“And the murder?”
“That they didn’t report it immediately—that was wrong of them but I think understandable. They’re youngsters, and they were worried about what they should do. They were aware that suspicion could fall on them, and they wanted to discuss it among themselves—not whether to report it or not, but how. If you honestly think that one of them, or all of them, were actually involved in the murder, then again, they will be available for questioning.” He smiled. “In the past, you have been receptive to suggestions that I have made that are based on Talmudic law—”
“You going to try to hornswoggle me with that pil—what do you call it?”
“Pilpul? No, but there is the principle of miggo.”
“I don’t think you ever tried that one on me before. How does it go?” asked Lanigan, interested in spite of himself.
“You might call it a principle of inferring credibility. The rabbi would use it when sitting in judgment. It is based on the general psychological principle that a man will not plead to a greater crime if a lesser or more advantageous plea is available to him, for ‘the mouth that bound is the mouth that loosed.’”
“I don’t get it.”
“Let me give you a classic example. A marriageable woman coming from a distant land to a place where she is not known says that although she had been married, she is now divorced and free to marry again. She is to be believed both as to the marriage and the divorce, since she could easily have said that she had never been married at all and have no questions raised about her status.”
“All right, and how does it apply here?”
“Once the youngsters unwrapped the body, there was no evidence that a murder had been committed. They could have remained silent, and you would have assumed that it was a natural death. After all, there were no marks visible on the body. But they made no attempt to conceal what they found. They told you, and so I say that under the principle of miggo, they are to be believed both on their testimony and on their innocence.”
Lanigan rose from his chair and paced the floor while the rabbi maintained a watchful silence. Finally, he stepped in front of the rabbi and spread his hands in exasperation. “What do you want me to do. Rabbi? I called their parents and not one of them was home. The girl says her folks are at a movie; she doesn’t even know which one. You want me to call all the local movie houses and have them paged? That Gorfinkle boy, he finally told me his folks were at his aunt’s house, but when I called, they had left. And Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs—why, they’re in Boston at some party. He doesn’t know the name of the people—or he says he doesn’t. You know I can’t let them go until I get hold of their parents. They’re minors.”
“You’ll be better off to let them go home. If you wait until their parents get here, this place will be a madhouse of hysterical parents and whatever lawyers they managed to bring along with them. There will be accusations and recriminations, and worst of all, the town will be full of rumors tomorrow morning that not only will do a great deal of harm to a lot of innocent people, but will make your investigation ten times as complicated and ten times as difficult.”
Lanigan shook his head stubbornly. “If one of those kids turned out to be guilty and I let him get away when I had him right here in my own station house—” He broke off to ask a patrolman who had entered and was trying to catch his eye, “What is it, Tony?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Chief?” The two withdrew to a corner of the room, where the patrolman whispered to him earnestly for several minutes. The chief asked him a question and got a muttered reply. Then, with a “Thanks, Tony, that’s a real help,” he rejoined the rabbi.
“All right, Rabbi, I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll release them in your custody. You’ll have to give me your word that they’ll be available for questioning when I want them.”
For a moment the rabbi hesitated. Then he nodded. “Very well, I guess I can do that.”
Chapter Forty-One
They had been there almost an hour, and still there was no sign of agreement. Every now and then one of them would appeal to the rabbi—usually to support his position—but he was determined to be circumspect and refused to be drawn. When Lanigan first asked him to arrange for an informal meeting with all the youngsters who had been at the cookout, he had demurred. “I can’t just ask them; their parents would have to agree to it.”
“So ask the parents. Explain to them that all I want is information. I’m not trying to pin anything on anyone. No tricks. I just want to be sure I’m getting the complete story.”
“They’ll want their lawyers present.” the rabbi warned.
“Nothing doing. I’m not going to have a bunch of wise guys raising objections every time I ask a question. If one didn’t, another would.”
“How about if they all agreed on one lawyer?”
“That would be the day. Besides, even if by some miracle they did, he’d feel he had to be extra careful, and he wouldn’t let them volunteer anything.”
The rabbi smiled. “Then I don’t think you’re going to get your meeting.”
“Oh, I’ll get it sooner or later.” said Lanigan grimly. “I’ve got a clear case of breaking and entering against each and every one of those kids. I’ll admit that there were extenuating circumstances and that probably no judge would sentence them. But in connection with the fact that they were all material witnesses to a murder—believe me. I’d have no trouble confining them to the jurisdiction. And when school starts again, they and their parents, too, are going to begin to chafe.”
So, with great reluctance, the rabbi had agreed and called Mr. Jacobs to ask him to round up the others.
They met in his study, and after his preliminary remarks explaining the situation, he left the entire discussion to them. He sat teetering in his swivel chair behind his desk, following the argument as it shifted back and forth among the parents. Gorfinkle, for once, remained uncharacteristically silent, and the rabbi for his part tended to avoid looking in his direction.
“If he’s going to accuse my child of being mixed up in the murder of this—this football player, then he’s going to have to prove it.” cried Betty Marks’ mother. “The nerve of him to expect me to permit him to question her without a lawyer.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t suspect her, Mrs. Marks.” said Roger Epstein. “He just wants to clear this business up as fast as he can. If we don’t cooperate, he’ll get nowhere, sure, but the case will not be solved.”
“Well, that’s his lookout.” said Mrs. Marks.
“No, it’s ours, too. If the case isn’t solved and the murderer found, after a while suspicion may rest on our children, and that won’t do any of them any good.”
“Besides.” said Mr. Schulman, “the kids did break into that house. No question about it. If we don’t cooperate in this, he can bring a charge on the grounds of breaking and entering. Well, my Gladys has to get back to school; she has exams just as soon as she gets back. Am I going to let her kill a year just to be stubborn? Anyway, I trust my Gladys.”
“Do you mean that I don’t trust my Betty?”
“I’m sure you have every reason to. Mrs. Marks.” said Epstein quickly.
“I think Bill should be able to handle himself.” said Mr. Jacobs. “I’m willing to go along.”