They parted with the couple promising to stay in touch, and Koesler assuring them that Father Reichert would no longer be a problem.
But, Koesler wondered, what did Stan mean by, “Lucky thing the doc is dead … lucky thing for me, anyway.”
That’s what Stan had said.
It could only mean that if Green were not dead, Stan would still feel like killing him for what he’d done to Claire. Then Stan would have to suffer the consequences of murder. But the job was done: The doctor was dead-and it would cost Stan nothing.
Was it a mere stroke of luck that the doctor had died?
Of those who had spoken to Koesler this evening, each and every one seemed to have a very credible, pressing bone to chew with Green.
Cameron was about to lose his establishment, the nearest and dearest thing in his life. The restaurant-bar was his dream. A dream he had turned into reality. Green was about to squeeze Cameron out of the business. But, then, in almost a deus ex machina, the doctor dies. How convenient! What a coincidence.
Claire and Stan were willing to live with the consequences of a criminal operation even though it threatened their desired Catholic wedding. That was due to a literalist, idiot priest. When they’d learned the operation was by no means necessary, that the surgery was, in fact, an abortion, to Stan, at least, the deed called for vengeance. From his own lips, Stan had been ready to murder. Conveniently, the doctor had died. The coincidences were piling up. Coincidences weren’t supposed to do that.
Koesler interrupted his own thought process by checking to see if Margie Green was finally accessible. The line of well-wishers seemed as long as ever.
What could all those people who knew Green be saying that could possibly comfort the widow-“Thank God the bastard is dead”? That had to be the antithesis of what people say in situations such as this. But what else could they say?
From all Koesler had heard this evening, that sentiment seemed fitting.
And what could he say when, inevitably, it would be time for the eulogy?
Koesler stood, looking toward the widow, lost in unfocused thought, when he became aware that someone was tugging gently on his coat sleeve. He looked down at a very attractive but obviously troubled young woman. He had never before seen her, not in person or in a photo, and yet he was all but certain who she was. “Judith Green?”
Her expression changed to one of mock exasperation. “Cameron, isn’t it? He pointed me out to you, right? I saw you talking to him.”
“Not really. Your name did come up in conversation-but, no, he didn’t identify you to me.”
“I don’t know whether to be pleased or angry. I’m sure he had nothing good to say about me. I can’t be one of his favorite people. But … you could pick me out of this crowd just on what he said about me?”
“Not quite. I could hardly single you out from anyone here. But I must admit I kind of half expected you to come and talk to me. So it wasn’t that extraordinary a guess.”
“Let me assure you, Father, I had no intention of speaking to you until I saw Jake bending your ear. I don’t know exactly what he told you, but I can be damn sure I wouldn’t be happy with it.” Ignoring the priest’s wincing expression, she continued. “Don’t get me wrong: I don’t blame the poor schlemiel. He certainly got the short end of the stick with me. But there’s another side to this story-and more than that. I want you to know my side. For some reason I want you to know. It must be my Catholic upbringing coming back like a hiccup.”
Strange way to refer to all those years of Catholic schooling. Koesler considered her more carefully.
She wore a coat seemingly several sizes too large. He would have to take on faith the opinion of an expert-Jake Cameron-that she possessed a faultless figure.
Her short dark hair fell in bangs above an oval face, giving her a pixieish appearance. This was intensified by thin eyebrows arched as in surprise, a small, pouty mouth, and high cheekbones.
Her expression … where had he seen that expression-and recently?
Of course: her mother. There was a lot of her mother in Judith Green. Though she possessed possibly the most determined expression he had ever seen, oddly, something about the eyes indicated hurting. Despite all that determination, this young woman did not always get her way.
All in all, a very interesting face.
Judith Green. Nothing particularly ethnic in either the name or the face. Technically, of course, she was not Jewish, since her mother was not. Which did not address the contention that had she lived in Nazi-occupied Europe, she would surely have been included in a pogrom beginning with humiliation, leading to a gas chamber, and ending in a furnace.
Koesler found it impossible to quibble with that analysis.
She sighed. “I suppose Jake told you about everything, beginning with my audition for Virago?”
Koesler nodded. He had already heard more than he wanted to know about her short-lived liaison with Jake Cameron. But she obviously wanted to tell him about it. It just might do her some good to get it off her chest.
