Thursday the Rabbi Walked Out by Harry Kemelman Page B

at least, you ought to ask him.”
    He pursed his lips as he considered. “You know. Laura, you got a point. I’ll call that sonofabitch right now and lay it on the line. Hand me the phone.”
    “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow to call?” she urged.
    He stared at her. “Tomorrow? Saturday? Why tomorrow?”
    “Well, you know you always feel better, more relaxed after – after –”
    “I feel relaxed enough right now. Give me that Goddam phone.”

Chapter Seventeen
    When Billy opened the door to admit Lawrence Gore; Jordon called out from the living room. “You’re late. Larry.” A moment later, when Gore joined him, he pointed to the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.
    Gore looked at his wristwatch. “Are you sure. Ellsworth? Mine says just six.”
    “You bet I’m sure, that clock is absolutely right. I check it every day with the radio time signals. You’re five minutes late.”
    “Well, I’m sorry. Ellsworth.” He slid the bracelet off his wrist and, peering at the clock, made a show of resetting his watch.
    “All right, all right, let’s not waste any more time.” said the old man, as though conceding a major point. “Martha’s got a date for tonight and wants to leave early; so let’s not keep her waiting.” And waving his arms, he shooed Gore and Billy into the dining room.
    As Gore spread his napkin, he remarked. “Albert Megrim was in this morning, he said you were planning to blackball someone I proposed for the Agathon, Ben Segal.”
    Jordon chortled. “That’s right, and not half an hour ago, Henry Maltzman called me about buying my land on the Point for this same Ben Segal.”
    “He told you who his principal was? That doesn’t sound like Henry Maltzman.”
    “I told him I wouldn’t even discuss it with him unless he did.”
    “Well, I guess he figures you wouldn’t do him out of his commission.”
    “No commission.”
    “But –”
    “I turned him down.” He smiled broadly.
    Gore looked mystified. “You know this man. Segal?”
    “Nope. Never laid eyes on him.”
    “Then –” Gore took a swallow of water. “This Ben Segal is from Chicago, he’s a big financier, he’s taking over the Rohrbough Corporation and plans to operate it. Now the last time I went over your holdings with you, that land on the Point was one of the properties you said you wanted to sell. Considering the price you’re asking, you’re not likely to get a buyer in a hurry. I’d say Ben Segal is the best chance you’re going to have in a long time.”
    “That so? Big financier, is he?” He drummed the table.
    “That’s right, there was an article on him in Business Week about a month ago. I took him to the Agathon for lunch, and he liked what he saw and what he had to eat, and asked me to put him up for membership. Just like that. Didn’t ask what the dues were or the initiation fee, and it isn’t as though he’s interested in yachts, or in any of the facilities the club has to offer. It was just that it seemed to him a nice place to dine, a man like that isn’t apt to haggle over the price of a piece of land he’s set his heart on.”
    “Well.” said Jordon with a sour grin. “I didn’t actually close the door. This Maltzman figured I was being cozy, or maybe I didn’t like to talk figures over the phone, because he asked if he could come and see me and talk about it. So I told him he could come at half past eight tonight.”
    “Oh, well, that’s all right then.” Gore was much relieved.
    “I told him.” the old man went on. “that I knew he was president of the temple and that since there is a service there at half past eight on Friday nights, according to the bulletin outside. I wanted to see which counted more with him, his commission or his religion.” The old man put his head back and laughed obscenely.
    Billy looked doubtfully at the old man as though wondering if he were joking. Gore pretended to be amused. “And what did he say to that?” he asked.
    “He said if he