“Harass them? Do you think we grill them for the pleasure of seeing them squirm?”
“The effect is the same. Marvin Brown was upset-even frightened. I’m sure it wasn’t because he had committed murder and was afraid he might be discovered. He was afraid of the effect on his business and his friends, on his wife and children.”
“But he did leave the temple early and he wouldn’t tell you why.”
“What of it? There were probably lots of people who left the temple at one time or another. It’s a long service, and people get tired. They go out for a breath of air, or to stretch their legs-”
“And would they be ashamed to say so?”
“Of course not. But Marvin Brown might have left for any number of reasons he would hesitate to admit to me. Maybe he went home for a bite, and he wouldn’t like it known that he had broken his fast.”
“And he might have gone to kill Hirsh.”
“Why? Because he sold him an insurance policy? You might as well question anyone else who had the slightest contact with Hirsh-the baker who sold him bread, the butcher who sold him meat, the mechanic who fixed his car, a hundred others. And since most of them probably are not Jews, they would not have been in the temple and a good many probably would be unable to prove their whereabouts.”
“I’m not saying Brown’s guilty of murder because he left the synagogue early. I’m just saying that in a case like this where the weapon was so accessible, and the motive could be almost anything-”
“Aren’t you, perhaps, riding that idea a little too hard?”
“How do you mean?”
“Because there was ample opportunity for the killing you have proceeded on the theory that no strong motive was involved. That may very well be true, but it doesn’t have to be. The killer may have been planning to kill Hirsh for months, but either didn’t quite have the nerve or the opportunity never arose. Perhaps he may have planned to kill him in some conventional manner and taken advantage of this situation merely because it presented itself.”
“I don’t see how that gets us any further.”
“It suggests other lines of investigation.”
“Such as?”
The rabbi shrugged his shoulders. “We know Hirsh worked on the Manhattan Project. Perhaps his background there might be worth investigation. I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but conceivably he had information someone might want, or even might not want him to tell.”
“But that was almost twenty years ago. It’s unlikely such information would have much significance today. Besides, why wait all this time before acting?”
“There may be nothing to it, but can you rule it out for certain? Up till now, he’s been in another part of the country. Now he comes back East-where there is the greatest concentration of scientists. Who’s to say he didn’t run into someone-maybe at Goddard?”
“I suppose we could check the personnel files to see if anyone else there worked on the Manhattan Project,” the chief said doubtfully.
“What about the fact that Mrs. Hirsh is a rather attractive young woman?”
Lanigan looked at the rabbi. “As a rabbi, I wouldn’t think you’d notice such things.”
“Even your priests who are celibate can, I’m sure, distinguish between an attractive woman and a plain one.”
Lanigan smiled reminiscently. “Yeah, I guess Father O’Keefe could, although I have my doubts about Father Chisholm. Are you suggesting that the widow might have a lover-”
“From what I have seen of her I would doubt it, but it’s not impossible. Rather I was thinking that some man, a man younger than her husband, might have been attracted to her and think he’d have a better chance with Hirsh out of the way.”
“It’s worth checking into, I suppose.” He turned to his host with sudden suspicion. “You wouldn’t be trying to tout me off Marvin Brown and Goralsky, would you now, Rabbi?”
“I am merely suggesting that there are other lines of investigation than members of my congregation who happened for one reason or another to have missed the Kol Nidre service.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s as may be. But we’re going to continue to check into the movements and whereabouts of your friends that Friday night regardless of whatever other approaches we make. I’ll bid you good night now, Rabbi, but I don’t mind saying I’m a little disappointed. I don’t suppose I have to warn you that if you tip off Goralsky or anyone else I’ve mentioned, I could consider you an accessory after the fact.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In a small town there are no secrets; a secret is not something unknown, only something not talked about openly. By Thursday, when the district attorney finally met with the press, it was generally known that there was some mystery connected with the death of Hirsh. Nor did the district attorney clarify matters much in his press conference. In spite of sharp questioning he would admit only that evidence had come to the attention of the police of Barnard’s Crossing that suggested Isaac Hirsh had not met with death by accident.
“Are you suggesting that his death was suicide?”
“That’s certainly one of the possibilities.”
“Are you perhaps suggesting that he might have been murdered?” asked another reporter.
“We are not ruling out that possibility.”
“Can you give us some idea of the nature of the new evidence that was brought to your attention?”
“I do not think it would be in the public interest at this time.”
“Isaac Hirsh was at one time connected with the Manhattan Project. Is there any connection between his death and his government work on the atom bomb?”
“We are not ruling out that possibility.”
“Can you tell us what steps you plan to take-”
“The investigation is at present being conducted largely by the Barnard’s Crossing police in cooperation with state detectives.”
“If there is any connection with the federal government, or for that matter if it is murder, isn’t it unusual to leave this to a small town police force?”
“We have every confidence in Chief Lanigan, and since he is intimately acquainted with the people of the town we feel he is the best man to work on the case at this stage. Of course-through this office-he can call on every facility of the commonwealth, or of the federal government if it should turn out to be involved.”
“Are you planning to exhume the body of Isaac Hirsh?”
“That is a distinct possibility.”
And that was as far as he would go. To all other questions he answered, “I don’t think I care to go into that at this time.”
Lieutenant Eban Jennings was a tall, thin man with sparse grayish hair. He had watery blue eyes which he dabbed frequently with a folded handkerchief, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his scrawny neck as he talked.
“I went over to see the widow like you said. You know, Hugh. She’s really something.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, she’s a big woman and right handsome, with a head of flaming red hair, white skin, and tits like a pair of silver cups-”
“My, aren’t we getting poetic!”
“It’s just that she’s a fine figure of a woman with a lovely round arse your hands just itch to pat-”
“You’re a horny bastard.”
“I’m just telling you how she struck me,” said Jennings reproachfully. “My point is, there she is-a woman like that, not more than thirty-five I’ll bet, and she’s married to a little shrimp of a guy old enough to be her father. And what a guy. Bald, pot-bellied, a rummy, and a Jew at that. So why would a woman like her want to marry somebody like him? All right, maybe she’d had tough times and wanted someone who’d treat her decent. But, dammit, it couldn’t last. After a while, she’d stop feeling grateful and start looking around, and there’d be plenty of men willing to start making up to her.”