Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home (16 page)

“I don’t do the hiring.”

“But of course you picket the office of the one who does.”

“I don’t notice any great liberalism in the policy of the Times-Herald,9 said Gorfinkle drily, “and you run that.”

“I run it for the owners. And I run it their way. Oh, I’m a prostitute, all right.” he added cheerfully. “Most newspaper men have to be. But I don’t fool myself. A prostitute yes, but no hypocrite.”

“Well. I have reason to believe that Rabbi Small is, which had something to do with my decision.” said Gorfinkle smugly.

“Doesn’t wrap his phylacteries properly? Wears his prayer shawl inside out?”

“I had no idea you were so concerned about rabbis and things religious.” said Gorfinkle.

“I’m not, and I hardly know your rabbi. I just don’t like to see people hurt.” He studied his brother-in-law for a moment. “And the effect on the congregation? Have you thought about that?”

Gorfinkle shrugged. “He really has no following, except maybe among the kids, and they don’t count. As a matter of fact, it was the congregation I was thinking of when I had this talk with him. Fact is.” he lowered his voice, “I was trying to prevent a serious split in the congregation. You see, there is this handful of dissidents – the old guard who are opposed to every aspect of our program. Well, they’ll either knuckle under or they’ll get out. If they leave, it doesn’t bother us too much; they’re just a couple of three dozen of them. But if we let the rabbi continue, he might stir up enough opposition so that we could lose a hundred or more. That would be serious.”

“So the strategy is to silence the opposition?”

“What’s wrong with that? Why should we furnish the opposition with a rostrum?”

“Because it’s democratic. The government does it.”

They argued long and frequently loudly; and when, quite late, the Gorfinkles finally prepared to depart, neither man had convinced the other. They said their goodbyes with formal politeness no different from the way any number of their discussions had ended in the past.

Five minutes after they had left, the phone rang and Harvey Kanter answered.

“Barnard’s Crossing Police Department. Sergeant Hanks speaking. May I speak to Mr. Benjamin Gorfinkle?”

“He’s just left.”

“Is he on his way home, sir?”

“Sure. I guess so. What’s this all about?”

“We’ll get in touch with him there.”

“Just a minute. I’m his brother-in-law. Harvey Kanter of the Times-Herald. Was there an accident? Was his place broken into?”

“No. Mr. Kanter, nothing like that.” And the sergeant hung up, leaving Kanter wondering uneasily what he should do.

Sergeant Herder of the Boston Police Department was a man of infinite patience, and he found himself forced to use every bit of it as he dealt with the slattern before him. “Now, look, Madelaine, let’s see if we can get a little cooperation. Remember what I told you: That man knows you saw him leave the Wilcox place, and he might get worried about it and try to do something drastic. Do you understand?”

The woman, her eyes fixed on him as though hypnotized, nodded her head rapidly.

“What do you understand?”

“He might try to do something.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Sergeant Herder got up and walked rapidly to the end of the room. He stood there for a moment, gazing at the wall. Then he came back slowly. “He might try to kill you,

Madelaine, the way he did Wilcox. That’s what he might try to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, what?”

“He might try to kill me.”

“Fine. Just remember that. Just keep that in mind. So we’ve got to get him before he has the chance. And to get him, we have to know what he looks like. See?”

“I know what he looks like.”

“I know you do, but we don’t unless you tell us. Now what size man was he? Was he a big man or small?”

“Sort of middling.”

“What color hair did he have?”

“He had his hat on.”

“All right, what color hat was it?”

“Just a man’s hat.”

“Just a hat. Fine. Now Officer Donovan here is an artist. Madelaine. He draws pictures.”

“I know what an artist is.” she said with dignity.

“Sure you do. Now we’re getting somewhere. Officer Donovan is going to show you some outlines of faces, and I want you to tell him which one looks most like the man’s, the man we’re talking about, the man you saw. Understand?”

She nodded.

“Show her one with a hat. Donovan.”

She looked at the outline. “The hat was squashier.” she said.

“How about the outline of the face?”

“Yeah, that could be it.”

