point.'
'Did he see them get out of the car or get back in it?'
Lanigan shook his head.
'I know very little about these things,' said the rabbi, 'but as a Talmudist I am not entirely without legal training. Your theory has a thousand loopholes.'
'Such as?'
'Such as the business of the coat and raincoat. If he had murdered her in her room, why did he then dress her up in a topcoat and then a raincoat? And why did he take her to the temple? And how did her handbag get into my car?'
'I've thought of all those objections, rabbi, and some others that you haven't mentioned, but I have more than enough to justify picking him up and holding him until we can check out a good many things. It's always that way. Do you think a case is ever presented to you with all the facts neatly explained? No, sir. You get a lead and you go to work on it. There are objections and you're aware of them, but as you keep digging you get answers to them, quite simple answers usually.'
'And if you don't get the answers, after a while you release the man and his life is ruined,' said the rabbi bitterly.
'True, rabbi. It's one of the penalties of living in organized society.'
19
Nathan Greenspan was a scholarly man, slow of thought and speech. He sat behind his desk, and after poking his pipe with a spoonlike device, he blew through it once or twice to make sure it was drawing properly and then set about filling it very deliberately and methodically, while Becker, the inevitable cigar in his fist, strode up and down the room and told what had happened, what he suspected, and what he expected Greenspan to do. This last was something on the order of storming the police department and demanding that they release Bronstein immediately or face a suit for false arrest.
The lawyer put a match to his pipe, puffed at it until the entire surface was lit, and then firmly tamped down the burning tobacco that had risen in the bowl. He leaned back in his chair and spoke between puffs. 'I can get a writ-of habeas corpus-if it seems that-he is being held unjustifiably-'
'Of course it's unjustifiable. He had nothing to do with it.'
'How do you know?'
'Because he says so, and because I know him. You know the kind of man Bronstein is. Does he look like a murderer to you?'
'According to what you've told me the police didn't arrest him for murder. They just took him in for questioning. He had information that they had a right to know-he said he had been out with her the night she was killed. Even if he hadn't, even if he only knew her or had ever gone out with her, the police would want to question him.'
'But they sent a couple of cops down to arrest him.'
'That's because he didn't come in on his own accord-as he should have, by the way.'
'All right, so he should have, but you know what that would have meant. I suppose he thought he could stay out of it entirely. So he was wrong, but that's no reason why he should be arrested and disgraced this way-cops coming to his house and hauling him off right in front of his wife.'
'It's common practice, Al. Anyway, it's done.'
'Well, what do you propose to do?'
'I'll go to see him, of course. They'll probably keep him overnight, but if they want to keep him any longer they're supposed to bring him before a judge and show probable cause. My guess is that they've got enough to hold him if they should want to. So my best bet, I imagine, would be to see the district attorney and see if I can find out just exactly what they have got on him.'
'Why can't you force them to release him if they can't prove he did it?'
Greenspan emitted a faint sigh. He put his pipe down on an ashtray and took off his glasses. 'Look here, Al, a girl has been murdered. Right now, everybody is anxious to find the person who killed her. That means that every agency of the law is in sympathy with the police and that all laws and regulations will be stretched in their favor. Now if I start pulling legal tricks to get him off, everybody-and that includes the newspapers-is going to resent it. Mel wouldn't have a good press, and that won't do him any good no matter what happens. On the other hand, if we seem to be cooperative, the district attorney will give us whatever breaks he can.'
'And what do I do?'
'You don't do a darn thing, Al. You just practice being patient.'
Patience, however, was one thing Al Becker did not have. He reasoned that if the conduct of the investigation depended on the attitude of the district attorney he could get quicker action by pressure from his friend Abe Casson, who had put the district attorney in office.
'What do you expect me to do, Al?' asked Casson. 'I can tell you they've got a pretty good case against Mel right now. In fact, they could go to the grand jury with what they've got, but they're making it airtight.'
'But he didn't do it, Abe.'
'How do you know?'
'Because he told me. And because I know him.'
Casson remained silent.
'Jesus, man, you know Mel Bronstein. Is he the kind of guy would do a thing like that? He's gentle as a girl. It doesn't make sense.'
'These cases never make sense until they're over. Then they make lots of sense.'
'Sure,' said Becker bitterly. 'If there's any little bit of evidence missing, they supply it. If there's a loophole, they plug it. Dammit, Abe, you know how these things work. They've got a lead, so they start chasing it down. They put every man on it. They know what they're trying to prove so they go ahead and prove it, until they get the poor bastard sewed up tight. And the real murderer goes free.'
'What can I do, Al?'
'You're buddy-buddy with the D.A., to hear you tell it. You ought to be able to get him to keep his eyes open, to keep hunting for other possibilities.'
Abe Casson shook his head. 'The immediate investigation is in the hands of Chief Lanigan. You want to help your friend? Go see the rabbi.'
'What in hell for? So that he can recite a prayer for him?'
'You know, Al, you've got an awfully big yap. Sometimes I think it's the only part of your head that works. Now listen to me. For some reason Hugh Lanigan has a great deal of respect for our rabbi. They're friendly. The other day, the rabbi and his wife spent the whole afternoon on Lanigan's porch. They were sitting there, the Lanigans and the Smalls, sipping drinks and talking.'
'The rabbi never sat on my porch drinking and talking.'
'Maybe you never invited him.'
'All right, so let's say the chief likes him. What can the rabbi do for me?'
'He might do for you what you wanted me to do for you with the D.A.'
'You think he would, knowing I'm the guy that's been working to get him out of here?'
'You believe he'd hold that against you in a matter of this sort? You don't know the rabbi. But if you want my advice-and really want to help your friend-that's what I suggest you do.'
Miriam could scarcely pretend she was glad to see him. The rabbi greeted him formally. But Al Becker, if he was aware of the coolness of his reception, did not let it deter him. He fixed the rabbi with his most challenging glare and said, 'Rabbi, Mel Bronstein could not possibly have done this terrible thing and you've got to do something about it.'
'Anybody could possibly have done it,' said the rabbi mildly.
'Yeah, I know,' said Becker impatiently. 'What I mean is that he's the last man in the world who would have done it. He's a sweet guy, rabbi. He's in love with his wife. They don't have any children. There are just the two of
