Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The rabbi was dressing for the Friday evening service when the phone rang, the baby-sitter took the call, and as the rabbi came to the door of the living room, knotting his tie, he saw the girl's eyes widen.

"Who is it?" he asked.

She covered the receiver with her hand and whispered. "It's the police, Rabbi! From Boston."

"All right. I'll take it." She handed him the instrument quickly as if eager to relinquish it.

"Rabbi Small?" said a gruff voice. "This is Sergeant Schroeder of Boston Homicide."

"How do you do. Sergeant," said the rabbi pleasantly.

"What? Oh yes. Look. Rabbi. I'd like to ask you a few questions about Professor Hendryx."

"All right, ask."

"No. Not on the phone. I want to talk to you, and I'd like to get a signed statement. I'd like you to come down to headquarters here in Boston."

"That's out of the question, Sergeant."

"I can send a car."

"I'm afraid not. Sergeant," said the rabbi. "I'm on my way to the temple right now. This is the Sabbath and we hold an evening service."

"What time does it end?"

"Around ten. Why?"

"Well, suppose I come out to Barnard's Crossing, say around ten-fifteen."

"There's nothing I can tell you."

"You were probably the last person to see him alive. Rabbi."

"That may be true, but I left him shortly after two o'clock and he was alive then."

"I'd still like to talk to you." the sergeant said.

"Then I'm afraid it will have to wait until tomorrow evening. I don't discuss business matters during the Sabbath."

"But this is a homicide. Rabbi."

"There's nothing I could tell you that would justify my breaking the Sabbath."

"What if I came out there?"

"I would not talk to you."

The receiver at the other end banged down. Rabbi Small listened for a moment and then gently hung up the instrument.

Baffled and angry. Sergeant Schroeder sat staring at the phone, then he remembered Hugh Lanigan. Barnard's Crossing's police chief, whom he had met at numerous police conferences and who had once invited him to come out sailing some Sunday during the summer.

He called Lanigan. "I wonder if you'd do me a favor. Hugh. I'd like you to pick up somebody for me and bring him in for questioning.... Yeah, on this Windemere College thing.... No, there's no charge against him. I just want him for questioning.... Who? A Rabbi Small. You know him?...Yeah, well, I asked him to come in, even offered to send a car out for him, but he said he wouldn't talk to me because it's the Sabbath."

"That's in character."

"Oh? A tough guy?"

Lanigan laughed. "Far from it, but he does observe his Sabbath, they don't transact business or even talk about it from Friday to Saturday night."

"That's what he said, but—"

"Look, Bill, don't let your pee steam. I wouldn't intrude on the rabbi on his Sabbath any more than I'd interrupt Father Aherne during a mass. If I asked him to go, he wouldn't come, and if I tried anything stronger. I could get into trouble. This isn't the big city, Bill, we're a small town and everybody knows everybody, we do things differently here. Tell you what, why don't you drive down tomorrow afternoon and take Saturday night supper with us? It's ham and beans and brown bread, but Gladys has a way with it, then afterward, we'll drop in to see the rabbi. I guarantee he'll cooperate with you then a hundred percent."

The next evening Lanigan and Schroeder appeared at the Smalls'. Lanigan introduced the sergeant and said. "Why don't you two start fresh?"

The rabbi grinned. "Gladly." And led them into the living room.

The Sergeant said. "Sure. You understand. Rabbi. I didn't want to interfere with your religious holiday, but with us homicide takes precedence over everything."

"With us too." said the rabbi, "but I'm sure there is nothing I can tell you that will be of any help. Professor Hendryx was alive when I left him."

"And what time was that?"

"Shortly after two. Ten after at the latest."

"Was he usually there then?" asked the sergeant.

"I really couldn't say. I have a class that ends at two, and afterward I stop into the office to pick up my coat and to leave ray books. Sometimes, not always, he'd be there; I understand his cleaning woman comes to his apartment on Fridays so he escapes to the office— it's only across the street, you know."

"Yes. Rabbi, we've got the setup."

"But yesterday." said the rabbi, "he did say something about the dean having phoned him, asking him to stand by, she was scheduled to see a student committee and wanted him there in case they got obstreperous."

"Aha!" exclaimed Schroeder. "So you did have something important to tell."

"I did?"

"Why sure. In her statement, the dean didn't say anything about phoning Hendryx and asking him to hang around."

"And how is that important?" asked Lanigan, interested.

"Well, say she was involved." He looked from one to the other, the rabbi's lips were pursed in doubt; Lanigan was smiling. "I mean—" Then Schroeder surrendered completely and laughed. "Sorry. Rabbi, but I guess I was still a little sore because you wouldn't see me last night," he said sheepishly. "So after you left on Friday, did you see anyone at all, on your way out?"

"Well, the door of the dean's office was closing as I came down the hall, so although I didn't exactly see her I assume she was in her office, and then downstairs I saw Professor Fine in the English office, he said he was waiting for a phone call."

"What time did you get home. Rabbi?" asked Schroeder.

"It was quite late." the rabbi admitted. "About half-past three."

Lanigan raised his eyebrows. "Have trouble on the road?"

"No, I stopped for a cup of coffee."

"That shouldn't have taken long," said Schroeder. "Well, it was one of those places where you eat in your own car." the rabbi explained. "I began reading a book and must have lost track of the time." When they left. Schroeder asked. "What do you think of your friend's story?"

"You don't know him." said Lanigan. "I assure you it's completely in character."

"Still..."

"Look. Sergeant, there never was an investigation without its little inconsistencies, and the quickest way to get bogged down is to concentrate on them instead of the main line. But I guess you know that better than I."

"Yeah." said Schroeder. "but sometimes you can't help being bothered by them. For example, why didn't the dean tell me she'd phoned Hendryx and asked him to stand by?"

"You find that hard to understand?" asked Lanigan. "She didn't tell you because she forgot, and she forgot because she wanted to forget, and she wanted to forget because otherwise it would mean that she was responsible for his death."