Someday the Rabbi Will Leave

by Harry Kemelman

  “Why should I resign?” He was angry and he had reddened.

  “Because it would be the honorable thing to do,” said the rabbi. “As president of the temple, you are in effect the leader of the Conservative Jewish community, and you are planning to do something that is contrary to Conservative Judaism. If your daughter were to go off to New Hampshire or Vermont, or wherever this compliant rabbi lives, and get married there, I would sympathize with you and I would understand. One cannot always control the behavior of one’s children. But you are planning to bring another rabbi here to Barnard’s Crossing, into my area, and into your area, I might add, to do something I consider wrong. That action I cannot pass over, not when it’s done by the president of the temple. I must forbid it.” He had not intended to go so far, but had been led on by his own rhetoric.

  As for Magnuson, he suddenly felt at ease. In a sense, he was on familiar ground. On more than one occasion he had taken over a company and found that the previous owner, who had retained stock in the company, or the manager or some of the older employees disapproved of changes he had introduced. Sometimes it had involved a fight in the Board of Directors. He flattered himself he knew his way around in boardroom politics. He rose and reached for the doorknob. “No, Rabbi, I am not going to resign.” He started to open the door when he had another thought. “And under the circumstances, I’d rather you didn’t come to the board meetings from now on.”

  34

  “You going to call the D.A.?” asked Lieutenant Eban Jennings lugubriously when Lanigan had finished telling him about Fran Kimball. He was tall and spare, with watery blue eyes and a prominent Adam’s apple that bobbled in his neck when he was excited.

  “Well, let’s just think about it. How do I know she’s telling the truth?”

  “A girl wouldn’t lie about a thing like that, Hugh. No girl is going to admit she spent the night with some guy unless she’s forced to, let alone volunteer it.”

  “Pshaw, Eban, things have changed since you were chasing girls. It don’t mean a thing to them since the pill. Women’s Lib. They even lie about it the same way as men do. Take a guy who’s a big shot, a movie actor, say, or a rock singer or an important pol. Well, a girl might claim she slept with him when she hadn’t, just to improve her status.”

  “I didn’t get the impression that this Paul Kramer was a big shot.”

  “Maybe not. But I can imagine this Kimball girl being willing to do him a favor. She said he was a brain. And he seemed like a bright kid. All right, so suppose he promises to help her with her schoolwork in exchange for her coming to see me and giving me a song and dance of having been with him all night. Remember, we can’t check on her story. We can’t ask her ma. She’ll say she was with her friend”—he glanced at his notes—“Beth McAllister. And if we ask this McAllister, all she can tell us is that she was given a phone number to call, which, mind you, she didn’t have occasion to use.”

  “Well, you could ask her mother.”

  “Ask her what?”

  “You could just ask her if her daughter spent the night at home that Wednesday.”

  Lanigan shook his head. “Chances are she didn’t. I’m sure she would have thought of that. All right, so then I see the McAllister girl. And the chances are she won’t squeal unless we put some pressure on her. Then suppose she admits she covered for her friend Kimball. ‘She gave me a telephone number to call.’ ‘What’s the number?’ ‘I don’t remember. I wrote it down someplace, but I didn’t bother to save it.’”

  “But suppose it’s true.”

  “That means that the driver of that car had to continue on Glen Lane, stop at the corner, get out of his car, go over to where Kramer’s car was parked, smash the headlight, and then gather up the shards, bring them back to his car, turn around, go back to where the body is lying, drop the glass, and then run off. Now, why would anyone do a fool thing like that for?”

  “Well, he might have hated Kramer.”

  “He’d have to have hated him an awful lot. Think of the chance he was taking. And Kramer is new in town. He’s been here just since school started. Probably doesn’t even know anyone around here.”

