by Batya Gur
“Postponed?” Zadik said, stunned. “Tirzah’s funeral? How can we postpone it? The announcements have been printed, we’ve notified the whole world, how can we postpone it? And why? Why? And until when?”
“Look,” Eli Bachar said, “there’s…the pathologist found several things that—”
“What is this?” Zadik asked, perplexed. “What did he find? Where?”
Michael chose his words carefully. “There were findings that raise questions,” he explained.
“What kind of findings?” Zadik asked.
“For example, there were bruises on her neck.”
“On Tirzah’s neck?” Zadik asked.
“Yes,” Michael said. “The kind of bruises you get when someone places two hands around your neck and presses hard. Both hands, both sides.”
Zadik opened his mouth, then closed it right away. He opened and closed it once again. In the ensuing silence one could hear his heavy breathing and voices on the other side of the door.
“What does that mean?” Zadik asked in a whisper.
“It means,” Michael explained slowly, his eyes fixed on Zadik, “that perhaps what Matty Cohen saw on his way to the roof changes the picture entirely. Only an autopsy will give us the exact time of death, and that’s something we absolutely need to know. I mean, as exact as possible, you know, a lead.”
“But…but he didn’t see anything that…he didn’t tell me…he isn’t even certain it was Tirzah, he said it was dark there…he didn’t—”
Eli Bachar interrupted Zadik. “Sometimes people see more than what they think they’ve seen.”
Zadik intended to say something, but at just that moment Aviva pushed open the door to his office with her shoulder and entered, carrying a tray. “I didn’t want to let Amsalem from the canteen disturb you in the middle,” she explained as she laid the tray on Zadik’s desk. “I figured you needed your privacy, or…” She smiled sweetly at Michael, placing a glass mug in front of him. “Turkish coffee?” she asked as if she knew the answer already. “Sugar? Sweetener? Cream?” She was standing quite close to him, her arm nearly touching his shoulder; even Eli caught the scent of her lemony perfume, light and surprising, could see the pores on her cheeks, the fine blond hairs above her upper lip. “Zadik, I forgot to tell you,” she said as she straightened up, “someone called from Sha’arei Zedek Hospital looking for you, wouldn’t say what it’s about. I asked them to call again in an hour. Do you know what it’s about?” Zadik shook his head.
“Two sugars, please,” Michael said, then took two sugar packets from the tray, slit them open, and emptied them into his mug.
“Some people don’t have to worry about their weight,” she said as she placed a mug in front of Zadik. In the tone of a nanny intimately familiar with the idiosyncrasies of her charge, she told him, “I’ve already added one sweetener to yours, and I brought you all some hot bourekas.” Aviva placed a mug in front of Eli Bachar as well.
“Good job,” Zadik murmured. “I wonder why Sha’arei Zedek Hospital is looking for me. That bothers me…. Try to find out what they want.”
“Okay, I’ll look into it. Look at these bourekas, they’re filled with spinach, the good kind,” Aviva said, obviously proud. “They’re straight from the oven, exactly the way you like them, Zadik, because you’ve got a long day ahead of you. Just so you know.”
“What? What are you talking about?” he asked, straightening up.
“Danny Benizri is waiting for you, and Arye Rubin is outside with Natasha, he’s got some urgent matter he needs to discuss with you. He says you promised, and he’s very tense. She is too, but especially him. He needs to see you quickly because he’s on his way to Benny Meyuhas’s house, because this policeman,” she said, indicating Eli Bachar—suddenly she no longer knew his name—“this policeman wants to talk with Benny Meyuhas, and Rubin has to accompany him. Did I get that right?” she asked Eli Bachar, who nodded.
“Can’t you see that I’m…they’re going to have to wait until I finish with the police, at the very least,” Zadik said. “And Rubin, well, I’ve already spoken to him once, I thought…” He batted his hand in the air as if to wave away the issue. “Tell him that when I finish with them—”
“I’m leaving the tray here, we’ll take it back later,” Aviva said. She nodded at Eli Bachar and smiled at Michael. On her way out of the office she stopped, looked at Zadik, and said, “People are talking.” Zadik looked at her expectantly. “They’re saying…they’re saying it wasn’t an accident…Tirzah…”
“That’ll be all for now, Aviva, thank you,” Zadik said, cutting her off. She threw him a hurt look and left the room.
