Friday the Rabbi Slept Late by Harry Kemelman Page A

rabbi, he told me about a shipment of books he was expecting, but I had no idea it would come in a wooden box. But then I notice it was shipped from Dropsie College. Well, the rabbi had mentioned that the books were coming from Dropsie College. Now that’s a funny name for a college, and I remembered it because my Aunt Mattie – you remember her – well, that’s what she had, dropsy, I mean. She was all puffed up, you could hardly see her eyes –”
    “Never mind, just tell me about the box.”
    “Oh yeah, so I see the name and I remember that that’s where the books were supposed to come from. So I figure it must be the books. Well, you wouldn’t believe it, Hugh, but this rabbi – he’s a nice feller and all that – but he wouldn’t know which end of a hammer you hit with. So no matter what’s in that case, I’m going to have to open it for him anyway. Right? So I figured I might as well do it right then. So I toted the whole business, box and all – and it was heavy as a sonofabitch, Hugh – right up to his study. Then I kind of finished my chores here and I thought I’d let him know that they came, seeing as he was so anxious for them and it was on my way home anyway.”
    “Where you living now, Stanley?”
    “I got a room at Mama Schofield’s.”
    “Didn’t you used to live at the temple?”
    “Yeah, at the old place. I had me a room up in the attic. Beauty. It was kind of nice, living right at the job, you know. But then they stopped it. They gave me a few bucks more each month to pay for a room, and I’ve been at Mama Schofield’s ever since.”
    “Why did they stop it?” asked Lanigan.
    “I’ll tell you the truth, Hugh. They found out I was having some company up there once in a while. No wild parties, you understand, Hugh. I wouldn’t do anything like that, and never while the temple was being used. Just a couple of people over for a little talk and a few beers. But I guess they got to thinking I might take it into my head to bring a broad up there, maybe on one of their holy days.” He gave a loud chortle and slapped his thigh. “I suppose they were afraid that while they were praying down below, I might be bouncing a broad upstairs, and that would kind of short-circuit their prayers on the way up, see?”
    “Go on.”
    “So they asked me to find myself a room, and I did. There was no hard feelings.”
    “How about here in the new building? Don’t you ever sleep over?”
    “Well, in the winter after a heavy snowfall, when I got to get the sidewalks cleared early. I got me a cot down in the boiler room.”
    “Let’s go take a look at it.”
    “Sure, Hugh.” Stanley led the way down a short flight of iron stairs and then stood aside as Lanigan pushed open a steel-clad fire door. The boiler room was immaculate, except for the corner where Stanley had set up his cot. Lanigan pointed out that the blankets were rumpled.
    “Been that way since the last snowfall?” he asked.
    “I lie down for a nap most afternoons,” said Stanley easily. He watched while Lanigan poked idly through the cigarette butts in the ashtray. “I told you I never have anybody down here.”
    Lanigan sat down in the wicker chair and let his eyes wander over Stanley’s art gallery. Stanley grinned sheepishly.
    The police chief motioned for him to sit down, and he obediently plumped down on the cot. “Now let’s get on with it. Around half-past seven you stopped at the rabbi’s house to tell him about the box. Why couldn’t you wait until morning? Did you expect the rabbi to leave his house at night?”
    Stanley showed surprise at the question. “Why sure, the rabbi is up there reading and studying plenty of nights.”
    “Then what did you do?”
    “I went on home.”
    “Stop on the way?”
    “Sure, I stopped at the Ship’s Cabin for a bite of supper and a couple of beers. Then I went on to Mama Schofield’s.”
    “And you stayed there?”
    “Yeah, I was there all the early evening.”
    “And then you