Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel (5 page)

"I had children simply because they bring me joy," Revital declared.

"I can't argue with that," I smiled. "I don't think they'd make me happy, which is why I'm not taking the risk and taking that kind of burden on myself."

"Children are not a burden," Ronen said decisively.

Revital rolled her eyes at him. "For you they're not! Because you almost never help me!"

I was glad Revital was beginning to side with me, but one look at Yinon made it clear that I had gone too far, that it was his birthday and I was not supposed to make his friends fight.

"I think that people should have kids only if they make them happy," I said to Revital. "All the other reasons are irrelevant. I think that a lot of people, especially here in Israel, have kids because that's what everybody does and nobody wants to be the odd person out.”

An hour later, the conversation between the men and the women parted. Yinon chatted with Ronen and I talked to Revital.

"You're very brave," she said in a low voice.

"Really? I've always wanted to be a police officer."

"No, I'm talking about the kids thing. I see parents every day who shouldn't have done it, who hadn't thought it through. You have the courage to think and do what you really want."

"Thanks," I answered shyly. She moved me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Ronen was talking to Yinon heatedly. I was dying to know what he was saying.

"What did Ronen say to you?" I asked after they left.

"He said that if he was in my place, he'd separate from you."

I opened my eyes wide in amazement. Where did this guy get the nerve to say something like this to my husband?

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't."

"Yinon, you’ve known almost from the start of our relationship that I don't want kids."

"I hoped you'd change your mind."

"But I haven't."

"That's a problem."

"It's
your
problem, I haven't changed anything."

"I don't know if we can stay together."

I started tearing up. "Because of what Ronen said?"

"Of course not." He stroked my cheeks. "I don't know if I can go on waiting."

Four months later, we separated and four months after that, we were divorced.

*

"Mom’s worried about you." Shira tried to soften me up. The person who took my divorce the hardest was my mother.

"I'm a big girl."

"Mom is Mom. I’d tell you that someday you'll understand, but I don't want to enrage you." Shira smiled. She was definitely the only one in the family who managed to comprehend me.

I finished eating and Shira washed dishes while I began questioning her.

"I know them." She thought for a second and then corrected herself. "I
knew
them, mainly from the synagogue. I don't think I ever once spoke to them."

"What did they seem like to you?"

"It's just an impression from their appearance—I don't really know them."

"Any impression will help me right know." I knew my sister would talk to me in the most direct way.

"She seemed like a real bitch." Shira blushed. "I hate to say that about someone who's dead, but it's the truth."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Her son—I think his name was Ariel–was only a month older than my Noam, but Noam was born in December, so they didn't start the first grade together."

"So they were in kindergarten together?"

"Not the same exact one, but in the same cluster. I sometimes saw her coming in… always looking very nice, always standing around and sharing secrets with other mothers. I remember there was some story about a teacher's aide in the afternoon daycare who she managed to get kicked out."

"Do you remember her name?"

"No, not at all, she was an aide in another kindergarten—I wasn't familiar with the staff there—I only knew there was an aide there that she made sure was replaced."

"Do you know what the story was?"

"Not too much. I only know that some parents claimed it was much ado about nothing."

I recalled the riot Hanni caused when I was the only one in the class who scored 100 in the math midterm.

"So why do you think she was a bitch? Because she was good looking?"

Shira smiled and wiped her wet hands on her worn out T-shirt. "Maybe I'm jealous, but most mothers, especially working ones, don't have too much time to get their hair and nails done every week. We don't go down to pick up the kids from kindergarten dressed like something out of a fashion magazine."

"She dressed like in the magazines?"

"I may be exaggerating, but she was dressed nicer than me."

"So she had time—that doesn't make her a bad person."

"Not at all." Shira made a face and said, "Look, do you want me to be politically correct or honest?"

"Honest!"