“Where were we?” Zadik asked seconds after the door had closed.
“We were talking about what Matty Cohen did or did not see,” Eli Bachar said.
“That’s just it,” Zadik interjected. “He didn’t see anything, and there wasn’t anything to see, nobody—”
“Zadik,” Michael said, “we need the family’s permission to perform an autopsy. That’s what we’re here for.”
Zadik pushed aside the plate of bourekas and gathered up the sesame seeds that had scattered across his desktop. He did not speak.
Eli Bachar leaned forward to explain. “The pathologist said—”
“I get it, I get it,” Zadik said irritably. “Tirzah’s family is Benny Meyuhas, you’ll have to get permission from him. But in any case, Matty Cohen said that he even—”
“We thought we might have ways of helping him remember,” Eli Bachar said. Michael threw him a look of warning, which made him hasten to add, “I’m not talking about something bad, God forbid. It’s just that sometimes people don’t know what it is they’re seeing, or they don’t remember until someone helps them.”
“What are you planning to do, hypnotize him?” Zadik asked mockingly.
“The truth is,” Michael said slowly as he leaned forward, “we know that the phone call from Sha’arei Zedek Hospital has to do with Matty. We had planned to—”
“What? Why, what’s happened to Matty?” Zadik asked, distraught.
“He didn’t feel so good while he was telling us what had happened, and we called an ambulance for him,” Eli Bachar explained.
“It’s your fault!” Zadik raised himself in his chair and slid his mug of coffee aside. “You made him totally crazy, what with the night he spent in the emergency room and everything that’s happened with Tirzah! He needed to—why did you guys mess around with his head, that’s what I want to know. Did you frighten the guy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Zadik,” Michael said sharply. “Why would we frighten him? We weren’t even putting pressure on him. We have this memory expert, and he had been working with him for a while when Matty recalled a few details of what he’d seen with Tirzah at night—”
Zadik prodded his face like a man who had gone numb and was trying to revive himself. “No way that…and what…? Listen, I’ve got to get over to the hospital. Matty is…we’re close, I had a hand in his divorce, and in…I…” He fell silent, kneading his left arm with his hand.
“There’s no reason to go rushing over there at the moment,” Eli Bachar said. “He’s in intensive care. They haven’t stabilized him yet, but they’re saying he’ll be all right. Still, it’ll be a while before they let anyone in to see him.”
“I can’t…,” Zadik began to say as he stood up, pushing his leather armchair back. “I can’t just sit here while—have you notified his wife?”
Eli nodded. “We did. She’s there with him.”
“What about the kid?” Zadik asked, dismayed.
“He’s fine,” Eli Bachar assured him. “Her mother is with the boy at Hadassah. Everything’s taken care of.”
“I can’t—” Zadik said as he lifted the receiver.
“Just a minute, Zadik,” Michael said, placing a restraining hand on his arm. “I want us to get back to the previous matter. Let’s verify a few things. All that I’m asking is for
cooperation on your part and for you to postpone the funeral. Not by days, just by a couple of hours.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zadik said, returning to his seat. “Tirzah’s death was an accident!” He wiped his brow. “I don’t want you coming in here investigating things if there’s no good reason. It seems to me you’re just taking advantage of an opportunity. I know you people—how long have you and I known each other?” He squinted at Michael, touching the tip of his ear, then prodding a small scar by his right eyebrow. “After all, we practically grew up together, didn’t we? I remember you before you were even shaving. You were two years behind me at school, you were in the same class as my cousin Uzi, his house was your second home. I remember—so do me a favor, don’t try pulling the wool over my eyes. I don’t want this place to be crawling with police trying to dig things up for no good reason.”
“What kind of things, Zadik?” Michael asked calmly. “What kind of things have we got to look for around here?”
