The Bumbling Bigamist: A Sadie Weinstein Mystery

By Reva Spiro Luxenberg

Sadie Weinstein runs a mom-and-pop grocery in Brooklyn in 1969 with her husband, Nathan. A quirky amateur detective, she persists in solving a murder that takes place when she is present at a home in Staten Island. The murdered victim is a bigamist who had two wives, and possibly more, in different far-removed locations. She tracks down suspects from Rutgers University in New Brunswick, New Jersey, and as far away as Biloxi, Mississippi. Sadie is a suspect herself and must solve the mystery to clear her name. Nathan warns her constantly not to stick her neck out, but she is undeterred. Her charming pickle-eating customer and psychic Rhajmah has revealing visions. The excitement mounts in Biloxi during the savage onslaught of Hurricane Camille. The story involves anguish, but Sadies antics and repartees lighten tension. This is a gripping Sadie Weinstein mystery, Luxenbergs fourth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543464399

Reva Spiro Luxenberg

REVA SPIRO LUXENBERG embarked on a writing career after she retired as a school social worker. She has written nineteen books—mysteries, dramas, non-fiction books, anthologies, and humorous versions of two of the books of the Bible. She is married to Dr. Edward R. Levenson, who has edited eight of her books. She is a member of Florida Authors & Publishers Association. Her hobbies are reading, painting rocks, and taking care of her puppy Sekhel and her tortoise Mordy. She is a proud grandmother of seven and great-grandmother of six and one on the way.

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Copyright © 2017 by Reva Spiro Luxenberg.

ISBN:                  Softcover                     978-1-5434-6440-5

                             eBook                          978-1-5434-6439-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/10/2017

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Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue    October 30, 1970

DEDICATION

To my husband Dr. Edward R. Levenson

for his love and his skilled editing of this book.

CHAPTER 1

M OM-AND-POP GROCERIES WERE still around in 1969, but soon supermarkets would take over and eventually small groceries would vanish like rings of smoke. Sadie and Nathan Weinstein were in business in their mom-and-pop grocery, proud of their store which was sandwiched between Joe’s Barber Shop and Vincent’s Fish Store on Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn.

From 1967 to 1969, after their kids went away to college and they lost their assistance, they had to run the store on their own. Jeffrey and Blossom had been a big help pitching in when they could, tending to the customers and stocking the shelves. Jeffrey, also, delivered purchases on his bicycle, thereby improving his bike-riding skill.

The Weinsteins were happy that they didn’t have to live in back of the store—they lived in a four-room apartment in the six-story apartment building around the corner on Lenox Road. On the early morning of July 19th, dressed in summer clothes, the short couple in their forties stood in front of Weinstein’s Grocery. Nathan unfastened the locks on the front door of the rectangular grocery with what they thought were cute His and Hers check-out-counters.

As soon as Sadie entered, she was annoyed to see their cat Shlimazel laid out on the counter like a shaggy rug busily engaged in licking his paws. She shooed the cat off and turned on the small Philco radio. Neil Diamond was singing Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good. A news announcer spoke about the continuing withdrawal of U.S. troops from Vietnam.

Did you hear that? Sadie asked.

What? Nathan asked.

Little by little we’re getting out of Vietnam.

Nathan frowned. Ain’t it about time? We need to leave altogether.

The cowbell over the door clanked as their former neighbor Bernice Miller entered. She was an overweight woman in her forties, who had streaks of gray in her hair. Sadie had been disappointed when Bernice, her next-door neighbor and customer moved out of their apartment house two years earlier. Bernice, her face scrunched in pain, was hopping on one foot.

Get some ice and wrap it in a towel, Nathan said to Sadie in his raspy voice. Bernice told me she just fell outside on a crack in the pavement. Nathan helped her to a chair in back of his counter.

Sadie, I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Bernice said. I tripped in front of the fish market. I didn’t see the crack. My mind was someplace else. I hurt my ankle. It’s not broken. I would know if it was. Remember, I’m a nurse. I was on my way to see you about something important.

Does it hurt much? Sadie asked, her eyes expressing sympathy.

It hurts about a five on a scale of one to ten, Bernice answered.

I’m sorry, Sadie said with concern. I hope it heals fast.

Nathan trudged over the scuffed wooden floor to the back room. Please excuse me. I need a cup of coffee. Ladies, would you like some? he called back.

Yes, thanks, Sadie said.

Not now, Bernice said.

Sadie moved to Bernice who was pressing the ice against her right ankle. What did you want to see me about?

PhiIip isn’t home. My two sons are enrolled in summer session and are living in the dormitory at Rutgers University.

How proud you must be, Sadie said.

Oh I am. Steven is studying to be a pharmacist and Max is into psychology. But my point is that I’m home alone and I’m scared.

Scared? Of what? said Sadie with an expression of concern.

The back door opened and Nathan came in carrying the coffee. He walked to his counter where the women were talking, and handed Sadie a cup.

Strange going-ons, Bernice said. There’s a horrible odor in the house and I can’t find out where it’s coming from. At midnight I hear a baby crying and, as far as I know, there’s no baby in our house. I called in an exterminator and he didn’t find the cause of the odor. I called the police and they wouldn’t investigate. They think I’m a nut."

Nathan downed his coffee. Where is Philip?

You know Philip—he’s away most of the time. He still works for U.S. Geographic and now he’s taking photographs of the famous lighthouse in Biloxi, Mississippi. I’m all alone. I drove our new Lincoln from Staten Island to Brooklyn to appeal to you, Sadie. Will you please help me?