  Jennings wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, pushing his glasses up on his forehead to do so. “It’s not that much of a chance. He drives back up Glen Lane and he stops. Well, if anyone sees him, he says he’s seen the body in the road. So then if he squats down to put the glass near the body, and somebody comes along just then, well, it’s only natural to squat down to see if the guy is alive.” He replaced the handkerchief, rolling in his chair to reach his back pocket. “I’ll admit it’s a bit unusual, but—” He stopped suddenly as an idea occurred to him. His Adam’s apple bobbled nervously. “Look, Hugh, what if it was the girl that the guy, the driver, I mean, was sore at? Suppose he had a thing for the girl. He’s jealous, get it?”

  “So why would he want to take it out on Kramer?”

  “Well, you know, you see a guy with your girl and—”

  “And how would he know that she was with Kramer?”

  “Maybe this McAllister girl mentioned it, or maybe he saw her going into the house.”

  “Possible,” said Lanigan.

  The two sat in silence. Then Jennings said, “Hey, do you realize that if the girl’s story is true, we’ll have to start from the beginning again.”

  Lanigan nodded gloomily. “And we don’t even have a lead.”

  “There’s Morris Halperin,” suggested Jennings.

  “The town counsel? Go on. What have we got on him?”

  “Well, he was there. He’s the one who reported it,” said Jennings stubbornly. Then, excitedly, “That night I was at the selectmen’s meeting, and he was there. He looked pretty rocky. Had a bad cold. Then afterwards, you know, the selectmen and some of the town officials go on to the Ship’s Galley for a beer, and I went along. And they were kind of laughing about Halperin. Seems that Tom Bradshaw gave him a good stiff shot of whiskey for his cold, and some of them thought he acted kind of tiddly at the meeting.”

  “So?”

  “So, maybe that one drink got to him. Maybe he was a little drunk.”

  “What? One drink?”

  “Sure, if it was a big one, and if he wasn’t used to it, and if he wasn’t feeling so good, and maybe had taken some pills. Or maybe he stopped off somewhere and had another. He didn’t go right home, that’s for sure, because what was he doing in Glen Lane if he was headed home? That’s out of his way. So, let’s say, he’s a little drunk and he runs into this guy, not expecting to see anyone in the middle of the road in Glen Lane, especially at that hour.”

  “Yeah, but why would he want to break somebody’s headlight and put the blame on him?”

  “Because a thing like that could kill his career.”

  “Anyone can have an accident. It’s my guess if Halperin had one, he’d report it to the police.”

  “But if he were driving under the influence—or thought he was …”

  “Well … But he did report it to the police. He told the men in the cruising car.”

  “Sure, because he saw them and thought maybe they saw him. But he didn’t get out of his car or anything. He just said there was a body on the road. And naturally they went right off to take a look.”

  “Hm.” Lanigan chewed on his lower lip. “It won’t do any harm to check it out. But I can’t just confront him, not the town counsel. We’ll have to set it up. I could call him in for a statement. Then while his car is in the parking lot, you could give it a good lookover.”

  Jennings grinned. “If I happened to be there when he drives in, and if there are a lot of cars in the lot, I could invite him to park right in the garage.”

  “All right, let’s try to work it that way. In the meantime I’ve got to call the D.A. and tell him about this Kimball girl.”

  “And what will he do?”

  “Well, he’s supposed to notify defense counsel who can then do what he pleases.”

  35


  “I must admit,” said Howard Magnuson solemnly when Morris Halperin had taken his seat, “that I misjudged Rabbi Small. I thought he was a gentleman. I was mistaken.”

  “Oh?”

  Magnuson nodded. “I assumed that he’d make an effort to work something out for me. But no, he was adamant. I admitted that I was in a bit of a pickle, but the man wasn’t the least bit concerned. When I asked him what I could do, do you know what his answer was? He told me to resign.”

  “He did?” Halperin was shocked, but being a lawyer and hence used to getting garbled versions of facts, he asked, “Just exactly what did he say?”

