That Day the Rabbi Left Town (14 page)

Chapter 19

While for Rabbi Small the convenience of being a short streetcar ride from the college was an improvement over driving to and from Barnard's Crossing, the move to Brookline opened up a whole new world for Miriam. Since she did not drive, she had been dependent on the rabbi, always a reluctant driver, or friends who happened to be going where she wanted to go, or the bus, which ran once an hour. But now she could go into the city with all its wonders by just walking across the street and taking a streetcar, which came by every few minutes.

However, they did not lose touch with Barnard's Crossing. Al Bergson would call at least once a week to report anything of interest that may have happened at the temple. His wife called Miriam almost daily and would come into the city occasionally to meet with her for a shopping expedition, or to visit the museum, or to attend a concert. On one occasion, Chief Lanigan, having business in the city, stopped off at the college late in the afternoon, and the rabbi persuaded him to come home with him for dinner. He stayed a couple of hours afterward, regaling them with news of the town, of actions taken by the Board of Selectmen and the School Committee, and of incidents that the police had had to deal with.

It was on a Sunday morning that Miriam declared, “David, I haven't got a thing to wear. I simply have to get some more clothes.”

“No problem,” he replied. “We'll drive out to Barnard's Crossing today and you can get your fall and winter things and bring back what you won't be using. As a matter of fact, I've got to get some books.”

“Shall we call the Bergsons and tell them we're coming?”

“No-o, I think we better not. They're bound to ask us to come over for tea, and by the time we leave, it will be getting dark.”

“But what if they see us—”

“Oh, we can say it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, that we had gone out for a drive and just happened to come this way.”

“All right,” she said doubtfully.

They started out shortly after lunch and arrived in Barnard's Crossing around two o'clock. The rabbi drove into the garage and they entered the house through the breezeway and the back door. They had almost finished loading the car with things they needed when the doorbell rang. It was Al Bergson.

“Ben Halprin said he saw a car in the garage, so I came over to check.”

“Well—”

“I thought it might be somebody breaking in because I was sure that if you were coming here, you would have given me a call.”

“I tried to,” said the rabbi, “but the line was busy.”

“That's the missus, of course.”

“So I thought if we got through here early, we'd drop by and surprise you.”

“You finished here? So come on along.”

“We can't stay long,” said the rabbi. “I don't want to drive back in the dark.”

“Well, come and have a cup of coffee. Edie baked a strudel that's out of this world.”

As they sipped their coffee and munched strudel, Edith Bergson said, “You know, I thought you folks would be coming out weekends. Don't you miss Barnard's Crossing?”

“Oh, we do,” said the rabbi, “but weekends are difficult. If we were to start out Friday, it would be too late for Miriam to prepare for the Sabbath. And on Saturday, I don't drive until after sunset, and that means driving in the dark, which I tend to avoid. So we could come out Sunday, stay overnight, and drive back Monday morning, but the last few Sundays have been rainy, and we've got in the habit of just lazing around and reading the Sunday papers.”

“But Thanksgiving, there's no school on Friday. So that's four days. You'll be coming out Thanksgiving, won't you?”

“Yes, we planned to.”

“Good, then we'll expect you for Thanksgiving dinner,” said Edith with an air of finality that brooked no opposition.

By the time they left, it was growing dark. Miriam was careful not to speak as they rode since he was always tense at the wheel of the car and doubly so when he had to drive at night. But when they were back in the apartment and had put away the things they had brought, she said, “You not only made up a fib, but then you changed it to another, and in the end it didn't work. We had to go over to the Bergsons' and drive home at night.”

“Yes,” he said, “I suppose that's how fibs work out.”

“And how did you know Edith would be on the phone?”

“I didn't, and Al didn't. We both just assumed it.”

She laughed. “Well, at least we've got Thanksgiving taken care of.”

