“Moise!” she cried.

“Esther? Is that really you?”

“So who else should it be?”

“Come in, come in,” Moses said.

Esther carefully wiped her feet on the mat and entered the apartment.

Moses led her into the living room. He was already familiar with Ritchie’s apartment. He waved her to a chair.

“Nu, don’t you have a kitchen?” Esther asked. “I’ll feel more comfortable in the kitchen.”

Ritchie could hear Esther and Moses talking. Something about how Moses’ old friends at the East Broadway cafeteria were worried about him. One of them had read an item in The New York Post about how Moses Grelich was about to undergo a whole-body transplant operation. It seemed that Moses had agreed to sell his body to someone.

Moses was quoted as saying that since God had failed, Communism had failed, and now Capitalism had failed, he saw no sense in going on. He planned to be the first man in history to prove the old saying, “If the poor could die for the rich, what a good living they would make!”

“So how come you’re still alive?” Esther asked.

Ritchie summoned up all his energy and said, “He shouldn’t be!”

“Beg pardon, what did you say?” Esther said.

“The operation was not a success,” Ritchie said.” They had the transplant, but they didn’t get rid of Moses. This is supposed to be my body now. But he’s still here, damnit!”

Esther’s eyes grew wide.

Taking a deep breath, and letting out half of it, she said. “Pleased to meet you, Mister—”

“Castleman, Ritchie Castleman. And you are?”

“Mrs. Kazorney, Esther Kazorney.” She frowned, as if to say, “I can’t believe what’s happening.” Then, timidly, she said, “Moise, are you really still there somewhere?”

“Of course I’m still here. Where else would I be?”

Ritchie noticed that Grelich’s voice was more robust then his own. Grelich spoke emphatically and somewhat dramatically. His sentences were filled with highs and lows, and he made full use of diminuendo and crescendo.