"Door was unlocked."
I felt like kicking myself, but instead directed my anger at him. "Why the hell did you try to hit me?"
His jaw tightened, and he fairly spat the words at me. "Because you're a thief. The worst kind. You steal from the dead."
"You think I'm here to rob the place? I'm here by permission. I have a key." I tossed it at him. "You can get up and try it. It can't be comfortable being on your knees like that."
I retreated two paces, and he got up and, after eyeballing me for five long seconds, went to the door and slid the key in the lock. His shoulders sagged as it turned. A few seconds later he was back, turning the key in his fingers, glowering at me. A vein throbbed in the side of his thick neck. I had hoped giving him the key would placate him, but apparently it didn't.
He said, "Who are you? A new tenant? I heard no one is supposed to move in until at least the end of next month."
"I'm not a tenant. My name is Adam Lapid. I'm a private investigator. I'm working for Moria's father. He gave me the key."
The man's eyebrows dipped. "What's there to investigate?"
"Moria's father was shocked by her suicide. He wants to know why she did it."
"I heard she left a note."
"She did. But there are still some open questions. What's your name?"
"Daniel Shukrun," he said, the aggression draining out of his body. "Listen, I apologize for what happened before. I acted without thinking."
He looked at me steadily as he said it, and I couldn't help but respect that. A lesser man would have been staring at his shoes. It suggested he was genuine in his remorse and that he was the sort of man who took responsibility for his mistakes. Still, when he offered me the key back, I kept my distance and told him to put it on the table. I also maintained my hold on the gun in my pocket.
"How did you know I was up here?" I asked.
"My apartment is right below this one. My wife and I heard footsteps from above, so we knew someone was here."
"And you came charging in to catch whoever it was red-handed?"
"I wanted to make sure no one was robbing the place. When I came in, I saw the bag." He indicated the bag I'd placed by the door. "I thought the burglar had brought it to carry the loot. An aunt of mine died a couple of years back, and two days later, before her family could decide what to do with her things, someone broke in and made off with some valuables. I thought the same was happening here. And when I saw you, I was sure of it."
"Why? Do I look like a criminal?"
He took a thoughtful moment before answering. "Not right now. But when I first saw you, there was a look on your face like you couldn't believe what was happening, and that you were worried, maybe even scared, about something. Like getting caught in an apartment you were robbing by a guy like me."
He said "a guy like me" in an offhand way, not bragging about his size, just aware of it and the effect it had on people. And he'd read me perfectly. I had been unnerved by finding the gun and worried about the implications of its presence.
"I was worried about the door jamb," I said, putting on a smile.
He chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I should have apologized to it instead of you." He paused, shifting his fingers. He winced a little, but they did not seem to be the worse for wear. He held them up. "I guess I got what was coming to me."
"It might have been worse if indeed there was a robber here," I said. "You never know what a criminal will do when he's caught in the act."
Daniel puffed his big chest out, looking offended. "I can handle myself just fine, don't you worry."
I raised a mollifying hand. "I'm sure you can. I've seen how hard you can punch. Tell me, is this the first time you visited the apartment since Moria died?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Just wondering. How long have you been living in this building?"
"Six years."
"So you knew Moria Gafni for a long time?"
"About two years."
"Were you friends?"
"I wouldn't say that. But I liked her very much. My wife and I both did. Especially since"—he paused and gulped—"especially since she treated our son."
"Your son was sick?"
A flash of pain went through his eyes. He said, "It's cold in here. Why don't we go downstairs to my apartment, where it's warmer? I can make us some tea."
"All right. You go ahead. I'll come down in a few minutes."
He nodded and left the apartment. I went back into the bedroom and looked at the hole where the pair of fully loaded magazines still lay. Why keep a gun hidden away like that? It wasn't for protection because Moria wouldn't have been able to reach the weapon in a hurry. So the gun served a different purpose, likely a darker one.
I took the pistol out of my pocket and weighed it in my hand. I had come to Jerusalem unarmed. I hadn't thought I would need a weapon on this investigation. Now it appeared that I might.
I would have gone with a different gun if I had the choice, but this one would have to do. I ejected the magazine and found it loaded to the brim. I returned the weapon to my right pocket and put the two extra magazines in my left. Then I reattached the bedside cabinet to the wall.
The gun and ammunition felt heavier than they should have, as though the secrets they hinted at had weight. Which shouldn't have surprised me because secrets often do.
Daniel's apartment was the same size and layout as Moria's, but three souls lived there, so it felt more crowded and cramped. There was Daniel, his wife, Lillian, and their baby daughter. The baby was asleep in the other room behind a closed door. To ward off the threat of her waking up a moment before she naturally would, the three of us spoke in low voices.
