"No—"
"Because he's got a right to see his lawyer, of course, but I don't know about anybody else. I guess it would be all right if you were his spiritual advisor, but Stanley not being Jewish, his spiritual advisor would have to be a minister or a priest depending on if he was Catholic or Protestant. See what I mean? I mean just because he works at your temple wouldn't make you his spiritual advisor, and your not being a lawyer—" He chewed at his lower lip in vexation. "He said he wanted to make a call, so I figured he was going to call his lawyer, but you say he called you." The sergeant was annoyed, as though Stanley had taken advantage of his trusting nature to deceive him.
"Why don't you ask Chief Lanigan if it's all right?" suggested the rabbi.
"He's pretty busy, well—" He came to a decision and left his desk to walk down the short hall and rap on the door of the chiefs office. Lanigan opened the door and saw the rabbi, without waiting for an explanation from the sergeant, he said, "Hello. Rabbi. What brings you down here? You want to see me? Come on in."
The rabbi nodded to Lieutenant Jennings and took the seat proffered him. "I got a call from Stanley, Stanley Doble—"
"Oh, it was you he called. You want to see him?"
The rabbi laughed shortly. "It's he who evidently wants to see me. I gather he's been arrested. Could you tell me what for?"
The phone rang and Lanigan picked up the receiver.
"All right, put him on." He cupped the receiver and said to Jennings, "Another Billy call."
Jennings said, "That's number seven."
"This is Chief Lanigan," he said into the instrument, and reached for a scratch pad. "What's the name again?— How do you spell that? Two e's?— Okay, Mr. Beech— This motel is where? Where are you calling from?— North Adams?— Uh-huh— Uh-huh— All right, and what did he look like? How tall would you say he is?— Five foot four? No, the man we're looking for is quite a bit taller. Close to six feet— No. I don't think that's anything you can disguise, but thanks for calling, we appreciate it. Bye."
To Jennings he said. "A motel operator from North Adams, a guy just signed in as William Grey, but Mr. Beech thought he hesitated before writing the e."
"North Adams is the other end of the state. If the kid doesn't show up pretty soon, we'll be getting calls from Texas and California." said Jennings.
"Even if he does show up," said Lanigan, he brought a large, fleshy hand down across his broad face, as if to wipe out the lines of worry and tiredness. To the rabbi he said, "We've been at it since the first thing this morning. I had a sandwich for lunch and not much more for dinner. Gladys didn't expect me home, and ten cups of coffee in paper cups, the news broadcast was an hour ago, and we've had seven calls from people saying they saw him. You sure it was seven, Eban? Seems like more."
"Yeah, seven. I've been keeping count."
"Plus other calls from people who had all kinds of suggestions and advice. None of it useful, and one from a nut who wouldn't give his name but was sure that we were persecuting an innocent man, we'll get a lot more of those before this is over, all that, in addition to the legitimate calls—from my own people on things and asking for additional instructions, calls from the D.A.—" He smiled broadly. "The hell with it. What can I do for you, Rabbi?"
"I came about Stanley. Remember? Am I to infer that his being here is because he's mixed up in this murder in some way?"
"Stanley. Right, well, Jordon was shot around half past eight, about an hour before that. Stanley had a row with him at his house, he was finally pushed out, but he threatened to come back."
"And that's why you arrested him?"
Lanigan grinned broadly. "Not really, the boys found him sitting in his parked car dead drunk and pulled him in to sleep it off."
"Well he's slept it off by now, hasn't he?"
"Yes, but there are some questions we'd like to ask him."
"Then how about asking him the questions and letting him go? He's got a job to do."
Lanigan pressed his lips together as he considered. "All right." He spoke into the phone to ask the desk sergeant to have Stanley sent up. "But don't you say anything while I'm questioning him."
"Of course not," said the rabbi.
There was a discreet knock on the door, and the sergeant and a uniformed patrolman marched a woebegone, disheveled Stanley into the room. When the officers had been dismissed, Lanigan said. "Now. Stanley, I want you to tell me everything that happened when you came back to Jordon's house last night."
"What do you mean, came back?" demanded Stanley truculently. "I never came back there. I wouldn't set foot in his lousy house. Does he say I did?"
"All right, then suppose you tell us what you did when you left Jordon's. You did go to see him, didn't you?"
"I did like hell. I got no business with him. I went to pick up Martha Peterson which I had a date with her, and they said she wasn't there, that she was waiting for me down by the gate. So why didn't I see her when I turned into the driveway? Or if I missed her on account I was looking out to clear the gatepost, wouldn't she have seen me? And wouldn't she have yelled out? But, of course, she could’ve walked a little away from the gate, so I went back down there, and she warn't there. So then I had to figure out was they lying to me, or did she put them up to it on account she changed her mind and didn't want to see me."
"So what did you do?" asked Jennings. "I went to get me a couple of beers."
"To help you decide, I suppose." said Jennings sarcastically.
"That's right, and it came to me maybe she'd gone home even before I got there. So I went over to her place, and she was there." He looked triumphantly from one to another of the three men in the room.
"Then what did you do?" asked Lanigan.
"Well, she wouldn't let me in, and she wouldn't go out, we were talking like through the door, she had it on the chain, see. But she as much as told me she'd lost her job on account of me. So I thought maybe I'd go back to Jordon's and have it out with him."
"And what time was that?" asked Lanigan casually.
"Oh, eight, eight-thirty, maybe even a little later. See, I thought I'd have another beer first, well, I came down by way of Elm Street, and I slowed down to make a left into his driveway, and then I noticed the place was dark. Not that the place is ever really lit up any time I've gone by there. Never enough light to draw mosquitoes, the old skinflint wouldn't spend the money. But this time, it was dark like he'd gone out or gone to bed, and then while I was trying to figure was he maybe in bed, and should I ring or bang on the door so he'd have to get up at least to answer, this car comes tootling along from the other direction and curves into the driveway. So I thought, what the hell, there's no use my going up there where he was having company. So I just went on away from there over to Salem to visit another ladyfriend of mine I got there."
"This friend have a name?" asked Lanigan.
For the first time. Stanley showed reluctance, he glanced at the rabbi uncertainly. Finally, he ventured. "I don't rightly remember her name, we always call her Frenchy, on account of she's what you might call of French extraction."
"This car you saw going into the driveway, what make was it?" asked Lanigan negligently, as though it had no interest for him and he was merely making conversation.
Stanley shook his head. "He was coming toward me and he had his high beams on."
"And this was what time?"
"Like I said, it could’ve been half past eight, or maybe a little later."
The phone rang, and as soon as Lanigan announced himself, an excited voice came from the other end. "Chief, the young fellow. Green, has just showed. Caught him trying to climb through the window in back."