The Day the Rabbi Resigned (25 page)

Lanigan leaned back in his chair and smiled. “All right. We have weapon and opportunity. So now let's consider motive. You yourself pointed out that in a murder of this kind, where all that is required is pushing an unconscious man's hand a couple of inches, no planning, no special arrangements, no violence, no great physical effort is required. His wife could have done it. She was out, or at least she didn't answer the phone when our desk sergeant called to give her the news, and the rumor is that the marriage was on the rocks. This Aherne fellow might have done it because of some fancied grievance against Joyce. Had Joyce given him a bad grade in some course? As far as motive goes, all possible. But—” He held up an admonishing forefinger. “Jacobs had a very good motive. He and Joyce were rivals for tenure, which I gather is hot stuff. But it was even more important for Jacobs because it would mean that he'd be able to marry the Lerner girl. Now that's a real motive.”

“And why would he take the watch?” asked the rabbi.

“To make it look like a robbery,” Lanigan replied promptly.

The rabbi was silent, and Lanigan went on. “There are a couple of other points that should be considered. First, he starts out for the Lerner celebration, and please note that in giving him directions on how to get there, Clara Lerner told him to take Pine Grove Road to get there quicker. And he never showed. Was it, perhaps, because he noticed that he had blood on his shirt or on his jacket? Second, Dunstable called him in order to set up a meeting so he could ask him a few questions. His answering machine said he couldn't speak at the time, but that he would get back to him. That was around five o'clock in the afternoon just as the sergeant was going off duty. Although he identified himself as from the Barnard's Crossing police, he gave his home phone number. Jacobs did not return the call, and when Dunstable called again later in the evening, all he got was the same message from the answering machine. So the next morning, Dunstable goes calling on him. He has a flat on Beacon Street, near Coolidge Corner in Brookline. There a neighbor tells him that Jacobs left around seven the evening before—two hours after Dunstable's phone call, mind you—and that he was carrying a suitcase. Not going out for a bite, or to go to a movie, but going away, leaving town.”

“Is that all of it?” asked the rabbi.

“Isn't it enough to justify our making further inquiries about him?”

The telephone rang, and Lanigan scooped up the instrument and said, “Lanigan here.” He listened for a few moments and said, “Hold it.” To the rabbi he said, “Look, David, something's come up and I'm going to be pretty busy for the next couple of hours.”

“I was just going.”

36

Ben Clayman was the first to arrive. Miriam, who opened the door in response to his ring, said, “Come in, Mr. Clayman. Oh, will you excuse me, the coffee is perking.”

On the coffee table there was a tray with cups and saucers and a plate of cookies. He shook hands with the rabbi, and when they sat down, the rabbi asked, “What's this all about?”

“Didn't Al Bergson tell you?”

“Only that a committee of three, I think he said, wanted to see me.”

“Yeah, that's right, there are three of us.” The doorbell rang and he said, “That's either Levitt or Bergson. I'll get it.”

It was Levitt, and almost immediately afterward Bergson. Miriam came in with the coffeepot. Clayman and Levitt both shook their heads as she was about to pour, but Bergson said, “Yes, I'll have a cup, Miriam.”

She poured a cup for him and the rabbi. “I'll leave the pot here in case you gentlemen change your mind.”

As she turned to go back to the kitchen, Levitt said, “No, Mrs. Small, I think you ought to remain. This concerns you, too.”

She glanced uncertainly at the men, and then poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.

Ben Clayman expected Al Bergson, as president of the congregation, to act as their spokesman, but it was Levitt who took the lead. “I understand we vote on your contract next week, Rabbi. Now I'm kind of new in town. When you work for a big corporation like General Electric, you get moved around a lot. I've lived in a number of places, and I've been a member of a lot of temples and synagogues as a result. First thing I do when I move to a new town is join one of the local synagogues.”

“Very commendable,” the rabbi murmured.

