Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel

by Michal Hartstein

  "I went to the gym Hanni and Meir used."

  "May I ask what for?" He resumed his angry tone.

  "Because I found out they had lockers there." Alon's look changed again; I could see my latest discovery intrigued him.

  "And did you find anything there?" he asked in an appeasing tone.

  "I found this." I picked up the rolled-up socks.

  "You found a pair of socks. Good job, Levinger, I'll update the chief commissioner." In spite of his anger, he managed to assume a cheery tone.

  "What's interesting about this pair of socks," I went into a dramatic tone, "is what I found rolled up inside them."

  I pulled out the disc and waved it in Alon's stunned face.

  "Then why don't you report that you found a very suspicious piece of evidence?" he scolded me, but I knew he was happy.

  "Because you haven't stopped yelling at me from the minute I came in."

  "Okay, okay, okay," he gestured for me to come closer. "So what's on this?"

  "I have no idea, I just got here."

  "Give it." He reached out his hand and I gently placed it in in his palm. He grabbed it and plugged it into the USB slot of his computer.

  Within seconds the computer identified the device and the file library was opened. There was one file on it.

  A video.

  Alon double clicked on the file and the video opened. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was afraid that there would be nothing again. Within a few seconds, I stopped breathing. The sense of relief was replaced by a sense of unease and discomfort.

  The video was taken by Meir, a year earlier, on Independence Day. Meir's voice was heard, urging Galit, his four-year-old daughter, to tell him what holiday it was today and then he asked her to sing My Flag is Blue and White. The video was shot outside and I recognized the location as a playground not far from my sister Shira's house in Givaat Shmuel.

  Galit giggled at the camera and ran towards the slides. There were not many children there. When Galit ran, Meir lowered the camera. There was a shot of the ground for a few seconds. Although Galit ran towards the slides, Meir was walking in the opposite direction. At first it was unclear why, and after a few seconds you could hear what Meir probably heard himself: the sounds of a man breathing heavily in excitement.

  The camera lens was raised in the direction of some tall bushes. It was possible to dimly hear the man's voice and the thin voice of a little boy or girl. In a short while, there was some stirring from within the bushes. The camera shot the ground again. Meir apparently ran in a different direction. The camera's lens was again raised in the direction the voices were coming from. A young boy of about eight came out from the bushes, wiping his hands on his shirt. He seemed embarrassed and flustered, but not as upset as I'd expect from a boy who had just undergone what he, apparently, had, just moments earlier.

  I thought to myself, what's he supposed to feel like? I’d never talked with a child who’d been sexually abused, much less seen one seconds after he had undergone this difficult experience.

  It was hard to identify the boy. The camera probably didn't shoot in such good quality and it was far away. The boy turned in the opposite direction and ran. A few seconds later a man emerged from the bushes. He was about forty years old, his face was also hard to clearly identify, but I assumed anyone who knew him would be able to recognize him easily. The man was wearing a knit skullcap, zipping his pants and adjusting his shirt. He began walking towards the playground and Meir immediately turned the camera away and stopped the recording.

  Alon and I exchanged glances in silence. I assumed Alon had already encountered sexual assault investigations, but it was a first for me.

  "You can play it again," I said.

  We watched again. This time I talked us through the video and identified the location of the playground for Alon.

  When the man emerged from the bushes Alon froze the image.

  "Do you know him?"

  I looked intently at the blurry image. It was a man of medium height, a bit chubby, slightly balding, wearing eyeglasses. He was dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt. There was no detail differentiating him from dozens of other men who look more or less exactly like him. Despite the standard, cliché appearance, I had the feeling I knew him, or had seen him somewhere before, a perfectly reasonable feeling in light of the fact that he was probably a resident of Givaat Shmuel, a city that I visit pretty often.

  "No, I don't know him, but I have a feeling that I've seen him before."

  "Maybe in Givaat Shmuel?"

  "Probably."

  We were silent again. I was distraught and confused from the difficult footage.

  Alon huffed. "It's not easy to watch."

  "Not at all."

  "Were there any complaints filed to the police by Meir or Hanni?

  "Neither of them ever filed a police complaint."

  "You mean, Meir walked around for at least a year with this video shoved in a pair of socks and didn't tell anyone a thing?"

  "Not as far as I know. None of the relatives even mentioned anything that comes close to what we saw."

  Alon shook his head in disbelief. It was hard to believe that Meir captured such footage and didn't run to the police with it

  "Okay," Alon huffed again. "Find this pervert. I think now we can guess who Meir was blackmailing." I nodded. "Once we know who this is, maybe we’ll be able to understand what brought Meir to do what he did."

  I gathered the socks, Alon placed the disc in a new evidence bag and asked me to make at least three copies of the video and send one to him.

  I was about to leave the room when he called my name.

  "Levinger." I turned around.

  "Good job."

  I smiled shyly and ran to my room.

  Chapter 22

  I had a hot potato in my hand and knew that I couldn't talk to anyone—not even at the station. Stories of this kind have a tendency to get to the press at the speed of light.

