Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel

by Michal Hartstein

  *

  I sat down at my computer, defeated, massaging my temples. My head was about to explode. I’d been in the interrogation room since the first thing in the morning, initially with Dina and then for hour after miserable hour with Yigal.

  My cell phone danced on the table. I had a message. I’d switched it to “vibrate” in the morning. My mother had called me just as I’d started interrogating Dina, so I’d switched it to “vibrate” and later forgotten about it on my desk.

  I picked up the “museum piece” (that’s what Nurit, Shira’s daughter, called my cell phone). I had ten missed calls from my mother and another five text messages, four from my mother, and the most recent one from Shira.

  “Hello?” My mother answered in a suspicious tone. I was calling from the landline in the office and she probably saw an unidentified call on her screen. She hates it when I call her from an unidentified number; as she claims telemarketing sales representatives constantly bother her.

  “Mom, it’s Hadas. You were looking for me?”

  Her tone of voice immediately changed. “Where are you?” she cried out. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

  “I’ve been in the station all day.”

  “I know,” she said angrily. “I called two hours ago and they told me you’re in an interrogation.”

  “Right, I’ve been in an interrogation all day long, I didn’t have my phone with me and I didn’t see you were looking for me.”

  “Then why don’t you take your cell phone with you? That’s why you have one.”

  “I don’t have it so my mother can interrupt me in the middle of an investigation. I have it so I can be reached when I’m not at home or at work. I was in the station all day, Mom. You could have left a message.”

  “I did.”

  “When?”

  “Two hours ago.”

  I looked at my desk. It was so messy that it had to be quite a task to leave me a message that would be seen. I noticed the note that had been taped to the computer screen and fallen off. It said to call my mother, with three exclamation marks.

  I could lie and tell her there was no message, but I knew that would give my mother ammo about how the people who go to work for the police are irresponsible and disorganized and how I was wasting my talents there.

  “Sorry, I didn’t notice. There is a note here.” I confessed.

  “I don’t understand why, on a day like today, I have to worry about you instead of about what’s important.”

  “What’s happened?” I panicked.

  “Don’t worry,” she suddenly giggled. “Something good happened. Evyatar is getting married.”

  “Congratulations,” I said in a tired voice. I was happy for my little brother, but I was simply exhausted.

  “You could sound a little happier for your brother.” My mother reprimanded me.

  “I really am very happy, I’m just incredibly tired. I’ve had an exhausting day.”

  “So go get a nice cup of coffee and get yourself together because there’s a Vort [betrothal] party at the bride’s parents’ house.”

  “When?”

  “In an hour.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Since when do the groom’s siblings come to a Vort party?” I remembered the Vort Shira and Ayala had. Only the couple and the parents participated in the occasion where the couple usually introduces the parents and they discuss the dowry each one will receive. “I thought only you were supposed to meet the bride’s parents.”

  “We met with them yesterday. Lovely people. Real salt of the earth,” she said, satisfied. “It’s customary for them to have a small party right after the meeting with the parents and invite the close relatives and some good friends.”

  “And that’s how they invite you? At a moment’s notice?”

  “Yes, you know how it is. You don’t talk about it until everything’s settled between the parents, to avoid the evil eye.”

  “Just like the Middle Ages,” I blurted out.

  “Hadasi!” my mother protested. “Listen to yourself!”

  “Come on, Mom… really, what’s this ‘evil eye’ nonsense?”

  “I’m sorry that we’re not all as enlightened as you.”

  “Okay, okay, this is no time to fight.”

  “You’re right.” My mother returned to her pleased voice.

  “Do I have to come?” I tried my luck. “My head’s exploding.”

  “Take a pill and come, it won’t be for long. We’ll have a toast and some nice cake and go home.” She tried to lure me with food, “Don’t you want to meet your new sister-in-law? Her parents? Her brothers and sisters?”

  Actually, I wasn’t anxious to, but I knew that was the wrong answer.

  “Yes, of course,” I lied.

  “Good.” My mother rejoiced and dictated the address of the bride’s parents’ house in Tel-Aviv’s old north.

  *

  Evyatar, my little brother, was born when Shira was seven-and-a-half years old, I was six and Ayala was a year-and-a-half. Allegedly, my parents kept it consistent and had another child a year and a half apart, "because that way the child grows up with a friend," as my mother says. (By the way, her theory only proved successful with Shira and I. Ayala and Evyatar never got along). Actually, I always had the feeling that my parents just wanted a boy and after Ayala was born they tried their luck again.

  Evyatar never got any privileges for being the youngest and the only boy. He helped clean the house like all of us, washed dishes and cleared the table. The only thing he didn't do was cook, but I almost never helped my mother cook, either. Besides being the only male, Evyatar stood out from all of us because of his looks.

