Harpaz clapped his hands. "Bravo, detective. I'm impressed." His grin returned. "I told you I found you interesting. I asked around a bit. Learned you work as a private detective."

"Why waste the time? Or is it really Baruch Gafni you want to know more about?"

He laid a hand across his heart. "Guilty as charged." He uncorked the bottle, poured himself half a glass, held out the bottle to me, and shrugged when I declined. He took a long drink.

"I also heard you used to be a cop. I hope this little set-up here"—he gestured with his hand at the room—"doesn't bother you."

"I'm not a cop anymore. It's none of my business if people want to throw their money away."

Harpaz said, "My God. How rare. An honest man. And here I thought you were angling for a little baksheesh."

"Maybe I'm just planning to squeeze you for a lot more later on."

He smiled. This was his expertise, wheeling and dealing, and now he thought I might after all be susceptible to his charm and money.

"Why are you so keen to learn more about Baruch Gafni?" I asked.

He took another sip of wine. "I want him to invest in a business venture. A big one. The more I know about a potential investor, the better."

"Was that why you met Gafni the same day you and I did?"

He nodded. "I showed him some papers relating to the venture."

"Let me guess, he wasn't too impressed."

Something hateful and dangerous glinted in Harpaz's eyes and then was gone. He finished his wine and poured himself some more.

"He'll come around. He just needs more convincing. The deal is too good for him to pass on." He drained his glass and refilled it. "You said you and Baruch were talking about me because of Moria." He was striving for a nonchalant tone, but I knew he was bothered by it, that this was why he had agreed to speak with me. "I'm not sure I understand."

I smiled and let the silence stretch for a few seconds. "I think you understand perfectly well."

"I assure you I don't."

He was goading me to tell him what I knew or thought I did. He was hoping it was less than he feared.

"Let's just say I don't think you and Baruch Gafni will ever do business again."

His eyes tightened, and there was that glint again. I realized it was a kind of hunger, a ravenous craving. For wealth, status, success. And that it was dangerous to stand in the way of that hunger, that Arye Harpaz was a man who'd cross many lines, break many norms, to achieve his goals.

His tone was low and suggested a threat. "And why is that, Mr. Lapid?"

"Because he knows you were sleeping with his daughter. And let me tell you, he didn't like it one bit."

Harpaz gaped at me, shocked that his secret was exposed. "Whatever gave him that idea?"

"You did. You thought you were being careful, but it wasn't enough."

"What the hell are you talking about? Careful about what?"

"Your middle-of-the-night visits. You thought no one would see you go in and out of Moria's apartment that late. But one neighbor did."

"They're lying. Or maybe you're lying. I never visited Moria's apartment. Not at night nor at any other time. Never." Not a trace of his suaveness remained now. His voice was agitated, as were his movements. Seemingly oblivious of the full wineglass in his grip, he spoke with jerky shifts of his hands, and red liquid sloshed over the rim, spattering the floor, his shoes, and his trouser cuffs.

He stopped suddenly, his face coiled into a less handsome configuration than normal. A vein throbbed at his temple, like a tethered snake. He pointed a finger at me as though he wanted to stab it into my eye. "You told Baruch this. Why did you do this to me?"

"He hired me to learn more about Moria's life," I said, guessing Harpaz had already deduced that. "Reporting about your affair was my job."

"There was no affair," Harpaz screamed, and more wine flew from the glass.

The door burst open. The burly barkeep was on the threshold, a scowl on his face. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked.

Harpaz became aware of his glass, his wine-drenched hand and sleeve. He set the glass down, wiped his hand dry with a handkerchief. "Just a lively discussion among friends," he said. "Nothing to worry about."

The barkeep looked dubious. "Maybe keep it a notch less lively, what do you say?"

Harpaz and I both nodded.

When the barkeep left, Harpaz said to me, "I don't know where you got the stupid notion that I was sleeping with that cold bitch, but it never happened. Not even once."

"A neighbor saw you, I told you."

"They're either imagining it or lying, or they saw someone who looks like me. Because I never went to Moria's building. I never slept with her."

"Why was Moria a cold bitch?"

He hesitated, then figured he had little left to lose. "Just because it never happened doesn't mean I didn't try. I pursued her all right. Used all my regular tricks and... nothing. Total rejection."

"That makes her a cold bitch? That she didn't want you? Does every woman have to fall at your feet?"

I waited, but he didn't answer. His head was lowered, and he was shaking it slowly, like a lazy pendulum.

"Why did you want to sleep with her anyway?" I asked. "I've seen pictures. Moria wasn't nearly as pretty as that woman you were with tonight."

Harpaz raised his head. His face was set, his eyes hard and calculating. "How much?"

"How much what?"

"How much money do you want to call Baruch and tell him you made a mistake, that some other guy was sleeping with Moria, not me?"

"You want me to lie to my client?"

"A hundred liras? A hundred and fifty? And you won't be lying to him, I tell you, because I never slept with her."

"Sure you didn't. And you and Moria didn't fight a week before she died? It happened on the street where she lived. Or was the neighbor who saw you two also lying or imagining things?"

"No, that truly happened. At least you got that right."

"Moria yelled at you to stay away from her. Seems to me like she was ending your affair."