Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home

Chapter Fifty-Six

When he arrived home, he found Lanigan waiting for him.

“I thought those morning prayer services of yours only last about half an hour.” the chief of police complained.

“There was a collation afterward,” said the rabbi, “and then I had to perform an errand of mercy; I went to visit the sick. Sorry you had to wait. Is it business or purely social?”

Lanigan grinned. “I guess it’s always a little bit of both when I come visiting. I understand, Rabbi, that there’s a movement afoot to set up a Jenkins Defense Committee. You know anything about it?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. Why, do you object to it?”

“Well, of course, every man has a right—yes, I object to it!” said Lanigan. “I know this man Donohue. He’ll stir up a lot of trouble and maybe create an atmosphere in this town that we might be years getting over. And none of it will do Jenkins any good. It will just be a lot of propaganda about social justice and the rights of the underprivileged and Lord knows what all. And it won’t have any bearing on this case, because Jenkins is going to get a fair trial, and it’s got nothing to do with whether he’s black, white, or green with yellow polka dots.”

Tm not sure. Are you giving him a fair shake? It seems to me that you’ve made up your mind that he’s guilty—

“I don’t decide whether he’s guilty or not. That’s up to a judge and jury. But naturally I have an opinion. I’ve dealt fairly with him throughout. You were present when I questioned him. Did I browbeat him? I practically begged him to get a lawyer. He didn’t want one.”

“But when he told his story, didn’t you automatically assume those parts that indicated he was guilty were true and those that suggested he might be innocent a pack of lies?”

“You’ve always got to choose from the available material what you’ll believe and what you won’t. You know that. Take Jenkins statement that there was somebody parked right across the street for about twenty minutes—”

“That’s true.”

“How do you mean?”

The rabbi told of his conversation with Paff.

Lanigan strode around the room as he thought aloud. “That means Paff might have seen Jenkins enter the house and waited there to see what would happen. When Jenkins doesn’t come out, he rides off? So that leaves him on the scene with transportation to return and no real alibi—” He shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t believe it. Rabbi. You wouldn’t throw a member of your congregation to the wolves just like that. You must have something else in mind.”

“I’m merely suggesting that there are other possibilities. You yourself suggested Gorfinkle and Jacobs. The point is that Jenkins is not the only one whose actions are suspect; besides, your case against him is full of holes.”

“Like what?”

“How about the death of that man in Boston? How does Jenkins fit into that?”

“I don’t say he had anything to do with that. His death and the connection with Moose—that’s pure coincidence.”

“Coincidences happen, but not often. But the big objection to your case against Jenkins is that the next door neighbor, this—”

“Mr. Begg?”

“Yes, Mr. Begg. He saw a light. That’s what led him to call the police.”

Lanigan looked puzzled for a moment, and then his face cleared. “Oh, I see what you’re getting at—that someone came to the house after Jenkins left, that he put on the light, and that he presumably killed Moose—maybe your Mr. Paff. It’s a good effort, Rabbi, but here’s where I demolish it. Jenkins said that he drew the shades and the drapes before he put on a light. Right?”

“Right.”

“And there was no reason for him to lie about something like that.”

“Agreed.”

“So if someone, Paff or a mysterious stranger, had put on a light, it would not have shown.”

“Precisely. Then how could Begg have seen a light?”

“Huh?”

“The youngsters were all agreed that they did not put on a light. Jenkins used a flashlight but only after he had drawn the drapes—”

“Then how could Begg have seen a light in the house?”

“That was my question.” said the rabbi pointedly. “But I can suggest an answer. The only way he could have seen a light with all the windows blocked off was by having himself been in the house and put them on.”

“You saying—”

“I am saying that he entered the house after Jenkins left. Since as the caretaker he must have had a key, the locked door presented no problem. He snapped on the light on entering and then went through each of the rooms. I’m suggesting that he put the plastic sheet over the boy’s head, and then, leaving the lights on as an excuse to call the police, he hurried back to his own house, where there was a phone.”

“And forgot to close the front door?”

“No. left it ajar purposely. I imagine, either on the chance of the cruising car spotting it—in which case, he would not be involved even as informer—or perhaps so as not to raise any immediate question of how the murderer had got in.”

Lanigan massaged his square chin with a big red hand as he checked back over the rabbi’s reasoning. Then he grinned. “You had me going there for a minute. Rabbi. It all sounds plausible except”—he held up an admonishing forefinger—“that he called from his own house. On the way back, he would have noticed that there was no light coming through the windows of Hillson House, because the blinds were drawn.”

