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On Wednesday, Jake called the bakery, and placed a pickup order for a sliced rye, then called Pinky. “I need to bounce something off you. Can we meet?”
“Sure! Pinky replied. But I’m home supervising some work. Meet me here.”
His home.
Pinky's home was a huge mansion.
He’d spent part of his lottery winnings on an investigator to locate his kids after his ex-wife kidnapped them. They reconnected, and he grew very close with all five of them. They were now grown with kids of their own—more than twenty grandchildren at Jake’s last counting.
Jake thought about the grandchildren he might have now if he’d overcome his fear of water, and jumped in to save Debra.
Jake pulled into the little parking lot outside the seven-car garage attached to Pinky’s mansion.
Pinky purchased all the homes on the street, and replaced them with one mega-mansion. He made sure it had plenty of bedrooms and entertainment to keep his kids and grandchildren coming back often.
Jake parked facing the outdoor tennis court and pool, twins of the ones inside the back of the mansion.
“Hi Jake!” he heard booming from a speaker. “Come in through the garage.”
Jake heard a garage door rumble, and waited for it to lift enough for him to duck underneath.
Pinky stood behind his red BMW sipping a tall glass of carrot juice. He raised the glass and asked, “Want one?”
Jake followed him into the large kitchen where Pinky asked Chef Maria to make one for Jake.
As Maria worked the loud commercial-sized juicer Jake shouted, “So, what’s this work you’re supervising?”.
“C’mon, I’ll show ya,” Pinky hollered. He waved at Jake to follow him downstairs.
Pinky led him to the far end of the basement which ran the full length and width of the mansion. He opened a makeshift door revealing a set of stairs leading to a new deep sub basement.
Jake’s jaw dropped when Pinky opened the door at the bottom of the stairs.
The room smelled of sawdust and glue. Workers in matching gray overalls were busy sawing, mixing things in buckets, and unpacking materials.
“What’s this?”, Jake asked.
“Sit,” Pinky said while opening a metal folding chair, and placing it near the wall.
Jake shot him a puzzled look, but complied with the odd request.
“Close your eyes, and imagine sitting courtside at the United Center during a Bulls game,” Pinky said.
“Okay, I’m there,” Jake reported.
“Exactly—yes you are,” Pinky explained.
Jake opened his eyes, and shot Pinky another puzzled look.
“I’m putting in a full size replica of the Bulls court, logo and everything,” Pinky said proudly.
Jake let that sink in, then blurted, “You’re wha—. Really? No way! Awesome!”
“I’ll be able to relax courtside watching my grandkids play,” Pinky said.
“Jake’s carrot juice is ready,” a voice boomed through the two-way speakers Pinky installed in every room throughout the mansion.
“Thanks, Maria,” Pinky replied. “We’ll be right up.”
The two friends sipped their carrot juices on red leather overstuffed chairs in the living room. They watched exotic fish swim around the tank wrapped along the walls of the large room.
“What did you wanna talk about?” Pinky asked. “I’m all ears!”
Jake recounted the mystery of the loose handle on the Torah. “It musta been hollowed out to hide something.” Jake said. “I just don’t know what.”
Pinky finished his carrot juice, then sat quietly looking up at the ceiling. “Hmm. What did the family say about it—the one who donated the Torah?” he asked.
“I haven’t discussed it with them yet. That’s my next move,” Jake replied.
“What’s their name?” Pinky inquired.
“Weiss,” Jake said. “Tuvia Weiss is the grandson who donated the Torah.”
“Oh! I know him.” Pinky said. “You could just stop by the Challah ‘N More bakery on Dempster. He’s the owner.”
“Really?” Jake replied. “I just called there to put in an order.”
Jake thought for another moment, then said, “I was told his family couldn’t afford to repair the Torah, but that bakery’s gotta be a goldmine—it’s always crowded. He must be making a fortune!”
“Things aren’t always as they seem,” Pinky responded. “He employs every single one of his children, grandchildren, and their spouses, just to support them. That's more people than he needs, or can afford. He barely pays the bills.”
“Howda you know that?” Jake asked.
“Because I’ve loaned him money several times just to help him keep the lights on,” Pinky replied.