“Max, he’s gone. He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone, Abe? I can’t understand you when you talk so fast. You sound like you’re still living in a Polish shtetl with that accent. Speak American or Yiddish.”
Abe Siegel was out of breath and sweating, even though he’d been stocking the freezer at the Ginsburg and Gold Delicatessen. G & G, as it was known, was the most popular delicatessen in the Brownsville section of Brooklyn, N.Y. It was conveniently located on Pitkin Avenue, at its intersection with Amboy Street. Its specialties appeared in huge letters on signs around the building.
“I waited for you this morning. You were late, just when I needed you,” Abe said, catching his breath.
Max looked at his watch. It was 5:35 A.M. The breakfast crowd wouldn’t start arriving for more than an hour.
“Five minutes. Big deal. So who’s gone?”
“Irving, my son. He’s a missing person.”
“He’s a certified public accountant, please.”
“How do you know he’s missing? Maybe he’s working. Did you think of that?”
“I can’t think of anything else. He never misses Sunday breakfast with his mother and me. If only he had a wife and family. Maybe better now he doesn’t.”
“Maybe he found a girl and, you know …” Max made the universal gesture with two pumps of his fist indicating intercourse.
This story has a nice voice and banter. Silly ending and I like that. A light lunchtime mystery - sandwichey!