The Day the Rabbi Resigned (24 page)

She was back in a few minutes to report that the bulletin board of the Anthropology Department had been cleared. “Should I check the one in the Faculty Room?”

“No, don't bother. This calls for a little detective work. It says here that Professor-Emeritus Cotton of the University of Chicago is to be awarded the Dreyfus Medal. Now it's important that I get in touch with him. So call the Anthropology Society and find out where he's staying, and call him.”

In fifteen minutes she was back to tell him. “He's being put up at the Harvard Club. I then called there and they said he hadn't checked in yet, that they weren't expecting him until Sunday. I left a message for him to call you.”

“Well, that's fine, but he may not ask if there are any messages for him, and they may fail to tell him. So if he doesn't call back by Monday morning, you try them again. It's important.”

34

Back in his office, Lanigan sat at his desk with the file on the case spread out before him. He went over everything in the file, from the notes he had had the desk sergeant make of his recollection of what Dr. Gorfinkle said when he called in to inform the police of the accident on Pine Grove Road, through Dunstable's reports of conversations he had had with Gorfinkle, Professor Saxon, Clara Lerner, and the various people he had interviewed at the club. There were his own notes on his first meeting with Margaret Joyce, of his talks with Nellie Marston and Cyrus Merton, and the hurriedly penciled memorandum of his conversation with Professor Saxon, made as soon as he got back to his office. He also had the file on the theft of Merton's car, if only because Cyrus Merton was involved in both, and they both had occurred on the same night.

He was looking for possible leads. His eyes narrowed at the desk sergeant's note that there was no answer when he had called the Joyce residence the first time they learned the name of the injured man. He made a note to question Margaret Joyce about it. Again, in going over Dunstable's report on the people he had interviewed at the club, he noted that the checkroom boy had gone off shortly after Joyce had left. The young man was a student at Windermere, and Miss Saxon had said Joyce was a chaser. What was it she had said about the school gossip to the effect that a coed who sat in front and crossed her legs in his class was sure of a good mark? Was there some connection between Joyce and the young man of the coatroom? Was there perhaps a coed he was sweet on that Joyce might have made advances to, which he might have resented? He made a note to have Dunstable go up to Breverton and interview the young man again.

He sat back and tried to think of what other lines he might follow. It occurred to him that it might be helpful to talk to Jacobs in Higginstown, and he reached for the phone. He had no trouble getting the number from Information, and when he dialed, it was Professor Jacobs himself who answered.

When Lanigan identified himself, Jacobs asked, “Is it about Victor Joyce?”

“And why do you think that, Professor?”

“Well, there was someone, a sergeant, who came to my friend Clara Lerner with questions about him.”

“I see. Well, we are making a few inquiries about Joyce,” Lanigan admitted.

“And how can I help you?”

“Well, you see, you left right after him, the faculty dinner, I mean. Did he say anything to you? Did you agree to leave early? Did you two talk about leaving early?”

“We didn't talk at all. I may have said hello, but that's about it. We were friendly enough, but hardly pals. The story around school was that he left because the barman refused to serve him. And I left because I had another party to go to. And it wasn't right after him. It was some little time after.”

“Just what time was it, Professor?”

“It was pretty close to ten. Not that I looked at my watch and decided it was time to leave, but as I was standing on the porch about to go down the steps to the parking lot, a former student of mine, who had been running the coatroom, joined me. He said he got through at ten and that one of the waitresses was taking over. So, if he left at ten, then I must have. We talked for a few minutes and then went to our cars.”

“Oh yeah, what did you talk about?”

“School stuff. Primarily, he was concerned about the mark I had given him.”

“Thought he should have got a higher mark?”

“Well, his girlfriend had taken the same course, but in Joyce's section, and she had gotten a higher mark. And he thought
he
should have got the higher mark because he had answered all the questions and she hadn't.”

“So what did you tell him?” asked Lanigan.

“Oh, I explained that it was an essay-type test and the marking is pretty subjective. I have given A's on occasion—rare occasions, to be sure—to students who answered only one question of the half-dozen in the test. You see, they get so involved in the subject matter of that particular question that they spend the whole hour on it, and it's not bulling—you can always spot that. To me, that's apt to demonstrate a superior knowledge, and interest, I might add, of the subject matter of the course. So I give him an A.”

“You explained all that to him?”

“More or less.”

