“When he does come, is he alone?”
“Never. He always has that hulking friend of his. Kieran.”
“Kieran’s out,” I said. “Jenn took him out before Daggett grabbed her.”
“Then he’ll have someone else,” Stayner said. “Daggett is never alone.”
He made a list of all his team members and the equipment they typically brought in with them for each procedure. “We don’t leave much at Halladay’s. Even with their security, you don’t want to leave anything of value in that neighbourhood.”
“Which means we can hide a gun in your stuff. I don’t suppose you’re handy with a pistol.”
“Not even if it were filled with water.”
“Any of your team?”
“Please, we’re surgeons.”
“Don’t get huffy,” I said. “You did plenty of damage by agreeing to Mrs. McConnell’s surgery.”
“Daggett forced me to-”
“Save it. Lerner could only bring the deal as far as you. You took it to Daggett. He didn’t know about it until you volunteered, knowing McConnell would pay ten times what you’d been throwing back. And that extra step helped get David killed.”
“You’re determined to blame that on me.”
“It’s that or punch more holes in your walls.”
CHAPTER 31
Rabbi Ed let me into the house, wearing a cabled grey cardigan over a white Oxford shirt and black jeans. As he turned to shut the door, I went straight to the dining room table. I wanted no more of closed, quiet rooms filled with the leathery smell of old books full of high ideals. I wanted to be in the open with him, and with Shana if she chose to be part of this. And wasn’t that going to be fun?
The rabbi used a dimmer to fill the afternoon light in the dining room with a soft yellow glow. Shana was across the butcher-block island in the kitchen, dressed in jeans with a white blouse and a man’s suit vest over it. I smiled at her but could tell how forced it felt; she did too, I guess, because she didn’t smile back. But she did offer coffee. I said yes and she started putting a pot together, measuring out dark grounds from a Starbucks bag she took from the freezer.
“It’s terrible news about David,” Rabbi Ed said. “I’m simply heartbroken for his parents. They sound like wonderful people. I was so hopeful this was going to turn out right.”
“It hasn’t turned out so bad,” I said.
“What? How can you say that? David is dead. Your partner is being held hostage.”
“For you, I meant.”
He drew back as Shana looked at me with anger. She said, “That was totally inappropriate.”
“You got everything you wanted out of the deal,” I said to him. “McConnell would make sure you got federal funding. Urban renewal, that’s his thing. Zoning problems would go away. His wife would make a personal contribution to the capital campaign once she got the new kidney you lined up for her.”
“I know this has been an upsetting day for you,” he said in a soothing voice, the one he probably used to counsel his flock.
“You spent your life telling the truth, Rabbi,” I said. “So you’re not a very good liar. You said David never told you anything about the organ trade the night he was here.”
“That’s right.”
“But Mrs. McConnell’s operation was lined up the next day.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re the only link between all the players. You put the congressman and Stayner together. David had already told you about this, hadn’t he? During one of your confessional tete-a-tetes.”
“I told you I wasn’t prepared to discuss that.”
“He told you about the illegal operation he’d been dragged into and the death of one of the donors.”
“Jonah,” Shana said, “unless you can prove all of this I think you should just stop the wild accusations. This is our house you’re in.”
“Such a nice house,” I said. “Such a warm house. Built by such a warm-hearted man. A builder and a ribbon cutter, a pillar of Brookline. They ought to paint a mural of him on Harvard Street.”
“I said stop.”
“Let him stop me,” I said. “Tell me which part isn’t true, Ed. David is dead, there are no more confidences to keep.” I looked at Shana; she glared at me, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
He took a deep breath, as if a man of his girth needed to fill himself with more air than most. “What are you, thirty-three, thirty-four years old?”
“Close enough.”
“What do you know about building a shul like Adath Israel? Yes, I cut the ribbons and broke the ground. From a small shul to an expanded one to a second building. I founded the day school, the men’s choir, the adult education program, the youth basketball club. For twenty-five years, there was virtually nothing in that building I did not initiate or bring to life.”
“So why quit?”
“I didn’t plan to. I thought I’d stay there until I retired. But it was time to build a new complex. We had outgrown the old one. It had always been a patchwork affair-one building here, one there, with a walkway connecting them, which could, by the way, fall apart any day. Through a developer I know, up came an opportunity to acquire land in a good location nearby and build the kind of synagogue Brookline should have: a new sanctuary and admin wing, a bigger school, more gym and childcare space. There were naming opportunities galore. Fantastic plans another friend of mine drew up for nothing. And the board of directors turned it down. They said it was the wrong time to build, what with the economy bouncing around like a basketball. I argued the opposite. Workmen were out of work. Materials were cheap. The land was there at a buyer’s price. They said no, no, no. It was too expensive. The timing was bad, it sent the wrong message, the naming opportunities might not be there-every excuse. And after twenty-five years, all the battles, Jonah, the joy, of course, the opportunity to do a lot of good, but the grief too, to have endured all that and be turned down by these pishers? That was it. I took a leave of absence, during which I looked at other opportunities, and came up with the idea of the Shul on the Hill. That’s why I left.”
“When did David tell you about Mr. Patel?”
“A few days after he died. David came by for tea after dinner. You were out that night,” he said to Shana.
“He confided in you,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Did he ask your advice?”
He lowered his head. Shana said, “Dad?”
“Rabbi, did he ask your advice?”
“Yes. He thought maybe he should go to the authorities.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That he had indeed saved a life, as Dr. Stayner had suggested. He had not done it for material gain; the money was more or less forced on him. He said he was going to send half to his parents and give the other half to the Patels.”
“What else?”
“I told him it was best to keep silent.”
“Dad!”
“Because it was best,” he insisted. “This Daggett character had them all in thrall. He would hurt Dr. Stayner’s son if he refused to take part. The others faced threats of violence or exposure. I said I thought it best if he just forgot it. Put it behind him.”
“And then you called McConnell.”
“I did not,” he said. “It’s not like I brokered this thing.”
“What did you do?”
“As it happened, I ran into the McConnells at a function the day after I saw David. And Lesley looked frightful, despite all the makeup. I’ve known them both for some time and the decline in her appearance was shocking. So I said, on compassionate grounds, maybe I could help them. He expressed his interest.”
“I bet he did. So you went to Stayner and asked if he could help.”
“Yes. And when he heard what McConnell would pay him, he jumped.”
“He swears he gives all his payments to the hospital.”
“Not one this size. I don’t know what he ever got before, but I believe Marc offered him a quarter-million. That’s what he offered me for the capital campaign. I didn’t ask him for anything, you understand. I didn’t extort him, despite what you believe. When I told him what I knew, without naming names of course, he told me straight out that I’d never have a zoning issue in Beacon Hill and that federal funds would flow to their maximum. All without a word from me.”