"Then let me explain something to you about the lives of some of the women in Givaat Shmuel: New Givaat Shmuel is mostly populated by Religious Zionist families. These are usually young couples. Nearly all of them are people from a mid-level or even high socioeconomic class. There are quite a few women, like Hanni for instance, who can afford not to work. Excuse me for criticizing, but I think there's something extremely atrophied in that. They sit around all morning in the new shopping mall, walk around the stores and busy themselves mostly with gossip. The latest trend is having at least four children, and that's—more or less—their excuse for not doing anything but shopping for clothes and gossiping."

"Hanni only had three kids."

"She didn't manage another one." Shira said with a wicked smile. "That's another thing that drives me crazy! I have no idea why they're so hung up on having so many kids, when in many cases I get the sense that they don't have any particular interest in parenting. They see parenting as some kind of unpleasant chore, which is especially amazing in light of the fact that they don't work."

"Maybe they work from home, like you?"

"Believe me, I'd know. Hanni knew I'm an occupational therapist."

"How do you know?"

"Her eldest son, the one who's—
was
—a month older than Noam, needed therapy. I don't know exactly what the problem was, but he had difficulties, and my friend, whose son was in Ariel's kindergarten, recommended me."

"And did she contact you?"

"You think?"

"Why not?"

"Hell would freeze over before she'd send her son to be treated by me. The last thing she'd want is that her son would become the talk of the synagogue."

"She didn't trust you to be discreet?"

"Apparently not. She was probably used to the standards she knew from up close."

"You mean daily gossip."

"Exactly."

"Do you have that friend's phone number?"

"Sure, but if you want, you can come to story time with me, I bet we'll meet a few more common acquaintances."

I was happy for the opportunity, so we went together to pick up the kids and go to the library.

On our way to the library, we picked up little Eran from daycare and Noam from school. Nurit, Shira's elder daughter, went to do her homework with a friend. I was amazed to discover that the classes in school were separated by gender.

"Since when do Religious Zionists study in separate classes in elementary school?" When we were in grade school, we studied in mixed classes; when I was in high school our school was turned into a girls’ only high school, but I didn't think this Haredi direction had reached the lower grades. What do eight-year-old kids need to be separated for?

"We were really against it," Shira defended herself, "but it was already a given fact and it's very hard to fight against an existing situation."

The shift towards Haredi orthodox practices in the Religious Zionist sector was very disappointing and even scary to me. Although I was not a mother, if I had kids, I believe it would be important to me that they be educated in co-ed systems. I remembered a case of sexual molestation in a Yeshiva, a story that wasn't covered by the media because higher sources kept it under wraps. A number of seventeen-year-old boys molested a gentle boy of thirteen. The case was closed because the parents of the boy who was allegedly molested were persuaded to withdraw their complaint and the boy was transferred to a different Yeshiva.

I was shocked by this story, but Alon wasn't at all surprised. He told me that there were a lot of cases like this in Yeshivas, especially Haredi ones. Teenagers at the height of their sexual awakening are forcefully separated from girls, and this was sometimes the result.

When we stood at the gate of the school, I noticed the obituaries posted at the entrance. Little Ariel had studied here and the shock was still very recent. Noam, my sister's son, was almost the last one to exit the school's doors, accompanied by Udi, his best friend. Shira was always the most popular girl in class. Unlike me, for instance, she never missed the social gathering on the street corner across from Bnei Akivah on Friday nights. She always had tons of girlfriends, and mostly boyfriends, she was always up to date with the fashions and I'm sure that the fact that her son, and Udi were the school’s number one geeks wasn't making her too proud.

She claimed that the fact that he was such a nerd amused her, but I'm sure deep down she's waiting for the day when he’d become a little more like her and a little less like her husband Moshe. Udi and Noam, bespectacled and daydreaming, slowly approached us while arguing with one another about which Bakugan had greater powers.

"Noam and Udi, we're going to miss story time," Shira tried to hurry them up unsuccessfully.

