Last Dark Place An Abe Lieberman Mystery

Chapter One July 16, 1969 The little old man was nodding his head and mumbling to himself as he walked down the gray corridor of the synagogue. It was not an unusual sight, but this particular old man was unfamiliar to Morrie Greenblatt, who approached him. Morrie towered over the old man, who wore a black yarmulke atop his freckled, nearly bald head and a white-fringed tallis over his shoulders. Under his arm the old man was carrying a black prayer book. From the main sanctuary, the sound of voices, a man and a woman, went back and forth nervously. "Excuse me," said Morrie. The old man stopped and looked up at the tall slope-shouldered man who had stopped him. "We need you," Morrie said, glancing at his watch. "Me?" asked the old man in a voice that sounded raspy from too many hours of prayer. "We need one more for the morning minyan," Morrie said. "A tenth man." "But I..." the old man began looking toward the main sanctuary. "It won't take long. I promise. Prayers and then if you have time we have bagels and coffee. We need you. Sid Applebaum was supposed to be here but he has a stomach something and with the rain..." "You need me?" the old man said. "Yes." The old man shrugged and said, "Then I'll come." Ten Jewish men who had been bar mitzvahed at the age of thirteen were required to meet the minimum number set forth in the Holy Bible for morning prayers. Morrie, who owned a bath and tile store on Lawrence Avenue, was the congregation's unofficial gabai, the one who saw to it that things got done. No one, not even Morrie, was sure whether Morrie had volunteered for this job or it had simply evolved. Morrie, now almost fifty, accepted the responsibility, the principle task of which was to see to it that there was a minyan for each morning's prayers. The regulars, if they were healthy, were no problem. He could always count on Rabbi Wass and his son, Cal Schwartz, Marvin Stein, Hyman Lieberman, Joshua Kornpelt, Sid Applebaum, and himself. He would check the night before with phone calls and if it looked as if they would be short, Morrie would ask Marv Stein to bring his brother or Hy Lieberman to bring his sons. Some days they had as many as sixteen or more. Some days they had walk-ins who were from out of town or regular congregation members there to observe yartzeit, the anniversary of a loved one's death. When he had counted this morning, Morrie had been sweating. Both of Lieberman's sons had come looking none-too-happy to be there. Maish Lieberman explained that their father Hyman wasn't feeling well. Maish was thirty-six and by this time in the early morning was usually at the T&L, the new deli he had opened with a loan from his father and Sid Applebaum. Abe, at thirty, was the puzzle of the lot. Short and lean like his father with the same dark curly hair, Abe was a policeman who came to services only when his father pressured him into doing so. Only last week Abe had been promoted to detective and an unimposing detective he was, a shrimp beanstalk with a sad face too old for his years. A few minutes ago, Maish, his yarmulke perched precariously atop his head, had nodded and talked about the price of eggs and the courage of astronauts. Abe in a sport jacket and tie looking like a shoe salesman had politely asked Morrie, "You want me to call Alex?" "I'll find someone," Morrie had answered. It was a matter of pride, but time was against him. "Alex can be here in ten minutes," said Abe. "I'll find,Kaminsky, Stuart M. is the author of 'Last Dark Place An Abe Lieberman Mystery', published 2004 under ISBN 9780765304636 and ISBN 0765304635.