“And then you got in your car? It must have been quite a little while after ten that you started out.”

“I suppose it was. Maybe ten after or a quarter after.”

“So when did you get to Barnard's Crossing?”

“Around a quarter of eleven, I suppose.”

“Kind of late to go visiting, isn't it?”

“It was a party, and I wasn't expected until late.”

“Why didn't you go by way of Pine Grove Road? That would have got you to Barnard's Crossing a lot sooner.”

“I was planning to. Clara Lerner had suggested it, but I missed the turnoff, and I didn't want to turn around and go looking for it. To tell the truth, I wasn't terribly anxious to get to the party at all.”

“No? Why was that?”

“Well, coming in at that hour, it occurred to me I'd be rather conspicuous.”

“And you didn't want to be. Then why go at all?”

“I'd promised,” said Jacobs simply.

“I see. Look, I may have a lot more questions in the next day or two. I'll be able to reach you at this number, won't I?”

“No, I'm coming back to Boston. I've got a meeting Monday that I've got to go to.”

“You'll be able to drive up Monday morning and get here in time for your meeting?”

“Oh, I wasn't going to drive. I was planning on flying up.”

“But your car—”

“I'm leaving it here. It's an old car and I barely made it to Higginstown. And it's a nuisance in the city. It was useful when I was living in Cambridge, but after I moved to Beacon Street, I really had no need for it. So I plan to leave it here and sell it when I come home after summer session. Or maybe I'll trade it.”

“Then I'll be able to get hold of you in the city.”

“Oh yes. I'll be available all through the summer.”

Lanigan teetered back and forth in his chair as he thought about the conversation. It all seemed straightforward, and jibed with what he had heard from Professor Saxon and what Dunstable had reported of his interview with the Lerner girl. It occurred to him that perhaps it jibed too well. Had Professor Saxon called Jacobs as soon as she had returned to her office after lunching with him, to tell him what she had said and what he should say if he were interrogated? It might be worth checking phone records.

The guy had been smooth over the phone, but hell, why wouldn't he be? He was an English professor, wasn't he? And an interrogation on the telephone was hardly ideal. If there had been a sudden flick of the eyes or a blush at an embarrassing question, he could not see it. And the car, why was it being left in Higginstown? If it was an old jalopy, why had he undertaken to drive it to Higginstown? Was the reason for leaving it there as he had stated it, or was there perhaps a bloodstain on the upholstery that he had been unable to get out? Perhaps he could have the Higginstown police check it out for him. He admitted to himself that he had uncovered nothing startling as a result of his day's activity, but there were some possible leads. Maybe Dunstable would be able to get something out of Aherne when he questioned him again. Or perhaps he might see the young man himself; he had to make the trip to Breverton that evening for Amy's rehearsal. He reached for the phone and dialed the country club.

He asked for the manager, and when he was connected, he said, “That young fellow, Aherne, the one who ran the checkroom the night of the Windermere dinner, is he around, or will he be around tonight?”

“No, he's got another job for the summer. He said he was available Sundays if we needed him.”

“I see. Are you going to be around this evening?”

“Oh, I'll be around. Why?”

“You wouldn't have a list of those who attended the doctor's dinner that same night, would you?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“You mean you do?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I'll see you.”

When they arrived at the rehearsal hall, and Lanigan parked his car, Amy said, “Oh, you're going to stay for the rehearsal, aren't you? You'll like it. We're doing Strauss waltzes tonight.”

“No, I'm going to walk over to the country club and—”

“For a couple of beers, I suppose,” she said.

“No, Amy, it's business, but I won't be gone long.”

It was a short walk to the club, about five minutes, and he was able to see the manager immediately.

“I made a list for you, Chief. It's a list of the members. The ones with a star against their names didn't show up that night. Maybe they were involved with patients, or maybe they just decided not to come because of the weather. It was a misty night, if you remember.”

“Do you know where each one lives—the town, I mean?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Let's see, Johnson lives in Eastham, Silsby comes all the way from Andover. Look, let me have that back and I'll write in the towns.”

“Maybe that won't be necessary,” said Lanigan. “Just tell me, which of them was apt to use Pine Grove Road to go home.”

“Nobody,” said the manager promptly.

“Nobody?”

“Nobody in his right mind, when you consider the weather conditions. And none of them live south of here, except Doc Leamis, who lives in Lynn. And oh yes, Doc Gorfinkle. He lives in Barnard's Crossing. He might use it if it was a clear night.”