  I watched the video a few more times. I tried to understand where I knew this man from and tried to produce a clearer photo of the boy. A chill went down my spine each time I watched it. I thought of Elad, my sister Ayala's eldest son. I had no doubt this wasn't Elad, but he reminded me of him, a skinny, curly-haired boy. Elad's skullcap, just like this boy's, was also always hanging and not lying on the top of his head. In Elad's case it was because he was hyperactive. In the case of the boy from the bushes, I didn't know whether he was mischievous or not, but I assumed the skullcap was hanging for other reasons.

  I thought of Eladi again. I loved that boy. It may be because he was Ayala's complete opposite, and gave her hell. In character, he took after me more than my sister, a fact that was no doubt costing Ayala her health. Elad was a beautiful boy. When he was a toddler, he was even in a commercial for a dairy product for toddlers. The thought of someone hurting him and destroying his innocence drove me mad.

  Elad was not my son. I tried to think what went through Alon's mind as a father of two boys, when he watched the video. How could you have a job like ours and not get emotionally involved? How could you be cold and objective?

  I made copies of the video and printed out some copies of the pictures of the man and child. It took a while, because I tried to capture a frame where they didn't look as if they had just committed a sexual act. The boy turned around too fast, so I cut the picture in a way that only showed his face. As for the man, I had a full body shot and a face shot. None of the pictures were clear enough, but I assumed that someone who knew both of them would be able to recognize them.

  I wasted too much time on fiddling with the pictures and I regretted not involving someone else. Amos surely would not have told anyone, I could have used his professional services. I thought I'd manage to run over to Shira to show her the pictures. I imagined that if it was someone from Givaat Shmuel she could identify him for me, and be as discreet as possible.

  By the time I was done it was already three thirty. I told Iris we'd m
eet at four, so I couldn't manage to go to Givaat Shmuel.

  I went out to have a falafel and when I got back, Iris was already waiting for me. We entered the interview room. Iris sat down and immediately broke into tears.

  I ran to my room and brought her a packet of tissues.

  "I'm sorry," she said and blew her nose. "This whole situation, me sitting in an interrogation room and having to talk about Hanni's death—it's horrible."

  I tried to muster my most sympathetic look. "I understand," I said in a whisper and sat across from her. I allowed her to calm down. Even though she was crying, it was hard to ignore the fact that she was a beautiful girl. Long, smooth, black hair, gigantic blue eyes, a tiny nose and a perfectly drawn mouth. The girl could have been used as inspiration by whoever drew Snow White.

  "Tell me how you met Hanni." I decided not to start from the end.

  "We both did our civil service at Sieff Hospital."

  "In Zefat?" I was a bit stunned. Hanni didn't seem to me like the kind of girl who would go to the other end of the country to do her year of service.

  "Yes," she replied. She noticed the slight surprise in my voice, "We both did one year of service, and we decided to do it somewhere far away, so we'd feel like we were serving. My parents are from Tel-Aviv; Hanni's are from Ramat Gan, so we'd always travel there and back together. I know that for many people, doing only one year of service "doesn't count', but I believe what we did there in one year was equal to, or even more than what an office worker does in the Tel-Aviv headquarters does in two years."

  I had no intention of getting into an argument with her. I also thought she had a point.

  "We shared a room in a civil service apartment in Zefat and became best friends," she went on. "I don't know how to explain it, but right from the beginning we felt a real closeness to one another. Both of us only had brothers and we were like sisters to one another." She burst into tears again.

  After she calmed down, I asked "What can you tell me about Hanni and Meir's relationship?"

  She thought for a moment. "If you ask me, she didn't love Meir."

  "Ever? Or did the love fade?" I tried not to use the word 'died', so as to avoid another flood of tears.

  "I think she never did." She surprised me. "See, Hanni was a very practical girl, Meir was a guy from a wealthy family and she wanted to live in comfort." I looked at her, astounded. "I know it sounds bad, but we both know why I'm sitting here and I want to help as much as I can." Frankly, she amazed me; the weeping girl from moments earlier just disappeared.

  "So she married him for the money?"

  "Also. You didn't know her when she was younger." I decided not to correct her. "Hanni was very beautiful, I mean she's beautiful now, too," she paused for a second and corrected herself, "I mean, she was beautiful." I prayed she wouldn't start crying again and she went on. "But, what I'm saying is that when we were in civil service she was very, very beautiful and very, very sought after.

  “She met Meir back in Bnei Akivah, but they didn't connect until she was in university. Up until she met Meir, there were a lot of guys that were interested in her, some had more money, some less. What I'm trying to say is, Meir wasn't the only admirer she had that came from a wealthy family and that she liked and the fact that she finally chose him says something."

  "What?"

  "That it wasn't just for his money."

  "But you said that you don't think she married out of love."

  "Right."

  "Why?"

  "I think she never got over the love she had when we were in Zefat."

  "Can you tell me more about that?"

  "When we were in Zefat, we occasionally stayed for Shabbat in the civil service apartment. Mainly families live in Zefat and the only young people you can see there over the weekends are civil service girls and guys from the Hesder Yeshiva. On our first Shabbat there, we met Avinadav. You could say it was really love at first sight."

  "Between Hanni and Avinadav?"

