“I don’t understand you, David.” Miriam pressed her fist against her mouth, as though to stifle harsh words of reproof. “He came to make amends. He was trying so hard to effect a reconciliation. And he’s a good man.”
“Of course, he’s a good man. And so are Gorfinkle and the rest of them. They’re all good men, or they wouldn’t be so concerned about what may happen to a poor Negro that stumbled into a mess of trouble. But goodness is not enough. The people who took part in the religious wars were good men, but they killed and maimed in the tens of thousands nevertheless.”
“Oh, David, you’re so—so inflexible. Can’t you bend a little?”
He looked at her in surprise. “I bend when I have to, and I can. But I’ve got to be careful not to bend so far that I’ll fall over.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
On Sundays the minvan was held at nine instead of seven thirty, as it was on weekday mornings. Although it was a lovely day and he had plenty of time to walk, the rabbi took his car. He did not go directly to the temple, but drove along the shore, stopping once or twice along the way to enjoy the sight of the waves breaking against the rocks and the gulls swooping down low over the water.
The road hugged the shore and then fell away, and he looked ahead and realized that he was approaching Hillson House. He slowed down as he came abreast of it and for a moment thought of stopping to look around. But he saw a man standing at the window of the adjoining house, talking into a telephone, so he drove on.
He arrived just in time for the service. Sundays always drew a larger crowd, because many fathers who brought their children to the Sunday school attended the minvan for lack of anything better to do while waiting to take them home. Today the short service was followed by a collation, given by one of the regular members in honor of his daughter’s engagement.
They stood around, sipping their tea or coffee, munching cake and cookies, unleavened, of course, in keeping with the Passover regulation, since the holiday began that evening. Arthur Nussbaum was there, still pushing his pet project. “Look, fellows. I tell you it makes no sense to keep all that dough just sitting in a bank—”
“It’s earning interest, isn’t it?”
“So every year costs go up twice as much. Sooner or later, everybody knows we’re going to change those seats. If we had gone ahead when the money was first left to us, we could have done half the sanctuary, right up to the center aisle. This year the money probably wouldn’t cover more than a third.”
“Yeah, fat chance of having some seats of one kind and the rest another. It will look terrible. The women will raise Cain.”
“Let ’em. Don’t you see,” Nussbaum urged, “if they think it looks funny, they’ll work all the harder to get the rest put in.”
“Yeah? Well, if you think there was a stink about permanent seating, just wait till the first third of the sanctuary is fancied up with one kind of seat—”
The rabbi, who was standing nearby., murmured. “So why does it have to be the first third? Why not start replacing the seats from the rear?” He spotted Paff leaving the chapel and excused himself.
Nussbaum overheard the remark and repeated it to the others.
“Is he kidding?”
“That would be even worse. That would guarantee getting everyone sore.”
“Not as sore as our present seats.” said Dr. Edelstein. “You put padded seats in back, and you can put me down for one right now.”
Irving Kallen nodded. “You may have something at that, Doc. For me I don’t care. I’m well-padded, but my old man, I’d bet he’d really appreciate it.”
“When you come down to it,” said Nussbaum slowly, “it’s only fair.”
Brennerman, who was standing by, pursed his lips, then suddenly broke into a delighted roar of laughter. “By God. Nussbaum, you’re right. The rabbi’s come up with the perfect solution!”
They all looked at him.
“Don’t you see it, boys? Front row yicchus, back row tuchus. Suit yourself!” Laughing loudly, he spotted Gorfinkle and hurried over to tell him what had happened.
The rabbi hailed Paff and led him to a side corridor. When they were a safe distance from the others, he said. “I read your statement to the police. Mr. Paff. Judging from the names of those people you listed as partners in your business deal, I suspect you were interested in Hillson House as a possible new temple.”
Paff grinned. “That’s right. Rabbi, but of course, it’s out of the question now. We’re letting the whole matter drop for the time being.” He thought of something. “I was going to tell you, of course, but Becker reported that you weren’t interested anyway.”
“That’s all right,” the rabbi hastened to assure him. “I wasn’t, and I’m not. My reason for questioning you is that I wanted to clarify some things in my own mind with respect to this case. You told the police that you slowed down as you approached Hillson House and then drove on. Is that correct?”
“Yes?”
“You didn’t stop?”
Paff considered. “I may have stopped for a moment.”
“You’re quite sure you didn’t stop for much longer than a moment?”
“What are you getting at, Rabbi?”
“I’m suggesting that you stopped for quite a while, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes or even longer.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because as it stands your statement doesn’t ring true. I passed Hillson House on my way over to the temple this morning. That’s a straight stretch of road, no turn, nothing blocking your vision. Even in a rainstorm, long before you reached Hillson House by whichever direction you approached, you could see whether someone was waiting there or not. So there was no need for you to slow down. And since you expected to meet someone there. I suggest that you would have waited for fifteen minutes anyway.”
“All right, suppose I did?”
“Then the police might wonder why you didn’t bother to go inside in all that time.”
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t, Rabbi.”
“Why not?”
His face showed resignation. “I don’t really know. I’ve been by there any number of times, but I guess it was during the daytime, and it always looked bright and cheerful. And this night it was all dark, and it was raining, and I just didn’t like the idea of going in alone.”
“Then why didn’t you tell the police the truth?”
“You know how it is. Rabbi. I heard that Moose had been found in there. Well, he worked for me, and I knew him. If
I said I had been waiting around there for half an hour or so, they’d begin to ask me questions: Did I hear anything? Did I see anything? Why didn’t I go in? No, I just didn’t want to get involved.”
“Well. I’d say you were involved now. If I were you. I’d go down to the police and tell them you’d like to change your statement.”
“But that would mean that I was lying, and that would look suspicious.”
“It will look a lot more suspicious when they find out the truth.”
Paff sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Rabbi.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
When he arrived home, he found Lanigan waiting for him.
“I thought those morning prayer services of yours only last about half an hour.” the chief of police complained.
“There was a collation afterward,” said the rabbi, “and then I had to perform an errand of mercy; I went to visit the sick. Sorry you had to wait. Is it business or purely social?”