Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel

by Michal Hartstein

  "Hanni also took the trip?" I recalled the photo album from Holland that was sitting in my office.

  "Yes," Renana giggled. "The following summer they went to the same resort that we stayed in."

  "So you were a real role model for her?"

  "Not really."

  "What do you mean?"

  "She only cared about my material things. We never sat down for an in-depth conversation, she never asked my advice about the kids. I really don't like to judge mothers, but I wasn't a fan of her parenting style."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Like Hanni, I also don't work. My husband, Baruch Hashem, earns enough money for me to sit at home. I know women like you who have a career look at me accusingly, as if I'm a danger to the feminist revolution, but I love being a mother and I'm very good at it. I simply enjoy raising them and watching them grow. I think Hanni wasn’t like this. She didn't go out to work but didn't really nurture her children either. For instance, I'm not sure why her children needed after-school daycare.

  “Believe me, I can afford it for my kids, but I see no reason for them to stay in kindergarten and at school until the afternoon if I'm at home and not working. If I didn't have learning disabilities myself, I’d even consider homeschooling, but I know I wouldn't be able to teach them. But Hanni was mostly occupied with finding after school arrangements for Ariel and her little girl, whose name I don't remember. I remember she tried to use us, too, a couple of times, but I couldn't deal with her son, who had no boundaries whatsoever, and I can understand why—she didn't make any effort to educate him. She tried to be fair and suggested that Idan come to her house in return, but I didn't need any favors and I admit I was a little apprehensive about sending Idan over to their house."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't trust her to watch them properly."

  "Did you know Meir?"

  "Not really. A little, from synagogue and maybe a bit from school."

  "And how did he seem to you?"

  "I must admit that I had no opinion about him. He was like air next to her."

  "Meaning?"

  "I don't remember him speaking, not once."

  "Really?"

  "Maybe because I barely saw him. He worked a lot and usually looked tired."

  "Did you ever see him lose it, raise his voice, hit someone?"

  "Not at all. He seemed pretty gentle to me, a lot of times I wondered what he was doing with Hanni, but I assumed that opposites attract."

  "He was Hanni's opposite?"

  "It's hard for me to say because I didn't know him; actually, I didn't know her too well either, but I certainly knew her better than him. She was always very talkative and the main event, while he was very quiet. I remember one occasion at the kindergarten—I think it was Ariel's birthday, so they were both there. She was arguing about something with the kindergarten teacher and he was trying to calm her down. I didn't hear any of the argument, but I remember that he said something to her about the fact that it was their son's celebration and they shouldn't ruin it."

  "Can you imagine him committing a murder?"

  "So it's really him?"

  "I didn't say that," I smiled. You would have to be a complete moron not to understand. "We're examining possible directions."

  "Listen, I understood from the news that it's him, but it's really, really hard for me to believe. He always seemed like such a gentle, calm guy. I can't understand what could cause him to do such a thing."

  The apartment door was locked from inside, but maybe it was still someone from outside? Someone who came in through the door, locked it and went out the window...?

  "Can you maybe think of anyone who was at odds with the Danilowitz family? Anyone who could have possibly wanted them dead?"

  "Absolutely not," Renana rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying everyone in the neighborhood loves one another, but no feud would ever reach this level."

  That's what she thinks, I thought to myself. So many murders have occurred linked to feuds about nothing.

  Renana provided me with the class contact sheet and marked for me the mothers who were connected to Hanni.

  When I left her house, I checked my phone, which was on vibrate ever since the session in the library. I always forget to turn the ringer back on. Two missed calls from my mother and three more from Alon.

  Alon hates to leave messages and he never texts. This time he acted differently.

  "Levinger." I heard the irritation in his voice. "Where are you? Why do I need to get a phone call from the dead woman’s parents to hear that you still haven't questioned them? I'm turning off my phone because we're going to a wedding tonight and I won't be able to hear anything anyway, but contact them—and me—urgently tomorrow morning."

  Chapter 7

  I parted from Shira and Renana and rushed to my car.

  On the way, I heard a familiar voice shouting in my direction.

  "Gunger!" I turned towards the voice. It was Tamar, my friend from The Convent. How could I forget that a substantial number of my classmates from high school were now residents of this neighborhood? "Gunger" was the nickname given to me in high school, a sort of twist on Levinger, my surname. I don't remember who came up with it, but it just caught on and they hadn't bothered to say my real name for years.

  I approached Tamar to discover that she was pregnant again. The last time we spoke, she’d had two kids.

  "Gunger, wow, I haven't seen you in so long!"

  I embraced her warmly, with love. Despite the years that had passed, I will always have a warm spot for her in my heart. All throughout high school, we sat next to one another. From all of the Convent's members, she was the one closest to me. We were both excellent students and Tamar, who had better learning skills than me, went on to medical school after her civil service. I idolized her because she was a doctor and a devoted mother. She managed to get it all in—a career and a family too.

  I'm always in awe of people who manage to do so much. I really, truly admire these active people, like Tamar. Even when we were in high school she was all about activities and friends. I, on the other hand, sought peace and quiet—to be alone a bit. I loved my family and enjoyed social gatherings, but I also had to be by myself from time to time. I had fun with myself. I considered myself a great person to pass the time with. I didn't get bored.