  "Of course, I was already engaged to Jeremy. I met my husband at a Bnei Akivah camp when we were seventeen and we decided to get married once Jeremy finished the army. I wasn't single, but Hanni was a hit in Zefat. A lot of guys were interested in her. Why wouldn't they be?" she said longingly.

  "She was so beautiful, and also smart and opinionated, everyone wanted to be around her, but only Avinadav managed to really get close to her. He was an amazingly good-looking guy, very tall, broad shoulders, dark curls and almond colored eyes that melted everyone. He was also a smart student. Everyone in the Yeshiva was impressed by his knowledge and debating ability."

  "So…what happened?"

  "After a couple of months of lots of nightly conversations and a lot of butterflies, he proposed to her, but Hanni said no."

  "She didn't want him?"

  Iris snickered. "She was in love with him with every fiber of her being."

  "Then why did she refuse?"

  "I already told you, Hanni was a practical girl and she didn’t believe love could pay the bills. Although Avinadav was the epitome of all of her romantic dreams, a world-class hunk, very intelligent, and very romantic… you should have seen the letters he wrote her, even I skipped a beat when she read them to me."

  "But..?” I tried to move her along.

  "But he had no money and was also too religious for her. For instance, they never touched one another, because he was Shomer Negiaa." I was astonished. I knew the phrase, but was amazed at the thought that there could be a couple that longed for one another so completely but never even kissed.

  "Did she also observe Negiaa?"

  "No, don't get me wrong, she was married a virgin—of that I'm certain because we told each other everything, but she fooled around with Meir, for instance, before they were married and I think there were at least three other guys that she kissed before she started seeing Meir, so the thought that she didn't get to touch Avinadav specifically was pretty disappointing for her."

  "So they didn't get married because he was too religious?"

  "I told you, he also had nothing. Hanni deliberated a lot about this point, she was very practical. She saw quite a few people around her who married out of great love and the love eventually died. She didn't want to find herself raising six or seven kids, with a husband studying in Yeshiva."

  "I thought he was a Hesder student."

  "Right, but all kinds come to Yeshivat Hesder, and Avinadav wanted to go on with his studies in the Yeshiva. He also planned to go to university, but not to study something practical. Hanni didn't want to clip his wings. She loved him very much. She thought that if she demanded that he become, say, an engineer, he'd hold it against her their entire life."

  "Where is he now? Do you have any idea?" I wanted to talk to him.

  "He was killed." She surprised me. "The year after Hanni's year of service, when Hanni was already in law school at Bar-Ilan, he was very closed off and refused to meet any girls. A year later he apparently softened, was introduced to a few girls and ended up marrying someone, I have no idea who. When we heard he got married, Hanni was depressed. She probably hoped in her heart they’d eventually get married. After that, we didn't hear about him for years. We only knew he moved to some god-forsaken Moshav in Galilee and that he led a very spiritual life style.

  In the Second Lebanon War, he was recruited to the reserve forces and was killed. Then we saw his picture in the paper and there was an article about him and his family. He had six kids, two boys and four girls, very close in age. He had a small Galilee vineyard and he continued studying and teaching in a Yeshiva. There was a picture of him; he’d aged a bit, but was still handsome. Hanni didn't stop talking about him for days, after that article was published following his death."

  "What did she say?"

  "She mainly tried to convince herself how right she was not marrying him. That she didn't see herself raising six kids in some hole in the North and how happy she was with the life she had."

  "And was
she really happy?"

  "Depends when you’re thinking of… like all of us, really, who's happy all the time?" she asked. I didn't answer and she went on, "Avinadav was killed a few weeks after Meir was fired from the start-up company he worked in for about two years. It wasn't such a pleasant time for them. Meir had a dream job and, suddenly, all of their dreams were shattered."

  "So she was lying to herself when she said she was happy with her life?"

  "I don't think so. Hanni was a very optimistic girl. At least at that time she still believed Meir would find another job as good as the start-up, if not better."

  "And it didn't work out in the end." I filled in what I already knew.

  "Right, it didn't work out and Meir went back to work at the bank."

  "How did Hanni take it?"

  "Hanni didn't like that too much. She thought Meir would get a job that was a bit more respectable and rewarding."

  "Working in a bank isn't respectable?" I asked in wonder.

  "It's very respectable, but there's an environmental element. A lot of very successful people live in Givaat Shmuel, Meir had gotten there and now had to regress to his student job."

  I already knew all that. I wanted to try and get an insider’s view of Hanni and Meir. "How was Hanni and Meir's relationship? Did they fight a lot? Was there verbal or physical violence?"

  "Not that I saw, that's why I'm so shocked. Hanni and Meir seemed to me like a completely normal couple, they fought quite a bit, mostly about money, but I know a lot of other couples who fight about money." Interesting. I didn't know even one couple like that. Iris noticed my difficulty in understanding and she explained. "In a lot of houses there's one side that squanders a bit more and a side that's a bit more frugal—opposites attract, as they say."

  "Were Hanni and Meir complementary opposites?"

  "In that field, of course. Hanni was a bit frivolous with money, but Meir was very tight fisted."