Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel (26 page)

“Like all kinds of problems with kids and family. Yigal's mother can be pretty bossy, like Raymond's mother. The only thing that bothered me was how Raymond was always begging for sex and willing to do anything for his wife so she'd agree to sleep with him. I wasn't familiar with that. Yigal never, ever, begged for sex. The only times it was important to Yigal that we have sex was when we planned to expand the family. The only other very few times, it was something very, very planned and dispassionate. I sometimes felt that he was doing it to please me because it bothered me and I spoke to him about it, so he slept with me to shut me up."

"And that didn't seem strange to you?"

"As I told you, we don't talk about those things in our society. I married very young and was very inexperienced. Every time I brought it up, Yigal told me that's what it's like for everyone and that I should stop believing what I see on TV. Otherwise, he really had to be forced to sleep with me."

She lowered her gaze. She seemed so humiliated. Again, my heart pitied her.

"I sensed that that was not what it was meant to be like," she continued. "Now I know I was right all along… he just didn't want me. I was some kind of cover story for him."

I looked at her. Despite her puffy eyes and red nose, she was a very attractive woman. I had the feeling that quite a few men would have been happy to be with her, but instead, she spent years in an emotional prison.

"So why did you stay?"

"Because I believed him that it's like that for everyone. I thought that if we separated I’d only lose out. Except for the intimacy issue, I was pretty comfortable with him. He's a kind, calm man. We raised our girls in relative harmony. He was a good father." She was suddenly reminded of her daughters and her expression changed. "I will kill that dog if he touched our girls!"

"I doubt that," I tried to calm her down. "We didn't find one video or picture of a girl—just boys."

She closed her eyes and prayed or thanked God.

About an hour after Dina was released, Yigal returned to the station after his night in Abu-Cabir. I hoped it would break him. After all, it's hardly an easy experience, especially for a senior high-tech engineer who's used to the good life, but, unfortunately, Yigal went on with his silence. He’d already been briefed by his lawyer, whom he met in the morning at Abu-Cabir.

We slowly revealed to him the material we had. I didn't want to do this, because a confession that’s made without the suspect's exposure to the evidence is stronger, but there was no choice. I wanted to rattle him, to let him know we were on to him.

But he was silent.

It was evident from his expression that nothing surprised him. Maybe there was even some sense of relief there that criminals sometimes feel when they're caught and the burden of concealment is lifted from them. I had no doubt Yigal had done horrible things and that he had something to hide. Otherwise he wouldn't refuse to speak.

Keeping silent is no easy feat… sitting for hours across from an investigator who asks you the same questions in different ways… all that you’re trying to conceal being slowly revealed to everyone. It's not easy for the investigator either, that I can confirm. It's very frustrating. You try to touch the right spot, press the button that will make the suspect talk.

In the evening, after six hours of silence, we sent Yigal back to Abu-Cabir.

*

I sat down at my computer, defeated, massaging my temples. My head was about to explode. I’d been in the interrogation room since the first thing in the morning, initially with Dina and then for hour after miserable hour with Yigal.

My cell phone danced on the table. I had a message. I’d switched it to “vibrate” in the morning. My mother had called me just as I’d started interrogating Dina, so I’d switched it to “vibrate” and later forgotten about it on my desk.

I picked up the “museum piece” (that’s what Nurit, Shira’s daughter, called my cell phone). I had ten missed calls from my mother and another five text messages, four from my mother, and the most recent one from Shira.

“Hello?” My mother answered in a suspicious tone. I was calling from the landline in the office and she probably saw an unidentified call on her screen. She hates it when I call her from an unidentified number; as she claims telemarketing sales representatives constantly bother her.

“Mom, it’s Hadas. You were looking for me?”

Her tone of voice immediately changed. “Where are you?” she cried out. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“I’ve been in the station all day.”

“I know,” she said angrily. “I called two hours ago and they told me you’re in an interrogation.”

“Right, I’ve been in an interrogation all day long, I didn’t have my phone with me and I didn’t see you were looking for me.”

“Then why don’t you take your cell phone with you? That’s why you have one.”

