Miles To Go

6. Toronto 1961

6

Toronto 1961

The presence of a hearse ensured that the crowd of onlookers didn’t dissipate. Gasps emanated as the shrouded corpse emerged from the house. Men bent at the waist and prayed. Women wailed and keened. Birdie, Callaway and I stood off to the side watching the spectacle. The morgue attendants moved solemnly, unsnapping the legs of the gurney smoothly as they loaded it up into the back of the hearse. The subdued professionalism encouraged the clot of mourners to pray harder and wail louder.

Callaway turned to me. “Happy families,” he said.

I nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

“They were pleased to see you again.”

“I didn’t part on the best of terms,” I said.

“No kidding. I thought the son who looked like Bruno San Martino was going to put you in a half-nelson.”

Birdie snorted.

“He’s not as tough as he looks,” I replied. “He trades diamonds, for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay,” Callaway nodded.

“And you can bet he weaseled out of his military service, all these black hats did,” I said.

Birdie said, “That was then. All in the past.”

Birdie believed in forgiveness. I had a harder time with it depending on who was being forgiven and the circumstances. My old man, for instance. I couldn’t forgive him for a crappy childhood, his life of crime, or inspiring my kid brother to act like him or for treating my mother like a dishrag, wiping his feet whenever he wanted.

“You need to get the combination to the safe upstairs from one of the pious and find out what happened to his fringes.”

Callaway leveled me with those pale eyes. “You seemed pretty insistent on that. Got the family riled up.”

I lowered my voice. “Listen, there were marital problems in the house, okay? According to Miryam, Mrs. Black, the two weren’t really having relations. There were problems because she couldn’t conceive. Bad news in the orthodox world.”

Callaway raised his grey eyebrows. “And?”

I shrugged. “Likely, he was schtupping someone else. And that could account for the missing fringes. Maybe he had to dress himself in a hurry and forgot them somewhere?”

“And so?”

“Just adds to the possibilities, that’s all.” I didn’t want to go further down that path and point him only at Miryam. There could be lots of reasons why someone wanted Mendel Black, putz that he was, dead.

Callaway nodded. “You want to protect the wife. I understand. But we gotta look at everyone and everything, her included.”

“Just keep an open mind.”

“I always do.”

Birdie snorted again.

Callaway glared at him. “Who asked you?”

“I did,” I said.

“Okay,” Callaway replied. “Even though you unsettle these people, I’m gonna need your help. Unsettling them could be a good thing. Sometimes, people say things they wouldn’t otherwise when they’re upset.”

“Sure.”

“And the wife trusts you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Now Callaway snorted.

“I would. Just don’t step over the line. She’s a suspect just like the rest of this bunch.”

“I know the boundaries,” I said.

Callaway jammed his hands into his suit jacket. “You’ve pushed them before. You both have.”

Birdie smiled. “That’s why the Lord gave us boundaries,” he intoned.

“Don’t start,” Callaway groused.

The rear door of the hearse slammed. The driver started the engine and it drove away, parting the onlookers. Gradually, reluctantly, they broke off into clumps and drifted back to their houses where the tongues would cluck and forefingers wag, conducting the gossip as it continued unabated.