The Dead Don't Talk

by Lawrence J Epstein

“She left me for someone. She had been seeing him for almost a year. When we yelled at each other just before she left, she managed to list every one of my faults. I knew some of them, but some surprised me.”

  “And since then?”

  “You should be a therapist, Mrs. Goldberg. How much are you charging me for this?”

  “I think we’re being therapists for each other. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I...I try, but the feelings aren’t there. I see someone nice. I should ask her out. And instead I feel repulsed. I feel sick. It’s in my stomach. I can’t walk up to her.”

  “I’m sorry. Maybe time will heal you. Maybe the right person will heal you.”

  “And you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nothing will ever heal me, Mr. Ryle.”

  We talked for another twenty minutes.

  I thanked her and went outside.

  The air was thick with heat. It choked me.

  I headed for George Weber at the gas station.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Weber was changing a transmission when I got to the station.

  I found him and told him I wanted to talk about Rabbi Siegel.

  “I can’t talk. I’m working.”

  “The owner said you could take five minutes.”

  “Okay, then, I don’t want to talk.”

  “I’m a lot easier than the cops. I’m not trying to jam you.”

  “Sure. We’re buddies.”

  “Look, Weber. This is easy. You tell me where you were between one and three on the day the Rabbi got shot and you never get to see me again.”

  “I like that part. That Rabbi was a disgrace. Two people in love, and he won’t marry us. Yeah, I wanted to sock him in the mouth. He deserved it. But I wouldn’t do it. You can check. I don’t have a record except for one traffic incident.”

  “So where were you?”

  “I was in a bar in East Hampton getting as drunk as I could. I wanted to see how much a liver could take.”

  “The cops thought you looked good for it.”

  “I know. That was because I kept quiet in the bar. The guy serving the drinks was busy. He was reading a book between serving the customers. I think he was some kind of student. Anyway, he couldn’t remember me. But the cops had absolutely no proof because there couldn’t be any proof. I was never in his house. I never owned a gun. I never even shot a gun. If I’m being honest, I have a temper. I have to be careful what I carry. You’ll find this out. I once was drunk, got angry at the driver in front of me. It was late at night. I hit his car. Turned out he didn’t want to press charges. It would have raised his insurance. The cops gave me some kind of ticket. They didn’t have to, but they did. That’s all I have on my record.”

  “I spoke to Mrs. Goldberg. She loved you.”

  “Yeah. And I loved her. I’ve never married. She did, to some local loser. She even took in his kid. That Rabbi ruined both our lives. I’m glad he’s dead. As far as I’m concerned the guy who did it deserves a medal.”

  “That kind of talk isn’t going to help you.”

  “I don’t need help. I didn’t do anything. Okay, I spoke to you. Now let me get back to work. You got a nice car by the way.”

  I turned to look at my Mustang.

  “When I go backwards and put on the brake it doesn’t always stop right away.”

  “I could look at it.”

  “Thanks. Maybe someday.”

  I walked out of the garage.

  I didn’t know any more than when I walked in. I could see why Flanagan wanted me to look at him. I couldn’t tell if he was a killer. I had a sudden thought that I was out of my league. Rabbi London needed a real detective. But even a real one had to go up against the facts. The police had tried and hadn’t found the killer. Maybe it was someone from out of town. But there was absolutely no reason to think so. It was emotional. There weren’t follow-up killings. No. It was someone he knew who didn’t like him. That put Weber back into the picture.

  I could see why the cops were frustrated.

  I started driving and noticed I wasn’t far from the scene of the crime. I’d ask the new owners if I could look around.

  I knocked and showed my credentials to the woman who answered. She had on a summer dress, the color of bright sunshine and bold enough to blind someone. Her hair matched the color of the dress if not the intensity of the brightness. Her eyes were half-closed as though she was suspicious of the world beyond herself.

  I told her why I was there.

  “We did a lot of the house over,” she said. “You are welcome to look, but from what I understand the cops did a really thorough job.”

  “I’m after feelings. It’s hard to explain.”

  She laughed.

  “I think my husband whisked all the feelings out of this house. But be my guest.”

  I walked inside and looked around. The Rabbi had been shot in the living room, not far from the bookcase. I went there.

  I felt absolutely nothing.

  She walked over to me.

  “You look disappointed.”

  I shrugged. “I keep looking for easy and quick answers, and there aren’t any.” I paused. “There was a woman who lived downstairs in the basement when the Rabbi lived here. Her name was Penny, and she was some kind of painter. You have any idea about where I can find her?”

  “See. You did get a little lucky. That girl Penny is still here. She’s in the basement now.”

  “Thanks.”

  I went down into the basement.

  Penny was painting.

  “That’s Van Gogh, isn’t it?” I said.

  She turned around. She had hair the color of fresh wheat. She kept having to push it away from her eyes. They were the green of an inviting sea. I’ve never seen clearer skin.

  Her mouth opened in surprise. Then she spoke. “It’s more like Arnold Van Gogh than Vincent. It’s not very good I suppose.”