“Eh? Yeah, well I don't just join. I get involved, so I'm apt to become a member of the Board of Directors. So I guess I know more than most of the other members of our board here what the general practice is as far as their dealing with rabbis goes. And I tell you I was pretty shook up when I heard your contract was for only one year, especially when you've been here twenty-five years.”

“It's the way I wanted it,” said the rabbi.

Levitt looked his surprised belief, and Clayman stepped into the breach. “It's like this, Rabbi, when we realized you'd been here twenty-five years, we thought we ought to do something to, you know, sort of celebrate the occasion.”

“You mean a party for the whole congregation?” asked the rabbi.

“Oh, we'd have a big party for sure, but we'd also want to give you a gift. Al Bergson was supposed to sound you out on what you and Mrs. Small might like. We had in mind something big, like a new car—”

“I have a car,” said the rabbi.

Clayman sniffed contemptuously. “You mean that jalopy you come to the temple in?”

“It's only four years old and it's gone less than twenty thousand miles.”

“Four years, twenty thousand miles. You don't do much driving, do you?” said Levitt. “Maybe with a big, comfortable car you'd ride more.”

“But then I'd have two cars. What would I do with two cars?”

“Mrs. Small could use the other,” said Clayman.

“I don't drive,” said Miriam.

“So you could trade it in and we'd get an even bigger one than the one we thought of.”

“I have enough trouble driving this one. Parking, you know. A bigger one would be even more trouble.”

“All right. How about something else, then? How about a complete service of sterling silver?”

“When would we use it?” asked Miriam.

“And wouldn't it be a temptation for someone to break in?” suggested the rabbi.

“Well, do you have any suggestions of your own? How about a fine watch, a solid gold Rolex?”

The rabbi smiled and held up his wrist. “I paid fifteen dollars, I think, for this one. There was a warranty that came with it which said it was accurate to within one minute a month. Would the Rolex be any more accurate?”

A painting or a sculpture was suggested, or a trip around the world. As the rabbi turned down each of their suggestions in turn, it became apparent, at least to Clayman and Levitt that, for whatever reason, the rabbi did not care to discuss the matter. Finally, Clayman said, “Look, Rabbi, will you think about it? Talk it over with Mrs. Small, and then you can let us know what you decide. Whatever it is, within reason, I'm sure the board will go along.”

“All right,” said the rabbi good-naturedly.

“Well, I've got to be running along,” Clayman went on. “I promised the wife I'd be home early.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Levitt. He looked questioningly at Bergson. “You coming, Al?”

“I'll just finish my coffee,” said Bergson.

So the two left him, and as they made their way to their cars, Clayman confided, “Al will work something out with him. You'll see. The Smalls and the Bergsons are very close. They dine at each other's houses.”

“Doesn't the rabbi dine at other members' houses?”

“Very few. See, the Bergsons keep kosher. They wouldn't dine at my house, for example, because although we don't use pork or anything
trefe
, we don't keep two sets of dishes.”

“I guess that's the same with us,” said Levitt, “although once in a while we have lobsters.”

When they were gone, Bergson said, “All right, David, now what's it all about? Why don't you want to accept a gift from the congregation?”

“Because then I'd feel obligated. Could I accept a fine car, or some other valuable gift, and then resign?”

“But why would you want to resign?”

“Because I'm fifty-three. If I don't quit now, I'll be too old to get another job.”

“Were you thinking of getting another job? Have you had an offer from a bigger congregation, perhaps?”

“No, I want to get out of the rabbinate altogether. Maybe a teaching job, or editing, or just going to Israel without having to think about getting back by a particular date.”

“And when were you planning to resign?”

The rabbi smiled. “I rather thought next week would be a good time. I complete my twenty-fifth year then, and I could go on pension.”

“But if you go on pension, you lose twenty-five percent of your income.”

“Well, I don't need as much now. Hepsibah is getting married in September, and Jonathon is getting a job with a good law firm. There'll be just the two of us.”

“You agree with David on all this, Miriam?”