  "Congratulations," I point to her growing belly. "This is your third isn't it?"

  Tamar smiled. "The fourth."

  I definitely could not keep up with the factory pace.

  "I didn't know." I made an embarrassed face.

  "It's okay." Tamar gave a big smile. "It's not like I call you every morning."

  "So what are you having?"

  "I have three boys at home and finally a girl as well." Tamar gently caressed her round belly.

  "That's great." I was happy for her. "Do you still work at Tel-Hashomer?"

  "No," she smiled. "Now I'm a family physician for Maccabi."

  "Very nice." I was deeply impressed.

  "Convenient hours."

  "How's Yossi?" I asked after her husband.

  "Yonni," she corrected me. "He's just fine, works at the same place."

  I couldn’t remember where he worked, but I wouldn’t show my ignorance by asking.

  "What about you?" she asked carefully. "I heard you left the office you were working in." I saw she was struggling with the question, so I completed it for her:

  "And I also left Yinon."

  She made a sad face. "That's a shame; I was sure you were such a good couple."

  "We were a very good couple." I smiled a comforting smile, as if Tamar was the one who got divorced and I had to cheer her up.

  "So why?"

  "Because. It didn't work out."

  "So what are you doing here? Did you come to visit your sister?"

  "That, and I'm also working here."

  "Really?" she looked around in amazement, as if searching for the nearest law firm.

  "Where?" />
  "You really don't know?"

  "Know what?"

  "You haven't seen the news?"

  "We don't have a TV."

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  "Because of a religious thing?" I asked, curious, I didn't understand how it was possible to raise three kids without the ultimate babysitter.

  "Because of an educational thing," she said proudly.

  "Very nice. Did you know I became a police officer?"

  "Really?" She was shocked and began to link all of the details. "Since when?"

  "Almost a year."

  "So you must have something to do with the Danilowitz family investigation."

  "I'm investigating the case."

  "Wow, that can't be easy."

  "No, not really."

  "Just horrible."

  "Did you know them?"

  "Barely," she said. "We live on the other side of the neighborhood, so we don't attend the same synagogue."

  "And from school? Kindergartens?"

  "Our kids aren't the same ages; I've never actually seen the husband, except the pictures in the newspaper."

  "And her?"

  "She’d hang around the mall a lot, so I'd see her every once in a while, but we weren't in touch."

  I saw Tamar couldn't be a source for me. "How are the rest of the Convent?" I asked, preferring not to get into confidential details of the investigation. "Are you in touch with anyone?"

  "Anat lives nearby, so we meet up every once in a while. I haven't spoken with Inbal in months and I talk to Dganit occasionally."

  "How are they?"

  "Okay."

  We stood in awkward silence. I felt a bit sad. At one point in our lives, we couldn't stop talking—we'd meet, chatter endlessly and call one another the second we got home. I missed that a little. I didn't have too many girlfriends. I know a lot of friendships dissolve over the years, especially with the arrival of children, but it doesn't have to be like that. Yinon, for instance, has quite a few friends, including childhood friends. The main difference is that Yinon's friends are secular like him. Between my childhood and flaws within myself, friends are a deep chasm that’s very difficult to bridge.

  "Listen, I have to run to the office, but we've got to meet up sometime, the whole Convent."

  "Dganit is out of the country now…"

  "So, when she gets back." I knew this wouldn't happen. It never does.

  "Excellent, we'll be in touch."

  "Sure." I checked to see I had her current number and rushed to my car.

  Half an hour later, I was already sitting at my desk, sifting through all of the pieces of paper to find Aviva and Shimon Levin's phone number. Aviva's sister answered my call. I heard commotion on her end; it was eight o’ clock in the evening and I assumed the house was packed with people who had come to console the family in the Shiva.

  Aviva couldn't come to the phone and Shimon took the call.

  "Mr. Levin?" I asked hesitantly.

  "Speaking."

  "Hello, sir, this is Hadas Levinger from Israeli Police."

  "Hello, Hadas."

  "First of all, allow me to express my condolences for the horrible tragedy that has befallen you."

  "Thank you," he said in a whisper and I could hear the tears choke up his throat.

  "I'm responsible for the investigation of the murder of your daughter and grandchildren."

  "I know."

  "I understand you were expecting me to come see you?"

  "That's right."

  "I'd like to apologize for that. Since the leads in the case are pretty clear, I didn't see the need to bother you during the Shiva. I thought it would be rude of me."

  "It's okay," he said calmly.

  "If it's still possible, I can come over tomorrow."

  "Morning would be the most convenient time," he said. "Most people come from afternoon on."

  "I'll be there at nine."

  "That’s fine."

  I had a hard time understanding why Alon was so stressed in the message he left me.

  Thursday, 5.21.2009

  The following day, everything became clear. Hanni Levin apparently inherited her temper from her mother. I arrived at the grieving home at nine-thirty in the morning, hoping there would be no visitors there.

