I laughed. "You greedy devil. All right, there'll be a little something in it for you. Now talk, damn you."

"Leitner was looking for dirt on young Miss Gafni."

"Why?"

"Why does anyone look for dirt on anyone?"

To hold it over their head, I thought.

"What did he want from her?"

"That I don't know. And before you ask, I got no ideas, either."

"Did you find any dirt?"

"I sure did." He proceeded to tell me what it was, and much of what I thought I knew was shredded and burned to ashes.

"I don't know what Leitner did with the information," Ruslander said.

"That's all right," I told him. "I think I do."

On the way out of Mamilla Cemetery, walking together now, I asked him how he came to be a private detective.

"Used to be a cop," Ruslander said. "Right here in Jerusalem. Two and a half years ago, I got kicked off the force."

"Why?"

"The official reason was that I took bribes. Which is true. Most cops I know did the same, and some took far more than I did, and from worse people. And some of those cops not only stayed on the force but got promoted. Real reason I got fired was because there was an officer who had it in for me for personal reasons. A son of a bitch called Kulaski."

I stopped in mid-step. Ruslander continued a couple more before noticing and turning.

"What?" he asked.

We were close to the exit. On our right were a couple of old headstones that the wet earth was in the process of swallowing. I could smell the mud, rich and drenched, the old, decaying stones. I could feel Kulaski's punch slamming into my ribs.

"Nothing," I said and resumed walking. "What personal reasons?"

"It's because of my kid brother. He was in the Irgun. Once Kulaski heard about him, I was done for. He hates everyone connected to the Irgun or Herut."

I remembered Kulaski asking me if I were a member of Herut, how he relished telling me the party might get outlawed.

"He has cause," Ruslander went on. "The Irgun planted a bomb under the car of a British official. Someone messed up, and it went off at the wrong time. Kulaski's sister happened to be walking by. Two days later, she died from her wounds in the hospital."

"Dear God," I said.

"My brother had nothing to do with that botched operation, but it made no difference to Kulaski. He started hounding me. Tried to have me prosecuted for being on the take. Threatened to lock me up for years. But eventually, all that happened was that I got fired and lost my pension. Could have been worse, I suppose."

We stopped at the exit to Hillel Street. I fished out my wallet and gave him a five-lira note. He pocketed it without meeting my eyes and stood scuffing the tip of his shoe back and forth on the ground. "What I told Leitner, you think that had something to do with that girl killing herself?"

"I don't know."

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "I hate to think that it did."

"Try not thinking about it, then."

He chuckled without humor. "I guess that's the best advice anyone could give me on the subject, isn't it?"

I had nothing to say to that. "I assume Dr. Leitner knows I'm back in town?"

"Afraid so. I hope it won't cause you any trouble."

"And I hope he paid you in advance."

Ruslander laughed. "Oh, he did, don't you worry. Told me I was doing a terrific job. But I don't suppose I'll be using him as a reference anytime soon."

"I don't suppose so, no."

"That's all right. I'll make do somehow." He eyed me speculatively. "You know, apart from Leitner being angry with you, I also got the feeling you scared him."

"Good," I said. "I hope he's terrified."

I asked Ruslander a couple more questions, including where Dr. Leitner lived and what his home telephone number was. Then we shook hands, and he walked off. I stood for a while, smoking and thinking, rage boiling in my gut and questions swirling in my head. What Ruslander had discovered following Moria changed a lot, but I wasn't sure the extent of it. Even worse, I had no idea how to get to the truth.

What he'd revealed about Kulaski explained a lot about the inspector's obsession with me. By taking part in a Herut demonstration, and injuring cops in the process, I'd become a symbol of what he hated most. I was now surer than ever that Kulaski wasn't going to let my punishment be limited to a beating. His sister's death called for a harsher vengeance, and in his warped mind I was responsible for it.

I cast my gaze around Hillel Street, saw a pair of officers walking toward me. My instinct screamed at me to bolt, but luckily, my brain saved me. The two cops weren't there for me. They weren't even looking at me. One of them was telling the other a story, and it must have been funny because the listener burst into uproarious laughter. I crossed the street to avoid them, and they walked on without incident.

But seeing them still rattled me. I checked my watch. Two in the afternoon. Too early for what I planned next. I needed a place to hide for a few hours.

Arnon Cinema proved my refuge. I watched Judy Holliday fall in love with William Holden in Born Yesterday and pondered the unpredictable, strange nature of love.

It was five when I ventured out of the cinema and into twilight. I had coffee and a sandwich at a small place on a side street, and at six o'clock I rang Leitner's number.

His smug voice came over the line, and I hung up.

I took a bus south to Rehavia, one of Jerusalem's more affluent neighborhoods, where the streets were clean, the buildings sturdy and neat, and the passersby dressed in clothes that were still in fashion. There were more private cars around, too.

On Azza street, I entered a three-story building and climbed to the second floor. A sign affixed to the door confirmed that I'd arrived at the residence of Dr. Yosef Leitner. I knocked and waited, simmering over what Ruslander had told me, telling myself to keep calm. For now, at least.

Dr. Leitner answered the door. He was in dark slacks, a white shirt, and a tie tucked into a vest, like a businessman at the office. But incongruously, his feet were in slippers. They were blue and looked warm and soft. He eyed me with those hard pebble eyes, and his lips were pressed into a bloodless, gray line.

"Hello, Doctor," I said.

"Mr. Lapid, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I have a few more questions to ask you, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, but I'd much prefer if we met at the hospital. Why not come over first thing tomorrow morning?"