Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red (31 page)

“Yes, what would your Talmudists have said about an empty drawer in a bureau?”

The rabbi smiled. “Well, they would certainly have considered the two possibilities: A) That the drawer had never been filled; and B) that it had been filled and then emptied.”

“I don’t get it.” said Schroeder. “Meaning no disrespect to this Talmud, whatever it is, what difference does it make whether it was filled and then emptied, or never filled. It’s empty right now.”

“Well, if it had never been used, wouldn’t you wonder why?” said the rabbi. “Obviously it’s not because he had nothing to put into it. Look where these sweaters have been piled on top of the undershirts.”

“So maybe he was a guy who didn’t like to bend down.”

“But he had to bend down. His shoes were on the floor of the closet.” the Rabbi observed.

“All right.” said Ames impatiently. “Let’s assume there was something in the drawer originally. Where does that lead us to?”

“To the next question: who emptied it? It was either Hendryx or someone else.”

“Well, that sure is logical.” said Schroeder sarcastically. “You could also say it was either me or someone else, or George Washington or someone else.”

Ames grinned, but the rabbi continued as though there had been no interruption. “Or it could be both.”

“It hardly seems that two people would be required to empty one bureau drawer.” said Ames.

“I didn’t mean they did it together.” said the rabbi. “I was suggesting that Hendryx probably emptied the drawer to make room for something else, and that this something else was then removed.”

“And removed by someone else? Is that what you’re driving at?” asked Ames.

The rabbi nodded.

Light broke suddenly on the sergeant. “Hey: I get what he’s driving at! Hendryx clears out that drawer to put something special in it, like papers or documents, then he gets killed, and – now get this – Roger Fine comes here to get them, because naturally they’re important to him – the confession and the exam papers, they’re the only proof that he leaked the exam. So once he’s here, he sees how easy it is to make it look like Hendryx returned to his apartment after the cleaning lady left, which would put Fine in the clear because he’d have an alibi, so he puts the pipe in the ashtray and lights a few matches.”

The rabbi nodded approvingly. “That’s very good. Sergeant, except that it couldn’t be Roger Fine.”

“Why not?”

“Because Fine has no alibi. Besides, Hendrix wouldn’t have to clean out a drawer for the papers you mention, he’d probably put them in his desk.”

“Then what did he put in the drawer?”

“I suppose the sort of thing anyone puts in bureau drawers – clothing.”

“You mean it was the murderer’s clothing and he came to get it?” asked Ames. “But why? I still don’t get it.”

“Try she,” suggested the rabbi.” She came to get it.”

“A woman?” Ames thought about it for a moment. “Well, if she were –”

“Yeah, why not?” exclaimed Schroeder. “The guy was a bachelor, you’d expect him to shack up with a broad every now and then.” He remembered Ames and stopped.

“It’s all right. Sergeant.” said Ames. “I know the facts of life.”

“Well, what I mean, sir, is that if he had a woman drop in on him every now and then, naturally she’d stay the night.”

“Naturally.”

“And maybe she’d keep a nightgown here, and some pretties if she came often enough.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course! Betty Macomber! They were secretly engaged, they don’t wait nowadays, and come to think of it, she didn’t seem so terribly cut up, not what you’d expect of a girl whose finance had just died.”

“You said her father was not terribly upset either.” remarked Ames.

“That’s right, hey: look – he’s a golf nut,” said Schroeder excitedly. “The kind that keeps his clubs right there in the office. Matter of fact, when I went up to see him, he was practicing putting on the rug.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” snapped Ames.

“Don’t you see, sir, a golf club has a hook on the end like a cane.”

“Hm.” Ames nodded slowly. “Father and daughter. If he resented her marrying him –”

“Or say he found out she was sleeping with him,” suggested Schroeder.

“Then he would kill him?” The rabbi looked his surprise. “Even though they were engaged? And come here to retrieve his daughter’s nightgown so that her honor would not be besmirched?”

It does sound silly the way you put it.” Ames admitted.

The rabbi pressed on. “And does President Macomber have an alibi? Or his daughter?”

“No one in the case seems to.” Schroeder admitted. “Except Millicent Hanbury,” said the rabbi. “The dean?” Schroeder exclaimed. “Cummon!”

