0,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Wildside Press
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Barb Goffman Presents
- Sprache: Englisch
When Daniel Brickman returns home to visit his ailing father, he discovers that an old family friend has bilked his father out of his entire retirement savings. His first thought? Call the cops. But Daniel’s vengeful father would rather handle things on his own than let the whole world know about this Jew-on-Jew crime, and it falls on Daniel to try to set things right before everything goes very wrong.
The Barb Goffman Presents series showcases the best in modern mystery and crime stories, personally selected by one of the most acclaimed short stories authors and editors in the mystery field.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Seitenzahl: 32
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Ähnliche
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
ONE OF THEM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 2015 by Alan Orloff.
Originally published in Jewish Noir.
Published by Wildside Press, LLC.
wildsidesidepress.com | bcmystery.com
ONE OF THEM
ALAN ORLOFF
“Hy Perlstein might be a fat, lying prick, Pop,” I said. “But you’re not going to kill him.”
My father cleared his throat, a thick, phlegmy glechh that seemed out of place in his serene, book-filled den. So did talk of murder. “You want me to turn the other cheek, Daniel? That’s the excuse goyim use for chickening out.”
“You don’t have to turn the other cheek. But you can’t kill Hy.”
He tilted his head at me, like he’d been doing for the past twenty-five years whenever I said something he didn’t quite agree with. “I can, and I will. And it’s Uncle Hy, to you.”
Hyman Perlstein was not my real uncle, but he’d been Pop’s best friend since before I was born. When I was a kid, his family celebrated most of the Jewish holidays with us, and Hy proudly took his seat at the table, right next to a couple of actual uncles. He and Pop had a falling out a few years ago, and when Mom told me about the dustup, I hadn’t wanted to hear the details, figuring it as simply two stubborn old men arguing over something stupid.
“He’s not my uncle, but that’s beside the point. What did he do to get you so riled up?”
My father wagged a finger at me. He’d aged about fifteen years since I moved away two years ago. “That gonif stole our life savings.”
I’d never liked Hy much, a feeling that began when he gave me a sweaty handshake as he slipped me a check at my bar mitzvah. He’d smelled of cheap aftershave and mothballs.
“Seriously? How’d he do that?” I asked. Mom had said Pop’s mind was going, and the deterioration had been accelerating. Listening to all his wild stories and paranoia, she figured only about fifty percent of what Pop said these days was true. The trick was determining which half to believe.
“He’s been handling our investments for years. Three quarters of the shul’s, too. Things seemed to be going fine, then Morty Abel wanted to cash out. Came to find it was all a scam. One of those schemes. You know, with the wop name.”
“Ponzi?”
Pop nodded. “Yeah. Ponzi. So then we all wanted to cash out. One thing led to another. Poof! No money.”
“Hy admitted that?”
“Of course not. Said to be patient, he’s got some kind of mammoth deal in the works and needs all the money as collateral. Horseshit.”
“Why don’t you report the theft?”
He waved his hand in the air. “Me and the police don’t get along too well.”
“So what did the others do? Anybody call the authorities?”
“What do you think they did?” Pop sat up straighter, and something flickered in his eyes. “They called me to take care of it. To make things right. Like always.”
“Oh, Christ. I thought you left all that behind. I’ve been trying to.” A few years ago, when Pop’s health started to decline, he and Mom sold the dry cleaners they’d owned for five decades. It had also doubled as a different kind of laundry operation—a money-laundering one. To round things out, they’d dabbled in running numbers, protection rackets, and similar law-skirting avocations. But if you asked Pop, it was all in the name of altruism. Using his money and his stature, my father took pride in being able to help those in the local Jewish community who needed a hand. He’d watched The Godfather too many times.
“If I can support my people, I will. You know me.”