The rabbi nodded. “Yes, and the phone is in a room which overlooks Hillson House. I drove by this morning and saw him at the window, phone in hand. So standing there, talking to the police, he’d certainly notice that there was no light coming from the windows of Hillson House. And the explanation is that there is where a real coincidence occurred.”

“What coincidence?”

“That while he was still inside Hillson House, or just as he left, all the lights in that part of town went out.”

“You mean the transformer blowing?”

“M-hm. That was the only coincidence.”

“How about his happening to go over there?”

“That was no coincidence. He went right after Jenkins left because Jenkins left. I mean he may have seen Jenkins leave or heard him starting up his motorcycle, right next door so to speak, so he hurried over to investigate. It looked all right; the door was locked and it was dark. But, of course, he had to make sure. He had a key and went in. Naturally, he put on the lights. Maybe he listened for a moment or called out. Then he went for a look around and found Moose. Since he wanted the body found immediately, that very night—”

“Why did it have to be that night?”

“Because if he waited a day or two, he himself would have to find the body—he was the caretaker. This way, it would be the police who would find the body, and if they came that night, they would see fresh evidence of someone having been there—cigarette butts, beer cans.”

Lanigan smiled. “Nice work, Rabbi. I’ll add Begg to my list of Jenkins, Paff, Carter, and seven assorted kids. While chewing the fat with Eban Jennings, my lieutenant, I made as good a case against each of those others. But, of course, they all have flaws. For instance, Begg couldn’t have known that Moose was in Hillson House, now could he?”

The rabbi shook his head.

“So if he had some reason for killing Moose, which you haven’t bothered to mention, by the way, how would he have known to go in there? The normal thing, if he thought someone had broken into the place, was to call the police and ask them to check.”

“I suppose because he had to go there. Before calling the police, he had to make sure that nothing had been taken.”

“Like what?”

“Like marihuana. He’d be more likely to cache it there than keep it in his own house.”

“But Mr. Begg? A pusher? Oh, that’s impossible. Rabbi.” His face showed utter incredulity. “He’s an old-time resident of the town, a crusty Yankee.”

The rabbi’s grin was derisive. “And former teacher and former selectman who couldn’t do anything wrong. It must be an outsider, a stranger.”

“All right. I suppose I deserve that.” said Lanigan, “but what I really meant is that—that he’s a cantankerous sort of man who’s always in our hair. If he were engaged in something like pot peddling, he wouldn’t be calling attention to himself.”

The rabbi shrugged off the argument. “Protective coloration. It evidently worked better than to try to be unobtrusive, especially in a small town like this. He always had the reputation of being a crank, so he went on being one when he began selling this stuff. It was safer than suddenly changing his image.”

Lanigan was silent, then he said quietly. “What made you think of him? Did you work this out by this Talmudic pil—whatever it is?”

“Pilpul? Not at all. I thought of Begg because he was the most obvious suspect. You would have seen it, too, if you weren’t conditioned to focus first and foremost on the outsider, the stranger. Alan Jenkins, who was not only from outside the town, but also colored.”

“But Begg is a kind of outsider. He’s a kind of recluse and a nut.”

“Not at all. He’s eccentric but well within the acceptable. He’s even traditional—the hard-headed, cantankerous Yankee who sticks up for his rights.”

“But what did he do that made you suspect him?”

“For one thing, he runs a place where youngsters hang out. He sells soda and some school supplies and lets them play the pinball machines. You’ve seen the place. What is there in that that makes it possible for him to even pay the rent? For another, Moose came from his house. He had to, because the tide was in and he couldn’t have come from farther along the beach. And then when the youngsters were breaking into the house and they were worried that they might be seen by someone next door, remember it was Moose who assured them that Begg wouldn’t bother them. Begg, a known crank and buttinsky. How could he possibly know that? Only if he knew Begg was going to leave. They probably left at the same time. And finally. I began thinking of B egg because it seemed odd that he should call to report he had seen a light. Unless he were a timid man. I would have assumed that he would first have investigated himself or at least reconnoitered.”

“Then, according to you, there’s a cache of marihuana in Hillson House.”

The rabbi shook his head. “There was. I assume he removed it before calling the police. That’s why he had to go there. And by this time, he wouldn’t have it in his own house either.”

“You realize, of course.” said Lanigan, “that there isn’t a particle of evidence against him. If we find his fingerprints in Hillson House, he says he’s been there many times as caretaker.”

