"Will do. When are you starting out?"
Lanigan glanced at the wall clock and said. "Right now. It's quarter past twelve."
As Chief Lanigan drove along Minerva Road, he noted with satisfaction that there was almost no traffic. Fortunately, when he spotted Safferstein's car at the curb there was no other car on the road, he slowed down and very deliberately swerved into the parked car, denting the front door with his fender.
At the sound of the crash, Safferstein came running out of the house. "Hey, what the hell, you drunk or something? Can't you see— Oh, it's you," as he recognized Lanigan. "What happened?"
"Swerved to avoid a dog," said Lanigan sheepishly. "I guess I swerved a little too much. Gee. I'm sorry, Mr. Safferstein."
"You sure didn't do that door any good." said Safferstein.
"I didn't improve it." Lanigan admitted, "and there could be some damage to the frame, too. I feel terrible. Tell you what, why don't you follow me to the town garage. I'll get McNulty to take a look at it, he does all the body work on the town vehicles, he can give you an estimate on the damage for the insurance company."
Lanigan got back in his car and drove slowly, occasionally glancing in his rear-view mirror to make sure Safferstein was behind him, as they neared the garage, he speeded up a little so that he was out of his car and waiting as Safferstein pulled in.
The mechanic circled the damaged car and said, "It looks as though it's just the door, but we better check it out."
As Safferstein watched, interested, McNulty pulled out the front seat.
"Hey, there's my silver pencil," cried Safferstein, "and my wife's earring, and a dime, and—"
From the other side. Lanigan pointed. "What's that? It looks like a pill." He reached over and picked it up, he wiped it clean of the dust and grime and held it up. "So it is," he said. "A little oval orange pill, just like those delivered to old Kestler, there was one missing from the bottle, and I guess this is it."
"Oh my God!" And Safferstein buried his face in his hands.
The gabbe studied Reb Mendel appraisingly and said. "You look better this morning, Rebbe. Your cold—"
"It's all gone." said the rebbe, smiling broadly. "Look." With lips compressed, he breathed deeply. "Nasal passages clear. No coughing. No sneezing. I feel a hundred percent better."
"Yesterday, you looked—"
"Ah, yesterday, I was terrible. I ached all over. I'm sure I had a fever, and to add to my misery, you know how it is Sundays, there are always relatives. Yesterday it was my Uncle Elimelech and his oldest boy, he's a physicist at Cornell and he insisted on telling me about some research he was doing. I doubt if I could have understood it even if my head were clear. Finally, I excused myself and went up to my room. It was early, around six o'clock, but I couldn't keep my head up. I got undressed, took a couple of aspirins, and then some hot tea with lemon and honey and whiskey, then I got into bed and fell asleep immediately."
"And slept through the night?"
"No. I awoke after an hour." said Reb Mendel. "I had this vivid dream, and it awakened me."
"A nightmare?"
"No-o. You remember that young man I used to call our young Viking?"
"Akiva, Akiva Rokeach."
"That's the one, he seemed to be in some sort of trouble. I saw him as clearly as I see you now."
"What kind of trouble?"
The rebbe shrugged. "You know how it is with dreams. So I read for a while and then finally fell asleep again. When I awoke this morning. I felt fine. It was the sweating from the aspirins and the hot tea. I suppose."
"Not to mention the whiskey."
"The whiskey, of course." The rebbe's face relaxed in a sunny smile. "I wonder how he's getting along, our young Viking."
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Why don't you lead the prayers sometime. Rabbi?" demanded Joshua Tizzik. "Then we'd get through at a decent hour."
Rabbi Small grinned at the sour face of his questioner. "I do. More than half the time, the trouble is you don't come often enough."
They were walking across the parking lot after the evening service, although it was almost eight o'clock, the approach of evening offered little relief from the heat of the August day.
"I admit I don't get down often, mostly when I come to say Kaddish, for my mother this time, may she rest in peace. But when I do come, it's usually Chester Kaplan who leads."
"Well, this time it wasn't."
"So it's his son-in-law. Mind you, I've got nothing against young Aptaker, but it's like Kaplan wants to keep it in the family, like a monopoly."
"Mr. Kaplan had nothing to do with it." said the rabbi "I called Arnold myself last night and suggested it. You see, it's a special occasion."
"I know, I know— the new baby."
"And he was most reluctant, I might add," said the rabbi. "I had to persuade him."
Tizzik's features twisted into a sour smile. "I can understand why, too. I'm no expert, but it seemed to me he stumbled a couple of times, and he read so slow like it was the first time, maybe that's why Kaplan stayed away. Didn't want to embarrass him."
"Mr. Kaplan is out of town on business, as I understand it," said the rabbi.
"He is? But today is Wednesday."
"What's that got to do with it?" the rabbi asked.
"Wednesdays, Chet Kaplan has his At Homes."
"He still keeps that up? Then I suppose he'll get home in time for it. Do you still attend. Mr. Tizzik?"
"Now and then, the wife and I go to the movies more now that it's only a dollar for senior citizens. Besides, those At Homes, they're not like they used to be."
"Oh?"
"It's only what you'd expect," said Tizzik. "At the beginning, there's always a lot of enthusiasm, and then it tends to die down, and this Rabbi Mezzik who had a lot to do with it, he doesn't come down anymore. Got himself a pulpit in upstate New York, I understand, and maybe that last retreat that Chester organized didn't help matters."
"Is that so? What happened?" The rabbi was interested.
"Didn't you hear?" Tizzik was incredulous. "I wasn't there, of course, but I got it from Bob Wiseman, a complete washout. Rabbi. It was the Fourth of July weekend and I guess it was the first time they'd been up there during the summer, according to Wiseman, who'd been to most of the others, what was nice about the place was that it was so quiet and peaceful. Of course, the other retreats had been held in the fall, after Labor Day, well, it seems that in the summer the place is a madhouse, especially on weekends, there are houses all around this little lake and each and every one of them, according to Wiseman, must have a speedboat or an outboard, they were drumming up and down that lake all day long so you couldn't hear yourself think, and at night, it was worse with the radios and the phonographs going full blast with this rock-and-roll music, that's why the Catholic church gave it up as a kids' camp. Some of the guys came home the next day."
"That's very interesting," said the rabbi, they had arrived at Tizzik's car and the rabbi was about to turn away when he thought of something. "Oh, if you can manage it, Mr. Tizzik, you might try to come to the morning service this Sunday, Arnold Aptaker will lead the prayers again and you can see if he's improved, there will be a light collation afterward, tendered by the Kaplans and the Aptakers in honor of their new grandson."
"The usual cake and kichel and herring, I suppose."
"I suppose so."
"And whiskey in paper cups?"
The rabbi smiled. "Maybe in glasses."
"Well, maybe I'll try to make it. What else is there to do Sunday mornings? On TV it's all church services."