I looked at her. There was a sparkle to her eyes, and her pupils looked dilated. Nervousness? Her breath was a little quick, and she was fidgeting with her wedding ring again. Her tell for deceit, or most likely, her getting ready to lie through her teeth. No doubt she was at that instant trying to anticipate my questions and preparing false answers to them.

"I know you lied to me," I told her. "I know you and Moria switched shifts the night Dr. Shapira was killed. I know everything."

Her shoulders sagged, and she dropped onto the sofa. She ran her hands over her face and kept them clasped under her chin.

"I lied to protect her," she said. "I didn't want you to think she could have been a murderer."

I snorted. "That's not the full reason, and we both know it."

Naomi Hecht frowned and lowered her hands to her knees. "What do you mean?"

She was getting better at deceit. She didn't go anywhere near her wedding ring this time.

All the lying she'd told and was still telling set off a reaction inside me. Like a match being put to an oil-soaked log, making it erupt into flame.

I whipped the gun out of my pocket, thrust my hand at her face. "Recognize this?"

She recoiled in terror, though I wasn't pointing the weapon at her.

"This is what you went to Moria's apartment to find, right? You were there a few days before we first met. You searched through her bedroom. But you didn't find this."

"I've never seen this gun in my life."

"But you don't deny going to her apartment and searching through her things."

She shook her head, her eyes dropping. "I did no such thing."

I allowed myself a smile. She was once again a bad liar. The pressure I put on her was showing. Her posture made her look fragile and afraid. Her shoulders drawn inward. Her hands clasped in her lap. Her legs pressed tight together. A smaller target, but there was no escaping the truth.

I was standing on the other side of the narrow coffee table, looming over her. I felt no pity, only anger. And not just for what she'd done to Dr. Shapira, to Moria; also, for what she'd done to me. Because, as Greta had made me admit, I liked this woman. And she turned out to be an evil killer.

"This is the gun that was used to kill Dr. Shapira," I said, fighting to keep my voice level. "I found it in Moria's bedroom."

Naomi Hecht raised her head, her face frozen in a stunned expression. "No. It can't be."

"Don't feel bad about not finding it. Moria had hidden it well. It was in a small hole dug into the wall directly behind her bedside cabinet."

"You're lying. You're making this up."

"I don't know why she didn't dump it after the murder. But you know, don't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone looking for it."

"I didn't. Like I told you, I've never seen this gun before."

My hand was still outstretched, clasping the weapon. I lowered it but didn't return it to my pocket. I wanted her to still see it.

I said, "The night of the murder, you switched shifts with Moria at the last moment, so no one got around to changing the shift log. It wasn't much of an alibi. It wouldn't have stood up to scrutiny, but you hoped it wouldn't need to. If Moria did her job well, the police would think this was a robbery that turned deadly. They wouldn't look too hard at Moria or anyone else at the hospital."

I paused to let her speak, but she remained silent. She barely moved, like an animal caught in headlights, sensing impending disaster but unable to flee from it.

"It worked out perfectly," I said. "The police never suspected Moria. Maybe they looked at the shift log, but if so, they never discovered the switch. And you ended up using it to try to steer me away from Moria. To make me think it was impossible for her to kill Dr. Shapira."

"She didn't. She couldn't." Naomi Hecht's voice had risen and sharpened. Her eyes were pleading with me to believe her lies.

"Yes, she could. She wasn't working that night, and she had this gun in her possession." I waved the gun before her, and she flinched.

"She had no reason to kill him," she said.

"Of course she did. Dr. Shapira complained about her to Dr. Leitner, who in turn excoriated her in his office, making her cry. I'm sure this wasn't the only time Dr. Shapira behaved badly toward Moria. As he did to other nurses. Including you, I bet. Especially you, with how you allow yourself to openly criticize doctors. Which is probably why you ended up getting fired. Should Dr. Leitner be in fear for his life now?"

Another shake of the head. "You've got this all wrong. Please believe me, it's nothing like what you think."

"No more lies, Mrs. Hecht. I'm sick and tired of them. Why did you and Moria fight a week before she died? It was because she felt guilty for the murder, right? But I'm guessing you didn't."

She shook her head violently, saying as though in recitation, "No. No. No. No."

"Moria killed herself because of you." My voice was louder now, cutting, each word slicing into her like a spearhead. "She chose the time, knowing you'd come looking for her after she failed to show up for work. She wanted you to find her."

Naomi Hecht clamped her eyes shut, and her entire body went rigid, but then, with a cry, she broke into sobs, rocking back and forth, her shoulders quaking.

I let her cry. Did not offer a word of solace or anything with which to dry her tears. My ears throbbed with the echo of her sobs. My heart thumped with excitement. I wanted to break her, and I was getting close.

When she started to calm, I went over and sat beside her on the sofa. I could feel the heat of her body, smell the salty, sour odor of her tears and desperation.

"You'll feel better if you come clean," I said in a gentler voice, pushing down a sick feeling as I recalled Kulaski using the same technique on me. "If you admit it. I'll take you to the police station, and you can tell them everything." In truth, I couldn't do that without letting Kulaski know I was in town, but I'd figure something out when the time came. "They'll go easy on you if you confess."

Her sobbing dwindled to nothingness, she dried her eyes with her knuckles, and then Naomi Hecht turned her head to face me. Her eyes were fresh puddles, the skin on her cheeks wet and pale to near translucence, and the bags under her eyes black like the inside of a blindfold just before an execution.

Her voice was surprisingly firm and controlled. "You are a damn fool, Mr. Lapid. You know nothing about me or Moria. Absolutely nothing. And you're crazy if you think I'll confess to a murder neither I nor she had anything to do with. Now I want you to leave."

"You're making a mistake, Mrs. Hecht."

"No. You're the one who's making a mistake. I told you to leave, so leave. Get out of my home!"

I nodded slowly and rose to my feet, trying to hide my disappointment. I had thought this might end right then, but I was wrong. I slipped the gun in my coat. I said to her, "Confessing might be the safer option for you, Mrs. Hecht."

She stared at me. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," I said, for I was not about to tell her Mr. Gafni might prove more dangerous to her than a prison term. "But I promise you this: I won't stop looking for proof. And I'll find it. And when I do, you'll pay for what you did. You'll pay for Dr. Shapira. And you'll pay for Moria, too."

I walked through cold rain and hot shame, though the latter perplexed me. What did I have to be ashamed of? Making a killer cry? Using a customary interrogation technique to get her to confess? Once again, I was allowing my attraction for Naomi Hecht to influence me.

I fled the rain into a café, smoked a couple of cigarettes, and ate a mediocre lunch. I could have ended the case then and there. I could have picked up the phone, called Gafni, and told him about Naomi Hecht. But then I would have had to explain to him what she'd done, what Moria had done. I didn't think he would believe me. Not unless I had undeniable proof.

And once I did? How would he take it? I didn't want to think about that just yet.

As I ate, I kept glancing at the door and front window. Would I see Kulaski walk by? Or maybe that gluttonous rat Rapfogel?

I didn't see anyone. The rain stopped by the time I had my second cup of coffee. I went out into the wet street and just avoided getting splashed when a truck bounced into a puddle, showering the sidewalk in front of me.