“I don’t have it so my mother can interrupt me in the middle of an investigation. I have it so I can be reached when I’m not at home or at work. I was in the station all day, Mom. You could have left a message.”

“I did.”

“When?”

“Two hours ago.”

I looked at my desk. It was so messy that it had to be quite a task to leave me a message that would be seen. I noticed the note that had been taped to the computer screen and fallen off. It said to call my mother, with three exclamation marks.

I could lie and tell her there was no message, but I knew that would give my mother ammo about how the people who go to work for the police are irresponsible and disorganized and how I was wasting my talents there.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice. There is a note here.” I confessed.

“I don’t understand why, on a day like today, I have to worry about you instead of about what’s important.”

“What’s happened?” I panicked.

“Don’t worry,” she suddenly giggled. “Something good happened. Evyatar is getting married.”

“Congratulations,” I said in a tired voice. I was happy for my little brother, but I was simply exhausted.

“You could sound a little happier for your brother.” My mother reprimanded me.

“I really am very happy, I’m just incredibly tired. I’ve had an exhausting day.”

“So go get a nice cup of coffee and get yourself together because there’s a
Vort
[betrothal] party at the bride’s parents’ house.”

“When?”

“In an hour.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Not at all.”

“Since when do the groom’s siblings come to a
Vort
party?” I remembered the
Vort
Shira and Ayala had. Only the couple and the parents participated in the occasion where the couple usually introduces the parents and they discuss the dowry each one will receive. “I thought only you were supposed to meet the bride’s parents.”

“We met with them yesterday. Lovely people. Real salt of the earth,” she said, satisfied. “It’s customary for them to have a small party right after the meeting with the parents and invite the close relatives and some good friends.”

“And that’s how they invite you? At a moment’s notice?”

“Yes, you know how it is. You don’t talk about it until everything’s settled between the parents, to avoid the evil eye.”

“Just like the Middle Ages,” I blurted out.

“Hadasi!” my mother protested. “Listen to yourself!”

“Come on, Mom… really, what’s this ‘evil eye’ nonsense?”

“I’m sorry that we’re not all as enlightened as you.”

“Okay, okay, this is no time to fight.”

“You’re right.” My mother returned to her pleased voice.

“Do I have to come?” I tried my luck. “My head’s exploding.”

“Take a pill and come, it won’t be for long. We’ll have a toast and some nice cake and go home.” She tried to lure me with food, “Don’t you want to meet your new sister-in-law? Her parents? Her brothers and sisters?”

Actually, I wasn’t anxious to, but I knew that was the wrong answer.

“Yes, of course,” I lied.

“Good.” My mother rejoiced and dictated the address of the bride’s parents’ house in Tel-Aviv’s old north.

*

Evyatar, my little brother, was born when Shira was seven-and-a-half years old, I was six and Ayala was a year-and-a-half. Allegedly, my parents kept it consistent and had another child a year and a half apart, "because that way the child grows up with a friend," as my mother says. (By the way, her theory only proved successful with Shira and I. Ayala and Evyatar never got along). Actually, I always had the feeling that my parents just wanted a boy and after Ayala was born they tried their luck again.

Evyatar never got any privileges for being the youngest and the only boy. He helped clean the house like all of us, washed dishes and cleared the table. The only thing he didn't do was cook, but I almost never helped my mother cook, either. Besides being the only male, Evyatar stood out from all of us because of his looks.

Ever since I can remember, that boy turned heads. He had a light lick of hair and two huge almond eyes that could melt any human with one long gaze. Evyatar never had a single moment in his life when he looked bad. He never had pimples; he was never too skinny or fat. In fact, he even went through adolescence looking amazingly handsome.

Towards the end of high school, he began growing muscles. He wanted to be a paratrooper and began working out more seriously. I think I've never seen a paratrooper as hunky as my brother. He was devastating. With the uniform, the beret, the hair, the eyes and the muscles, it was very hard for girls to resist him. When I moved in with Yinon, Evyatar was already in the army. He came from the base on that Friday and helped me move my things from my parents' house to our new apartment. He took his shirt off and was in a white tank top and his uniform pants. I had to wipe the drool off of all of Israel's women as they watched him loading and unloading my stuff from the car.