“David is in charge of grand strategy; I take charge of logistics,” she answered.

“Well, David, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. If you submit your resignation, I'll refuse to accept it.”

“I don't see how you can stop it, Al.”

“I'll have the board vote an indefinite leave of absence for you, and anyone we hire to replace you will be told the job is temporary.”

The rabbi shrugged. “You do whatever you think you have to do, Al.”

37

As soon as the door closed behind the rabbi, Lanigan said into the phone, “Rabbi gone, Eban?”

“Just went out the door.”

“Good. Now what's this about Tim Phelps having something on the Joyce case?”

“He's in the cruising car. Why don't I let him tell it?”

“All right. Hook him up.” Then to the policeman in the cruising car, “Chief Lanigan. What is it, Tim?”

“I just stopped a guy for speeding and passing a red light.”

“So?”

“And he don't have his registration.”

“So?”

“And he's wearing a watch just like the one you described when you sent me to take up along Pine Grove Road.”

“Is that so? Did you say anything about it to him?”

“No. I thought I'd talk to you first.”

“That's right. Don't show any interest in it. Who's with you on the cruiser?”

“Bill Stone.”

“Okay, have Bill get in the car with him and have him drive to the station house. You follow in the cruiser.”

His name was Malcolm Dorfbetter, and according to his driver's license, he was twenty-five years old. He said he lived on 30 Lowell Road, which was in a newly developed part of town, where many of the streets were not yet paved and some of the lawns, while rolled and seeded, had not yet produced grass.

His hair was long, coming to his coat collar in back, and he wore a gold earring. He was sure of himself, even brash.

He argued with Officer Phelps as he was brought into the station house.

“Look, I didn't realize I was speeding. My speedometer, I got to have it checked—”

“You also passed a red light.”

“Yeah, well, I was watching the guy in front of me and I didn't see the light. Besides, it just changed—”

“No, it changed when you were still seventy feet back of it.”

“Okay, so I figured I'd sneak through 'stead of jamming on my brakes and maybe going through the windshield. So I made a mistake, and it's a traffic violation. So why don't you just give me a ticket and I'll be on my way.”

“You don't have a registration.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, it's at home. I could drive there and get it and be back in ten, fifteen minutes.”

“It's as much as my job is worth to let you drive off without a registration.”

“So take me down there, and you can even come in the house with me.”

“Just relax, mister, and you can make your pitch to the chief.”

Officer Phelps looked at the desk sergeant questioningly, who nodded toward Lanigan's office. He marched the young man in and handed Lanigan the driver's license. Lanigan made quite a show of checking the license, peering first at the young man and then at the picture on the plastic card.

“This gives your address as St. Paul Street, Brookline.”

“Yeah, well, that is where I was living up to about a month ago.”

“Okay. Sit down. I'll be with you in a minute.” To Phelps he said, “You can get back to the cruiser, Tim, and will you ask Sergeant Dunstable and Lieutenant Jennings to come in.” Officer Phelps left, and Dunstable entered almost immediately, as though he had been waiting at the door, as indeed he had. In a minute or two Eban Jennings came in. He put a slip of paper on Lanigan's desk and sat down.

Lanigan glanced at the paper and said, “According to our records, Thirty Lowell Road is occupied by the Leaming family, Mary and Arthur Leaming, no Dorfbetter.”

“Yeah, well, she's my ma. After my old man died, she married this guy, Leaming.”

“And you live with them?”

“Well, I have been for about a month now.”

“They're new in town?”

“They came the first of the year.”

“They home now?”

“No, they're driving across country to L.A. I'm sort of looking after the place while they're gone. Look, I've got an appointment.” He glanced at his watch. “And I'm kind of late for it right now.”

“That's quite a watch you have there,” said Lanigan. “May I see it?”

“Sure.” Dorfbetter snapped the catch and handed it over. Lanigan noted that it was the sort of catch Margaret Joyce had described to him.

“You a Catholic?” asked Lanigan.