I nearly smiled again, then remembered my own impulsiveness three days before in the demonstration, and all levity deserted me. My mind turned to what Dr. Leitner had told me and what it might mean.
"I need your help, Mrs. Hecht."
"I think I've given you enough of my time already, Mr. Lapid."
"This won't take long. I'm thinking that there must be a shift log somewhere in this ward. I'd like to see it."
"What for?"
"I want to know which nurses worked on a certain night."
"Which night?"
I hesitated. I didn't want her to know, but I was going to have to tell her which week or month I was interested in, and she was smart enough to figure it out."
"November 28."
It took a second for the significance of the date to sink in. "What are you getting at, Mr. Lapid?"
"Nothing in particular."
"I thought you were working on Moria's suicide? Or was that a lie?"
"It's the truth. That's my case."
"So why...?" She paused and glowered at me. "Are you actually suggesting that Moria—"
"Lower your voice, Mrs. Hecht."
She did, casting a quick glance around to make sure we hadn't drawn any attention. But whatever intensity her voice lost, the outrage on her face gained. "Do you really believe Moria killed Dr. Shapira? Are you crazy?"
"I'm simply gathering information."
"Like hell you are. And if you think I'll help you, you can forget it."
She turned to go, but I grabbed her arm. "I'll make you a deal, Mrs. Hecht."
Her eyebrows knitted. "What deal?"
"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."