough day, understand?”

“Sure Mr. Paff We all have them.”

“Well, in case anybody comes down to make inquiries—not likely to, you understand, but just in case—I’d rather you wouldn’t mention I was planning to fire the kid. They might get the wrong impression.” He laughed—a deep bass burble. “Hell. I wouldn’t have fired him, not a kid from my hometown.”

“Sure, Mr. Paff. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“I want you to cooperate with them, understand? Tell them everything, but there’s no need to tell them anything unimportant. Now if they should ask when I left here, you remember it was sometime after eight o’clock—”

“Oh, No, Mr. Paff, it was quite a bit before—”

“No. it was after, almost quarter past. This friend of yours—you think he’d work out?”

“Oh, he’s smart, Mr. Paff.”

“All right, I guess you’re a pretty good judge of character.

Tell him to come down tomorrow night, and I’ll put him on.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Paff. You leave him to me, and I’ll show him the ropes. You won’t be sorry.”