Friday the Rabbi Slept Late (3 page)

“Because there was a small leak in the seal, but it was nothing serious. I noticed a few drops of oil on the garage floor and spoke to Ai Becker about it. He said he’d take care of it but that I could drive all right until I got around to bringing it in.”

The rabbi looked at Reich to see if he had anything to say in reply, and then leaned back in his swivel chair and considered. Finally, he straightened up with a jerk of his shoulders. He patted the books on the desk. “These are two of the three volumes of the Talmud that deal with the general subject of what we would call torts. The subject is treated very fully. This first volume treats of the general causes of damages, and the section that concerns an ox that gores, for example, goes on for about forty pages. A general principle is evolved which the rabbis applied broadly to all kinds of cases. It is the basic distinction they made between tarn and muad, that is, between the docile ox and the ox that has already earned a reputation as a vicious beast by virtue of having gored on several occasions in the past. The owner of the latter was felt to be far more responsible in the event of a goring than the former, since he already had had warning and should have taken special precautions.” He glanced at Mr. Wasserman, who nodded in corroboration.

The rabbi got up from behind his desk and began to pace the floor. His tone took on the singsong quality traditional with Talmudists as he followed the thread of the argument. “Now in this case, you knew your car leaked oil. And I suggest, that, at least while it was being driven, it leaked more than just a few drops, since you found it necessary to add two full quarts on the trip up. If Mr. Reich had been a borrower – and we come now to this volume which deals with the subject of borrowing as well as the law of agency – if Mr. Reich, for example, had said that he did not feel well and wanted to go home and had asked to borrow your car for the trip, it would have been his responsibility either to ask you if it were in good condition, or himself to check it. And if he failed to do so, even if the circumstances had been precisely the same as they were, then he would have been responsible and liable for the damage done. But we have already agreed that he was not a borrower but essentially your agent, and hence the responsibility was yours to inform him that the car leaked oil and to watch and see that it did not drop below the safe level.”

“Just a minute, rabbi,” said Schwarz. “I didn’t have to warn him personally. The car has a built-in warning device – the oil light. When a man drives a car, he’s supposed to watch his instruments, and if he had, the red light would have told him he was getting dangerously low.”

The rabbi nodded. “That is a good point. Mr. Reich?”

“As a matter of fact, the light did go on,” he said. “But when it did we were on the open road without a station in sight, and before I could find one we’d stalled.”

“I see,” said the rabbi.

“But according to the mechanic, he should have smelled something burning long before,” Schwarz insisted.

“Not if his nose was stuffed up with a bad cold. And Mrs. Weinbaum, you remember, was asleep.” The rabbi shook his head. “No, Mr. Schwarz, Mr. Reich did only what the average driver would have done under the existing road conditions. Therefore, he could not be considered negligent, and if not negligent, then not responsible.”

The finality in his tone indicated that the hearing was over. Reich was the first to rise. “This has been a revelation to me, rabbi,” he said in a low voice. The rabbi acknowledged his thanks.

Reich turned uncertainly to Schwarz, hoping he would make some gesture of reconciliation, but he remained seated, his eyes focused on the floor as he rubbed the palms of his hands together in vexation.

Reich waited an awkward moment, then said, “Well, I’ll be going.” At the door he paused. “I didn’t see your car in the parking lot, Jacob. Can I give you a lift?”

“Yes, I walked,” said Wasserman, “but I think I’d like a ride home.”

“I’ll wait downstairs.”

Only when the door closed did Schwarz raise his head. It was obvious he was hurt. “I guess I had the wrong idea of what this hearing was supposed to do, rabbi. Or maybe you had the wrong idea. I told you, or I tried to tell you, that I wasn’t planning to bring suit against Abe. After all, I could afford the repairs a lot better than he could. If he had come forward with an offer of some kind I would have refused it, but we would have remained friends. Instead, he was nasty to my wife, and a man has to back up his wife. I suppose she gave him the rough side of her tongue. And I can understand now why he reacted the way he did.”

