Thursday The Rabbi Walked Out

32

IT WAS HERB WHO OPENED THE DOOR TO THE SERGEANT, they had finished Sunday dinner. His mother had gone upstairs to her room for a nap, and while Molly was in the kitchen finishing the dishes—the division of labor between them called for him to wash and for her to wipe and put away—he had been in the living room reading the Sunday paper.

"Sergeant Holcombe." his visitor announced and showed his badge pinned in his wallet.

"What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Can I come in?"

Herb stood aside for him and motioned him to a chair.

"You're Mr. Mandell? You're up at the high school, aren't you?"

"That's right."

"You got my kid sister in bookkeeping."

From the kitchen. Molly called out. "What is it, herb?" "Just some school business,” he called back.

The sergeant was embarrassed. "Oh, I didn't come to see you about my sister, Mr. Mandell. I wouldn't come to your house and on a Sunday. I'd go to the school. Chances are. I wouldn't go at all. I mean, it would be my dad who'd come to see you. It was Mrs. Mandell I came to see."

"What about?"

"Oh, it's just routine. Mr. Mandell. Could I see her for a minute. Could you ask her—"

But it was unnecessary; for Molly had finished with the dishes and had come into the living room, she looked questioningly at the sergeant.

"It's just a matter of routine,” he apologized. "I’ve got some questions—"

"Of course. Sergeant." She seated herself beside Herb on the sofa and waited as the sergeant flipped pages of a notebook to a clean page.

"It's about this business Friday night. Mr. Gore said he stopped at a gas station on the road to Boston and phoned you—"

"You mean they suspect Mr. Gore?" she asked indignantly.

"Oh no. It's just that the chief wants everything neat and tidy. This is a pretty important case, and everything has to be just so. I guess what he's after mostly right now is pinning down the exact time when—well, when it happened. Now Mr. Gore don't remember what time it was when he stopped at the gas station, but he remembers calling you, and the attendant at the gas station don't remember what time it was but he remembers Mr. Gore making the call, mostly because the outside pay station was out of order and he used the one in the office. So I thought maybe you might remember." He looked at her hopefully, pencil poised over his notebook. "He did call you, didn't he?"

"Oh yes, he called all right,” she said, "and I remember what time it was, too, It was half past eight."

The sergeant wrote happily in his notebook and then looked up. "You're very sure of the time. Miss. How can you be so sure?"

"Because I looked at my watch, of course."

"And how did you happen to do that? Did he ask what time it was?"

"Oh no. I was working on a report for the bank, the reason for Mr. Gore's call was to see how I was getting on. I was practically finished, and I looked at my watch to see about how soon I would be done."

The sergeant shook his head in wonder. "For the bank, you say. I guess this talk about bankers' hours is just a lot of talk."

She smiled. "I very frequently take work home, and I know Mr. Gore does almost every night. Most people at the bank do, that is, the executives."

He digested this with a slow nodding of the head. "So he called and asked you how you were getting on and you looked at your watch and said you were almost finished."

"That's right."

"And it was half past eight by your watch?"

"M-hmm."

He smiled as he rose to go. "And did you? Did you get it done?"

She smiled back at him. "I did. Sergeant."

The sergeant read over what he had written. "Anything else you can tell me, Mrs. Mandell?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, anything that might have bearing on this business."

She hesitated and then shook her head slowly.

A thought occurred to him. "The chief may want me to type this out and then have you sign it," he said.

"Then I'll sign it, of course."

As Mandell showed him to the door, the sergeant said. "My sister, the one who's taking your course, she likes it."

"Glad to hear it." said Mandell. "What did you say her name was?"

"Same as mine. Holcombe. Doris Holcombe." "Oh yes. Tall, blond girl, she's a good student." "I'll tell her you said so, Mr. Mandell." "You do that. Sergeant."