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Festival of Deaths(66)

By:Jane Haddam


David Goldman was a lucky man. Gregor looked through Ararat’s front window and found him sitting over coffee with Father Tibor Kasparian, in the floor-level cushioned booth on the platform. Gregor hated the floor-level cushioned booth. It was very hard for him to get down on the ground like that and get up again. Tibor, on the other hand, loved it. It was what he remembered from before he came to the United States. From what Gregor could see, David Goldman at least didn’t seem to mind.

“Come on,” Gregor said to old George, grabbing him by the sleeve. He grabbed one of the wooden bars that crisscrossed Ararat’s new front door—solid mahogany, no more plate glass and textured aluminum here—and opened a passage for the two of them to go inside.

“Hi,” Linda Melajian said as they approached the front desk. “Father Tibor and his friend are waiting for you. At least they’re waiting for Mr. Demarkian.”

“It’s all right if I come along,” old George said. “Nobody cares what they say in front of me. They just assume I’m senile.”

“If you want the kosher menu, you’ve got to tell me now,” Linda said. “We can do it, but we’ve got to warn Mama in advance.”

“Kosher?” Gregor said.

Linda grabbed a couple of menus and hurried over to Tibor’s booth. “I wish we had a low-fat menu to serve you,” she told Gregor. “Honestly, hasn’t Bennis learned how to nag you? Your weight is a disgrace.”

Gregor’s weight was absolutely nothing compared to the weights of the really big master detectives, like Nero Wolfe. Gregor would have told Linda this, except that he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The denizens of Cavanaugh Street liked to live in murder mysteries except when they didn’t want to, and when they didn’t want to always seemed to start about the time they brought up the problem of his weight. Gregor didn’t think his weight was that much of a problem. He was only carrying an extra thirty pounds. And he was a big man.

He got down on the floor, planted his rear end on a cushion, and slid in behind the table next to Tibor. Old George popped down with all the grace of a fifteen-year-old gymnast and slid in next to David Goldman.

Gregor introduced old George to David and then asked them, “What was Linda talking about, the kosher menu? Since when does Ararat have a kosher menu?”

“Since I came down here to visit about two weeks ago,” David Goldman said. “Usually I wouldn’t put anyone to that kind of trouble, but there’s one thing I’ve found out. It’s an exceedingly bad idea to decline hospitality in this neighborhood.”

Linda Melajian came back to the table, and Gregor ordered waffles with bacon and coffee. Old George ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, grits, extra butter and tea. Gregor shook his head.

“Well,” he said. “Here we are. I hope this is worth the trip, Rabbi. I told you over the phone that I don’t really know anything yet—”

“You don’t know anything until you see the lab reports,” David Goldman said. “Yes, yes, I understand. I really didn’t come here to pump you for information. It really is something Lotte told me last night that I wanted to tell you.”

“Lotte can’t tell you herself,” Tibor said, “because she’s busy this morning taping.”

“They had to show a rerun yesterday,” old George put in, “because they couldn’t tape your show.”

Linda Melajian came back with a tray of tea and coffee. The tea and coffee came in tall pots, with empty cups on the side. Old George filled his cup half full of tea and half full of cream.

“You know,” Gregor said, taking his coffee black in reaction to old George’s extravagances, “there’s one thing that’s confused me, from the very start of this. You’re a rabbi.”

“That’s right,” David Goldman said.

“I understand there are different kinds of rabbis—”

“I’m Conservative. That’s a little less strict than Orthodox, but much more strict than Reform. And, of course, I’m much, much less strict than the Hasidim who had so much trouble here with the graffiti.”

“All right. But you’re a religious person. From what I understand from Tibor, you’re very deeply religious. And your sister—”

“Does something very public and very embarrassing?” David asked.

“Well, it’s certainly public. Do you mean to say you’re not embarrassed?”

“Of course I’m embarrassed.” David Goldman hooted. “So is Rebekkah. The day Lotte did the show where she had the five guys on who could only make love on carousels, Rebekkah threatened to hide in the closet for a week.”