“Fine. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Just a minute.” said Donovan. He sketched rapidly and presented another outline to her, quite different from the first. “How about this one?”

“Yeah: that could be it.”

“Maybe you ought to try her on the mug shots again.” suggested Donovan.

Herder shook his head in total frustration.

“I’m sure she’d know him if she saw him. She just can’t describe him.”

“By now, I’m not sure she even saw him.”

“It was the same wav with the other one, the football player, but she picked his picture out of the bunch we handed her.”

“Yeah,” He turned back to the woman. “Now, Madelaine, I’m going to show you a bunch of pictures and you tell me if you see him. All right?”

“Sure, Sergeant, anything you say.”

When the telephone rang, Mrs. Carter was sure it was Moose. But there was a strange voice at the other end.

“Mr. Carter, please.” it said.

“Mr. Carter isn’t in just now,” she replied. “Can I take a message?”

“This is the Barnard’s Crossing Police Department calling. Can you tell me where we can reach Mr. Carter? When do you expect him?”

“He went out right after supper.” she said. “Just a minute. I hear a car driving in. Maybe that’s him now. Hold the line a minute.”

She heard the door open and she called out, “Is that you, Raphael? You’re wanted on the telephone.”

He picked up the receiver. “Carter speaking.” he said.

“This is the Barnard’s Crossing Police Department. Lieutenant Jennings. Will you please wait for our

Sergeant Hanks. He’ll be right over.”

“Police Department? What’s this all about?”

“Sergeant Hanks will explain.” said the voice at the other end, followed by a click as Lieutenant Jennings hung up.

“Damn funny, all your folks should be out for the evening,” said Chief Lanigan. “What time are they expected back?”

Stu shrugged.

Didi said, “All I know is I found a note on the kitchen table saying they were going to a movie. They didn’t say which one, but I know it wasn’t the Seaside in Barnard’s Crossing because they already saw that one. And then they might go on someplace for coffee.”

“Well. I’ll just have the sergeant keep calling every fifteen minutes or so until we get them. You kids wait right here and don’t try anything funny.”

And he left them sitting in his office, the two boys on a bench by the wall. Didi in an armchair near the window. She looked forlorn and puffy-eyed. The shock of hearing of the death of a boy she had seen only a few hours before, followed by her arrest, had unnerved her completely. She had control of her emotions now, however, and stared moodily out the window at the little grass plot in front of the station house.

Stu edged closer to Bill Jacobs and whispered. “You know. I don’t think they’re going to let us go without our folks coming down. Maybe I ought to tell them that they’re at my Aunt Edith’s, and that he can reach them there.”

“You already told them you didn’t know.” Bill whispered back.

“No, I didn’t. He asked us if we knew what time they are coming back, but he didn’t ask us where they were.”

“I think we should sit tight. Maybe when he calls and finds our folks are out, he’ll let us go.”

Stu sat back unhappy, his fingers drumming nervously on the arm of the bench. He edged forward again. “You know what. Bill? I think we ought to tell them about Moose – I mean, about how we found him.”

“Sure, why not? You’re in the clear.” said Bill bitterly. “It doesn’t matter to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, you weren’t in the house at all during the storm.

And he was dead already when you showed up. But where does that leave me and Didi?”

“But they’re going to find out sooner or later.”

“How are they going to find out? From what I overheard the cops talking, they think he just died from an overdose of alcohol.”

“Yeah, but that’s just the cops. Once a doctor examines the body, he’ll know he didn’t die that way. He’ll be able to tell whether a guy died of alcohol or from suffocation.”

“I don’t mean we shouldn’t tell them,” Bill temporized, “but I don’t think we have to tell them anything without a lawyer. And they can’t count it against us,” he said with an assurance he did not feel. “That’s the law.”

“Maybe you’re right. I wish my old man were here,” said Stu unhappily. “He’d raise hell with me for getting involved, but he’d know what to do. He’d see that the cops treated us fair. Say, who do you think could have done it?”

Bill shook his head. “I left the door unlatched. Anybody could have come in.”