“Well then –”

Schwarz shook his head. “You don’t understand, rabbi. I was hoping that this hearing would effect some kind of compromise, that it would sort of bring us together. Instead, you cleared him completely, which means that I must have been entirely in the wrong. But I don’t feel I was all wrong. After all, what did I do? A couple of friends of mine wanted to get home in a hurry and I lent them my car. Was that wrong? It seems to me that you were not acting as an impartial judge, but more like his lawyer. All your questions and your arguments were directed towards me. I don’t have the legal training to see the flaw in your line of reasoning, but I’m sure that if I had counsel here to represent me, he would. In any case, I’m sure he would have been able to work out some sort of compromise.”

“But we did even better than that,” said the rabbi.

“How do you mean? You cleared him of negligence and I’m going to be several hundred dollars out of pocket.”

The rabbi smiled. “I’m afraid that you do not grasp the full significance of the evidence, Mr. Schwarz. True, Mr. Reich was cleared of all negligence, but that doesn’t automatically make you culpable.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Let us consider what we have here. You bought a car with a leaking seal. And when you noticed the damage, you notified the manufacturer through his representative, Mr. Becker. Now, it is true that the fault was a minor one and that neither Mr. Becker nor you had reason to believe it might become more serious in the immediate future. The likelihood that it might become aggravated by a long trip evidently did not occur to him, else he would have warned you against it, in which case I’m sure you would not have used that car to go up to New Hampshire. But the fact is that driving for a long distance at a high rate of speed did result in expanding the leak, which is why you had to put in a couple of quarts of oil on the way up. Now, under these circumstances, the manufacturer can only require of you that you use normal caution. I think you will agree that Mr. Reich did nothing any cautious driver would not have –”

“So it was really their fault, rabbi?” Schwarz’s face showed animation and there was excitement in his voice. “Is that what you’re saying?” Mr. Wasserman smiled broadly. “Precisely, Mr. Schwarz. It is my contention that it was the fault of the manufacturer and that he must make good under his warranty.”

“Well gee, rabbi, that’s swell. I’m sure Becker will come across. After all, it’s no skin off his nose. Then that makes everything all right. Look, rabbi, if I said anything that –”

The rabbi cut him off. “Quite understandable under the circumstances, Mr. Schwarz.”

Schwarz was for taking everyone out for a drink, but the rabbi excused himself. “If you don’t mind, some other night perhaps. As I was leafing through those books, I came across a couple of points that interested me. Nothing to do with all this, but I’d like to check them over while they’re fresh in my mind.” He shook hands with the two men and took them to the door.

“Well, what do you think of the rabbi now?” Wasserman could not help asking on the way downstairs.

“He’s quite a guy,” said Schwarz.

“A gaon, Ben, a regular gaon.”

“I don’t know what a gaon is, Jacob, but if you say so, I’ll take your word for it.”

“And what about Abe?”

“Well, Jacob, between me and you, it was mostly Myra. You know how women are about losing a few bucks.”

From the window of his study, the rabbi looked down at the parking lot below to see the three men talking in obvious reconciliation. He smiled and turned from the window. The books on his desk caught his eye. Adjusting the reading lamp, he sat down behind the desk and pulled the books toward him.

Elspeth Bleech lay on her back and watched the ceiling slowly tilt, first to one side and then the other. She clutched at the bedclothes as though afraid she might fall out of bed. The alarm clock had awakened her as usual, but as she sat up the vertigo struck and she let her head fall back on the pillow.

The sun slanting in through the slats of the Venetian blind gave promise of a perfect June day. She shut her eyes tight to blot out the moving walls and ceiling, but she could sense the sun in a sort of red haze, and at the same time she felt as though the bed were rocking sickeningly under her. Although the morning was cool, her forehead was wet with perspiration.

By an effort of will she sat up again, and then without bothering to put on her slippers fled to the tiny bathroom. After a while she felt better, and came back and sat on the edge of the bed and dried her face, wondering dully if she ought not lie down for another half-hour or so. As if in answer there came a pound on the door and the children, Angelina and Johnnie, shouted, “Elspeth, Elspeth, dress us. We want to go out.”

“All right, Angie,” she called back. “You and Johnnie go back upstairs and play quietly, and Elspeth will be up in a minute. Now remember, play quietly. You don’t want to wake your mummy and daddy.”

