Thursday The Rabbi Walked Out

45

THEY HAD FINISHED SUNDAY DINNER., AND MRS. MANDELL, in the absence of Molly, had put away the dishes as Herb relaxed in the living room over the Sunday paper, she appeared in the doorway, remarking. "It wasn't that way with your Pa and me, especially on a Sunday."

"Huh?" Herb looked up from his newspaper. "What did you say about Pa?"

"I said your Pa wouldn't think of going out without me any more than I'd think of going out without him on a social occasion. Some of our friends, the men used to go out once a week, regular, to a lodge meeting or bowling, at least, that's what they said. But not your Pa. If I couldn't go, or even if I just didn't want to go, he wouldn't go, and it was the same with me, a bridge or a Sisterhood luncheon, all right. I'd go alone so long as he was at the office. But in the evening or on a Sunday, when he was home, never, that's what I was brought up to think marriage was supposed to be, two people being together. But I guess things are different these days."

"Aw, cummon. Ma, knock it off, they're having a special showing of the Peter Archer silver at the museum, which her boss organized the whole thing, and which she helped with a lot. So if he invites all the employees of the bank, she naturally got to go. Like if the principal of the high school should run some kind of party for the faculty. I'd have to go, wouldn't I?"

She sniffed her disagreement and disapproval. "You think he would have fired her if She told him She couldn't go, or cut her salary? He seems like a very fine gentleman, her boss, and it seems to me, he would have thought a lot more of her if She had said. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Gore, but I never go anywhere socially without my husband, and he can't come on account he's got a very important meeting of the board of directors of the temple, which he is a member of"

"Oh, sure,” he scoffed, "and I suppose a couple of Fridays ago when I was in charge of the Brotherhood service at the temple. I should have said I couldn't make it because Molly had to stay home."

"That was different, that wasn't social, that was religion."

"The Friday evening services are more social than religious, the point is she stayed—"

"Maybe She had reasons for staying behind while you went off."

"What do you mean by that?"

All week long she had wanted to tell him, but there had been no real opportunity, she had rehearsed her story over and over and had planned, when the occasion came, to speak quietly and calmly as if in sorrow and only out of duty, but now that the chance had suddenly presented itself, her eyes glittered and she spat out the words spitefully. "I mean She didn't stay very long after you left, she thought I was asleep, she thought I didn't hear her, but I did. I heard the car start and I got out of bed and watched through the window and saw her drive off."

"You dreamed it."

"Oh no. I didn't." And now she did speak quietly, she even managed a little smile. "I wasn't sleeping. I may have dozed off the way I do sometimes just sitting in my chair here. But I wasn't sleeping. I heard her talking on the phone, then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I could tell She was tiptoeing up. So I made believe I was asleep. Sure enough, She pushed the door back a little and looked in, then She tiptoed downstairs again, well, I can tell you I was wide awake then, and pretty soon I heard the back door open and close, then I heard the car starting up and I got out of bed and peeked through the curtains down at the driveway and I saw her leave. It was just about the time you were starting the service at the temple, and She didn't get back until after nine, she came upstairs to have another look at me when She came back, and I made believe I was asleep again."

For no reason at all, it flashed across his mind that Henry Maltzman had come to the service late that night, a little after nine. "I still think you dreamed it," he said.

"Do you? Well, whv don't you ask her? See what She says."

They had finished Sunday dinner, and Laura Maltzman had gone off to visit her mother at the convalescent home as her husband prepared to leave for the board meeting at the temple, he had just shrugged into his jacket when the doorbell rang. It was Lieutenant Jennings.

"I’ve come about the Jordon business. Mr. Maltzman. I'd like you to come with me to the stationhouse to answer a few questions that Chief Lanigan wants to ask you, and maybe make a statement."

"What if I'm not interested in the Jordon business?"

"You can tell that to the chief down at the stationhouse."

His eyes dancing with amusement. Maltzman asked. "You got a warrant. Lieutenant?"

"Yes."

Taken aback, Maltzman stammered. "You—you have?"

"Right here."

As Jennings reached into his breast pocket. Maltzman said hastily, "All right. I believe you. Look here, you want me to come down to the stationhouse to make a statement and answer a few questions, all right. But I’ve got an important meeting over at the temple in a few minutes. I'll come down right after it's over."

His Adam's apple bobbling nervously. Jennings shook his head. "No sir, my orders are to bring you down right now."

"Look here, you can't just barge in here and interfere with my plans and—"

"Oh yes I can, so long as I got a warrant."

"I'll talk to Lanigan. What's the number?"

"Won't do you no good, he's not there yet. His orders were for me to have you there when he gets there. So let's not have any trouble. Mr. Maltzman."

Maltzman bit his lips as he considered. Finally he said. "All right. I'll just leave a note for my wife telling her where I'm going." He went into the kitchen, and when the policeman followed, he said. "Don't worry, I'm not going through the back door." He thumbtacked the note to the bulletin board and reached for the phone on the shelf beneath it. "I’ve got to make a phone call."

"You calling your lawyer?" asked Jennings politely.

Maltzman bared his teeth in a tight little smile. "Not yet." He dialed Barry Fisher's number. "Barry? Hank. Look, something important has come up, and I won't be able to get to the meeting today— I know. I know. You go right ahead with the meeting and proceed just the way we planned— Look. Barry, we have eight solid votes. So with you in the chair, we'll have seven votes. Seven to six is just as good as eight to six— Right— Right— Bye now."

He turned to the lieutenant and said. "Okay, let's go."

They had finished Sunday dinner, and Miriam had shooed the children upstairs to watch television so that they would not disturb Daddy who was trying to read. When the doorbell rang and she saw that it was Chief Lanigan, she said with a mischievous smile. "Just happen to be in the neighborhood. Chief? It's Chief Lanigan. David."

"No, Miriam." Lanigan said soberly, "this time I came on purpose." And he told the reason for his visit.

"Do you honestly think Maltzman shot him?" asked the rabbi.

Lanigan squirmed uncomfortably. "It's not for me to say whether he did or he didn't, that's for a judge and jury. I'm just conducting the investigation."

"Then do you honestly suspect him?"

"What's that mean? Do I think he's a bom killer? Of course not. But which of the people involved is? All I know is that he threatened Jordon that same day. Said he'd put a bullet through his head, and that's how Jordon was killed, that's enough right there for us to act. But I didn't push it because I thought he was at the temple at the time that the murder was committed, then I found that he wasn't, that made his stock as a suspect jump sky-high, and when we ask him to account for his movements that evening, he tells us it's none of our business, well, I've got to see Clegg tomorrow, and if I tell him I didn't press Maltzman for an explanation because he said it was none of our business, he'll think I'm not up to my job, and he'll go ahead and charge him."

"So you're arresting him to get him to talk?"

"That's right." He glanced at his wristwatch. "Right about now. I'd say."

"And if he doesn't talk?"

"Then I'll put him in a cell for the night." said Lanigan promptly. "And the next morning. I'll confer with Clegg, and it's my guess that he'll haul him up before the nearest judge and charge him, and then make an announcement to the press, and since it's murder, there'll be no bail and he'll stay in jail. I'm sorry. David, but that's the way it's going to be."

The rabbi nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks for telling me."