"Playing Mickey the Dunce." said Fisher admiringly.
"Right. So when he told me how he and Linda felt about the rabbi. I backed off and said something like, some wise guys got nothing better to do than pass around rumors. No, those six votes are as solid as my eight."
"I still think it's awfully close. Hank. Say, I got an idea. How about I make a motion, where it's a secret ballot and all, that the president be allowed to cast a vote just like anybody else, after all, the president of the United States does it. I mean, he votes in elections. Some of them go back to their hometown to do it. It shows them on TV all the time."
"Nothing doing, Barry." said Maltzman peremptorily. "But why not? Then it would be nine to six and—"
"I'll tell you why not. Because then you make it an issue. You make it like important, and somebody is going to smell a rat, then there'd be a discussion, and people would say things, and other people would react. I can see some of the diehards maybe even walking out so we don't have a quorum. No, I want it like a straight matter of business, just like any other piece of business, like tha vote on the light bill, or on the insurance, the only reason for having it a secret ballot is so the members can be free to vote any way they want to. But that's all. Get it?"
"But what if there's a holler afterward? What if they ask for reconsideration?"
"How're they going to do that? The only one who can ask for reconsideration is someone who voted with the majority, that's parliamentary law. Okay, so let's say they get into a sweat and go around lining up people to call for a referendum. But before they can get something like that off the ground, we've already sent out a letter to the rabbi telling him we voted not to renew, and if I know the rabbi, we'll get a letter of resignation from him in the next mail, and I'll shoot a letter right back, expressing regrets and all that crap, but accepting his resignation."
45
THEY HAD FINISHED SUNDAY DINNER., AND MRS. MANDELL, in the absence of Molly, had put away the dishes as Herb relaxed in the living room over the Sunday paper, she appeared in the doorway, remarking. "It wasn't that way with your Pa and me, especially on a Sunday."
"Huh?" Herb looked up from his newspaper. "What did you say about Pa?"
"I said your Pa wouldn't think of going out without me any more than I'd think of going out without him on a social occasion. Some of our friends, the men used to go out once a week, regular, to a lodge meeting or bowling, at least, that's what they said. But not your Pa. If I couldn't go, or even if I just didn't want to go, he wouldn't go, and it was the same with me, a bridge or a Sisterhood luncheon, all right. I'd go alone so long as he was at the office. But in the evening or on a Sunday, when he was home, never, that's what I was brought up to think marriage was supposed to be, two people being together. But I guess things are different these days."
"Aw, cummon. Ma, knock it off, they're having a special showing of the Peter Archer silver at the museum, which her boss organized the whole thing, and which she helped with a lot. So if he invites all the employees of the bank, she naturally got to go. Like if the principal of the high school should run some kind of party for the faculty. I'd have to go, wouldn't I?"
She sniffed her disagreement and disapproval. "You think he would have fired her if She told him She couldn't go, or cut her salary? He seems like a very fine gentleman, her boss, and it seems to me, he would have thought a lot more of her if She had said. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Gore, but I never go anywhere socially without my husband, and he can't come on account he's got a very important meeting of the board of directors of the temple, which he is a member of"
"Oh, sure,” he scoffed, "and I suppose a couple of Fridays ago when I was in charge of the Brotherhood service at the temple. I should have said I couldn't make it because Molly had to stay home."
"That was different, that wasn't social, that was religion."
"The Friday evening services are more social than religious, the point is she stayed—"
"Maybe She had reasons for staying behind while you went off."
"What do you mean by that?"
All week long she had wanted to tell him, but there had been no real opportunity, she had rehearsed her story over and over and had planned, when the occasion came, to speak quietly and calmly as if in sorrow and only out of duty, but now that the chance had suddenly presented itself, her eyes glittered and she spat out the words spitefully. "I mean She didn't stay very long after you left, she thought I was asleep, she thought I didn't hear her, but I did. I heard the car start and I got out of bed and watched through the window and saw her drive off."
"You dreamed it."
"Oh no. I didn't." And now she did speak quietly, she even managed a little smile. "I wasn't sleeping. I may have dozed off the way I do sometimes just sitting in my chair here. But I wasn't sleeping. I heard her talking on the phone, then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I could tell She was tiptoeing up. So I made believe I was asleep. Sure enough, She pushed the door back a little and looked in, then She tiptoed downstairs again, well, I can tell you I was wide awake then, and pretty soon I heard the back door open and close, then I heard the car starting up and I got out of bed and peeked through the curtains down at the driveway and I saw her leave. It was just about the time you were starting the service at the temple, and She didn't get back until after nine, she came upstairs to have another look at me when She came back, and I made believe I was asleep again."
For no reason at all, it flashed across his mind that Henry Maltzman had come to the service late that night, a little after nine. "I still think you dreamed it," he said.
"Do you? Well, whv don't you ask her? See what She says."
They had finished Sunday dinner, and Laura Maltzman had gone off to visit her mother at the convalescent home as her husband prepared to leave for the board meeting at the temple, he had just shrugged into his jacket when the doorbell rang. It was Lieutenant Jennings.
"I’ve come about the Jordon business. Mr. Maltzman. I'd like you to come with me to the stationhouse to answer a few questions that Chief Lanigan wants to ask you, and maybe make a statement."
"What if I'm not interested in the Jordon business?"
"You can tell that to the chief down at the stationhouse."
His eyes dancing with amusement. Maltzman asked. "You got a warrant. Lieutenant?"
"Yes."
Taken aback, Maltzman stammered. "You—you have?"
"Right here."
As Jennings reached into his breast pocket. Maltzman said hastily, "All right. I believe you. Look here, you want me to come down to the stationhouse to make a statement and answer a few questions, all right. But I’ve got an important meeting over at the temple in a few minutes. I'll come down right after it's over."
His Adam's apple bobbling nervously. Jennings shook his head. "No sir, my orders are to bring you down right now."
"Look here, you can't just barge in here and interfere with my plans and—"
"Oh yes I can, so long as I got a warrant."
"I'll talk to Lanigan. What's the number?"
"Won't do you no good, he's not there yet. His orders were for me to have you there when he gets there. So let's not have any trouble. Mr. Maltzman."
Maltzman bit his lips as he considered. Finally he said. "All right. I'll just leave a note for my wife telling her where I'm going." He went into the kitchen, and when the policeman followed, he said. "Don't worry, I'm not going through the back door." He thumbtacked the note to the bulletin board and reached for the phone on the shelf beneath it. "I’ve got to make a phone call."
"You calling your lawyer?" asked Jennings politely.