After he’d finished in the army, he took off to South America and the US for a few months. I’ve no doubt he didn't save himself for marriage, surely not on that trip, when he was far from home and the inquiring glare of the religious community. When he returned from his travels his
kippa
[skull cap] got smaller, as did the number of his visits to the synagogue. He started studying electronic engineering at Tel-Aviv University and I thought he was on the right path out of religion.

              But at Tel-Aviv University, of all places, he met some religious guys. They started a group, to study Gemara together, after school. At some point they all got engaged and married. Evyatar didn't seem too anxious about it at first—I think he was still enjoying the benefits his good looks awarded him. After his friends from high school and Bnei Akivah also began marrying one after the other, he probably started getting nervous. I’ve no doubt my parents were also pressing him hard about it.

A single, twenty-five-year-old guy is completely normal in secular society. Even in the Religious Zionist public, it's not too old for a man, but it starts to become problematic, especially for a guy like Evyatar who had some experience in the field.

In the last two years, Evyatar was "wedding-stressed". I thought it was insane for a twenty-five/six year old to be that anxious to find a bride. He was too young and I secretly hoped that he would join me in the black sheep herd. My parents, on the other hand were thrilled that Evyatar finally got his act together.

So now, Evyatar had found his other half, eventually. As I understood from Shira, the young bride's name was Efrat, a sweet twenty-year-old from Tel-Aviv. She was still in her second year of service and her parents were, as Shira managed to point out, "filthy rich".

So my little brother got himself a rich young chick.

*

I was exhausted and looked like a wet rag. I decided to go freshen up at home first. I got to Efrat's parents' house about forty-five minutes after the designated hour. Of course, my mother had already called to berate me, but she calmed down when I explained to her that I had to shower and change because I look like someone who had just finished ten hours of interrogation. That convinced her.

The Rosen family lived in a luxurious penthouse apartment in a relatively old building in the Bavli neighborhood in Tel-Aviv.

The elevator door opened straight into the apartment. I stepped in hesitantly. I recognized some familiar faces, but it was hard for me to associate myself with the large, grand living room.

Everyone's eyes turned to me when I walked in. My mother gave me her usual "That's what you had in your closet?" look. Evyatar approached me with a gleaming smile and pulled me in Efrat's direction.

Efrat was a slim girl, with full red hair and green eyes. Her face was covered by dozens of freckles, which made her appear a bit like a child. Frankly, she was still almost a child. Only twenty years old. She was pretty cute, but not the devastating beauty that I expected Evyatar to snatch up. She probably had other characteristics that attracted him. Since I knew the guy, I knew the fact she was probably up to her neck in money wasn't one of them, although I was sure it made his decision easier.

"Efrati." I had never heard Evyatar speak to a girl so affectionately. "Come meet Hadas, my sister." Efrat held her hand out and I shook it.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"Nice to meet you too," she said, excited. "Evyatar told me so much about you."

"I hope only good things."

"Of course," she giggled. She had a cute laugh. I started to perceive what Evyatar saw in her.

My mother was nearby, talking to Efrat's mother. She stopped their conversation and approached me along with Efrat's mother.

"Geula," she said in a grand tone, "meet Hadas, our second daughter."

"Nice to meet you," I said and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled. "Help yourself to some food." She pointed towards a table that was packed with refreshments. To my great joy, the Rosen family didn't stop at coffee and cake. As usual, I was starving.

"Our Hadas is a police officer." For a moment, I thought I heard pride in my mother's voice. "She's actually a lawyer, an exceptional one at that," I realized I had something to wait for, "but she decided to make a career change."

"Very nice." Geula smiled politely.

"At this very moment Hadas is investigating the Danilowitz family case, you know, the guy who killed his wife and kids in Givaat Shmuel two-and-a-half weeks ago." Again, I tried to guess if she was proud of me or just stating a fact.

"Wow," Geula was impressed. "What a shocking story, it must be difficult."

"Yeah," I blurted out and looked longingly at the refreshments table.

"There are rumors going around now that it was a killer from outside the family, maybe their neighbor." She gave me an inquiring look. I tried to understand if she really expected me to answer her question.