  Despite the early hour, the house was packed and the door was open; I entered the living room. About a year earlier, my grandfather had passed away at the age of ninety-two. He was already very ill and didn't recognize anyone, so his Shiva was some kind of a pleasant social gathering. A lot of memories came up and there was quite a bit of laughter. There is a very fundamental difference between the Shiva of a ninety-year-old elderly man--who passes away at a ripe old age, when all of his descendants are ready to part from him—and the Shiva of a young girl like Hanni and her three little children. In fact, no one sat Shiva for Ariel, Galit and little Noa because all of the people who could sit Shiva for them were no longer alive.

  Although we were in high school together, I never got to visit Hanni's parents' home. As far as I recalled, it was the same apartment they had lived in when we were in high school—a spacious, well-kept apartment in the heart of Ramat Gan. Hanni's father, Shimon Levin, sat in the center of the living room. He was a tall, handsome man who had worked for years as an engineer in the Israeli Aerospace Industry and had retired with a comfortable pension plan three years earlier. Since then he had worked as an engineering consultant for a number of companies. Next to him sat, with red eyes, his wife, Aviva Levin. Despite the heavy grief that was evident in her face, her hair and clothes were immaculate. Beneath the carefully-styled hair and designer clothes, she was a heavy set, not overly attractive woman. Hanni got her beauty from her father.

  I went straight to Aviva, who glared at me angrily.

  "Aviva, Shimon, allow me to express my condolences."

  "Thank you very much." Shimon said, almost in a whisper.

  "I'm Hadas Levinger from the central unit. I'm in charge of the investigation…"

  "We know who you are." Aviva cut me off with an impatient tone.

  "I think it’ll be best if we go to the study." Shimon decided to avoid an unpleasant scene in front of all of the guests.

  The two lifted themselves off the stools they were sitting on and turned towards one of the inner rooms. Dozens of eyes followed me.

  The study was decorated with heavy wooden shelves. Dozens of holy books, Babylonian Talmud, Shulchan Aruch, a full bible of Daat Mikra, the Rambam's Guide for the Perplexed and more books I wasn't familiar with. At the corner of the room stood three crates of soft drinks and on top of them bags filled with cookies, store-bought cakes and plastic disposable tableware, light refreshments for the Shiva.

  Shimon sat down on a chair close to the desk and Aviva and I sat across from him on the couch. The room had the familiar and beloved scent of the study in my parents' house, and I suddenly felt closer to Hanni. We had the same starting point, but destiny swept each of us to a completely different place.

  "Listen," Aviva said in a reproving voice, "it just doesn't seem reasonable to me that I'm here sitting Shiva for my daughter and three grandchildren and I have to call the police and call you over."

  I realized there was no reason to argue and decided simply to apologize. "I apologize, Mrs. Levin. As you know, the main and only suspect at this moment is your late son-in-law. There’s no danger to the public here, so I thought there was no point in bothering you during the Shiva."

  "You thought wrong," Aviva retorted angrily.

  "Aviva, stop." Shimon laid his hand on his wife's shoulder and tried to calm her. "There were no bad intentions here."

  Aviva ignored her husband's attempts to appease her and went on with her attack. "Didn't you go to school with my Hanni?"

  "I was in her grade."

  "And you don't think there's a problem with the fact that you're investigating my daughter's murder?"

  "If there was any conflict of interest, I
would not have been assigned this case." I replied in an authoritative tone. "Hanni and I weren't friends in high school." I remembered I was in a grieving home and immediately added "… for the simple reason that we didn't study in the same class. And since we finished high school…" I rolled my eyes to remember, "…fifteen years ago, as I recall, and I wasn't in touch with your daughter, there's no reason why I shouldn't investigate this case."

  "That's perfectly fine with us," Shimon said in a quivering voice. "The most important thing is that we understand why this tragedy happened to us."

  I looked into Shimon's sad, blue eyes.

  I smiled a doleful smile and said, "We just placed a gag order on the case because of the minute chance that the murder was committed by a killer who fled the scene. According to all of the signs and evidence we've gathered, it appears that your son-in-law, Meir, shot all of the members of his family and then put an end to his life."

  Aviva wept and Shimon sat down next to her and hugged her. I took his place on the chair.

  "I know there’s a lot of public interest in this story, but our goal in the investigation is, first of all, to ensure that there isn't a killer on the loose and to find the motive for Meir's actions as best we can. It’s clear to all of us that there’s no suitable motive for the murder of a wife and three small children, but maybe understanding the motives that caused Meir to commit this horrible act will help you in your grief."

  "The journalists are like vultures," Aviva said, and Shimon went on comforting his sobbing wife.

  "I know," I said in a sympathetic voice, "and right now there is a gag order on the case, but if we do solve it there may be no choice but to reveal some or all of its details."

  Aviva went on weeping and Shimon hugged her warmly. After a few moments of tense silence, I got up from the chair. "I don't want to disturb you. After you finish the Shiva, I'll call you down to the station for questioning."

  "Question us now!" Aviva took me by surprise, I thought she wasn't able to speak.

  "Are you sure?"