“You might ask him about seeing the light.”

Once again Lanigan got up to stride around the room. “That’s not evidence. He has only to insist that he either saw it or thought he saw it. No jury would convict a man for saying he saw a light that he couldn’t have seen. They’d assume a natural mistake, the headlight of a car, the reflection of a streetlamp. No. it’s a pity we can’t introduce this pilpul of yours as legal evidence.”

“We could try.”

Lanigan hitched his chair up and said eagerly. “For instance?”

“Well, this man in Boston who was murdered the same day. We might think about him for a while to good effect.”

“Wilcox?”

“Yes, Wilcox. We know Moose went to see him because of the two twenty-dollar bills.”

“And the marihuana.”

“Marihuana he could have got from any number of sources, but two twenty-dollar bills whose serial numbers ran consecutive with those Wilcox had—those could have come only from Wilcox.”

“All right.”

“How did Moose get them?” asked the rabbi. “What do you mean?”

“He could have taken them, or they could have been given to him.”

“Oh, I see. Well, obviously they were given to him, because if he had taken them, why stop at just two?”

“Precisely. Now why were they given to him? Two of them, mind you.”

“We can’t know that, Rabbi.”

“Let me put it another way. Suppose in the course of conversation Moose had mentioned that he was broke. Conceivably, Wilcox might have been willing to lend him some to tide him over. Normally, that would mean a dollar or two, or five dollars, or even ten. But if he had nothing smaller on him at the time than twenties, he might have given him one of those. But he gave him two twenties—forty dollars. What does that suggest?”

Lanigan shook his head. “I pass.”

“It suggests payment for something. But since Moose was broke and had nothing Wilcox could want, it suggests some sort of payment in advance.”

“For what?”

“We can’t be certain, of course, but didn’t you say this Wilcox was connected with the drug traffic?”

“The Boston police are sure he was a dealer.”

“All right, and since you also found a rather sizable quantity of the marihuana on Moose, and Jenkins admits having taken ten cigarettes from him. I suggest this was either an advance on salary or on commissions on sales. Mrs. Carter said that Moose had gone to Boston for a job. I think he got it.”

“Yeah, could be. Could be he was setting him up in business. All right. I’ll buy that. What’s the connection with his death? And with Begg?”

“We haven’t finished with Moose’s activities.” said the rabbi reproachfully.

“Why, what did he do then?”

“He came back to Barnard’s Crossing and went directly to see Mr. Begg.”

“Any more on Moose?”

The rabbi shook his head. “I didn’t know the young man. I can only speculate that the description of his behavior at the cookout, his drinking and carrying on there and again at the Hillson House, suggests he was euphoric. And when you add in the fact he neglected to go home to dinner, which was a serious offense in the Carter household, it indicates he no longer had reason to fear his father.”

“And Begg?” Lanigan asked sarcastically. “Do you know what he did? Where he went after he left Moose?”

“I’m afraid it would be pure speculation,” said the rabbi primly.

“I see. Well, why stop now? Go ahead and speculate.”

“Very well, I imagine he went to see Wilcox. The fact that Moose came to see Begg directly after leaving a narcotics dealer who had just set him up in business suggests that Begg was another agent of Wilcox, or a partner. If he were an agent, he certainly would have objected to anyone sharing the territory, Moose particularly. And if he were a partner, he may have gone to protest an injudicious appointment.”

Lanigan sat back and stared at the rabbi in silence. Finally he said. “I don’t suppose you’d care to amplify that with a fact or two, would you? Or did you mention something I happened to overlook?”

The rabbi grinned good-naturedly. “I said it was pure speculation, but if we consider it from the other end, it may seem more reasonable. For example, it gives us the first real motive for killing Moose. When Begg left his house, Moose knew where Begg was going, and when he heard of the death of Wilcox, he would know who did it.”

Lanigan stared at the rabbi in silence. Finally he said. “So now you’ve got Begg killing Wilcox, too.”

“It adds up.”

“And proof?”

“Perhaps fingerprints. Begg’s, in Wilcox’s apartment?”

Lanigan shook his head. “Not after a week, with cops all over the place.”

“Just a minute. Didn’t you say some woman had seen him?”

“Madelaine Spinney. The Boston police thought they had something when she recognized Moose from a photograph they got from the files of the Boston papers. It’s a different size than rogue’s gallery pictures. That’s probably why she picked it; it was different. From what they say; I doubt if she’d be able to identify your man. She’s not very bright.”

“Maybe he would identify her,” suggested the rabbi.