“Ohayon,” Zadik said, a hint of warning in his voice. “I’m asking you, without…in short, you know very well what I’m talking about.”
Michael remained silent.
“I’m talking about the leak. You people will take advantage of the situation to go looking for the person who leaked to us, I know it for certain, and there’s no reason for me to help you find the person who leaked to Arye Rubin. It’s the job of the media to expose such things. You had a high-ranking officer who was embezzling. It’s our job…. Arye Rubin is a first-rate journalist: you’re not going to shut off his sources.”
“I have no connection with that, and I don’t even know exactly what you’re talking about,” Michael said, clearly indifferent. “There was an obvious instance of unnatural death here, but what is not yet obvious is whether we’re talking about an accident or not. I would think you’d have an interest in knowing exactly what happened, that you wouldn’t evade—but perhaps you don’t. Do you or don’t you?”
Zadik made a show of crossing his arms over his chest. “You should be ashamed of yourself. What’s this business about ‘I don’t even know exactly what you’re talking about’? What kind of bullshit is that?” he said, raising his voice. “Are you trying to make me look like a fool? What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’? You don’t know that we shook down the entire police force with the Fueler case? That thanks to us you cleaned out your stables? You don’t know that your own commissioner of police will not rest until he finds out who informed us about the district commander’s bribe-taking?” His voice grew louder and louder, until he was shouting. “If that’s the way you’re going to speak with me,” he roared, pounding his fist on the desk, “then don’t bother coming back until you’ve got a search warrant. Understand? Have you got a search warrant or not?”
Michael shook his head. “Zadik, calm down. I thought that with our kind of relationship we wouldn’t need a search warrant,” he said pleasantly. “Take it easy, I’m not concerned with those affairs just now. I’m here because of Tirzah Rubin, and because of things that became clear from what Matty Cohen was telling us, and, like I said, because you should have a clear interest in all this. Unless, of course, you have an interest in keeping matters un clear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What are you hinting at? You think I’ve got something to hide?”
Michael said nothing.
“Are you crazy?” Zadik shouted. “What have I got to hide here? I showed your people last night exactly where—and you!” he said, pointing at Eli Bachar. “Didn’t I give you help with everything you required? Didn’t I tell people to—”
“Yes, yes, people cooperated,” Eli Bachar said, trying to calm Zadik down. “But try and understand: Matty Cohen saw something. There’s no denying it.”
“What? What did he see?”
“Enough for us to request an autopsy,” Eli Bachar answered.
Zadik glanced at the telephone on his desk, pursed his lips, and returned his attention to the policemen in front of him, remaining silent.
“Listen, Zadik,” Michael said. “The police need to get in here, that’s clear. Do the math yourself: do you prefer me or someone else? I’m not saying they’ll let you choose anyone you want. But now I’m going to pose the question in a, well, if you’ll forgive me, didactic manner. Are you certain you want to push me out of here?”
Zadik did not speak.
“Okay,” Michael said. “So let’s just say you and I understand one another. If that’s the case, I’d like to verify a few facts.”
“What facts? Everything is perfectly clear,” Zadik grumbled.
“Not perfectly, no,” Michael insisted. “That matter of the back door to the String Building: the guard didn’t even see Matty Cohen enter the building because he came in the back way.”
“Of course he came in through the back,” Zadik said, brushing off the question. “He was on his way to Benny Meyuhas up on the roof of the String Building, he’d parked his car in the lot out back, why would he need to pass by the guard on his way in?”
“But anyone can come in through the back door,” Eli Bachar claimed.
“No, not just anyone,” Zadik said, rubbing his cheek. “Only people with keys: veteran department heads and all kinds of…just the people who actually work in that building.”
“We’ll need a list of everyone with a key,” Eli Bachar noted. “Everyone who could get in to the building without the guard seeing him.”
“Aviva will get it for you, and there’s somebody over in the String Building, Max Levin, who knows—but what do you think, that somebody pushed the pillar on top of Tirzah?”
