Sunday the Rabbi Stayed Home by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online

make a good showing.”
    “I’ll let you know, Kevin.”
    “You don’t have to send in the form.” Lanigan was amused to note all traces of brogue had vanished. “Just give me a call, and I’ll be happy to put your name down, and you can send me the money anytime you think of it.”
    “Okay; Kevin.”
    But the other was not yet finished. “Oh, and by the by, would you happen to be knowing an individual name of Paff, a resident of your lovely town, a kind of a Jew type?”
    “Meyer Paff?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “Yes, I know him.” said Lanigan cautiously. “What do you want to know about him?”
    “Oh, just the usual. Is he a respectable citizen? Have you ever had any dealings with him – in the way of business, you might say.”
    “He’s well thought of here in town. No police record of any kind, if that’s what you mean. What’s he done?” But already Lanigan had scribbled the name on a memorandum pad.
    “Well now. I don’t know that he’s done anything. But he owns a bowling alley here.”
    “He owns half a dozen in cities and towns along the North Shore.” said Lanigan.
    “I know, but none in Barnard’s Crossing.” It sounded like an accusation.
    “We don’t have one here, but the one in Salem is near enough. What’s wrong with the bowling alley in Lynn?”
    “Well.” said O’Connor, “some of the kids who have been smoking pot and have given us a little trouble, that’s one of their regular hangouts.”
    “And you think he might be pushing the stuff?” Lanigan scratched out the name on the pad. “I can’t picture him in the part. He’s one of the big shots in the local temple, for one thing.”
    “Well now, Hughie, did you ever think that might be a kind of cover-up?”
    “No, I haven’t, but I’ll think about it – when I’ve nothing better to do.”
    “You’ll have your little joke, won’t you. And down there, aren’t you troubled with it?”
    “With pot? We’ve had some.” said Lanigan cautiously. “As near as we can make out, it seems to be coming in from Boston.”
    “Well, if anything comes to you, any bit of gossip about this Paff. I’d appreciate your letting me know.”
    “Ye can bank on it. Kevin m’boy.” Lanigan banged the receiver down and glared at the instrument for a moment. Then he chuckled.

Chapter Nine
    “Nice sermon. Ted.” said Meyer Paff. Most of the congregation had already filed out of the sanctuary to go down to the vestry, where a collation had been prepared. Paff, standing athwart the middle aisle, had waited for Brennerman and Gorfinkle, who were making their way from the pulpit.
    “Did you really like it?” asked Brennerman eagerly, too eagerly.
    “Sure, I liked it fine.” Paff said in his deep rumble. “All through it I was thinking – here we’re paying the rabbi a big salary. For what? To give sermons mostly. The rest of his job – making little speeches to the Bar Mitzvahs, marrying people, visiting the sick – we could have the cantor do it or the president. The one thing was the sermons. And now you prove that any fresh young punk can do just as well.”
    “Now look here –”
    “This is no place to pick a fight, Meyer,” said Gorfinkle quietly.
    “Who’s fighting?” Several tailenders of the congregation filing out stopped to listen. “Would I fight in the sanctuary? Believe me. I wasn’t brought up that way. I’d as soon get up in the pulpit and insult one of the members.”
    “Insult? Who was insulted?” asked Gorfinkle.
    “I don’t know. Maybe Doc Edelstein. He doesn’t favor the temple getting into politics. I doubt he cared much for being called an idol worshiper. Or maybe he doesn’t know any better. He always thought he was a good Jew. He helped start this place and gave a lot of money to get it going. My friend Irving Kallen, he wasn’t here tonight, but he gave a lot of money: too, for this temple. And maybe you don’t know it but the Kallen Family Fund has made a contribution to the NAACP