  I shook my head. “It looks very good to me. Of course I like simple paintings with bright colors. I’m not exactly an expert.”

  “Thanks anyway. It keeps me in practice. Most of the time I do my own. A lot of Long Island seascapes. But sometimes I just need to connect to the Masters.”

  “What’s that one called? I mean by Vincent.”

  “It’s Bedroom in Arles. He painted it in 1888. He did three versions of it. This one is my favorite. It really is his bedroom.”

  “You’re very good.”

  “Thank you. It inspires me. I wish my stuff jumped off the canvas like the great painters make their works do.”

  “I won’t bother you for long. I work for a local Congressman, and I’ve been asked to gather information about the Rabbi who was killed in this house a year and a half ago.”

  She shook her head.

  “That killer could have gone after me. I was right downstairs the whole time. I still get nightmares thinking about what would have happened if he heard the noise and came downstairs. I sometimes dream of a giant figure grabbing me.”

  “You were listening to loud music?”

  “Yes. Highway 61 Revisited. It’s naturally loud, but I was playing it even louder. That’s why I was surprised the killer didn’t come after me. I guess he only wanted to kill the Rabbi and get out. Anyway, I often paint to music. Dylan is especially good to set me free. I don’t play music when I do one of the Masters, though.”

  “So you heard nothing?”

  She shook her head.

  “I went through all this with the police. I’m afraid I was worthless.”

  I smiled. Then I decided to ask the impolite question. I couldn’t help myself. When you’re looking for the truth, you don’t walk by the dark alleys.

  “What was your relationship with the Rabbi?”

  “He was a Rabbi. He was much older than I was. He had morals. Better ones than I have. There was no relationship. I rarely saw him. I paid my rent every week to his wife. I went out at night to buy groceries. He wa
s asleep by then. It’s not very nice for you to ask me this question.”

  “I apologize. That’s a difficult part of my job. You have to go places that are uncomfortable, make what sound to be accusations when you’re just looking for facts.”

  “Let me sum this up for you. Like I told the police. I didn’t see anything or anyone. I didn’t hear anything or anyone. I have no help to give.”

  “There was anti-Semitic graffiti on the walls.”

  “I know.”

  “The cops thought it was to throw them off. They didn’t think it had anything to do with the killings.”

  She was lucky she was an artist and not a poker player. Her face was easy to read.

  “Do they know who did it?”

  I thought I’d be kind to her. “They have no idea.”

  She looked totally relieved.

  I smiled. “It’s been nice meeting you. Good-bye.”

  She turned back again to the painting.

  I left the house.

  I went to get some coffee.

  I hadn’t sat down for three minutes before Ari sat across from me.

  “How’s the search going?”

  “Very badly. Really badly. I should quit because I’m so bad at this.”

  “Have the coffee.”

  “How about silence for ten minutes?”

  He just nodded.

  I sat there thinking. I decided that I hadn’t gotten anywhere. Anyone could be the killer. Or not. I had no clues, at least any clues I could recognize.

  I need a break of a day.

  I called the Congressional Office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ennis was in with the Congressman. I waved to Janet and signaled her to come outside.

  She joined me a minute later.

  “We miss you around here, Danny.”

  “I almost miss the office.”

  “What have you been doing?”

  “The Congressman sent me on a mission to help a friend. It’s all frustrating. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Can you talk about the oppo research? Have you found anything useful for me?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m spending the day tomorrow working on it. I should find something in a couple of days. Does Ennis pester you?”

  “You know him. He wants tomorrow to be done yesterday.”

  “I know. I just wanted to tell you that I haven’t forgotten the task.”

  “Thanks, Danny.”

  “You look tired, Janet. Don’t let the work get to you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not the work. It’s...oh, I shouldn’t bother you with it.”

  “Ye old boyfriend woes.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Who is this character?”

  She shrugged.

  “He teaches philosophy at the community college extension in Riverhead. You want to know what I know about philosophy? It took me two weeks to learn how to spell it.”

  “One day you can teach me.”

  “His head is in the clouds, but his feet aren’t on the ground. He talks about these people I never heard of like they’re his friends. Hume. Schopenhauer. Mill. I mentioned the people I work with and guess what? He tells me your name, Ryle, is the name of a philosopher. Maybe he’s your relative. Maybe you could get him to call Ronnie and tell him to stop thinking for a minute and marry me. Who reads all these people anyway? I watch TV and read mysteries. I don’t think Ronnie will ever change. Maybe I should give up and look for someone who repairs roofs. That’s an honest job. They do work and they get paid for it. They come home and they want dinner and to see their wife.”

  “Don’t give up, Janet.”

  “You’re doing the oppo work tomorrow?”

  I held up my hand.

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you ever a Boy Scout?”

  “No. But I used to have honor.”

  “You’re hopeless, Ryle.”

  “That’s Philosopher Ryle to you.”

  She shook her head and went inside.

  Ari was waiting by my car.

  “Where to, boss?”