Fortunately they obeyed, and she sighed with relief. Slipping on a robe and slippers, she brewed herself a cup of tea and made some toast. The food made her feel better.

She had been having strange symptoms for a while, but lately they had grown worse. Today was the second day in a row she had been sick. When it happened yesterday morning, she had assumed it was the ravioli Mrs. Serafino had given her for supper the night before; maybe she had eaten more than was good for her. But yesterday she had eaten sparingly – all day – perhaps she had not eaten enough.

She might speak to her friend Celia Saunders. Celia was older and should know something she could take for it. At the same time, she realized it would be unwise to detail the symptoms too precisely. In the back of her mind was the fear that possibly, just possibly, her sickness might be due to something quite different.

The children in the room overhead were getting noisy. She did not want Mrs. Serafino to see her until she was fully dressed and had had a chance to put a touch of color on her cheeks. She was even more anxious lest Mr. Serafino see her that way, and she hurried back to her room to dress. Taking off her robe and nightgown, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. She was sure she did not look any stouter. Nevertheless, she decided to put on the new girdle that was firmer than her old one and held her in better.

By the time she was dressed, she felt her old self again. Just the sight of herself in the mirror, trim in her white uniform, made her spirits rise. Suppose it was the other thing? It need not necessarily be dreaded; she might even use it to advantage. But of course she’d have to be sure, and that meant a trip to the doctor, perhaps this Thursday on her day off.

“Then why the hell don’t you get the rabbi to write the letter to the Ford Company?” demanded Al Becker. He was a short, stocky man with a powerful torso mounted on short, stumpy legs. Nose and chin both protruded combatively and there was a pugnacious twist to his lipless mouth, out of which jutted a thick, black cigar. When he removed it from the corner of his mouth, he held it between the curled first and second fingers of his right hand, so that it seemed like a glowing weapon in a clenched fist. His eyes were dull blue marbles.

Ben Schwarz had come to him full of glad tidings. He thought his good friend would be happy to hear he wouldn’t have to stand the considerable expense of mounting a new motor in the car.

But Becker had been far from pleased. True, it would cost Becker Motors nothing, but it did mean a lot of trouble, perhaps extensive correspondence to explain the matter to the company.

“How does the rabbi get into things like this?” he wanted to know. “You’re a sensible feller, Ben. Now I ask you, is this the function of a rabbi of a temple?”

“But you don’t understand, Al,” Schwarz said. “It wasn’t the question of repairs on the car at all. It was, of course, but –”

“Well, was it or wasn’t it?”

“Well, sure it was, but I mean I didn’t go to him about that. He happened to hear I was sore at Abe Reich so he suggested a Din Torah –”

“A Din who?”

“Din Torah,” said Schwarz carefully. “It’s when two parties to a conflict or an argument go to the rabbi and he hears the case and makes a judgment according to the Talmud. It’s a regular thing that rabbis do.”

“First I heard of it.”

“Well, I admit I didn’t know about it before myself. Anyway, I agreed, and Reich and I and Wasserman – as a kind of witness, I suppose – went to the rabbi, and he worked the whole thing out so that it was plain that neither Reich nor I had been negligent. And by God, if I wasn’t negligent and the driver of the car wasn’t negligent, then the fault was in the car and the company is supposed to make good.”

“Well, goddammit, the company won’t make good unless I say so, and I can just see myself going to them for a job this big with that kind of cock-and-bull story.”

Becker’s voice was never soft, and when he was angry he shouted.

Schwarz seemed suddenly deflated. “But there was a teak in the seal,” he shouted back. “I told you about that.”

“Sure, a couple of drops a week. That kind of leak wouldn’t burn out a motor.”

“A couple of drops when she was standing still. But she must have been gushing when I drove. I put two quarts in on my way to New Hampshire. That’s no couple of drops. Now that I know from my own knowledge.”

The door of Becker’s office opened and his junior partner, Melvin Bronstein, came in. Bronstein was a youngish man of forty, tall and slim with wavy black hair just beginning to gray at the temples; deep, dark eyes, an aquiline nose, and sensitive lips.