“He did use it,” said Lanigan.

The manager laughed. “Oh yes, I heard them talking about it. Seems he spilled some beer on his waistcoat. It was his wife's idea that they go by way of Pine Grove because there was some talk of a trap on the state road by the State Troopers, and if they were to stop him, they'd judge him to be driving under the influence just by the way he smelled.”

“Okay. You've been very helpful,” said Lanigan.

“Can I offer you something, Chief?”

“No, I've got to go and listen to some Strauss waltzes.”

35

Early afternoon on Sunday, the rabbi called Lanigan at home, only to learn that he had gone to the station house. He did not call the station house since it was a public building and so he felt he did not need permission to go there. And also because he thought Lanigan might put him off.

However, when the rabbi arrived at the station house shortly after noon, Lanigan appeared curiously happy to see him. “Come in, David. Sit down.”

“I'm not interfering with something important?”

“Not at all. I'm free. I've got nothing to do except routine reports that I can do anytime. To tell the truth, I came here in order to get out of the house. Amy was playing the flute, practicing for the next meeting of her group, and I can't stand very much of it. And of course I can't use the TV because that would interfere with her. Now, I know you just didn't happen to be passing.”

“No, that's your ploy,” said the rabbi with a smile. “No, I had a definite purpose in coming to see you,” and he recounted his conversation with Lerner.

Lanigan nodded. “Yeah, I can see where Lerner might be concerned. But you opened that can of worms yourself, if you remember. It was you who pointed out that the watch might have been taken off Joyce's wrist not for the sake of the watch, but in order to expose the artery in the wrist to the jagged glass.”

“I was only making the point that—”

“Yes, yes, I know. But in either case it's murder. In one case it's premeditated murder, and in the other it's a felony murder. So what do we have? The weapon, the jagged glass, is there for anyone to use.”

“Or for no one to use,” said the rabbi.

“How do you mean?”

“Even though Joyce was unconscious, he might have moved his hand spasmodically, perhaps, and cut his wrist that way.”

Lanigan nodded. “It's possible, but we know someone was there after Gorfinkle examined him, because the watch is gone. So now we consider opportunity. This took place not in a house where only a few people might have access, but on an open road. But the road was one that few people would use at night, especially on a rainy, misty night, and then only to go to Barnard's Crossing from Breverton.”

“Or to go from Breverton to Barnard's Crossing.”

“All right.”

“And it might be used by a couple …” the rabbi added.

“You mean a lover's lane. Possible, but not likely. It's a narrow road, and there aren't many places where the shoulder is wide enough to turn and park. You'd be apt to go into the ditch that runs alongside. No, I think we can rule out a couple going there to park. So we think of opportunity. Who could have been on that road at the time? We know Joyce left the faculty dinner at quarter to ten, because the young man in charge of the checkroom asked him if he were leaving early when he came to claim his coat, which he then remembered having left in his car. He held his hand up—remember, he wore his watch on the inside of his wrist—and said it was almost ten, which the coatroom guy, a fellow named Aherne, confirmed by glancing at the clock on the wall. Now we don't have the exact time when Gorfinkle left, but it must have been around ten because the doctor's party breaks up at that time. It's a sort of rule or a tradition with them. Some of them have early rounds at their hospitals the next day. It was even more important when they first started to meet and most of them were interns or residents. They start at half past six and go till half past nine, never later than ten. Three hours—it's enough. So figure another ten or fifteen minutes for them to get their things to say good-bye, to finish up what they happened to be saying when they adjourned. Let's say Gorfinkle started out at quarter to ten, and he was the only one who was apt to use Pine Grove Road because he was the only one who lived in Barnard's Crossing. Which brings us back to the faculty dinner. They finished serving around ten, and then there was going to be a lot of speechifying. One person, and only one other than Joyce, left even before dessert and coffee. It was this Jacobs that Lerner is concerned with. He left at ten. How do we know that? Because Aherne leaves at ten, and one of the regular waitresses takes over his station in the checkroom. See, he gets paid by the hour; the waitresses get a flat sum for the evening and they pool and share the tips. Aherne leaves at ten and goes out to his car. Jacobs was at the head of the stairs leading to the parking lot, and Aherne spoke to him. This Aherne knew him because he's a student at Windermere and had taken a course with him.”