Someday the Rabbi Will Leave by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online Page A

Bradley announced that he would not seek reelection. She wondered if he would make a point of it during his speech.
    Bottomley came forward and raised his arms and waggled his hands at the audience to get their attention. “All right, folks,” he said, “now that we’ve finished with the statewide offices, we can get on with the part of the program that you people are particularly interested in, the candidates for the local offices of senator and representative to the General Court. Fortunately, none of them had pressing engagements elsewhere (snickers and laughter) and they’re all here in person. First we’ll hear from the candidates for state senator. We have three of them and they all list themselves as Republican. I don’t know why the Democratic candidates didn’t show up. (laughter) We’ll proceed in alphabetical order. Let’s see—” a glance at his list—“that means we’ll start with Thomas Baggio, who is a city councillor of Revere, then Albert Cash, who is the representative to the General Court from this district, and end up with John Scofield of Barnard’s Crossing. Mr. Baggio.”
    Baggio was short, thick-set, swarthy, with bluish jowls, thick black hair, and a small Hitler moustache. He came forward, oozing confidence. “As city councillor of Revere, I instituted … I proposed … I caused …” He finished with “and what I did for my native city of Revere, I can do for all the cities and towns of the senatorial district. I will bring to the job the same devotion to duty, the same concentration I have shown as a city councillor.”
    He sat down to a scattering of polite applause. It occurred to Laura that he had made a mistake spending his entire time recounting his record as city councillor, if only because it involved the repetition of first-person locutions—this was always the problem in citing one’s record.
    Albert Cash was an older man in his late fifties. He was smooth and fluent, the words flowed easily out of his strangely impassive face, as though they were being played by a tape recorder. The gist of his speech was that he had devoted his life to service in the community, and he listed all the political jobs he had had, including the commissions and committees he had served on. And now, having served three terms as a representative to the General Court, it was only fair, he said, that he should be promoted to the Senate.
    He, too, received polite applause, although someone in the audience called out, “How about the Harbor Bill?” Pretending not to hear, Cash returned to his seat, while several people in the audience turned around to glare at the heckler. Laura made a mental note to inquire about the Harbor Bill and Cash’s part in it, if only because she detected a hint of embarrassment in the overcasual way he surveyed the ceiling at the back of the hall when he sat down.
    â€œTalk to the people who are there,” Mulcahey had advised. “I mean, don’t bother about those who don’t show up. Know what I mean?”
    â€œSure.” Scofield had replied.
    Mulcahey fixed him with a baleful eye. “No, you don’t. You’re just saying that. Listen, the Essex District takes in Lynn and Revere as well as Barnard’s Crossing. Right? Well, who’s going to be at this Candidates’ Night? Just Crossers. That’s all. Maybe there’ll be one or two from Lynn or Revere, but not likely, and one or two don’t count anyway. So make up your mind that you’re talking just to the Barnard’s Crossing people. Get it? When you get around to appearing in Lynn, you’ll talk just to Lynners. Same with Revere. Point is, don’t try to talk to anybody who ain’t there.”
    â€œYeah, but they hear about it, don’t they?”
    â€œSure, if you’re President of the United States and you talk in Alabama, we hear about it here in