“Hey; how about this Alan Jenkins? You all said Moose was leaning on him from the minute he laid eyes on him. These days they don’t take that lying down.”

“And he left Didi’s house in plenty of time to swing back there.”

“I know.”

“What did you expect him to say, David? Mr. Wasserman is an old man; he’s practical. I know how you feel, but sometimes you have to compromise. You yourself have said that parnossah is necessary for a good life, that you can’t have a good life unless you’re making a living.” She had fussed over him like a mother hen, bringing him his slippers and pouring him a cup of hot tea liberally laced with whisky and lemon. “Drink it; it will ward off a cold.”

“Making a living is a necessity,” he said through her ministrations. “Making a good living is a luxury. I don’t need luxury for a good life. I don’t reject it, of course; I am not ascetic. But I don’t need it.”

“But wherever you go, except in small towns like Barnard’s Crossing, there will be more than one temple. And that will mean competition.”

He shook his head wearily. “You don’t understand, Miriam. In the nature of things the rabbi is paid by a temple or synagogue because here in America it’s the most practical way of compensating him for his work. But he is not the employee of the temple, just as a judge is compensated by the state but is still completely free to rule against it in an action. And if his courthouse bums down, it doesn’t mean that he loses all function and responsibility and purpose. But here, if the temple should split, we would have an ugly situation. The rabbis of the two institutions would become bargaining points in the two campaigns for membership. And I want no part of it.”

“But if as you say, you insist on being the rabbi for the entire community, it means living in a small town.”

“Well. I like small towns. Don’t you?”

“Ye-es, but small towns mean small communities, and small communities mean small pay. Don’t you have any personal ambition?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Of course. Why else would I spend so much time at my studies? But my ambition is to be a rabbi, not something else. I have no interest in using the rabbinate as a springboard to some other kind of work that pays more and carries greater prestige. I don’t think I’d care to be a big rabbi with a big pulpit at some prestigious temple where I could never be found because I’d have speaking engagements all the time. I wouldn’t like it, and” – he reached over and patted her, hand reassuringly – “you wouldn’t like it either. Maybe you’d be proud of me for a little while, seeing my name or my picture in the Jewish press. But after a while you’d get used to that, like everything else. Besides. I don’t think I could do it, anyway.”

“But you have to do some compromising. David, or –”

“Or what?”

“Or keep moving.”

“We’ve been here almost six years. But you’re right, we can’t keep moving. It’s not good for Jonathan, for one thing. And I’ve been thinking about it. Wherever I go, there will be other Gorfinkles and other Paffs.”

“So what do you plan to do?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Oh, one day this week I’ll go down to New York and see Hanslick and tell him that I would like another position. I might look into the possibility of Hillel work –”

“David, is that why you are being so” – she was going to say stubborn, but decided on another word – “so resolute about this situation here?”

He gave her a sharp look and then smiled. “Catholics have their confessors,” he said, “and Jews have their wives. I think I like our arrangement better.”

“You’re dodging me,” she said but laughed in spite of herself.

“Am I? Yes, I suppose I am. Well, I think perhaps that is part of the reason. Didn’t you like it – the two days in Binkerton? To tell the truth, dear, I’m tired of fighting. I’ve been doing it for almost six years, ever since I came here. I was prepared for a certain amount of it, but I thought that once it was established just who was the rabbi here, I’d be able to concentrate on my real job. But throughout my tenure, I’ve had to fight just to stay. I tell you I’m tired of it.”

“You had an argument at Binkerton,” she observed.

“That was different. That was a matter of principle. I don’t know, maybe this is the wrong congregation for me. They’re so – so contentious.” He thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets and strode the floor.

“Well. Jews have never been known as a passive people.” Miriam said gently. “And what makes you think their sons and daughters in the colleges will be any different?”

“Perhaps not, but I’m hoping their disagreements would be over issues of greater moment than whether or not to have permanent seating arrangements, say. But it’s more than that. A rabbi is primarily a student, a scholar. And for scholarship, a certain amount of leisure is necessary. In Hillel work. I’m hoping I would have the time –”