  Magnuson recounted the conversation with the rabbi. “I accepted his position that he could not himself perform the ceremony, although considering that some rabbis do it without getting unfrocked or struck off the rolls, or whatever you call it, I had reason to feel that he was being excessively dogmatic. I accepted his stricture that the ceremony could not be performed in a synagogue. But his insistence that I could not even have it done in my own house by a rabbi of my own choice because it is in his territory and within his jurisdiction, that was a bit much. This I cannot tolerate. I mean, the next thing I know he might want to inspect my kitchen to see if we use two sets of dishes.”

  Although Halperin’s natural inclination was to agree with Magnuson, as a fair-minded man he felt that he ought to explain the rabbi’s position. “I think the rabbi was trying to tell you that holding the ceremony in your house was unseemly, since you were the president of the congregation. From his point of view, it’s as though—”

  “I know what he was trying to tell me,” said Magnuson severely. “Do you agree with him?”

  Halperin realized that Magnuson was demanding that he declare himself. It occurred to him that the better part of valor was to straddle. He shrugged slightly and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a ceremony and I’m not much of a one for ceremonies. It’s the marriage that’s important rather than who says what and where in order to effect it. I’m a lot more concerned with the question of who’s boss, the congregation through its elected representatives or the rabbi. I’m interested in the question of whether a rabbi can ever order, or even suggest, that the president of the congregation resign. Who is supreme, the rabbi or the congregation? In other words, who can fire whom?”

  Magnuson was no fool. He saw the subtle shift in direction that Halperin was suggesting. “Do you think the rest of the board are apt to look at it that way?”

  Halperin thought for a moment. “I think so, if it’s pointed out to them. Of course, if you go ahead as planned, and get some rabbi from outside, I presume Small would register his opposition by resigning. Then he’d explain to the congregation just why he was resigning. And that could create a stink.”

  “True. But we don’t have to play it that way.”

  “No?”

  “I’ve been in this type of situation before. When you take over a company, and you can’t make some of the key people see things your way, you know what you do? You fire them.”

  “But you can’t fire the rabbi just because he won’t officiate at your daughter’s wedding.”

  “Of course not. But we can fire him for challenging the authority of the board, by calling for my resignation. That is, if they go along.”

  “But he has a contract.”

  “No problem. We would simply continue to pay his salary until it runs out. It hasn’t very long to run. We could even pay it to him in a lump sum. If we call on him to resign, he’ll naturally feel it necessary to explain to the congregation, at least to that part of it that comes to the Friday evening service. What’s he draw at a service? Seventy-five? A hundred? But the next week there would probably be two or three hundred attending, and he’d explain again. Then the fat would be in the fire. But if we dismiss him because—because we have lost confidence in him, my guess is that he won’t say a word, except good-bye, maybe. He’s pretty damn proud. I doubt if he would suggest that it was because of his refusal to officiate at my daughter’s wedding, especially where there would be no mention of it in the notice of dismissal. Of course, it would be better if we had another rabbi ready to take over at the very next service. I don’t know. Would that be difficult to manage? What do you think?”

  Halperin sat back and crossed his legs. He tilted his head back, canted to one side, and focused on a corner of the ceiling as he appeared to give the matter considerable thought. Finally, elaborately casual, he said, “I might be able to get my brother to take the job.”

  “Yes, you mentioned having a brother who is a rabbi. What’s he doing now? Doesn’t he have a position?”

  “Oh, he’s got a pulpit all right, but he doesn’t much care for it, and he refused to sign a contract. Ever hear of Jezreel, Kansas? Well, that’s where he is and it’s that sort of place.”

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  “Nothing. I think he’s a damn good rabbi. I’ve got a videotape that he prepared as a sort of résumé for applying for a job. You could play it and judge for yourself, and of course if he came, it would be on a trial basis and it would be up to him to make good.”

  “Well, I’d like to see the tape. But if he’s that good, how did he get stuck out there?”