  “I’m not your boss. We have the rest of the afternoon off. I can’t do any work here. If I see Ennis I’ll want to punch him. I...Wait a minute. Ari, get in. We ride together. Like partners.”

  “I’ll be Archie Goodwin and you be Nero Wolfe.”

  “Nero Wolfe weighed one seventh of a ton.”

  “You’ve been eating a lot of cake lately.”

  “Get in.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Riverhead. We’re going to get educated. You know anything about philosophy?”

  “You mean like Aristotle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know I don’t know anything. That must count as understanding philosophy.”

  I turned on the radio and we drove.

  I found the Annex off Main Street. The College sent some professors into the town to teach at a high school or municipal building to help the locals. This Annex was in an abandoned junior high school. There were a lot of cars parked in the lot.

  I parked and went up to a guy in uniform.

  “Can you tell me where I can find a philosophy teacher named Ronnie or Ron or Ronald?”

  He stared at me for a minute.

  “You a student?”

  “Nope.” I took out my credentials. “The Congressman is thinking of giving Ronnie some kind of citation for his excellent community service. I’m supposed to meet him first. Between us, since you’re a professional in law enforcement, I’m supposed to find out if he deserves it.”

  “Second floor. All the way in the back. Call him Dr. Tyler. He likes that.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. That’s very helpful.”

  “You think maybe there will be a ceremony here? With cameras?”

  “Maybe. And if there is, I’ll make sure you’re in those pictures.”

  “Thanks.”

  We walked inside and upstairs.

  Ronnie was sitting at his desk. I expected him to be smoking a pipe and reading a book, but he was just sitting there.

  I went inside.

  “Excuse me. Are you Dr. Tyler?”

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  I showed him the Congressional identification. I decided it was better than gold.

  “I’m here to interview you about a Miss Janet D’Amaro. I assume you know her.”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you mind if I ask the nature of your relationship?”

  “That’s very personal. Why do you want to know?”

  I held up my hands.

  “A fair question. Will you promise that this stays between us? It’s not quite a matter of national security, but it is a little.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Including Miss D’Amaro.”

  “Of course.”

  “And the nature of your relationship?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “All right. We’ll leave it at that for now. We have been contacted by the White House. They are looking for someone to help in the area of constituent services. That’s what Miss D’Amaro does for Congressman Miles. The White House has heard about her work and is very impressed. We’re very quietly reaching out to some people who know her. Would you recommend her for the job?”

  “Would she move to Washington?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And when would this begin?”

  “If she’s offered the job and if she accepts, she would start in about a month. Let me ask again. Would you recommend her?”

  “She is an excellent worker. Very dedicated. Could I ask the pay?”

  “I don’t know it. It’s about what she makes now, I suppose. It’s not a fortune. She’ll have to buy a new house or rent an apartment. It’s a difficult choice. But if she’s not got anything to hold her here, it’s a wonderful opportunity, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. I suppose so.”

  “Thank you,
Dr. Tyler. You’ve been very helpful. Again, I caution you not to discuss this with Miss D’Amaro. I won’t mention penalties to a man of your stature. I’ll just rely on your word.”

  “Of course.”

  “You might casually begin to prepare to say goodbye to her. That’s the only advice I have.”

  He was silent.

  Ari and I left and got back into the car.

  “I see politics has been a good training ground for you. I need to learn these skills.”

  “That is to be determined.”

  We drove for a while, and I said, “Let’s get a big meal. We have a lot of sneaking around to do.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “No, tonight. We’re going to break into an office.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ken Lucey’s campaign headquarters was on Route 347, a half-mile west of Route 112. It was in a five-story building, tall for the area. The building was owned by a real estate guy who collected baseball memorabilia. I had once been in his office, and he had tossed me a baseball signed by Babe Ruth. It was good that I caught it. He asked me why I worked for the dark side. He offered me a job, but I declined. He was very rich and Lucey’s major supporter. I was sure he provided the office at no cost.

  I had Ari stay in the car, which he drove to the parking lot of a diner down the block.

  The first problem was getting into the building. I had one useful fact that most burglars didn’t know. There was a single, small window in back of the building that wasn’t part of the alarm system. The owner had once showed this window to me to say he wanted a way to get inside without anyone knowing.

  I looked around and slowly lifted the window. I suddenly worried that the owner had been bragging. That the window would, indeed, set off the sort of alarm that would alert every cop in Suffolk County. I gritted my teeth and pulled the window up.

  Blessed silence.

  I climbed inside.

  I waited for a guard walking by. He looked as though he spent his working hours with a radio and a bottle.

  Carefully, I made my way to the fourth floor in back. There it was. I shook my head. The sign on the door read I LOVE LUCEY. Did they have no shame?

  I didn’t know how to pick the lock. I had always meant to acquire the skill but hadn’t gotten around to it. I did, however, bring the equipment I needed. I removed a suction cup from my bag and attached it to the glass door of the office just above the lock. Then I removed a glass cutter and began using it, careful to pull the cutter down and at an angle. When I had finished, I yanked at the suction cup and the small piece of glass came out.