her age in the congregation would wear. But what they tolerated in their young women they wouldn't tolerate in the rebbitzin. And Manny wouldn't ask his wife to change. He finally got a job with a congregation down in Florida, where I guess everybody dresses that way. He's been there ever since.'
'He was lucky,' she said. 'Do you expect to strike a congregation where the leaders wear sloppy clothes and are absent-minded and don't keep their appointments?'
'Oh, probably not. But when we get tired wandering, I can always get a job teaching. Nobody cares how teachers dress.'
'Why don't we do that right away instead of waiting to be kicked out of half a dozen congregations? I'd like to be a teacher's wife. You could get a job at some college in Semitics, maybe even at the seminary. Just think, David, I wouldn't have to worry whether the president of the Sisterhood approved of my housekeeping or if the president of the local Hadassah thought my dress was in good taste.'
The rabbi smiled. 'Only the dean's wife. And I wouldn't have to attend community breakfasts.'
'And I wouldn't have to smile every time a member of the congregation looked in my direction.'
'Do you?'
'Of course. Till my face muscles ache. Oh let's do it, David.'
He looked at her in surprise. 'You're not serious.' His face turned sober. 'Don't think I don't feel my failure here, Miriam. It bothers me, not merely failing at something that I set out to do, but knowing that the congregation needs me. They don't know it yet, but I know it. Without me, or someone like me, you know what happens to these congregations? As religious institutions, that is, as Jewish religious institutions, they dry up. I don't mean that they're not active. As a matter of fact, they become veritable hives of activity with dozens of different groups and clubs and committees-social groups and art groups and study groups and philanthropy groups and athletic groups, most of them ostensibly Jewish. The dance group works up an interpretive dance they call Spirit of the Israeli Pioneer; the choral group adds 'White Christmas' to its repertoire so they can sing it at Christian churches during Brotherhood Week and the church can respond by having its lead tenor sing 'Eli, Eli.' The rabbi conducts the holiday services with great decorum, and except for an occasional responsive reading he and the cantor perform the entire service between them. You would never know that this is the spiritual home of a people who for three thousand years or more considered themselves a nation of priests sworn to the service of God, because every bit of the energy of the congregation and the rabbi too will be bent on showing that this Jewish church is no different from any other church in the community.'
The doorbell rang. Miriam opened the door to a stocky man with a pleasant Irish face and snow-white hair.
'Rabbi David Small?'
'Yes?' The rabbi looked at him inquiringly, then at the card that indicated he was Hugh Lanigan, chief of police of Barnard's Crossing.
'Can I talk to you privately?' he asked.
'Of course.' The rabbi led the way to his study. He closed the door, asking his wife as he did so to see that they were not interrupted.
Motioning his visitor to a chair, he sat down himself and looked at his guest expectantly.
'Your car was parked in the temple parking lot all night, rabbi.'
'This is not permitted?'
'Of course. The parking lot is private property, and I guess if anyone has a right it would be you. As a matter of fact, we don't usually fuss too much if a car is parked on the street all night unless it's winter and there's a snowstorm and it interferes with the plows.'
'So?'
'So we wondered why you left it there instead of in your own garage?'
'Did you think someone might steal it? It's very simple. I left it at the temple because I did not have the keys to drive it off with.' He smiled, a little embarrassed. 'That's not too clear, I'm afraid. You see, I went to the temple last night and spent the evening in my study. Some books had arrived that I was anxious to look over. Then, when I left, I closed the door of the study, and that locked it. You understand?'
Lanigan nodded. 'Spring latch on the door.'
'All my keys, including the key to the temple study, were on a key ring on my desk inside. I couldn't open the door of the study to get them, so I had to walk home. Does this explain the mystery?'
Lanigan nodded reflectively. Then, 'I understand you people have prayers every morning. This morning you did not go, rabbi.'
'That's right. There are some members of my congregation who take it amiss if their rabbi skips a daily service, but I hardly expected them to lodge a complaint with the police.'
Lanigan laughed shortly. 'Oh, nobody complained. At least, not to me, not in my capacity as police chief-'
'Come, Mr. Lanigan, evidently something has happened, a police matter in which my car is concerned-no, I myself must be concerned or you wouldn't want to know why I didn't go to morning prayers. If you will tell me what happened, perhaps I can tell you what you wish to know, or at least be able to help you more intelligently.'
'You're right, rabbi. You understand that we're bound by regulations. My common sense tells me that you as a man of the cloth are in no way implicated, but as a policeman-'
'As a policeman you are not supposed to use your common sense? Is that what you were going to say?'
'That's not far from the truth! And yet there's good reason for it. We are bound to investigate everyone who could be involved, and although I know a rabbi would be no more likely to commit the sort of crime we're investigating than a priest, we've got to check everyone through.'
'I would not presume to suggest what a priest would or would not do, chief, but anything that a man might do a rabbi might do. We are no different from ordinary men. We are not even men of the cloth, as you call it. I have no duties or privileges that any member of my congregation does not have. I am only presumed to be learned in the Law by which we are enjoined to live.'
'It's kind of you to put it on that footing, rabbi. I'll be candid with you. This morning, the body of a young woman of nineteen or twenty was found on the temple grounds right behind the low wall that divides the parking lot from the lawn. She had evidently been killed sometime during the night. We'll have a pretty good idea of the time when the laboratory gets through checking.'
'Killed? An accident?'
'Not an accident, rabbi. She was strangled with a silver chain that she wore around her neck, one of those heavy link chains with a locket. No chance of it being an accident.'
'But this is terrible. Was it-was it a member of my congregation? Someone I know?'
'Do you know an Elspeth Bleech?' asked the chief.
The rabbi shook his head. 'It's an unusual name, Elspeth.'
'It's a variation of Elizabeth, of course. It's English and the girl was from Nova Scotia.'
'From Nova Scotia? A tourist?'
Lanigan smiled. 'Not a tourist, rabbi, a domestic. You know, during the Revolution a number of the more important and wealthier citizens of the Colonies, especially right here in Massachusetts, ran off to Canada, mostly to Nova Scotia. Loyalists, they were called. And now their descendants come back down here to go into domestic service. Pretty bad guessing on the part of their ancestors. This one worked for the Serafinos. Do you know the Serafinos, rabbi?'
'The name sounds Italian.' He smiled. 'If I have any Italians in my congregation, I'm not aware of it.'
Lanigan grinned back at him. 'They're Italians all right, and I know they don't go to your church because they go to mine, the Star of the Sea.'
'You're Catholic? That surprises me, by the way. I didn't think of Barnard's Crossing as the sort of town where a Catholic was apt to get to be chief of police.'
'There have been a few Catholic families here since the Revolution. Mine was one of them. If you knew the history of the town, you'd know that this is one of the few communities in Puritan Massachusetts where a Catholic could live in peace. The town was started by a group that didn't care too much about Puritanism.'
'That's very interesting. I must investigate it someday.' He hesitated, then he said, 'The girl-had she been attacked or molested?'
Lanigan spread his hands in a gesture of ignorance. 'Seemingly not, but the medical examiner might come up