Help you? How?

I read in the paper how you solved the murder in Oxford after your son was arrested. And what about the Cereal Killer murder where the killer was on a rampage killing victims and tossing cereal on their bodies and you found out who the murderer was?

Sadie hung her head. It was nothing. I’m a yenta and I yen to solve crimes. Somebody has to do it when the police are stand-offish. I had help from Nathan, my psychic friend Rhajmah, and my Cereal Killer squad.

What prompted you to get into detective work?

It goes back two generations. My grandmother solved a murder in the old country. I find investigating a stimulating challenge. Selling pickles and pastrami is fun, but the rest of the work can get boring.

You could’ve gotten yourself killed, Sadie. I ain’t in favor of investigating, Nathan said, as he took a rag and wiped his counter in circles. Running a grocery ain’t boring if you give it your all.

Bernice kept pressing the ice against her ankle. I read about the last murder you solved, the one that took place in Florida at a beauty school. The police couldn’t find the murderer, but you did. I need you, Sadie.

I’ve been lucky with murders, but you’re not talking about one now. I have no idea how I can help.

Bernice’s complexion paled. It’s possible that I’ll be a victim and then you’ll be sorry you never looked into this.

Nathan took a food-stained white apron from the hook on the wall and tied it around his waist. Bernice, there are plenty of detectives who would be glad to get a challenge like this, but my Sadie is working in our grocery. Besides I ain’t encouraging her to continue being an amateur detective. It’s too dangerous.

I hear you. Just the same, maybe Sadie can give me some advice. Right now what am I going to do about my ankle? It’s killing me. I can’t drive the Lincoln back until it feels better. What should I do? I’m helpless.

Our kids are out of our apartment. You could stay with us in the other bedroom, Nathan offered.

We’re happy to have you, Sadie agreed.

I need to go home, said Bernice. Tootsie is all alone. She’s my long-haired miniature dachshund and she has to be fed.

I have the solution, Sadie said. We’ll take you home. Nathan will drive your Lincoln. I’ll drive our Dodge, and you’ll sit in the passenger seat. Sadie surmised that if Nathan heard he would be driving a Lincoln, he would set all objections aside. He used to say he was sick-and- tired of their fifteen-year-old Dodge. He often said that he wished they could afford a new car.

That’s a wonderful idea, Bernice said with a big smile. You can stay in one of our guest rooms. At midnight you’ll hear the baby crying and you can find out where it is.

Who will take care of our store when we’re gone? Nathan said with a frown.

Sadie perked up. What about John, the clerk we used when we were in Florida? His back is better. He can open the store and wait on the customers. Try calling him.

All right, Nathan said, as he picked up the receiver.

There was no trouble arranging things with John, and the couple walked around the corner to their apartment house. They took the elevator up to their apartment on the fourth floor. Hurriedly Sadie packed one suitcase with her clothes. She opened the lower drawer in the mahogany bureau where Nathan stuffed his clothes. She quickly took out a few boxer shorts, undershirts, handkerchiefs, and a brown short-sleeved shirt and threw them in the same suitcase. Her heart began to beat fast. She sensed an adventure was awaiting her in Staten Island.

CHAPTER 2

S ADIE DROVE THROUGH Nostrand Avenue to Bedford Avenue and stopped at a red light at the intersection of Flatbush Avenue not far from Brooklyn College. The temperature was 96 degrees, and the streets were deserted. It felt like the hottest day of the year. Sometimes when Sadie stopped at a light, the car stalled.

Just a minute, Sadie said. The car will start again. It needs a carburetor, but right now we can’t afford one.

I understand, Bernice said. I hope you realize that I’m not asking you to investigate without my paying you for your time and your effort. I’m fairly well off, and I’ll be generous.

Thank you so much, Sadie said, as the engine started again. But as she drove, the car shook from side-to-side. Don’t let that bother you. When we replace the carburetor, we’ll also have the wheel alignment looked into. We may need four new tires. Enough talk about my car—I never got to know your sons, however. Tell me about them.

Bernice smiled. Well, they are very different from each other. Steven, two years older than Max, is the practical one. He has never given me a minute’s trouble. He used to spend time with our pharmacist. The man paid a lot of attention to him when Philip was away on his many trips—I think that’s why he is set on becoming a pharmacist. Philip wants him to be a doctor, but he isn’t interested.

Sadie stopped at a red light. What about Max?

Max, ah yes, my Max is always in trouble. He’s a mischief-maker, but he’s a loving son. When he was a child, he once set a fire in his bedroom. When I called the fire department and the chief reprimanded him, he stopped playing with matches. We took him to a therapist for a couple of years and I guess that’s why he’s studying psychology. He has a girlfriend who’s kind of brash. I hope he breaks up with her.

After Sadie drove down Flatbush Avenue, she exited the ramp onto the Belt Parkway. What about you and Philip? How did you meet?

Bernice sighed. "I went to a local dance just after graduation from nursing school. I used to wear makeup and I was thinner than I am now. I know I need to take off weight and be more concerned about my appearance, but I was attractive then. Philip came over to me and asked me to dance. He looked like Clark Gable without a mustache—tall, dark, and oh so handsome. That’s how it started. He was an artist and a photographer. Wait till you see my home. It’s filled with his paintings and photographs. His talent brings in a lot of