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First Place

He Done Her Wrong

Lucille Miller (Orchard Lake)
saac Rabinowich, better known
as Ike, looked out the front win-
dow of the third-floor storage
room above the used-furniture
store on E. 132nd St. He had stolen
up there for two nights since his
arrival in New York.
Ike had a mission to find a man
who had been in this country for eight
years and had left no clue as to his
whereabouts. After patient research, he
had finally located the man he sought
in Harlem.
Ike was a reclusive man, undistin-
guished among the hordes of immi-
grants in the street below, so quiet and
unobtrusive no one noticed him and
few knew his name.
For two nights, Ike had waited
patiently, stalking his prey until he
found the perfect opportunity for a
confrontation with Isidore Fink.
Tonight was the night he would call
on the laundry man.
It was dark when Ike walked across
the street. No one was in sight as he
opened the door of the Fifth Avenue
Laundry and faced Isidore Fink for the
first time.
Fink looked up and squinted to see
who was standing in front of him. A
new customer, he supposed, and
looked to see if there was a laundry
bundle. Instead, he saw only a hulk-
ing, menacing presence.
"Can I help you?" he asked ner-
vously, eyeing his open cash register.
"You don't know me, do you?" Ike
asked. "But you knew my sister Gittle
Rabinowich in Odessa."
Isidore Fink paled as Ike continued:
"Did you ever bother to find out what
happened to her?"
"How is she?" Fink asked in a quiv-
ering voice.
"She's dead — and because of you,"
Ike thundered. "You deceived her. You
promised to send for her and when
she lost her baby, your baby, she killed
herself. It's taken me all this time to
find you and now I'm going to make
you pay for what you did to my sis-
ter."
Before Rabinowich could make a
move, Fink reached under the table
and brought out a .32-caliber pistol.
Like a flash, Ike's hand reached out
and grasped Fink's wrist. Fink was
strong but Ike hung on, and the two

I

men grappled until suddenly the gun
went off twice, the shots muffled by
the bulky silencer, and Fink fell with a
thud to the ground. The bullets had
passed through his left hand and
entered his chest.
Sprawled on the- floor, Fink looked

plumbing supplies. A wide finishing
table stood on the opposite wall near a
stove where an iron was being heated.
Along one wall was a metal rack with
wire hangers to hold finished laundry.
The cash register sat on a wooden
table near the front door, the only
way out of the laundry. Ike was a
wiry, athletic man who judged he
could easily climb out of the room if
he used the transom — but he had to
be careful not to disturb any of the
furnishings.
First, he bolted the front door so
no one could enter. Then, he
removed his boots and tied them
together with the laces, then hung
them across his shoulders. In his
stocking feet, he clambered up the
door, and as he grasped the bracket
of the transom it fell off and clattered
to the floor.

No one was in sight on the dark
street as Ike cleared the transom,
slammed it shut and dropped lightly
to the ground. It was only after he
reached the street that he realized he
still had the gun tucked hastily into
the pocket of his jacket.
How, he wondered, could it look
like suicide if there was no weapon?
Too late now to do anything about
that.
By the time the policeman arrived,
a few people, drawn by the scent of
some mysterious happening, already
had gathered in front of the building.
Ike joined the group and looked on
with interest as a slim young man
climbed onto the shoulders of the
policeman, then with some difficulty
opened the transom and slid inside to
open the bolted front door.
The crowd gasped as Fink's body
was discovered.
Ike quietly disappeared, and the
next day he was on his way to
Baltimore to join his sister Gittle and
her young son, whose name was
Isidore.

Lucille Miller, famed investigator of
Orchard Lake

up at his tormenter, moaned "Ike,"
and quietly died.
Ike was puzzled that there was no
blood to be seen, but the heat of the
steel-jacketed bullets was so intense it
cauterized the blood vessels. Ike
looked around the rooms, trying to
figure out how he could make this
look like a suicide — for who would
believe it was an accident?
The furnishings in the two, small
rooms included two laundry tubs
under a hanging shelf, which held a
supply of soaps and brushes and

arson

e intrud ers. fires

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st, and this loosexs>
racket . ins ide, cats

thelkijitififh0.1.:5fto,K;K.

becomes wary and moves ;closer 'i

investigate Wz rned that these

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in truders are going to get in, a ains
his better judgment h e opens the

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front door The assailants enter, one`
points the gun at. Fink and they •

§:4

er shot for good measure T
leave ` the store thorough the'front;
door Isidore Fink, nova very! weak,
stagg er s to the doter and bolts it to

make sure the intruders don't
return He then heads toward the

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back of the store , but he doesn't
make rt as he ccllai ~ ses. and dies .