“That was his fault right off the bat,” she said. “Delusions of grandeur on his part. Whatever gave him the idea that as talented a dancer as I was would perform in his bump-and-grind shop? Good God, I gave him the full shot just to try to discourage him. I kind of hoped he would put two and two together and figure out I was some kind of setup. But the better I danced, the more the dummy just blindly went along with the scam.”
“You mean you didn’t want to get that job?” This was not the perspective he had gotten from Cameron.
According to Jake, right from the start, Judith “Young” had tried-successfully-to delude him into a stupid plot that would end in entrapment. According to Jake, this was a plot hatched by Moe Green in which his daughter had played the central role-and most willingly.
Koesler was now hearing another side of the story.
“I’ll try to be brief as possible, but you need some background.…
“It started when I was fourteen-no, make that ten. There wasn’t much going on heterosexually in a parochial school in the fifth grade. Well …” She adverted to the fact that Koesler’s history included a lot of parochial fifth grades. “…you would know about that sort of thing better than I.”
Indeed. Koesler recalled seeing Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up? a hilarious takeoff on the interplay between parochial school children, their priests, and, mostly, their nuns, in the ’50s. That era was marked by nuns with rulers measuring hemlines, the distance between dancers, and the depth of decolletage. The evening Koesler saw the play, a woman in the audience was pounding her fists on the back of the seat in front of her and chanting, between howls of laughter, “That’s the way it was! That’s the way it was!”
“Anyway,” Judith went on, “the few times we had socials where we could invite boys, I always had to invite my cousin Morris. Daddy insisted on it. He and Mother disagreed on this-like they did about almost everything.
“I was caught in the middle-as usual. Daddy won their battles most of the time-or, at least he thought he did. Mother always got something out of the war. Watching them-well, it was like meetings between labor and management debating a constant grievance.
“But while mother was salvaging her booty and Dad was walking away relishing his contested victories, I was stuck with Morris. Summer vacation was the worst. That’s when there were lots of parties where Morris and I could get thrown together.
“It’s hard to say what was the worst aspect of Morris-there were so many. I guess the thing that bugged me most was Morris always trying to feel me up. Fortunately, at that age, I was a little bigger and a lot stronger than him. So, every time he tried it, I beat the sh-I beat him up.”
So far, thought Koesler, with the possible exception of parental warfare, the childish relationship of two kids was not all that unusual.
Almost as if she were reading his mind, Judith said, “You’re probably thinking that this sort of family feud was not unusual. But it took on another dimension when I got to high school. I don’t know whether you know it or not, but I attended Catholic school right through to college.
“Even in a Catholic high school, dating could get serious.
“Well, we had a class-I think it was called ethics. It was mostly about sex, and how that was dirty so you were supposed to save it for the one you love.”
Koesler had heard that line many times before. He always found it mildly humorous. In the present context, it was not difficult keeping a straight face.
“It was in that ethics class,” Judith said, “that I discovered something that just might get Daddy out of my hair and Morris away from my chest. It was the first Catholic teaching I ever found helpful.”
THE PAST
It’s called steady dating, Daddy ….”
Judith had cornered her father in his study after the evening meal. It was one of those rare nights when he had dinner with the family instead of arriving home long after his children had been packed off to sleep.
“Steady dating,” Moe repeated absently, as he studied the real estate market in the daily paper.
“Our ethics prof spelled it all out: It’s wrong. It’s an occasion of sin. We aren’t supposed to do it.”
“Then don’t do it.” Green wished she would go away. He barely heard what she was saying. This was the reason he so seldom spent quality time with his family. He hated his family. He related to his family only insofar as the individual members could serve his purposes. But, then, that was how he related to everyone.
“I can’t not do it,” Judith whined. “You’re making me do it.”
“Do what?”
“Date steady. Steady date.”
“I’m making you do that!? I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Don’t you have homework to do?”
“I did it. When Mother said you’d be home for dinner, I didn’t believe her. But just in case you did come home, I got my homework done early. So, now I got to talk to you. Daddy! I’m talking to you.”
“I’m painfully aware of that. Why don’t you go play? Play with David. What are brothers and sisters for?”
“David is a schlemiel! Besides, this is important. I talked to my ethics teacher and he says you are putting me in the near occasion of mortal sin.”
“Then don’t do that.”
“What?”
“What your teacher told you not to do.”
“Daddy! It’s not my fault.”
“Good. It’s somebody else’s fault.”
“Yours!”
“That’s nice.”
