Lanigan grinned.
“You’ve got a real suspect now, haven’t you? This insurance fellow?”
“Brown? Marvin Brown? We’re interested in him. At least we’d like to know where he was at the time.”
“No alibi, eh?”
“We haven’t asked him yet.”
“Why not?”
“Well, there’s no hurry. We have nothing on him except a couple of points of contact with Hirsh. He’ll keep. It won’t do any harm to let him stew for a while. These quick, nervy types-they get bothered and start worrying if you leave them alone, and after a while they’re apt to do something just a little foolish.”
Braddock rubbed his hands. Police business was fascinating, and as chairman of the Board of Selectmen he was in on the ground floor. “I get it, I get it,” he said.
“Actually, we find Mr. Benjamin Goralsky a lot more interesting.”
Braddock sat up straight. “Goralsky? Ben Goralsky of Goraltronics? Hold on a minute, Hugh, now you’re barking up the wrong tree. I know the man. He’s one of the finest specimens of his race. His plant employs over a thousand people from around here. When they went public, our firm helped float the initial stock issue, and we’ve been close to them ever since. No, nothing there, I assure you.”
“Well, maybe not, but we plan to have Ben Goralsky down and ask him a lot of questions.”
“I won’t have it, Hugh. You’re planning some kind of psychological third degree and I won’t permit it. You haven’t got anything on him, and you’re just going on a fishing expedition. Well, I won’t allow it. There are things in the wind that you don’t know about and this could have repercussions that would affect the whole community.”
“You mean the merger?”
“Who said anything about a merger? What do you know about a merger?”
“Oh, come now, Alf, everybody knows there’s talk of Goraltronics being involved in a merger.”
“Well, maybe, maybe. I suppose there are rumors floating around. Well, I’ll admit it, but you keep this under your hat, understand? It’s true-there is a merger in the offing. And it could be a tremendous thing for this whole area. I don’t mind admitting that my firm is a little interested, and right now things are very touchy. Understand? So I’m telling you to keep your hands off Ben Goralsky.”
“And let him get away with murder?”
“Dammit, he’s not getting away with murder. You prove that he did it, and he’s all yours. But until you have something definite on him, you leave him alone. And that’s an order, Hugh. Because if you badger him and come up with nothing, I’ll personally have your head.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sergeant Whitaker was a young man, and ambitious. Three nights a week he went into Boston to attend law school. If all went well, he would be able to stand for his bar examination in another four years. It would be a tough grind, but at least Chief Lanigan was understanding and tried not to schedule him for night duty on those evenings when he had school. Tonight he was working late, but since it was Friday and his class did not meet, he did not mind. True, he hadn’t had dinner and Aggie was always upset when he couldn’t eat with her and the children, but Lieutenant Jennings had made it plain he wanted all his assignments covered before he went off duty, no matter what time that was. Whitaker’s sergeant’s stripes were quite new, and he had no intention of letting the lieutenant down.
He was seated now in the Goralsky kitchen across the table from Mrs. Chambers, the housekeeper. His notebook was spread out before him, and though he tried hard to be the dignified, impersonal police officer conducting an important investigation, it was difficult. Mrs. Chambers was from the Old Town and knew him from the time he was a grubby little school urchin.
“Now what is it you want to know? You’re not planning to cause Mr. Goralsky any trouble, I hope. Because if you are, I’ll have no part of it. Mr. Ben is a fine, decent gentleman, and his father is an old dear, for all he’s a foreigner and talks funny.”
“As I explained, Mrs. Chambers, this is just a routine investigation that I’m conducting-”
“Well, aren’t we grand, conducting investigations. And what is it you’re investigating?”
“We’re just checking anyone and everyone who had any connection whatsoever with the late Isaac Hirsh, the man whose picture I showed you. It’s just routine.” He flipped the pages of his notebook. “I’ve been at it all day and I must have questioned twenty people or more.”
“Well, I never laid eyes on the man.”
“Did he never come here at any time? Think now.”
“Who you telling to think, Henry Whitaker? I told you I never laid eyes on him, didn’t I?”
“Well, did Mr. Goralsky, Mr. Ben Goralsky, did he ever mention the name Hirsh?”
“Not to me, he didn’t.”
“And the old man?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Well now, think back to the evening of September 18. That was a Friday night. It was the night of the big Jewish holiday-”
“That was the night the old gentleman took sick.”
“And Mr. Ben got home early I suppose. At least, all the rest of them, the Jews, I mean, worked a short day, so I suppose he did too.”
“That’s right. And all the servants were dismissed early too, so it wasn’t that they were taking any special privileges that they weren’t passing on to others.”
“But you stayed on.”
“Well of course. Who else was there to take care of the old gentleman, and him burning up with fever?”
“So Mr. Ben got home around three? four?”
“Around four it was, as near as I can remember.”
“And he remained here at home until it was time to go to the temple, I suppose.”
“He didn’t go to the temple. At least he didn’t go to pray. He just drove the rabbi and his wife there and came right back.”
“So while he was gone, you were here alone with the old man.”
“That’s right. I was right up there in his room sitting by his bed.”
“And when Mr. Ben got back from driving the rabbi to the temple, he came up to the room to see how his father was getting along, I suppose.”
“No.” She shook her head decisively. “He didn’t come up because he didn’t want his father to see him. You see, his father assumed that he had gone to the temple and would have been upset if he knew he hadn’t. So Mr. Ben stayed out of sight.”
“Then how do you know he came right back?”
“Because he told me, of course.”
“The next morning, you mean?”
“Oh, no, I saw him later in the evening. The old gentleman dozed off and I came down here to the kitchen to get a bite. That’s when I saw Mr. Ben in the living room.”
“And that was what time?”
“Nine, half-past.”
“So you didn’t see him from around seven when he took the rabbi to the temple until about nine.” He frowned at his notebook. “But I suppose you heard him moving around downstairs earlier.”
“No, can’t say that I did,” she said tartly. “The door of Mr. Goralsky’s room-I kept it closed because there’s a draft from the hallway. And the living room is on the other side of the house.”
“But you heard the car coming up the driveway?” he persisted.
“I did not.”
“No? That’s a little funny-”
“It’s not funny at all, Henry Whitaker. Do you think Mr. Goralsky drives one of those jalopies that you can hear through the walls of a building like this over the sound of the surf, and me watching the old man and worrying every minute of the time?”