We arrived about fifteen minutes before story time started. I studied the audience. In the middle of the library, the librarian arranged tiny chairs and benches for the parents. Like the school, the library's doors were also displaying obituary notices, this time for Hanni and the two deceased girls. No mention of father Meir. We arrived exactly when the rest of the parents began gathering: mainly mothers, some dressed in worn-out sweatshirts or casual jeans like my sister; some probably just got back from their office job, dressed in tailored clothes; some with kerchiefs over their hair, most without. I noticed two dads who were escorting their children and was excited to discover that there were also some fathers watching their children.

"Don't get too excited," Shira cooled me down. "It's their day of the week. On every other day, their wives take care of the kids."

Some of the kids were seated on tiny chairs. Noam and Udi claimed the two central seats. More children ran around the library, while the parents all stood in groups, talking heatedly, and the topic was, of course, the Danilowitz family. The shock was still recent and the people of the neighborhood refused to believe the story and the tragic outcome. I tried to listen to what they were saying, but the talkative medley ceased when I neared. Some of them recognized me from the news.

The librarian tried to seat the parents on the benches. The actress that had come to perform gave the librarian an impatient glare and the librarian raised her voice.

"Dear parents, like you, I'm shocked from recent events in the neighborhood, but we must begin story time."

The actress approached one of the mothers, a beautiful blonde woman who had completely ignored the librarian's plea for quiet.

"Is
this one yours?" She pointed to the girl with the blonde pigtails who sat on the chair before her.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Have you ever thought about trying her out for television?"

The mother looked at her, amazed. "Not really; although, I have been told a number of times that she could be a model."

"I'm casting a television show for the educational network right now, so come to me at the end of the activity and give me your phone number, okay?"

The mother nodded in awe and went silent.

Now, story time was able to begin.

Just as the actress started, my phone rang. It was Alon. The actress gave me an angry look and I silenced the phone.

When the actress was finished, I asked all of the parents to stay seated.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Hadas Levinger and, as some of you apparently know from the news broadcast from two days ago, I am investigating the Danilowitz family case."

I was careful not to say "murder" or "suicide" because all of the kids had their innocent eyes on me.

"And if anyone doesn't know, I'm also Shira Landau's sister." Shira nodded and smiled to everyone in embarrassment.

"In the next couple of days, we’ll be contacting some of you as part of the investigation process. There’s nothing to worry about, we simply want to bring this difficult affair to an end. If there’s anyone here who’s able to assist the investigation and knows the family, I’ll leave my phone number and e-mail with the librarian. I’d like to emphasize that there’s no other branch investigating this case so if someone approaches you claiming otherwise, I’d like to hear about it." I approached Ziva, the librarian, and wrote down my e-mail address and my phone number.

The blonde mother approached the actress with a note. "This is my phone number." The actress gave her a curious look. "About the television show you mentioned before," she explained.

"Oh…" The actress smiled heartily and thanked the proud mother with a cheery smile. As soon as the mother had left the library, she threw the note into the trash can behind her. I smiled to her and she returned a knowing smile.

The library emptied and I noticed Shira was standing and talking to a young girl who was holding a chubby baby in her arms.

"Hadasi," Shira called, "this is Renana. She's the friend I told you about earlier."

"I wouldn't say friend," Renana smiled. "I'm a friend of your sister's. Hanni was an acquaintance of mine."

"Are you willing to talk to me?"

"Now?"

"If it's possible," I answered, staring at the pinkish baby.

Shira reached out her hands to the baby. "I'll watch him ‘till you're done."

"He needs to eat in a little while," Renana tried to scare Shira.

"I'll cope," Shira smiled. If there was one thing nobody doubted, it was my sister's parenting skills. The apple couldn't have fallen farther from the other apple, in our case.

We walked towards Renana's house. She lived in one of the ground-level houses on the outskirts of the neighborhood, not far from my sister's and the house of the late Danilowitz family. Everything was so close.

Shira was given a short briefing on handling the baby, an explanation that was completely unnecessary as far as Shira was concerned, and Renana and I went to the workroom on the top floor while Shira went with all of the kids down to the games room in the basement.

We closed the door and I took out my recording device. Renana stared at it.