“Daddy, you’re making me go out with Morris. All the time!”
“Morris!” Green crushed the paper between his hands. “Morris! What about Morris?”
Morris played a long-range part in one of Green’s schemes. Judith’s mention of the name captured his attention.
“You’re making me go out with Morris all the time. I have to dance with him at all the sock hops. When we have vacations, it’s always Morris, Morris, Morris!”
“Morris is a good kid. What’s the matter with you? He’s your cousin, for God’s sake.”
“That’s another thing: He’s my cousin!”
“He shouldn’t be your cousin? It’s good he’s your cousin. Keeps it all in the family.” He looked up as Margie entered the room and stood by the fireplace.
“We’re supposed to date lots of boys. We’re supposed to-um-play the field. If we don’t get enough experience from a lot of different people, we won’t develop a mature personality.”
“Your personality is fine.”
“And”-Judith continued to talk through her father’s comment-“if we only date one fellow we will be committing serious sins. Because steady dating is like an engagement. Engagements naturally lead to marriage. And steady dating leads to sins. Sins of the flesh!”
Moe chuckled. “Morris still feeling you up?”
“Not much. Last time he tried that I decked him!”
“See? That’s my girl.” Moe was grinning. “You won’t commit any sins … except maybe murder.”
“You should take her seriously, Moe,” Margie said.
“Not you, too!” He tossed the crumpled newspaper in the general direction of the fireplace.
“Daddy …” Judith valued her mother’s intervention, but would have preferred that it come a bit later. Judy had a few rounds left to fire. “What’s the point of it? It’s not like we’re going to get married!”
Green’s squint focused directly into his daughter’s eyes. “And what would be so fatal about that?”
“Daddy!” Judith almost shrieked.
“Leave the room for a little while, darling,” Margie said. “Mother wants to talk to your father for a few minutes.”
“Mother!”
“Leave, honey!”
“Oh, all right.” She stomped from the room, glaring over her shoulder at her father.
“Moe, I think I know what you’ve got in mind.”
Green leaned back in his recliner. By no means would it be the first time that Margie had virtually read his mind. “Okay, the floor is yours. Let’s hear what I’ve got in mind.”
“When we got married, your family, for all practical purposes, disowned us. The sole exception was Sophie. It was a reaction that affected you about the way news of life on Mars might. You don’t give a damn about anybody. So why do you push Morris on Judith so relentlessly? Morris has neither the brains nor the looks to attract any girl of any age. But in Judy he’s got the cream of the crop. You’re giving him a queen on a platter. You don’t even care about your only daughter except for what she can get for you.”
“Where is this going, my love?”
“To Morris’s father Sam, I do believe.”
Moe smiled. So far she was right on the money.
“I’d have to be comatose not to know what Sam’s doing,” she continued. “It’s Amway. He’s been selling Amway stuff for a long time now. You’ve been itching to get in on this. But you can’t quite figure out how to get in on it and at the same time keep up your practice. I sympathize; it’s tough to sell something to somebody after he’s anesthetized. Beforehand, your patient is too worried about the operation to get really interested in carpet cleaners. And afterward, he’s so happy he survived, he considers nothing more than getting the hell out of your hospital.”
Moe kept a straight face. Margie dealt in sarcasm. She was good at it. He didn’t care-particularly if she could come up with a solution to his problem.
So far, the best plan he could muster was to try to get on Sam’s good side. That would take a bit of doing. Even if Sam were willing to strike some sort of deal, Moe faced the implacable hostility of just about all his relatives who refused to recognize his marriage to a shiksa. Sam was reluctant to risk inclusion in the family’s ostracism of Moe.
However, Sam also was painfully aware that his son Morris was a social misfit. Put that on one side of the scale with beautiful, attractive, desirable Judith Green on the other and Morris becomes a happy camper. As does Myrna, mother to Morris, wife to Sam.
Any way one looked at it, it was a good fit.
Neither Sam nor Myrna wanted to incur the family’s ire. Yet they knew that Morris’s best-perhaps only-chance to be societally acceptable was in liaison with Judith.
Without Judith, and on his own, Morris likely would marry someone much like himself, and they would breed other little misfits. With current life expectancy, Sam and Myrna would be forced to grow old watching all this happen.
All of this Moe had forestalled. With little concern, he would sacrifice his only daughter for a share in Sam’s profits.
