Someday the Rabbi Will Leave
Page 22
“And how did they catch up with you?”
“They picked up my car for parking on the street. You’re not supposed to park overnight in Barnard’s Crossing during the winter months. On account of it might interfere with snow plowing. But the weather has been so mild—”
“Was the car locked?”
Scofield shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t usually lock it. I figure nobody is going to pinch it around there. And it being pink, and easily recognized—”
“Okay, go on.”
“So then I guess they found the towel in the trunk—”
“You kept it?”
“Well, sure, it didn’t occur to me that there might still be bits of glass in it.”
“But surely the trunk was locked.”
“Of course.”
“Then they must have forced the lock.”
“No, there’s a doohickey under the dash that releases it. What difference does it make?”
“We might claim illegal search. Okay, I’ll check it out. Who picked you up this morning?”
“Lieutenant Jennings came, with another cop. He said they had found glass fragments in my trunk and that they matched the glass on the road near the body.”
“I see. And what did you do with the money?”
“What money?”
“The three thousand that you didn’t give to D’Angelo?”
“I deposited it the next day.”
“Was that all the money you had?”
“No, I had another three thousand in the bank. Why?”
“So that makes six thousand. All right, that will do for starters.”
“What do you mean for starters?”
“Look, kid, I’m planning to shave my own fees, but there’ll be costs, lots of costs—detectives, experts of one kind or another, psychiatrists. Your six thousand won’t go far, not these days. What other money can you raise?”
“Well, if the Magnusons stick by me—”
“They won’t. You can just about forget them. If the D.A. goes for murder, a guy like Magnuson is not going to let his name be associated with yours.”
“Then I don’t know. Maybe my sister—”
“Well, you think about it. You’ll have plenty of time. I’m going to see the assistant D.A. who’ll be handling this case. If they don’t know about your connection with D’Angelo, he may elect to go for the hit-and-run. Then our strategy is to plead guilty to that. You panicked. That’s all.”
“How about the business of my smashing the headlight?”
“I’m going to try to keep that separate from the hit-and-run. Two different trials if I can manage it.”
“What’s the point of that?”
“Because all you can be charged with there is misdirecting or maybe interfering with a police officer in the performance of duty. But if the D.A. gets onto your connection with D’Angelo, he’ll be sure to go for murder, and then we may have to plead temporary insanity. I don’t know. I’m giving it to you straight because, well, because you’re a lawyer and if I tried to kid you, you’d know it. In the meantime, I think you better resign as nominee for senator. I’ll get up a statement of some kind and you’ll sign it. Something on the order of wanting to clear your name first. And whatever you do, don’t talk, not to anyone, not even to Laura, or her old man. You understand?”
48
Howard Magnuson was giving Morris Halperin instructions before departing for Paris. “Here are Laura’s keys to that store. She says the leases for the stuff they rented are all in the top drawer of her desk, and there’s the key to that. You’ll get in touch with the Mulcahey person and arrange with him to close the place down and return the furniture. Here’s a power of attorney from Laura. That should enable you to draw on any money in the campaign fund to pay off whatever bills are due. She used to sign all the checks. But Mulcahey acting for Scofield may want a hand in it.”
“He will.”
“Then don’t fight him. I want to wind it down as quickly as possible. If there isn’t enough money in the campaign fund to cover, I’ll make up the deficit for anything within reason. Notify my Boston office and they’ll pay it. Let’s see, anything else?”
“What about my brother, Mr. Magnuson?”
“Oh well, under the circumstances, you can understand that we can’t go ahead with our original plan. Did he resign his job out in Kansas?”
“No, but—”
“Look, Morris, these things happen. You once told me your brother was unlucky. I suppose what it comes down to is that Rabbi Small is lucky. Why don’t you call your brother, explain the situation, and tell him that I’m grateful to him for his willingness to cooperate, and I consider myself indebted to him and will help him anyway I can. And, who knows, maybe someday the rabbi will leave.”
About the Author
Harry Kemelman (1908–1996) was best known for his popular rabbinical mystery series featuring the amateur sleuth Rabbi David Small. Kemelman wrote twelve novels in the series, the first of which, Friday the Rabbi Slept Late, won the Edgar Award for Best First Novel. This book was also adapted as an NBC made-for-TV movie, and the Rabbi Small Mysteries were the inspiration for the NBC television show Lanigan’s Rabbi. Kemelman’s novels garnered praise for their unique combination of mystery and Judaism, and with Rabbi Small, the author created a protagonist who played a part-time detective with wit and charm. Kemelman also wrote a series of short stories about Nicky Welt, a college professor who used logic to solve crimes, which were published in a collection entitled The Nine Mile Walk.
Aside from being an award-winning novelist, Kemelman, originally from Boston, was also an English professor.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1985 by Harry Kemelman
Cover design by Jason Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-5040-1611-7
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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