"To find out what I could about her."

"What sort of thing did you hope to find?"

"Something sordid, dirty, or criminal. Something secret and shameful."

"What for?"

"So I could get her to do what I want."

"Which was?"

"Get her father to donate money to the hospital. Which she should have done herself if she cared about the place as much as I do. Her father is very rich, but when I approached him myself, he refused to give a lira. But then I discovered that Moria was his one and only child, so I asked her to change his mind. But she refused to try. She said she had no contact with her father. I explained to her how important money was for the hospital, but she persisted in her refusal."

"It made you angry, didn't it?"

"Of course it did," Leitner said, his face a contortion of old fury. He drew on his cigarette and pointed its fiery tip at me. "I was her boss. She should have done as I asked. It wasn't much. All she had to do was talk with her father, for heaven's sake."

"Do you know why Moria wouldn't talk to him?"

"I don't care why. This was about something bigger than her little feelings."

"The hospital?"

"That's right."

"And your position in it?"

"Yes." It came out almost as a shout, fire in his eyes and a forked blood vessel throbbing in his forehead. He wasn't embarrassed by his selfish admission. In his view, it was a statement of obvious and justified fact. "I'm vital to the hospital. Without me, it will fall into decay and ruin. I put my heart and soul into it. I deserve to run it."

"But you need to bring in money for that. Donations. The more the better."

"That's right," he said, tapping ash off his cigarette. "And Baruch Gafni has plenty, and his daughter works at the hospital, so he's the perfect mark."

"Mark? You sound like a con man."

Leitner sat back, brushing off my comment. "A slip of the tongue, nothing more. I value all our generous contributors."

"I'm sure you do. So you put Ruslander on Moria. What did he find?"

"You know what."

"I want you to say it."

Leitner shrugged. A man appeasing the immature wishes of a foolish child.

"For a while, he found nothing. Moria led a boring life, it seemed. But then, one time late at night, he saw a figure entering her building. A moment later, he saw two shadows behind Moria's curtains. He could tell they were kissing.

"At first, Ruslander couldn't tell who the visitor was; he hadn't gotten a look at his face. So he waited, and three hours later, the visitor left. Only it wasn't a man at all. It was a woman."

Yes, I thought with a stab of disappointment. And I had missed it entirely. For just like Ruslander, and Lillian Shukrun too, I'd assumed it was a man. And Lillian's description supported that.

But I had met one woman who fit that obscure description as well. She was tall and slender. She had short dark hair that at night in a dim staircase could be mistaken for a man's. And she also had a deep voice. Hearing that voice behind a closed door and from one floor down, it wasn't surprising Lillian thought she was hearing a man speaking with Moria, especially since it fit her preconceptions.

This woman had a key to Moria's apartment. She had lied to protect her. And I had jumped to the wrong conclusions. I had been foolish and blind. I had also been cruel and quick to cast blame.

"Naomi Hecht," Leitner said, mashing out his smoke. "She was the woman Ruslander saw. She and Moria Gafni were sleeping together. Two nurses on my ward."

Leitner's mouth warped in revulsion, and anger glinted in his eyes. It seemed that, in his mind, a double sin had been committed here. Not only were two women engaged in unnatural sexual relations, but both had worked for him. Their conduct reflected on him, and that was something he couldn't abide.

"What did you do with this information?" I asked.

"Nothing at first. I couldn't use what Ruslander saw unless I had tangible proof, and that was difficult to come by. Those two bitches were careful not to show their depravity in public. They only engaged in their disgusting acts in Moria's apartment in the dead of night behind drawn curtains. But I didn't despair. I told Ruslander to keep at it. An opportunity would come."

Leitner paused and poured himself a large dose of cognac. He threw it down and sighed in contentment.

"And it did. Moria and Naomi got careless. They were in a public garden, hidden by trees, or so they thought. But Ruslander was ready with a camera. He snapped a few good shots of them kissing. That was what I needed to get Moria to do her duty."

"To you or the hospital?"

"I am the hospital, Mr. Lapid," Leitner said firmly. Gone was his earlier anxiety. Before, he'd been afraid that I would learn something I shouldn't. Now he knew that wasn't going to happen because I already knew everything. He was free to show his true colors, to gloat over the success of his wicked scheme.

Leitner said, "Moria was stunned when I showed her the pictures, but she still refused to talk to her father about giving money to the hospital. I think she might have held firm were it not for Naomi. When I explained to Moria how publicizing those pictures would ruin her lover, her resistance crumbled. Soon after that, the hospital received a handsome donation from Mr. Gafni."

"But that wasn't the end of it, was it?" I said. "You wanted more."

"The hospital needed more. It always needs more. So I called Moria into my office and told her she had to speak with her father again. I also announced that Naomi Hecht would become the next head nurse."

"I understand she's very good at her job."

"She's not bad, but she's annoying. She has a big mouth. She constantly oversteps her mark."

"Then why make her head nurse?"

Leitner's smile was cold enough to keep meat fresh. "To add a carrot to the stick. So Moria would know that disobeying me would mean not just exposure of her lover, but also stripping her of a coveted position."

"And it worked."

"Like a charm. Mr. Gafni made another sizable donation."

"And you got the credit."

"Credit where credit's due, Mr. Lapid, or haven't you heard a word I said?"

I watched his face. He showed no hint of regret or embarrassment. He was proud of his actions. He viewed them as just. They were a means to an end, whoever got stomped along the way be damned. Moria and Naomi Hecht were less than nothing. Partly because they were troublesome women—one didn't do as she was told; the other didn't know her place—but mostly because of their affair. Leitner's morality was so twisted that he considered their romantic involvement as worse than his blackmail.

"What happened then?"

Leitner poured himself another glass. Again he downed it in one swallow. The alcohol tinged his pale cheeks pink. His expression was sour. "I wanted another donation. Moria went to talk to her father. I assumed everything would go smoothly, just like before, but Gafni threw a wrench in the works. Moria burst into my office and told me she couldn't go through with it."