Judy hated the situation, but what could she do? And it was even worse than she realized: Her father’s scenario, unbeknownst to her, was leading her toward a brokered marriage.
And why not? From Moe’s vantage point, if it was good enough in the old country in olden times, it was good enough now.
Actually, that rationalization was beside the point. Simply put, Moe wanted a piece of Sam’s Amway action. If Judith was the price-so be it.
Enter Margie, with what she believed was a viable alternative.
“You can have what you want, Moe,” Margie said. “Without having to romance Sam at all. Without sacrificing your daughter. Or, to look at it from your angle, without having your daughter disturb your reading of the financial page.”
“Sounds pretty good, my dear. Just how does this happen?”
“Sam makes good money on Amway. And he works like a dog doing it,” Margie explained. “But Sam is shortsighted. He could make tons more if he concentrated on recruitment. He needs to spend more time recruiting other people into selling Amway. The way to make real money is to expand the network. That way you earn a percentage on the sales of your new recruits.”
“Smart, Margie. Very smart,” Moe said. “But how does that help me? I got as little time in the evenings as I got during the day.”
“So,” Margie said, “what was your ultimate offer to Sam going to be?” She held up her hand to silence Moe and permit her to answer her own question. “You were going to recommend your patients to Sam and sell your billings to him … right?”
Moe closed his mouth that surprise had opened. “Yeah … right. But, how did you-”
“Over the years, Moe, I have developed a knack for simply knowing how you think. A special gift of intuition.”
“I tip my hat to you, Margie. But I repeat: What good does your intuition do me? I tell Sam how he can make a better killing by concentrating on recruits? What does that do for me?”
“What this does for you is that I take over the Sam role.”
“I recommend my patients to you? You recruit? For you?”
How typical of him, thought Margie, to project his value system on others. Everything is either for himself or for someone else. Nothing is shared.
“For us,” she said. “We put the Amway proceeds in our joint account. You won’t have to mess with Sam anymore. You won’t have to fight Judy anymore to get her to date that horrid brat. And, best of all, you won’t have to try to force a marriage. I don’t think you would have won that one,” she added.
Green massaged his temple in thought. “I like your scheme.” He looked up at her. “I still could do it my way-including the marriage. But yours is simpler.” A little more thought. “Wait a minute. You figured out what I was doing a long time ago. What made you hold off till now to bring this up?”
“I was waiting for the right time. I put up with your pushing Judy into those god-awful dates with little Morris. I figured you were leading up to something big. My guess was marriage. I just had to wait until you played your ace before I trumped it.” Margie raised her voice. “Come on back in, honey.”
Judith returned, smiling hopefully.
Margie too was smiling, reassuringly. “It’s all settled, darling. No more dates with Morris, and, best of all, nothing serious like marriage. You just lead a normal life now.”
“Oh, Mother … Daddy … thank you! Thank you, thank you!”
“All that your mother said is true,” Green said. “But you still owe me.”
“What!” Margie almost screamed. “We made a deal!”
“And so we did. We go into the Amway business with you as the active partner. And, in return, Morris can go to hell.
“But I let her off the hook. I could have kept to the status quo and arrived at about the same goal. A bit more troublesome, but workable nonetheless.
“So, since I gave up a very livable option to make this agreement, I have the advantage.
“Look,” he said soothingly, “it may never happen. Maybe I never need a big favor. All I’m saying is: I got the option. You owe me, Judith. Maybe I never collect. But you owe me.”
How could he? Margie thought, and not for the first time. How could he use his own daughter, make a pawn out of her? And now he says she owes him! What sort of a man treats his daughter like … like a defeated enemy … or a slave child? Was there anything he wouldn’t do, any way he wouldn’t use anyone, even his own daughter, to get what he wanted?
Weird! What a crazy way to handle family affairs! Like bitterly separated opponents, thought Margie, fighting always to stay one step ahead.
From the start she had known this would be a loveless marriage. She knew she was marrying greed incarnate. So she had entered the marriage with open eyes.
Her ultimate hope now was that one day she would live to see him dead. Then everything would be hers to do with as she wished. Then she would make it up to Judy.
Meanwhile, she did not at all like this. Not for a moment was she fooled by Moe’s disclaimer that he might never collect a debt that he made up out of whole cloth. No, he would collect; she knew that. When and what would be involved she couldn’t yet know.
All she knew was that when Moe Green declared, “You owe me,” he would inevitably collect.