“An attractive woman.” the rabbi pointed out. “Still quite young, and unmarried. It was you who first suggested her, Sergeant.”

“I did?”

“When you first came to see me with Lanigan, you suggested she might be involved, we ridiculed the suggestion as I recall.” the rabbi went on smoothly, “but it just shows that the intuitions of an experienced investigator are not to be lightly dismissed.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Ames chuckled. “This alibi you mention –”

“There were actually several.” said the rabbi. “The meeting with the student committee at two-thirty – It was she who picked the time. I understand, then walking out of the meeting was an excellent alibi because it was not immediately apparent. To ask someone for the time is automatically suspicious. But to leave a meeting and not return is to insure that after a while people will get restive and start looking at their watches. But the clincher was when she got back to Barnard’s Crossing and called the police to report that she had found a window open, they could produce no evidence that it had been forced, of course, but the call had served its purpose – to record the time on the police blotter. Quite by accident I found out that the Barnard’s Crossing Police Department is very strict about it.”

“All police departments are.” said Ames. “But the murder was committed earlier, probably around twenty-past two, and all those alibis are for later.”

“That’s why she had to make it look as though Hendryx was alive after she left, and the students would back her alibi.”

“But what about the medical examiner’s autopsy?” Ames persisted. “She’d have to know that he would report the actual time of death.”

“Ah, but that’s because he examined the body shortly after death,” said the rabbi. “And that was only because of the bombing. In the normal course of events, the body would not have been discovered until Monday morning, probably by me when I came in for class, that’s some sixty hours later, and no medical examiner could have fixed the time within an hour or so, so long after the event. Besides, the evidence in his apartment would show that Hendryx was alive long after she had left the building.”

Ames nodded. “And knowing we’d check his apartment, she stopped to retrieve her nightgown? Panties? Stockings? Yet how could they be identified as hers?”

“How about something a bit more personal?”

“More personal than panties?” asked Ames with a smile. “I was thinking of a knitting bag,” suggested the rabbi.

“Ah yes.” said Ames. “I can see where she’d have to get that”

“Look.” said Schroeder. “maybe I’m just a dumb cop, but you still haven’t explained how she could have pulled that statue down on him without a struggle.” He thought a moment. “Even if she once was a Phys. Ed teacher.”

Ames flashed the rabbi a questioning look.

“Let’s go back to the Talmud again.” the rabbi said. “It’s the same business of considering all the possibilities, a statue on a shelf can tumble down as the result of a concussion, like a bomb’s explosion, that was the point of view of the police when you arrested the students. Or it can be pulled down, which is the basis for your suspicion of Professor Fine and a moment ago, Sergeant, of the Macombers. But it can also be pushed off the shelf, and that’s what I think happened.”

“Pushed?” said Ames. “How could it have been pushed?”

The rabbi said quietly; “Our office phone feeds off the line in the dean’s office; the wire comes through a hole in the wall above the top shelf near the ceiling, the statue was right in front of it. In fact, the phone man had to move it to make the hole.”

“So there’s a hole in the wall, and the phone wire goes through it.” said Ames in annoyance. “What of it?”

“The wire comes through it, but there’s still enough room for a thin but strong steel rod to be pushed through.” said the rabbi.

“A thin steel – a knitting needle!” exclaimed Ames.

The rabbi nodded. “My guess is that when she heard me leave – and you can hear through those walls; the office shares a common partition – she moved the desk over to the wall and climbed up, then she pushed the knitting needle through the hole and toppled the statue. Sure enough, it tumbled down and killed him.”

Ames was silent for a long moment. “And motive. Rabbi,” he said at last. “Do you have some theory as to motive?”

“I have a theory;” said the rabbi diffidently. “My guess is that she assumed she and Hendryx were going to be married, perhaps as soon as he was made head of the department. It was no secret that she was pushing for it but so far had been unsuccessful, Hendrix must have decided he’d have a better chance if the daughter of the president backed him, so he made a play for her and they became engaged. Friday morning, when President Macomber told the dean that Hendryx was at last getting his appointment, he probably told her why, since he’d know nothing of the prior relationship between his future son-in-law and the dean.”

“It’s a lovely theory. Rabbi.” said Ames, “and it seems to cover everything, but you realize of course that you don’t have a particle of proof.”