  “He’s been unlucky. That’s the only way I can explain it. When he got through at the seminary, he became a chaplain in the Navy, largely because the girl he was going with and then married was the daughter of a Navy man, a dentist. Then when his trick was up, he got a Hillel job because at the time there were no decent pulpits available. Then he took this job in Kansas because he thought he’d better get cracking on his career, and he thought any pulpit was better than none. For the experience, you know. He’s been stuck there ever since.”

  “I see. Well, I’m inclined to believe that experience with a military outfit, especially in combination with the Hillel experience of working with young people, might be just what we need here. But what about my little problem?”

  “Naturally, I’d explain to him that was part of the deal. He’s three years younger than I am, and he’s always looked up to me. I think I can bring him around. I’ll call him, if you say the word.”

  “Okay. Go ahead. But first, sound out the rest of the board.”

  36

  Morris Halperin was friendly and cordial but a little puzzled. “You’ve got the culprit, and it was quick work, too, so I don’t understand …”

  “It’s these young assistant D.A.s,” said Lanigan wearily. “He wants a statement from you since you found the body. You know, how you happened to be in Glen Lane, what you saw, what you did. Damn silly, but he wants it.”

  “Well, I suppose if he’s new at the game, he naturally wants everything just so. Okay, shoot.”

  Lanigan reached for a legal pad and then unscrewed the top of an old-fashioned fountain pen. “Suppose we take it from the top. Let’s see, that was the night of the selectmen’s meeting. You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah. But haven’t you got a stenographer for this?”

  “Not right now. I’ll just take it down myself and then I’ll have it typed and you can look it over and sign it. Now, did you stay to the end of the meeting?”

  “Yeah, but I left right after.”

  “That would be around ten o’clock?”

  “Just about, I’d say. Maybe a little after.”

  “You didn’t go to the Ship’s Galley with the boys?”

  “No, I had this cold and I thought I ought to go to bed. I could hardly keep my head up.”

  “So …”

  “But there are some pills I take that have always worked for me and I was out of them. I took the last two before I left for the meeting. I was planning to buy some more but I forgot all about it. Of course, when I left the meeting, the drugstores were closed. So I decided to run over to Lynn where there’s one that keeps open till midnight.”

  “Just a minute, Morris. ‘Keeps open till midnight.’ Take it a little s
lower, will you?”

  “So I went there and bought the pills and took a couple right in the store,” said Halperin, slowing down so that Lanigan could keep up with him. “Then I started back home, proceeding along High Street, of course.”

  “How were you feeling?”

  “Oh, fine, just fine. My nose was stuffed up, but my head was perfectly clear. When I came to Glen Lane, I turned in, figuring I could save a few minutes. It’s dark as a pocket there, so I turned on my high beams. Just as I came to the crest of that hill in the middle, I hit a pothole. You understand, with my high beams on, I couldn’t see the road surface.”

  “Sure.”

  “But the front end jounced up and down. Maybe I need new shocks. Anyway, that’s how I happened to catch a glimpse of the body. From the jouncing, see.”

  “‘From the jouncing.’ Uh-huh. So then what did you do?”

  “Well, I jammed on my brakes and came to a stop maybe twenty or thirty feet beyond. I got out of the car—”

  “Did you shut off the motor?”

  “I—I must have. No, I didn’t. I just put her in park.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then I walked back and squatted down beside the body. And I noticed all the glass. Boy, was I relieved. See, for a minute there, I thought maybe I had hit him. But both my lights were still shining, so I knew I hadn’t.”

  “How could you see anything when it was so dark and with your headlights pointing the other way?”

  “Just by my taillight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.”

  “So then what did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. Oh, I sort of called to him, asked if he could hear me, but I was careful not to touch him. I didn’t want to move him or anything like that because if there were bones broken, I could make it worse. And I realized it was a hit-and-run, so I didn’t want to mess up any clues. Legal training. Well, if it had been anyplace else, I would have stayed there and tried to flag down a car, but in Glen Lane … and late at night. So I got back into my car and headed for the nearest phone. I was going to ring someone’s bell, but you know, not a single house was lit except Rabbi Small’s. I guess he always stays up late.”