Chapter 20

Although it had been cloudy all day, it did not begin to rain until after nightfall, around five o'clock, when Susan Selig returned home from her bar review course in Salem. The rabbi was at the temple, and she presumed he would be there for about another hour. Unlike the bar review she had taken in Connecticut years before, in which the class had consisted of almost a hundred and been confined to lectures, this one in Salem had only about a dozen and entailed some discussion. She had got involved in an argument with a young fellow who had just graduated from law school, and she had come out second best. As a result she was a little out of sorts. And tired.

Since they were going to dine on yesterday's roast, which she had only to reheat, she decided to wait until her husband got home before preparing dinner. She went into the bedroom, sat down on the bed, and kicked off her shoes. Then she laid back her head on the pillow. After a while, she decided to get into nightgown and robe to be really comfortable, and loll about until her husband got home.

Although the house was isolated with no other house on the bedroom side for a couple of hundred yards, she pulled the shade down because she had lived in apartment houses most of her life, and it was automatic with her.

The rain had grown heavier, and then there was a sudden cloudburst and a flash of lightning; and she saw in the inch or so at the bottom of the shade, a pair of eyes peering in at her.

Curiously calm, she went to the hall where the telephone was, and dialed 911.

Her call was answered almost immediately. “Sergeant Riordan.”

“This is Susan Selig—”

“The rabbi's wife?”

“That's right.”

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Selig?”

“There's someone on the porch looking in at my bedroom.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“The patrol car is in your neighborhood, ma'am. I know the address, and somebody will be there in a minute. It's right nearby. Now, don't leave your house. Just wait there, but stay out of the bedroom.”

Professor Kent quickly scrambled to his feet from his kneeling position as he heard the car coming up the driveway. Squinting in the glare of the patrol car's headlights, he said, “I was on my way to my friends the Millers, on Evans Road, and I took shelter from the storm on the porch here.”

Sergeant Aherne had got out of the car. He ran his flashlight up and down the figure in front of him and focused the light on his knees, which showed the dust of the porch. “And you knelt to give thanks for your delivery from the rain?”

Professor Kent chuckled uneasily. “No, Officer, I thought I heard a sound, er—like a scream, maybe, so I knelt to see if someone was in trouble.”

Aherne walked back to the patrol car to confer with his colleague behind the wheel. Then he motioned with his flashlight to Kent. “You going to the Millers'? All right, get in.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you very much,” Kent said, and got in the backseat.

Aherne walked around to the front of the house and rang the bell. Mrs. Selig, in a dressing gown, opened the door but kept it on the chain.

“Sergeant Aherne, ma'am. We have the man in the patrol car. He says he was going to the Millers' on Evans Road. That he took shelter on your porch from the cloudburst. He says he heard a scream and that's why he tried to look in, to see if anyone was in trouble. Did you have your radio or TV on?”

“No. Neither was on.”

“Yeah, like I figured. The rabbi at the temple?”

“Unless he had to go see someone.”

“But you expect him home pretty soon?”

She glanced at her watch. “He should be along any minute.”

“We could wait here a few minutes,” he offered.

“Oh, I don't think that's necessary. I don't suppose there was anyone else with him.”

“All right then, but if your husband is delayed and you feel uneasy, I could call in and have a policeman come down and wait around until he gets home.”

“Oh, that's very kind of you, Sergeant, but really, I don't think it will be necessary.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, just let us know.”

In the car, Kent felt it necessary to make conversation. “I am Professor Kent, and Professor Thorvald Miller is my colleague on the faculty of Windermere College. I come here frequently for the weekend. My wife's people used to own this land. In fact, they built the House where—where I took shelter, and the Miller house, too. So I felt as though I were coming home, you know.” He chuckled. “Which is why I chose to walk up the house side of the hedge. The other side, the right-of-way, is apt to be muddy when it rains. Ah, here we are. Very kind of you to give me a lift. I'll—”

“Just sit there awhile,” said Aherne as he got out and mounted the steps of the porch to the front door. He rang the bell, and when Professor Miller appeared, he asked, “You expecting someone tonight?”