"Renana, I understand this is a little difficult and probably out of the ordinary, but you need to understand that the conversation between us is, in fact, a police interrogation. Anything you say will be recorded and entered in the investigation file. At this point I don't think we're going to reach a trial situation, but if there is a trial we may have to summon you to give a testimony based on this interrogation."

Renana went on staring at me. "I didn't know it was this official."

"It can be more official."

"What do you mean?"

"I intend to make a list of people who I'm interested in questioning, and I assume that as someone who knew the deceased well, I would have summoned you to come talk to me in the station anyway. I think here is more pleasant for you." Despite my not-so-hidden threat, I tried to sound compassionate and Renana assented and sat down beside me.

I switched on the recording device and we started talking. First, I asked her, for protocol, to identify herself.

"I understand you know my sister, Shira."

"Yes," she smiled, "our daughters are in the same class."

"And how long have you known each other?"

"Wow, more or less since we became mothers."

"So, about ten years?"

"Something like that. Your sister moved here when Nurit was two months old."

"And how did you meet Hanni Danilowitz?"

"My second son was in class with Ariel, her son."

"Meaning they were in the same systems throughout all of their years."

"Right. Noam, your sister's son, was born in the same year, but your sister chose to keep him in kindergarten for another year."

"Yes, I know."

"If you ask me, it wouldn't have hurt Ariel to have stayed another year in kindergarten."

"What do you mean?"

"Noam wasn't in the exact same kindergarten as Ariel and Idan, my son. So Shira doesn't know exactly what went on there. Ariel was a very difficult child. A beautiful boy and smart too, but with no boundaries and, to my understanding, he had learning and attention problems."

"How did you understand that?"

"First of all, she told me."

"Who is ‘she’?"

"Hanni. She knew I took my son to an occupational therapist, so she asked me if I knew anyone."

"So you recommended my sister?"

"Of course, I'll have you know, your sister is amazing." As if I wasn't aware.

"I understand she didn't go to my sister in the end."

"Of course not." Renana chuckled. "People of Hanni's kind don't air their dirty laundry inside the neighborhood."

"So she went to someone else?"

"I have no idea, but her kid needed therapy, that's for sure."

"Why do you say that?"

"When they were still in kindergarten, her son misbehaved all the time. In one of his fits he threw food at the aide so she took his plate and he didn't eat. When Hanni found out that her son hadn't eaten that day she made sure to rile up some of the parents and that aide was kicked out of the kindergarten."

"Well, she did withhold food from the child…"

"She didn't do anything that a different parent wouldn't have done. It’d do him no harm to miss one meal. Instead of dealing with the real problem, she turned the heat in the wrong direction. I witnessed her child several times, especially at Idan's birthday parties. He was just reckless and disobedient. Couldn't sit still for longer than two minutes."

"And what did you think of Hanni?"

"The truth? Just the truth? I couldn't stand her."

"Why?"

"I think there was a lot of evil in her." Renana paused for a moment and decided to rephrase her answer. "You know what, not evil—miserliness."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'm just pretending, but I got the feeling that she was very, very jealous of me."

"Why?"

"I know her husband was a pretty successful economist, but I also know that he was fired from some start-up company and went to work for a bank."

I didn't confirm her statement; although, it was surprisingly accurate.

"I assume he earned a pretty good salary at the bank, but I don't think he made as much as my husband does, even when he was with the start-up."

"What does your husband do?"

"My husband owns a business, importing children's clothing."

"Not a bad business in Israel." I thought about all those families with at least four children.

"
Baruch Hashem
[Thank God]," Renana smiled. "It was my father-in-law's business. He retired around five years ago, and since the business came into my husband's hands, it’s virtually doubled and even tripled itself. My husband has a sense for business," she said, eyes sparkling.

"That's great," I encouraged her.

"Anyway," she got back on track, "Hanni and Meir maybe had means, but not like ours. I'm not trying to brag—I'm just stating the facts. They lived in a very nice apartment, but it's hard for me to believe that they could have afforded to move to a private home here in Givaat Shmuel."

"How do you know they were even interested in a house like yours?"