“When we were reconstructing events with Matty Cohen, it turned out that some argument might have been taking place there,” Michael said carefully. “We would like to speak with her husband, too, with Benny Meyuhas. But we’ll do that when we talk to him about performing an autopsy.”
Zadik regarded him with interest. “Okay, I’m willing to help you, on one condition.”
“I’m listening,” Michael said. “I’m not big on conditions, but I’m willing to listen.”
“That if you don’t find anything, you’ll get off our backs about the informant. I’m not willing to hear another word about it.”
“And what about vice versa?”
“What vice versa?”
“If we do find something.”
“If you do find something?”
“Yes,” Michael said, folding his arms. “If we find something unnatural, then what? Will you give us the name of your informant?”
“No way!” Zadik shouted. “I’m not giving you anything, just help, no arguments.”
“It was a joke,” Eli Bachar explained.
“It wasn’t funny,” Zadik said. “Nothing is funny right now. You people can talk with Benny Meyuhas, but I doubt you’ll learn anything new from him. There’s no way he’ll be cooperative now, I’ve heard he’s completely catatonic. He’s been lying on his bed, not talking to a soul.”
“Who is close to him?” Michael asked. “Are you?”
“I…” Zadik hesitated. “He’s an introvert, no, I…but there’s Hagar, his producer, she’s over there with that actress, the Indian woman. She hasn’t left his side.”
“I understand that Rubin is close to him,” Eli Bachar said. “That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Rubin, yes, he’s close to him,” Zadik said, glancing at the door. “If Benny will talk to anyone at all, it would be Rubin.”
“So we were thinking maybe we should take Rubin with us,” Eli Bachar said.
“He’s here, outside my office,” Zadik mumbled, and pressed the intercom.
“What?” Aviva answered, her voice loud and metallic.
“Ask Rubin to step into my office for a minute,” Zadik instructed her.
A moment later the door opened and Rubin stood in the doorway, the edges of Natasha’s red scarf clearly visible behind him.
“Wait outside fo
r a minute, Natasha,” Zadik told her. “Come on in alone for a minute, Arye. Come, meet…Chief Superintendent?”—Michael nodded—“Chief Superintendent Michael Ohayon.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Rubin said, proffering his hand.
Michael shook his hand and said self-consciously, “I’m an old fan of your program. Inspector Eli Bachar, too. In fact, all of us.”
“Really?” Arye Rubin asked without a smile. He pulled at the cuffs of his wool sports jacket. Eli Bachar glanced at his long, narrow face, at the two deep creases in his cheeks, at his narrow brown eyes, at the focused, burning gaze that radiated from them. Rubin shook Eli’s hand as well and then turned to Zadik with a questioning look. “Natasha’s been waiting—” He glanced toward the door.
“I know, I know, she’ll have to keep waiting,” he said impatiently.
“I’ve got to tell her something, anything. First, to put her out of her misery,” he said, passing his hand over his cropped gray hair. “And second, Zadik, she’s onto something pretty big.”
It was hard for Eli Bachar to hide his excitement. He wondered whether Michael remembered that Arye Rubin was Tzilla’s hero. He had to admit that up close, live, Rubin was even more impressive than on the television screen. The man didn’t seem to have an inflated ego, he seemed like he was just some regular guy. He really did inspire esteem.
Esteem and modesty, humility and quiet admiration: these feelings accompanied Eli Bachar on his way to the car and after he had seated himself inside it. The radio was on, and the chirping noises from the transmitter did not drown out a live radio report about the laid-off workers, who were at that moment alighting from the police van in handcuffs, their wives waiting in ambush at police headquarters. The reporter mentioned Danny Benizri, too, “the hero of the day,” he called him. “He’s with us right now. Hello, Danny Benizri.”
“Hello, Gidi.”
“Danny Benizri, what now? Where will you go from here?” he asked theatrically. But Eli Bachar did not hear what the television correspondent answered, since at that moment Michael was telling Rubin how important he thought his weekly program, The Justice of the Sting, was. Then he said, “I’ve been curious for a long time about the name The Justice of the Sting. Where does it come from?”
