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Lanigan grinned. “I guess it’s always a little bit of both when I come visiting. I understand, Rabbi, that there’s a movement afoot to set up a Jenkins Defense Committee. You know anything about it?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. Why, do you object to it?”

“Well, of course, every man has a right—yes, I object to it!” said Lanigan. “I know this man Donohue. He’ll stir up a lot of trouble and maybe create an atmosphere in this town that we might be years getting over. And none of it will do Jenkins any good. It will just be a lot of propaganda about social justice and the rights of the underprivileged and Lord knows what all. And it won’t have any bearing on this case, because Jenkins is going to get a fair trial, and it’s got nothing to do with whether he’s black, white, or green with yellow polka dots.”

Tm not sure. Are you giving him a fair shake? It seems to me that you’ve made up your mind that he’s guilty—

“I don’t decide whether he’s guilty or not. That’s up to a judge and jury. But naturally I have an opinion. I’ve dealt fairly with him throughout. You were present when I questioned him. Did I browbeat him? I practically begged him to get a lawyer. He didn’t want one.”

“But when he told his story, didn’t you automatically assume those parts that indicated he was guilty were true and those that suggested he might be innocent a pack of lies?”

“You’ve always got to choose from the available material what you’ll believe and what you won’t. You know that. Take Jenkins statement that there was somebody parked right across the street for about twenty minutes—”

“That’s true.”

“How do you mean?”

The rabbi told of his conversation with Paff.

Lanigan strode around the room as he thought aloud. “That means Paff might have seen Jenkins enter the house and waited there to see what would happen. When Jenkins doesn’t come out, he rides off? So that leaves him on the scene with transportation to return and no real alibi—” He shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t believe it. Rabbi. You wouldn’t throw a member of your congregation to the wolves just like that. You must have something else in mind.”

“I’m merely suggesting that there are other possibilities. You yourself suggested Gorfinkle and Jacobs. The point is that Jenkins is not the only one whose actions are suspect; besides, your case against him is full of holes.”

“Like what?”

“How about the death of that man in Boston? How does Jenkins fit into that?”

“I don’t say he had anything to do with that. His death and the connection with Moose—that’s pure coincidence.”

“Coincidences happen, but not often. But the big objection to your case against Jenkins is that the next door neighbor, this—”

“Mr. Begg?”

“Yes, Mr. Begg. He saw a light. That’s what led him to call the police.”

Lanigan looked puzzled for a moment, and then his face cleared. “Oh, I see what you’re getting at—that someone came to the house after Jenkins left, that he put on the light, and that he presumably killed Moose—maybe your Mr. Paff. It’s a good effort, Rabbi, but here’s where I demolish it. Jenkins said that he drew the shades and the drapes before he put on a light. Right?”

“Right.”

“And there was no reason for him to lie about something like that.”

“Agreed.”

“So if someone, Paff or a mysterious stranger, had put on a light, it would not have shown.”

“Precisely. Then how could Begg have seen a light?”

“Huh?”

“The youngsters were all agreed that they did not put on a light. Jenkins used a flashlight but only after he had drawn the drapes—”

“Then how could Begg have seen a light in the house?”

“That was my question.” said the rabbi pointedly. “But I can suggest an answer. The only way he could have seen a light with all the windows blocked off was by having himself been in the house and put them on.”

“You saying—”

“I am saying that he entered the house after Jenkins left. Since as the caretaker he must have had a key, the locked door presented no problem. He snapped on the light on entering and then went through each of the rooms. I’m suggesting that he put the plastic sheet over the boy’s head, and then, leaving the lights on as an excuse to call the police, he hurried back to his own house, where there was a phone.”

“And forgot to close the front door?”

“No. left it ajar purposely. I imagine, either on the chance of the cruising car spotting it—in which case, he would not be involved even as informer—or perhaps so as not to raise any immediate question of how the murderer had got in.”

Lanigan massaged his square chin with a big red hand as he checked back over the rabbi’s reasoning. Then he grinned. “You had me going there for a minute. Rabbi. It all sounds plausible except”—he held up an admonishing forefinger—“that he called from his own house. On the way back, he would have noticed that there was no light coming through the windows of Hillson House, because the blinds were drawn.”

The rabbi nodded. “Yes, and the phone is in a room which overlooks Hillson House. I drove by this morning and saw him at the window, phone in hand. So standing there, talking to the police, he’d certainly notice that there was no light coming from the windows of Hillson House. And the explanation is that there is where a real coincidence occurred.”

“What coincidence?”

“That while he was still inside Hillson House, or just as he left, all the lights in that part of town went out.”

“You mean the transformer blowing?”

“M-hm. That was the only coincidence.”

“How about his happening to go over there?”

“That was no coincidence. He went right after Jenkins left because Jenkins left. I mean he may have seen Jenkins leave or heard him starting up his motorcycle, right next door so to speak, so he hurried over to investigate. It looked all right; the door was locked and it was dark. But, of course, he had to make sure. He had a key and went in. Naturally, he put on the lights. Maybe he listened for a moment or called out. Then he went for a look around and found Moose. Since he wanted the body found immediately, that very night—”

“Why did it have to be that night?”

“Because if he waited a day or two, he himself would have to find the body—he was the caretaker. This way, it would be the police who would find the body, and if they came that night, they would see fresh evidence of someone having been there—cigarette butts, beer cans.”

Lanigan smiled. “Nice work, Rabbi. I’ll add Begg to my list of Jenkins, Paff, Carter, and seven assorted kids. While chewing the fat with Eban Jennings, my lieutenant, I made as good a case against each of those others. But, of course, they all have flaws. For instance, Begg couldn’t have known that Moose was in Hillson House, now could he?”

The rabbi shook his head.

“So if he had some reason for killing Moose, which you haven’t bothered to mention, by the way, how would he have known to go in there? The normal thing, if he thought someone had broken into the place, was to call the police and ask them to check.”

“I suppose because he had to go there. Before calling the police, he had to make sure that nothing had been taken.”

“Like what?”

“Like marihuana. He’d be more likely to cache it there than keep it in his own house.”

“But Mr. Begg? A pusher? Oh, that’s impossible. Rabbi.” His face showed utter incredulity. “He’s an old-time resident of the town, a crusty Yankee.”

The rabbi’s grin was derisive. “And former teacher and former selectman who couldn’t do anything wrong. It must be an outsider, a stranger.”