I'd neglected to bring an umbrella from Tel Aviv, but Harpaz had left his by the door to the bar, and I grabbed it on the way out.
I turned the first corner I got to, and then the next, moving quickly and putting many turns between myself and the bar. After ten minutes, certain I wasn't being chased, I slowed to consult street signs and get my bearings.
It was about midnight, and the number of people I saw out could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
I headed to Moria's apartment. As I walked, I thought about my talk with Arye Harpaz. He was a creep and a liar, but could he have been truthful about the affair? Maybe Moria's lover had been Dr. Shapira after all, as improbable as it seemed. He fit Lillian's description. If he had broken things off with Moria, that would only add to her motive for killing him.
Still, it was likely Harpaz. The guy was a rake, and he'd admitted to trying to seduce Moria. Good liars know that the best lies are rooted in truth, not made up of whole cloth. And Harpaz was an experienced prevaricator.
But why not simply admit it? After all, he'd confessed to trying to cheat Gafni out of money. Wasn't that bad enough? But maybe he sensed that I disliked Gafni and thought it would be easier to bribe me to look the other way if I believed the fraud scheme rather than his affair with a much younger, and now dead, Moria.
I got into Moria's apartment as I had the previous night. It was cold and dark, and a little water had got into my shoes, so I removed my socks and spread them out on the rim of the tub.
I figured I was in for better sleep than the night before. I'd committed violence today. The nightmares wouldn't come. I was in no danger of screaming. I wouldn't need the gag.
But I was restless rather than tired. I felt like pacing but didn't dare to. I wanted a cigarette but didn't fire one up. Instead, I stood in the middle of the dark living room, the remnants of Moria's life around me like ancient relics of a bygone civilization, feeling like an archaeologist trying to decipher a murky past.
With careful steps, I moved toward the window. I looked at the roiling sky blanketed with bloated black clouds. I watched the rain strafe the buildings across the street. I recalled harder rains in colder lands and shivered at the memory.
Then my eyes drifted downward, and I saw the man.
He was standing on the opposite sidewalk, a black shape with a black umbrella. Standing motionless in a bombardment of water. I strained my eyes, but his height and build were difficult to estimate. But he wasn't fat, nor very tall. A regular guy. But why would a regular guy be standing in the middle of Amos Street in the dead of night under heavy rain?
Fear scurried up my back like a swarm of spiders. Who was this man? Had he been following me? How come I hadn't noticed him before?
Was he one of the men from the bar? A cop? I didn't think he was Kulaski. I couldn't make out his face, but his shape didn't fit the inspector's.
The man was moving. Tiny shifts at this distance. Moving his head?
Then his umbrella tilted up a little, and I realized why.
He was looking up. He was scanning the windows of Moria's building. Searching for me?
I took a quick step backward, out of sight from street level. But it had taken me a split second to react. Had I been fast enough? Had he seen me?
I swore. I took out the gun. I looked at the closed door, at the accursed window with runnels of water running down its pane like prison bars. Up until that moment, I'd felt safe in Moria's apartment, unseen and unheard, but now that illusion was shattered.
What should I do? Go down and confront him? But doing so would make a lot of noise, and I wouldn't be able to come back to Moria's apartment. I chewed my lip for a minute and then, still undecided, chanced another peek at the street.
The man was gone. Where he had stood was nothing but rain bouncing off tarmac. The street was empty.
Had he gone to alert others to my presence? Was he about to telephone Kulaski and tell him I was back in town? Should I pack my bag and flee?
But where to? There were no busses this time of night. No taxis either. I'd already ruled out hotels, and I couldn't sleep on the street in this weather.
Besides, the man might be lying in ambush, waiting for me. I was safer here.
I swore again, checked the gun, added a fresh bullet to the magazine to replace the one I'd fired in the bar.
I could stay up all night, waiting in dread, but I needed my sleep. But if someone came while I was sleeping, I might not live to regret it.
Picking up a chair, I leaned it against the apartment door. It wouldn't stop someone from opening it, but it would fall if they did. The clatter would wake me. I'd be able to fight. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.
I lay in Moria's bed, listening to the rain. I stared up into darkness and thought of the man and almost laughed at myself. Did I really think I'd be able to sleep with him out there?
But then my eyes drifted shut, and I drifted off, and I didn't stir till morning light invaded the windows.
I woke up in a fright, my hand fumbling for the gun, which had slipped from my grasp in the night. I was alone, and the sun was bright and sparkling. The sky was free of clouds.
In the living room, I saw the chair still angled on the door. I looked out the window, and there was no man across the street gazing back at me, just the ordinary traffic of people heading to work and school.
But he might still be around. If he had indeed been following me, he wouldn't be standing in the open like that in daylight.
As yesterday, I ate breakfast from a can and waited until the Shukruns went out. Daniel came first, just about the same time as yesterday, but Lillian dawdled again. It was noon when she appeared, again with the stroller, but this time she didn't pause to look back at the building.
I hurried out, doing my best not to scour the street with my eyes. If the man hadn't seen me after all, I wanted him to think I didn't know about him. It would make it easier to spot him.
Turning west onto Tsfanya Street, I walked at a casual pace, veered south onto Yona, west onto Hagai, and south again to Yekhezkel. I used each turn to get a quick look behind me. I saw plenty of people, men and women both, but no one who stood out.
I went into a café and ordered lunch. Five minutes later a man came in and did the same. I'd chosen a table at the rear; he opted for one by the window. He sat with his back to me, perusing a newspaper, and appeared to pay me no mind. I refrained from looking directly at him, fearing he could see me reflected in the window, but snatched sidelong glances at him from time to time.
I wasn't sure, but he looked familiar. Not a long familiarity, but of a more recent vintage. It took me a few minutes to put my finger on it.
Yesterday. The movie theater. The one I'd hidden in for three straight screenings.
He'd been there. Not during the first screening, I thought, but the second. I'd noticed him because he'd come alone, like me, which was unusual, but then I'd put him out of my mind when he took a seat a few rows ahead of me and proceeded to ignore my existence.
But maybe that had just been the impression he gave.