  Ever since I can remember, that boy turned heads. He had a light lick of hair and two huge almond eyes that could melt any human with one long gaze. Evyatar never had a single moment in his life when he looked bad. He never had pimples; he was never too skinny or fat. In fact, he even went through adolescence looking amazingly handsome.

  Towards the end of high school, he began growing muscles. He wanted to be a paratrooper and began working out more seriously. I think I've never seen a paratrooper as hunky as my brother. He was devastating. With the uniform, the beret, the hair, the eyes and the muscles, it was very hard for girls to resist him. When I moved in with Yinon, Evyatar was already in the army. He came from the base on that Friday and helped me move my things from my parents' house to our new apartment. He took his shirt off and was in a white tank top and his uniform pants. I had to wipe the drool off of all of Israel's women as they watched him loading and unloading my stuff from the car.

  After he’d finished in the army, he took off to South America and the US for a few months. I’ve no doubt he didn't save himself for marriage, surely not on that trip, when he was far from home and the inquiring glare of the religious community. When he returned from his travels his kippa [skull cap] got smaller, as did the number of his visits to the synagogue. He started studying electronic engineering at Tel-Aviv University and I thought he was on the right path out of religion.

  But at Tel-Aviv University, of all places, he met some religious guys. They started a group, to study Gemara together, after school. At some point they all got engaged and married. Evyatar didn't seem too anxious about it at first—I think he was still enjoying the benefits his good looks awarded him. After his friends from high school and Bnei Akivah also began marrying one after the other, he probably started getting nervous. I’ve no doubt my parents were also pressing him hard about it.

  A single, twenty-five-year-old guy is completely normal in secular society. Even in the Religious Zionist public, it's not too old for a man, but it starts to become problematic, especially for a guy like Evyatar who had some experience in the field.

  In the last two years, Evyatar was "wedding-stressed". I thought it was insane for a twenty-five/six year old to be that anxious to find a bride. He was too young and I secret
ly hoped that he would join me in the black sheep herd. My parents, on the other hand were thrilled that Evyatar finally got his act together.

  So now, Evyatar had found his other half, eventually. As I understood from Shira, the young bride's name was Efrat, a sweet twenty-year-old from Tel-Aviv. She was still in her second year of service and her parents were, as Shira managed to point out, "filthy rich".

  So my little brother got himself a rich young chick.

  *

  I was exhausted and looked like a wet rag. I decided to go freshen up at home first. I got to Efrat's parents' house about forty-five minutes after the designated hour. Of course, my mother had already called to berate me, but she calmed down when I explained to her that I had to shower and change because I look like someone who had just finished ten hours of interrogation. That convinced her.

  The Rosen family lived in a luxurious penthouse apartment in a relatively old building in the Bavli neighborhood in Tel-Aviv.

  The elevator door opened straight into the apartment. I stepped in hesitantly. I recognized some familiar faces, but it was hard for me to associate myself with the large, grand living room.

  Everyone's eyes turned to me when I walked in. My mother gave me her usual "That's what you had in your closet?" look. Evyatar approached me with a gleaming smile and pulled me in Efrat's direction.

  Efrat was a slim girl, with full red hair and green eyes. Her face was covered by dozens of freckles, which made her appear a bit like a child. Frankly, she was still almost a child. Only twenty years old. She was pretty cute, but not the devastating beauty that I expected Evyatar to snatch up. She probably had other characteristics that attracted him. Since I knew the guy, I knew the fact she was probably up to her neck in money wasn't one of them, although I was sure it made his decision easier.

  "Efrati." I had never heard Evyatar speak to a girl so affectionately. "Come meet Hadas, my sister." Efrat held her hand out and I shook it.

  "Nice to meet you," I said.

  "Nice to meet you too," she said, excited. "Evyatar told me so much about you."

  "I hope only good things."

  "Of course," she giggled. She had a cute laugh. I started to perceive what Evyatar saw in her.

  My mother was nearby, talking to Efrat's mother. She stopped their conversation and approached me along with Efrat's mother.

  "Geula," she said in a grand tone, "meet Hadas, our second daughter."

  "Nice to meet you," I said and shook her hand.

  "Nice to meet you," she smiled. "Help yourself to some food." She pointed towards a table that was packed with refreshments. To my great joy, the Rosen family didn't stop at coffee and cake. As usual, I was starving.

  "Our Hadas is a police officer." For a moment, I thought I heard pride in my mother's voice. "She's actually a lawyer, an exceptional one at that," I realized I had something to wait for, "but she decided to make a career change."

  "Very nice." Geula smiled politely.