“I’m not so sure it covers everything, at that.” said Schroeder. “You say she moved her desk and then climbed up on it.”

“I’m sure that’s what happened.” said the rabbi. “Any of the chairs would have been too low.”

Schroeder shook his head slowly in flat negation. “The desk is a good three feet from the wall and it’s screwed to the floor, she couldn’t have moved it.”

The rabbi frowned. Bradford Ames giggled nervously.

“Three feet, you say? Yes, I suppose it is.” The rabbi’s face brightened. “Then I might even be able to offer your proof, Sergeant.” Rising from his seat, he stood about three feet away from the wall and leaned forward, his left arm outstretched, his hand pressed against the wall to support himself, he drew a pencil from his breastpocket, and jabbed it against the wall. “High up on the wall, there’s a good chance the print is still there.”

She looked up from her knitting as the three men entered her office. “You remember me, don’t you, ma’am?” asked Schroeder politely.

“Oh yes, you’re from the police.”

“And this is Mr. Bradford Ames, assistant district attorney, he’s directing the investigation.”

“How do you do, Mr. Ames, and this man?” she asked.

“He’s our fingerprint expert. Miss Hanbury,” said Ames. “All right, Bill.”

The man looked at the wall. “I’ll need something to stand on,” he said.

“Why don’t you hop on the desk here.” Ames suggested. “I’ll put this paper down so you won’t scratch it with your shoes.”

She watched with interest as Bill mounted the desk, as he peered at the wall. “Yup, it’s here,” he said, “one print, full palm and all five fingers. Perfect.”

She smiled as she bent over her knitting. “So you know.”

“Yes, Miss Hanbury., we know.”

Later, Ames joined the rabbi at the apartment.

“I could use a cup of coffee.” said Ames. “Seems to me I noticed ajar of instant coffee in the kitchen.”

And with the long practice of the bachelor, he scurried about the kitchen, boiling water, rinsing cups, setting the table.

They were both seated at the kitchen table, their steaming cups before them, before Ames said. “In spite of that Talmudic razzle-dazzle, you must have had some idea of where you were heading, and please spare me your facile explanation to the good sergeant that it was he who first put you in mind of Dean Hanbury. What was it actually?”

The rabbi set his cup down. “From the day I first met her. Millicent Hanbury has been in my mind. I suppose it’s our general way of looking at things: the biblical injunction to be fruitful and multiply. To us, the unmarried woman, the spinster, is a tragic figure because she has not had the chance to complete her normal life cycle. In the stetl, the small ghetto towns of Russia and Poland where every girl was required to provide a dowry for her marriage, the poor girl, the orphan, was furnished a dowry by the community so that she would not be condemned to a life of spinsterhood. Even if she was ugly, they managed to pair her off with someone, there were no spinsters in the stetl.”

“How about bachelors?”

“An occasional one.” The rabbi smiled. “They were not considered so much tragic figures as failing in their duty, not pulling their weight, as it were.”

“You, too?” In answer to the rabbi’s questioning look, he explained. “I’ve got it from my family most of my life – not pulling my weight, not doing my duty. But it wasn’t because I remained single; it was because I didn’t become a bigshot lawyer. Not fulfilling my potential is the usual remark.”

The rabbi smiled. “Well, in our modern system, where you marry for romantic love, it’s pretty much a matter of luck whether you marry or not. But I venture to say that in the older system of the arranged marriage, you probably would not have remained a bachelor, and Miss Hanbury certainly would not have remained a spinster, she is too attractive. So I found myself wondering why she hadn’t married. Was it for the sake of an academic career?” He broke off as a thought crossed his mind. “You know, the chances are that if you had married, your wife would have seen to it that you became that bigshot lawyer.”

Ames chuckled. “Then it’s just as well that we don’t have the arranged marriage.”

The rabbi grinned in sympathy. “Well, shortly afterward I bumped into Chief Lanigan and he told me about Millicent Hanbury, she was a Hanbury, and Hanburys didn’t associate with just anyone. But since she belonged to a poor branch of the family, she didn’t even associate with those she considered her equals, she couldn’t. It was a matter of pride in her family; her upbringing, and it left her emotionally crippled.”