SIDNEY FEINGLASS, DETECTIVE- CHAPTER V

I am not always conversant with what my husband does for a living. I know that he is a plastic surgeon and that he has many clients, some of them not in this country. He has his own clinic, where he does most of his work. I have been there numerous times and know almost all of his staff and co-workers. What I don’t know is his clients. I assume that plastic surgery involves so many different parts of the body. The popular conception is that it involves the face and breasts. I have since come to understand that it is much more than that.
Ralph talks about his work very frequently. Almost every time we have dinner, or are alone in the house, he tells me about his work and how things have turned out. He does not, however, talk about the patients that he works with outside of his clinic. I have seen his name in a number of medical journals, so he is pretty well known. I assume that he does well financially. We have no worries about money at all.
We do not have any children. It is not a mechanical problem. We both agreed, at the onset that Ralph’s work was so enveloping that he would not have time to be a proper father. I was sad about that, but understood what he meant. We do spend time on vacations every so often and we do not stint on anything. We have a couple of very expensive cars, lots of fine jewelry and a beautiful house with expensive furniture. I assume that Ralph’s investments allow for all of these things.
Although we have been married for ten years, I have not been able to ascertain some things about Ralph’s upbringing. He told me that he was raised by his grandmother, who passed away before I came on the scene. His parents were killed in an accident soon after he was born.
There has always been something strange about his background. I have found small discrepancies about where and when he was born and in what part of the U.S. I have not followed up on any of these things. Although he appears to be a very religious Jew, he does not follow the rules of Kashrut (Kosher), or goes to the Temple that often. He does, however, spend time with my father, in what he calls kind of a seminar on Judaism. We go over to my parent’s house and the two men closet themselves in my father’s den and supposedly discuss the torah and the commentaries (the Gomorrah).
I sometimes ask Ralph what the topic of discussion was that evening. He tells me that it would not be of interest to me and kind of shoos me off. I have never tried to prod him. He is really a to himself kind of guy.

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