She nodded.
'The same person each time?'
'Sometimes it's a man's voice and sometimes a woman's. It has never seemed like the same voice twice. Several times it has been just a string of obscenities, but most of the time they say terrible things.'
'This person, quite a nice voice by the way, wanted to know if human sacrifice was required for our approaching festival-I suppose he was referring to Pesach.'
'Oh no!'
'Oh yes.'
'It's terrible. This lovely town has such nice people like Hugh Lanigan and Mr. Macomber, and then those people on the phone…'
'Crackpots,' he said in contemptuous dismiss. 'Just a few nasty crackpots.'
'It's not only the phone calls, David.'
'No? What else?'
'When I go into the stores, the clerks used to be so warm. Now they're polite. And the other customers, those I know, they try to avoid me.'
'You're sure you're not imagining it?' But he sounded less certain of himself.
'Quite sure, David, isn't there something you can do?'
'Such as what?'
'I don't know. You're the rabbi; you're supposed to know. Maybe you ought to tell Hugh Lanigan what's been happening. Maybe you ought to consult a lawyer. Maybe you ought to consider Macomber's offer.'
He made no answer but returned to the living room. She looked in to find him sitting in his armchair, his eyes staring fixedly'at the wall opposite. When she offered to make him some tea, he shook his head with annoyance. Later she ventured to look in again, and he was still in his chair, his eyes staring straight ahead.
'Will you unzip me, please?' she asked.
Without rising and quite automatically, he pulled at the zipper on the back of her dress. He seemed to come to, for he asked, 'Why are you taking off your dress?'
'Because I'm exhausted and I want to go to bed.'
He laughed. 'Why, of course. How stupid of me. You can't very well go to bed with your dress on. If you don't mind, I'll stay up a little while longer.'
Just then they heard a car drive up and stop at the door. 'Someone is coming,' he said. 'Who could it be at this hour?'
They waited, and after a while the doorbell rang. Miriam, who had quickly zipped herself up, went to answer, but even as she approached there was the sound of a roaring motor and wheels spinning against gravel. She opened the door and looked out. She saw the tail-light of a car speeding down the street in the darkness.
Behind her, she heard her husband exclaim, 'Oh my God!' She turned and then saw it too: a swastika on the door, the red paint still fresh and dripping like blood.
He put out a tentative forefinger and stared dumbly at the red spot on his finger. All at once Miriam burst into tears.
'I'm sorry, David,' she sobbed.
He held her close until he felt she had regained her composure. Then, his voice harsh, he said: 'Get me some of that household cleaning stuff and a rag.'
She pressed her face against his shoulder. 'I'm afraid, David, I'm afraid.'
26
Although the rabbi's picture had been in the papers as one of those connected with the case, Mrs. Serafino did not recognize him when he rang her bell.
I am Rabbi Small,' he said. 'I should like to talk to you for a few minutes.'
She was not sure she ought to, and would have liked to ask her husband, but he was still asleep.
'Is it about the case? Because if it is, I don't think I should.'
'I came to see her room.' There was something so positive and assured in his tone that to refuse seemed almost impertinent.
She hesitated and then said, 'I guess it will be all right. It's back here beyond the kitchen,' and she led the way.
The telephone rang on their way into the kitchen and she raced over to pick it up at the first ring. She talked for a moment and then hung up. 'Excuse me,' she said to the rabbi. 'We have an extension beside our bed, and I didn't want to wake Joe.'
'I understand.'
She opened a door from the kitchen and stood aside so he could enter. He looked around the room-at the bed, at the night table beside it, at the bureau, at the small armchair. He went to the night table and read the titles of the few books on its shelf; he glanced at the small plastic radio on top of the table. He studied it for a moment and then turned the knob and waited until he heard a voice announce, 'This is Station WSAM, Sa-lem's own station, bringing you music-'
'I don't think you're supposed to touch anything,' she said.
He turned it off and smiled apologetically. 'She play it much?'
'All the time-this crazy rock and roll music.'
The door of the closet stood open. He asked her permission and then looked inside. Mrs. Serafino herself opened the door to the bathroom.
'Thank you,' he said. 'I've seen enough.'
She led the way back to the living room. 'Did you find anything special?'
'I didn't expect to. I just wanted to get some idea about the girl. Tell me, was she pretty?'
'She was no beauty, for all the newspapers kept calling her 'an attractive blonde.' I guess they call any girl that. She was sort of attractive in a corn-fed farm-girl sort of way, you know, thick waist, thick legs and ankles-oh, I'm sorry.'
'It's all right, Mrs. Serafino,' he reassured her, 'I know about ankles and legs. Tell me, did she seem happy?'
'I guess so.'
'And yet I understood she had no friends.'
'Well, she and this Celia who works for the Hoskins a couple of houses down sometimes went to a movie together.'
'Any men friends, or wouldn't you have known?'
'I think she would have told me if she had a date. You know how it is, two women in a house together, they talk. But I'm sure there were no men friends. When she went to a movie Thursday nights, she'd either go alone or with Celia. Yet in the papers it said she was pregnant, so I guess she must have known at least one man.'
'That Thursday, was there anything unusual about her behavior?'
'No, it was about like any other Thursday. I was busy, so she took care of the children's lunch, but she left right after. Usually she would go out before.'
'But it was not unusual for her to leave when she did?'
'I wouldn't say so.'
'Well thank you, Mrs. Serafino, you have been very kind.'
She went to the door with him and watched him walk down the path. Then she called after him, 'Rabbi Small- there's Celia now if you want to talk to her, the girt with the two children.' She watched him hasten down the street and accost the girl.
Rabbi Small spoke to Celia for a few minutes and then walked to the corner of the street and glanced at the mailbox. He got into his car and drove to Salem, where he spent some time before driving back home.
Mr. Serafino got up shortly after noon. He washed, rubbed his hand against his blue-black beard stubble and decided not to shave until evening, and went down to the kitchen. Outside in the backyard he saw his wife playing
