"I wouldn't know where to find him. But if you want money, I can—"
"I'm not a hired killer, Mrs. Leitner, so save your breath."
She flinched, shrinking back to her customary subservience. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I..." She swallowed, seemed to find some internal reservoir of resolve, and said in a rush, "If you don't kill him, he'll kill you. When you were late coming to Zion Square earlier, I was sure you were dead."
"What made you think that?"
"I heard him talking on the telephone after you left. He said you were back in Jerusalem and were sleeping in an apartment—I didn't catch the name of the owner. Yosef told the man on the other end that he wanted you dead. He sounded so angry."
Kulaski. Leitner had been speaking to Kulaski.
"Do you know who your husband was speaking with?"
She shook her head. "He didn't say his name."
That was good. Because soon reports of two missing cops would hit the newspapers, and I didn't want Ada to think that I'd killed them.
But what of her husband? When he didn't hear from Kulaski, he'd start to worry. And when it became public that Kulaski was missing, Leitner would know I was responsible. He might hire someone else to kill me, or he might send the police after me, anonymously most likely. It wouldn't lead to a conviction—I'd covered my tracks well—but I might get arrested and jailed until it all cleared up. And maybe in jail, I'd get stabbed or otherwise meet an untimely death.
I tapped the envelope thoughtfully. "Are these all the photos?"
"That was everything there was in the safe."
I nodded and put the envelope in my pocket.
"How will you get by if your husband dies?"
"We have savings, we own our apartment, and I can sell a few things if need be. I don't care if I have to live more modestly. I just want him gone so he doesn't ruin our son. Please, you have to do it today. Otherwise, he might look inside the safe and realize the photos are gone. He'll know I took them."
Looking at her anxious face, I swore inwardly. Ada was putting me in a terrible position. I wasn't ready to go after Dr. Leitner today; I had no plan. But if I waited, he might hurt his wife once he learned the photographs were missing. He might even kill her. And I felt that I owed her for bringing me the pictures.
"Why not go away for a while?" I said. "Get away from Jerusalem?"
She shook her head emphatically. "My son won't agree to join me. And if Yosef discovers I took his photos, he'll poison him against me, and I won't be there to explain why I did it. My son will think I ruined his father, our family. I couldn't bear that."
I scoured my mind for a solution but found none. What aggravated the problem was that the time window Ada suggested was problematic. Most people are at home and awake during the evening before nine o'clock. Dr. Leitner's building would be full of neighbors. Killing him and getting away unseen would be difficult, and I'd already used up my share of luck last night.
"Please, Mr. Lapid, you have to help me." Ada paused, then added what I already knew to be true: "You don't have a choice. Either you kill my husband, or he'll soon kill you."
I made Ada Leitner no promises, just thanked her for the photographs and left. I wasn't sure what I'd do come evening. I had another matter to deal with first.
I found Daniel Shukrun at his uncle's locksmithing business on Shamai Street. The place was crowded with locks and keys of all sizes, and the smell of oil and metal thickened the air.
Daniel was alone at the front of the shop, bent over a counter, peering at a key-cutting machine.
"Hello, Daniel," I said, and caught the flitting glitter of fear in his eyes as his head swept up and he saw me.
"Adam," he said, smiling awkwardly, wiping his hands clean on a cloth, "what... what are you doing here?"
"Is your uncle here?" I said, looking through an open door behind the counter, seeing more tools and equipment but no movement.
"He went home. Didn't feel well. Why?"
Instead of answering, I turned to the street door and flipped the Open sign to its opposite side. Turning back, I reached into my pocket and brought out the gun that I'd once thought was Moria's.
"Because of this," I said.
He blanched, and a massive exhalation fled his lungs, as though he'd been holding his breath for weeks. He leaned heavily on the counter. A big man bowing under the weight of uncovered secrets.
"How did you find out?"
"I learned none of your aunts are dead."
He looked at me blankly. "My aunts?"
I reminded him of what he'd told me after I punched him in Moria's apartment. "A pointless lie. You could have just said you heard noises and came to check. You didn't need to embellish."
He made a helpless gesture with his hands. "I got nervous. I really did think you'd come to rob the place. I was furious with you, and I was worried you'd find the gun."
"That's why you came back to wash the mud off the floor, isn't it? To sneak a peek into the bedroom and see if I'd removed the bedside cabinet?"
"Yes."
"I should have realized it soon after," I said, more than a little angry with myself, "when I saw you didn't bother washing the lobby or stairs. I thought you cleaned the apartment because of Moria, that you felt beholden to her. But you didn't care for her one bit."
He shook his head forcefully, and his expression turned imploring. "That's not true. I admired her. I was grateful to her."
"Then why stash a murder weapon in her apartment?"
