"Get me the log, and I'll tell you what Dr. Leitner told me about why Moria left his office in tears."

Naomi Hecht stared at me so hard, I thought she was about to slap me or punch me in the face. Maybe if we weren't where other people could see us, she would have.

"If you're so sure about her," I said, "what harm could it do?"

She didn't like that logic one bit, but at length she surrendered to it with a stiff nod. "All right. You first."

I would have preferred it the other way around, but I acquiesced. She listened without interruption as I related what Dr. Leitner had told me. I admired her control: her facial muscles never so much as twitched. But her eyes gave away her internal turmoil; they were never still.

I didn't spell it out. I didn't need to. We both knew what Dr. Leitner's story meant: Moria had reason to hate Dr. Shapira. And hate is one of the most reliable motives for murder.

"Your turn," I said.

If looks could kill, Naomi Hecht would have been well on her way to death row. "Wait here," she said, and stomped off without waiting for a reply.

She was back two minutes later with a large hardcover notebook. "Here. Feast your eyes."

I opened the notebook and flipped through some pages until I got to November 28. Two nurses were listed on the night shift. Sarah Greenberg was the first; Moria Gafni the second.

"Happy now?" Naomi Hecht asked.

I handed back the notebook. "You took a peek?"

"Of course I did. As you can see, Moria was here on that night."

I did see that, but there were still some holes to plug before I could be sure she could not have committed the murder.

"What hours are the night shift?"

"From 9:00 p.m. to 7 a.m."

"This is the extent of the staff: two nurses?"

"There's also a doctor on call in the hospital, but he's not called into the ward unless there's an emergency."

"So normally, it's just the two nurses?"

"Yes."

"Are both awake throughout the night?"

A muscle moved near Naomi Hecht's mouth. "If it's quiet, one of them might catch a little sleep."

So Moria could have been awake alone at certain points during that night.

I said, "How long does it take to walk from here to where Dr. Shapira was killed?"

She knew what I was getting at. "What, you think Moria left the ward unattended and went off to shoot Dr. Shapira?"

I didn't answer.

"What if the other nurse had woken up and seen that Moria wasn't there?" she asked.

"Moria would have had some explaining to do."

"Some explaining." She let out a laugh, but it sounded hollow. "She would have been the main suspect, wouldn't she?"

"You'd be surprised at the risks people take to have an alibi."

"She didn't kill him. Trust me, Mr. Lapid, I knew Moria better than anyone. She was a pure soul; she didn't have it in her to kill anyone."

Sometime during this appeal, she touched my hand. Her fingers were cool and soft. My skin tingled at their touch. She pulled them away, leaving a strange absence.

"If you knew Moria, Mr. Lapid, you wouldn't suspect her for a second. Shooting someone, it's ridiculous. I don't think she ever fired a gun in her life."

She must have, or she wouldn't have had one hidden in her bedroom. A keen sense of pity came over me for Naomi Hecht's ignorance of her friend.

"But she did do something she never told you about, didn't she?" I said, my tone gentle, for I did not wish to hurt this woman; all I wanted was for her to help me uncover the truth. "She said so in her note."

Naomi Hecht said nothing. For a moment, I thought she was about to cry, but fury entered her eyes, not tears. She drew a lungful of air, her face became like a shield, and she looked as formidable as any woman I'd ever known. For the second time, I became sure she was going to strike me, but all she did was state, with quiet unbending resolution, "Moria wasn't a murderer. She never harmed anyone. And you're a fool for even considering it." Then she brushed past me and strode off without a backward glance.

Exiting the ward, I heard a voice say, "Thank you for saving me back there."

It was the nurse whom Dr. Leitner had tormented with his self-aggrandizing story. She was coming up the stairs.

"You're most welcome," I said, and then something clicked. "Sarah, isn't it?"

She smiled. She was a pretty little brunette with shining green eyes and plump lips. "Yes. Have we met before?"

"We haven't. I just remembered Dr. Leitner calling you by name."

She made a face. "He doesn't remember, but he's told me that story five times already."

"He must like the sound of his own voice."

She laughed. "He sure does."

"I'm Adam," I said, and we shook hands. She blushed a little.

"Well," she said, "I should get going. Back to the grindstone and all. Just two more hours to go."

There was an invitation there, but I wasn't about to take it. Her mouth compressed in disappointment, and she turned to leave.

"Wait a second. Is your last name Greenberg by any chance?"

She looked puzzled. "How do you know that? I don't think Dr. Leitner mentioned it, did he?"

"He didn't. I saw your name in the shift log. I'm a private investigator. I was hired to investigate why Moria Gafni killed herself."