“Hear anything-rumors, gossip, to that effect?”
“No-o, but then I haven’t really asked around. I just questioned the widow about whether anything unusual had happened that day. You know: any unusual letters, phone calls, visits. She couldn’t think of anything but did happen to mention that the young curate, whatsisname, Peter Dodge over at St. Andrews, had said he might drop in on Hirsh that evening.”
“The Reverend Peter Dodge?” Suddenly Lanigan had a thought. “Say, that’s right. That time he came down to complain about some fracas at Bill’s Cafe he mentioned he was from South Bend. And that’s where she’s from.”
“Yeah? Then listen to this. After what she told me, I figured maybe he did drop in that night. Maybe Hirsh said something that could help. So I went on over to this place where Dodge boards, with Milly Oliphant-just routine follow-up-and he was gone.”
“Gone?”
“Not for good. According to Milly, Dodge packed a bag and flew to Alabama. He’s head of some bunch of clergy-men who are going down there to picket. But now, get this-the group isn’t supposed to leave for a couple of days. I got that from Dr. Sturgis, the rector, who is his boss. He said Dodge decided to go down a little earlier to take care of some administrative details.”
“Peter Dodge. A clergyman.”
“Well, that’s where we don’t agree, Hugh. You can’t think of a clergyman in connection with a woman, but to me, they’re men just like anyone else. I don’t care whether he’s a priest or a minister or a rabbi. The right kind of woman comes along, and he’s going to feel his pants tighten. And this Dodge fellow-he’s pretty new at the game. Before this, I understand he was a professional football player. And he’s a big man-which would appeal to a woman her size. And he’s young, her age. And he’s not married. And he left town.”
“Are you trying to suggest that he ran away?”
“All I’m saying is look at the facts, Hugh. This group he’s connected with, they aren’t scheduled to leave for a couple of days yet. He had planned to go with them but instead he went early.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
“Isn’t it funny that he left right after that item appeared in the Examiner? The one that hinted at new developments about Hirsh’s death?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
On Friday there were two evening services at the temple: the regular minyan at sunset primarily for mourners that lasted about fifteen minutes; and a more comprehensive family service that began at eight, ran for about an hour, and was followed by a collation in the vestry. Miriam always attended the later service, not only because it was expected of her as the rabbi’s wife, but because she felt he appreciated the encouragement of her presence as he delivered his sermon.
But this Friday had been one of her few bad days during a comparatively easy and uneventful pregnancy. She was tired and her feet were swollen from the extra housework required to prepare the house for the Sabbath. Rather than upset him by suggesting she stay home, she asked if he’d mind if she rode to temple.
Immediately he was solicitous. “Aren’t you well, dear? It isn’t-”
“No, it isn’t time yet.” She smiled. “It’s just that I’ve been on my feet all day and I’m not up to walking. I’ll call the Margolises to pick me up.”
“Nonsense, I’ll drive you.”
“But David, you don’t ride on the Sabbath-”
“It’s not really a religious scruple, Miriam. That would be hypocritical of me as rabbi of a Conservative congregation where the whole congregation rides. No, it’s just a matter of habit really; I’ll take you.”
“But when they see you drive up, won’t they possibly connect it with the rumors of your resignation-”
He laughed. “You mean they’ll think I’ve been a hypocrite all along, and now that I’m resigning I’m showing my true colors? Well, if they want to think that, let them. Come on.” He took her by the arm and marched her out to the car. Flinging open the car door, he waved her in.
It would have been a grand gesture if the car had started immediately. But five minutes later, he was still jabbing his toe at the starter-and producing nothing more than an angry whir. He muttered under his breath, and she had just about decided to remark brightly that she was no longer tired and would now like to walk when the motor caught.
He drove to the end of the street and slowed down to make the turn.
“Turn left,” Miriam said.
“But the temple is right,” he protested.
“We’re driving, so we’ve got plenty of time.”
He shrugged as if to say, who can argue with a pregnant woman, but did as he was told.
They went a couple of blocks and she said, “Pull up here.” He realized he was abreast of the office of the local cab company, and at last understood.
“My husband has been having some trouble with his car,” she said when the proprietor came over, “and one of these days he may have to get me to the hospital in a hurry. Are you available all the time?”
“Twenty-four hours a day, Mrs. Small.”
“What happens if all your cabs are busy?” the rabbi asked.
“Don’t worry, Rabbi. We’ve got four cabs, and in the last couple of months the only time I’ve had them all out at one time was that Friday night you had your important holiday. They were shuttling back and forth to your temple until half-past seven or quarter to eight. And then we didn’t have another call until around midnight. Guess everyone drove home with friends.” He seemed somewhat aggrieved.
“Then we can depend on you if my husband can’t get his car started?”
“Nothing to worry about, believe me, Mrs. Small. With business the way it is these days, I could guarantee to get you there if you was to have twins.” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.
When once again the rabbi had difficulty in starting, the taxi man showed professional interest. “Sounds like the carburetor,” he said. “Better attend to it right away.”
Just then the motor caught and the rabbi raced it for the sheer pleasure of hearing the motor roar. “I’ll do that,” he called out as he drove off.
“I’m glad you thought to ask about the cab service. It’s extra insurance.”
“It isn’t because you don’t want to be indebted to Chief Lanigan, is it?”
“Of course not.”
The temple parking lot seemed fuller than usual for a Friday night service.
“Do you think it’s because they’ve heard of your resignation?” asked Miriam. “And they want to show they’re behind you?”
“More likely it’s curiosity. They may want to find out what’s happening with me, and they’ve probably heard conflicting stories about Hirsh’s death.”
“You’re being bitter and cynical, David.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Not at all. Actually, it’s an indication that the temple is fulfilling one of its principal and traditional functions-as a center for the community. In the ghettos of Europe, or for that matter in the voluntary ghettos of America, the moment something happened news traveled with the speed of a telegram from house to house. But here, where there is no real Jewish section, where every Jew has Gentiles on either side, if something happens that is of particular interest to Jews they come to the temple to get the lowdown. I don’t feel hurt. Quite the contrary, I’m pleased.”
But those who thought the rabbi might speak of his rumored resignation and the reasons for it were disappointed; by no word did he suggest that this Friday evening was different from any other. After the service, when he joined the congregation in the vestry for the tea and cake the Sisterhood regularly provided, his ear caught snatches of conversation; for the most part it seemed concerned with the death of Isaac Hirsh. Once he heard someone say, “I’ll bet the rabbi knows what it’s all about. I wouldn’t be surprised if his resignation had something to do with it.”