was all the way. The last time was months and months ago.”
“Except for Friday night.”
“Yes, I forgot about that.” She closed her eyes, and the rabbi was afraid she was going to break down. But she opened her eyes and even managed a smile.
He rose, as if to signify he had finished. Then he thought of something. “Could you tell when one of these spells was coming on?”
She shook her head.
“Can you account for his suddenly starting to drink? Was something bothering him?”
Again she shook her head. “I guess he was always bothered about something. That’s why people drink, I suppose. I would try to comfort him-you know, make him feel I was always there and would always understand.”
“Perhaps you were better for him than he was for you,” suggested the rabbi gently.
“We were good for each other,” she said emphatically. “I told you he was always kind to me. Look, Rabbi, I was no innocent when I met Ike. I had been around. He was the first man I had known who was nice to me with no strings attached. And I was good to him; I took care of him like a mother.”
“And yet he drank.”
“That started before I met him. And I’m not sorry,” she added defiantly, “because that’s how I met him.”
“So?”
“He had holed up at this little hotel where I was working on the cigar counter in the lobby. If he hadn’t been on a bender, how could the likes of me have met a man like him?”
“And you feel you got the best of the bargain?”
“It was the best kind of bargain there is, Rabbi, where both parties feel they’ve got the best of it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Yeah, this is Ben Goralsky talking. All right, I’ll hold on… Hello, hello…” At the other end he could hear someone talking, and then he realized the voice was not talking to him but to someone else in the other room at the other end.
“Mr. Goralsky? Ted Stevenson speaking.”
“Oh, hello Ted, nice to hear your voice. Where you calling from?”
“From our offices.”
“On Sunday? Don’t you guys ever stop working?”
“There are no regular hours and no days off for top management in this company, Mr. Goralsky, not when there’s important business to be done. And if you join us, you’ll work the same way.”
Goralsky had an inkling of the purpose of the call, and the implication of the “if” was not lost on him.
“We were going to call you yesterday, as a matter of fact,” Stevenson went on, “but we knew it was your holiday and assumed you would be at your synagogue.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I didn’t go. I was right here all the time. My father took sick, and with a man that age-”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How is he?”
“He’s all right now, but for a while it was kind of like touch and go.”
“Well, I’m delighted to hear he’s on the mend. Give the old gentleman our regards and best wishes for his recovery.”
“Thanks. He’ll be pleased.”
The voice at the other end shifted gears abruptly. “We have been somewhat disturbed over here, Mr. Goralsky, over the action of your stock in the last week or so.”
“Yeah, well, Ted, you know how it is. Rumors of a merger get out. We tried to keep it mum at this end, and as far as I know no one here has leaked. But when your crew came down, someone may have recognized somebody in your party-I tell you, when it first got back to me, you could have knocked me over with a feather. But I guess that’s the way it is in these things-”
“No, Mr. Goralsky, that’s not the way it is. We know that there always are rumors preceding a merger, and that can affect your stock. But your stock has climbed so precipitously, we did a little investigating. We inquired among some of our good friends in the market down in Boston, and we learned that the reason for the climb was not the rumor of a merger with us but some new process.”
“Well, that turned out to be a dud, I guess,” said Ben unhappily.
“So we discovered on further inquiry. Of course these things happen from time to time in any R and D program, but if we thought that it was deliberately engineered for the purpose of increasing the value of your stock preliminary to the merger, we would regard that as-er-sharp practice, and would be forced to reconsider the entire proposition.”
“And I wouldn’t blame you Mr. Stevenson, but I give you my word-”
The other cut him off unceremoniously. “We’re not interested in explanations or excuses. What we want from you is…”
When Ben finally hung up, he was dripping with perspiration. For a long time thereafter he sat staring at the telephone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The rabbi had intended to go right home after seeing Mrs. Hirsh, but once outside and behind the wheel of his car he found himself driving in the opposite direction, downtown, and presently he was caught in the maze of narrow crooked streets of Old Town. After two turns he got lost and turned up one street and down another in the hope of finding himself on familiar ground; but each time he thought he spotted a house he knew, the road curved another way. Perched on a hill tantalizingly close he could see the town hall which was on familiar territory, yet none of the streets seemed to lead toward it. All the while, he caught kaleidoscopic glimpses of lovely old- fashioned gardens hidden behind charming weather-beaten houses, most of them with a golden eagle over the door lintel, interesting shops of hand-crafters and artists, and most fascinating of all, the ship chandler’s shop with its windows stuffed with fascinating gear-brass compasses, coils of nylon rope, bells, curiously shaped nautical fittings of mysterious function, and, incongruously, a pair of stout rubber boots.
Suddenly he found himself on an extremely narrow street which had cars parked on both sides and traffic going in both directions. He slowed down to worm his way through and his car stalled. Horns blared behind him as he twisted the key viciously; the only response was the high-pitched whine of the starting motor. As he pumped the gas pedal in vexation, a voice at his side said, “You’ve probably flooded it, Rabbi.”
He looked up and was tremendously relieved to see Hugh Lanigan. The local chief of police was wearing a sport shirt and chinos, and under his arm he had the Sunday paper.
“Here, let me try it.”
The rabbi set the brake and moved over so that the other could get in. Whether because those behind recognized the chief or they realized the offending driver was in genuine difficulty, the blaring horns stopped. The chief pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor, turned the key, and miraculously the motor caught.
He grinned at the rabbi. “How about a drink at our place?”
“I’d love one. You drive.”
“All right.” Effortlessly Lanigan threaded the maze between oncoming and parked cars, and when he reached his house he ran the right wheels up on the sidewalk to obstruct as little of the road as possible. Opening the gate of his white picket fence he marched the rabbi up the walk and short flight of steps that led to the verandah. He shouted through the screen door, “We got some company, Gladys.”
“Coming,” his wife shouted back from inside, and a moment later appeared at the door. She was dressed in slacks and sweater and looked as though she had just finished helping her husband with the lawn. But her white