“Why—I—”

But Kent called out through the open car door, “It's me, Thorvald. The police gave me a lift.”

“Oh, yes. It's Professor Kent. Yes, we're expecting him.”

Aherne returned to the car and opened the rear door. He waited until Kent had mounted the porch steps and entered the house. Then he took his seat in the car, and as his colleague set it in motion, he asked, ‘You believe any of that, the guy using the house side of the hedge because the other side might be muddy, and taking shelter on the porch because of the rain, and kneeling because he thought he heard a scream?”

“Nah.”

“Neither do I.”

“The other side of the hedge got flagstones and is no more muddy than the house side.”

“I know. So why didn't you squeeze him a little?”

“I would've, but where it was the rabbi's wife that was involved, it could make for a lot of trouble.”

Chapter 21

“Anything?” Chief Lanigan asked of the desk sergeant as he made his way to his office.

“There was a Peeping Tom call from the rabbi's wife.”

“Miriam Small reported a Peeping Tom?”

“No, the new rabbi, Rabbi Selig. Mrs. Selig called to say she was in her bedroom and she thought she saw someone looking at her through the inch or so below the drawn blind. I notified the cruiser and Tim Aherne caught the fellow. He said he was going to the Millers' on Evans Road, so Tim took him there.”

“Where is Aherne now?”

“Up by the wharf: He'll be off in about a half an hour.”

“All right, tell him I want to see him when he comes in.”

Lanigan headed for his office. Then stopped. “If you've got Peeping Tom on your blotter, change it to trespass.”

“Why?”

“Because when it appears in the newspaper that the rabbi's wife reported a Peeping Tom, it can cause some trouble.”

“I don't get it, Chief.”

“No? What if it were a nun who reported it?”

The desk sergeant, who like Lanigan was Catholic, nodded slowly. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

Later, when Aherne appeared before him, Lanigan asked him to recount the incident, and then said, “You're sure he was kneeling? Did you see him kneeling?”

“No-o. He must've got up when he saw our headlights coming up the driveway. But when I flashed the spot on him, he was brushing the dust off his pants.”

“And you took him to the Millers'?”

“That's right. I wasn't giving him a lift, you know. I wanted to see if they were expecting him.”

“And they were?”

“I guess so. But before I had a chance to ask them, he yelled out from the cruiser.”

“I see. And the rabbi's wife, was she upset?”

“Not that I could see. I offered to have a man wait there until her husband got home, but she said it wasn't necessary, and that her husband was due home almost any minute.”

Lanigan leaned back in his armchair. “The Millers, you know anything about them?”

“He's a teacher, in Boston, I think.”

“I know that. He's not married, but his mother lives with him and keeps house for him. You haven't heard anything about her, have you?”

Aherne shook his head. “Ada Bronson works for her; she might know something.”

“Ada Bronson? Jimmie Bronson's wife?”

“That's right. Not regular, I understand. She goes there every now and then to help out. Wednesdays mostly, Jimmie said, to help her clean up and to keep her company on account her son gets home late on Wednesdays.”

“Just two of them, I shouldn't think they'd need much in the way of help.”

“Yeah, but the old lady is not well. Got asthma pretty bad. Sometimes she just lays in bed or on the divan in the living room and Ada does all the work, makes the supper and everything.”

“How old would you say she was?”

“You mean the Miller woman?” A shrug of the shoulders. “Sixty, sixty-five.”

“And this fellow you caught?”

“You mean the Peeping Tom? He looks about the same age, maybe sixty-five or seventy.”

“So he might be visiting the old lady rather than the son.”

“Yeah, I guess he could be.”

“Maybe I'll drop in and visit the Millers. Who was on the cruiser with you?”

“Bob Slocumbe.”

“Okay. Look, it's on the blotter as a trespass. Understand?”