  "At this very moment Hadas is investigating the Danilowitz family case, you know, the guy who killed his wife and kids in Givaat Shmuel two-and-a-half weeks ago." Again, I tried to guess if she was proud of me or just stating a fact.

  "Wow," Geula was impressed. "What a shocking story, it must be difficult."

  "Yeah," I blurted out and looked longingly at the refreshments table.

  "There are rumors going around now that it was a killer from outside the family, maybe their neighbor." She gave me an inquiring look. I tried to understand if she really expected me to answer her question.

  I didn't reply and she asked curiously. "Well…is it true?"

  "I'm really not at liberty to discuss this investigation." I looked at my mother and Evyatar, hoping they would come to my rescue, but they were silent.

  "Oh!" Geula smiled like a satisfied confidant. "So it's true!"

  I smiled to her. I assumed she understood my smile as agreement with her statement. I really can't control other people's thoughts and conclusions and I decided to retire to the buffet.

  "I'm starving," I said. "I've hardly eaten anything since this morning."

  She grabbed me by the hand and yanked me towards the food. "You should try the mini quiches, especially the sweet potato one." She handed me a plate. "This is from an excellent caterer, they do everything in these cute little bites." The buffet looked delicious.

  I filled up a plate and sat down in a corner.

  A few minutes later Shira joined me.

  "What's up?" she asked while she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  "Excellent," I said with my mouth full.

  "This food is amazing," she said and snatched a tiny mushroom quiche off my plate.

  "Totally," I nodded, still chewing.

  "Our little brother did good," she said, and winked.

  "Really good."

  "You're super nice today," she said sarcastically.

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn't deal with this right now. "I'm just tired."

  "Say, are those rumors about Yigal true?" She opened her eyes wide with curiosity.

  I rolled my eyes again and she realized the question was inappropriate.

  "Sorry, sorry." She put her hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean to upset you."

  "Where's Ayala?" I changed the subject.

  "She's not coming."

  "What?" My jaw dropped in amazement and a small piece of quiche fell straight from my mouth onto the lacquered marble floor. I picked it up and shoved it into a paper napkin. "How come Ayala didn't come but I had to come here half dead?"

  "Ayala wasn't feeling well. She had a stomach ache."

  "I had a headache but Mom didn't let me off the hook," I whined.

  "When you're pregnant, you can get a pass like that."

  "Very funny." I didn't even smile.

  "So what do you say about our new sister-in-law?" she inquired.

  "She seems nice. What do you know about the family?"

  "Besides the fact that they're loaded?"

  "Besides that." I smiled.

  "Not too much. The father is a business man. He owns several companies. That's where the money's from. I have no idea what her mother does—I thinks she owns a clothing store. She seems like a serious character. I think our Evyatar is going to hear from her." I smiled and nodded. "She has a brother and a sister, both older than her, both married with children."

  "Are they religious?" I asked.

  "I think they're like Mom and Dad. They observe, but not fanatically."

  "Good."

  "I don't think they observe Negiaa—I saw Evyatar touch her in their presence."

  "What? Do you think they've already done it?"

  "Are you serious?" she looked at me, stunned. "Efrat is a religious girl from a good home. She's also only twenty years old. I'll bet my head that she's a virgin."

  "So what's with the Negiaa?"

  She opened her eyes wide. "As if we didn't go to the school. The fact that they don't observe Negiaa means they don't have a problem holding hands or giving one another a friendly hug. Maybe even a kiss, tops, but nothing beyond that."

  Moshe approached us. "Shira, you have to meet Efrat's brother, I told you he looked familiar. It turns out he was in the battalion right after me." Shira left me alone and followed her husband.

  I looked at Evyatar and Efrat. They stood in the middle of the living room, smiling in every direction. They had already known one another for six months, and it would be a few more months before they got married. That meant they would have known each other for almost a year when they married. It may not be long, but it's not unusual even in secular society.

  But, unlike secular couples, they would only first know one another, in the biblical sense, on their wedding night. Or the night after, if they spent their first night counting checks, like most couples.

  I believed, or wanted to believe, that Evyatar was a guy with a normal libido. I also hoped Efrat would be compatible. But how could they know that for sure if the
y were going to marry and start a home together without getting to know one another sexually?

  If Dina had had a bit more sexual experience and hadn't gotten married a virgin, she eventually wouldn't have married Yigal, a man who didn't desire her and didn't satisfy her. I had no doubt that, for most couples, the desire and passion lessen with time, but the basis of it existed for everyone. Even if years later, the fire went out of it, it was once there. How could a couple that marries with no experience know if this essential part of a relationship, this basic ingredient, even existed?

  Did the end justify the means, when the goal was to build a home, have kids and be like everybody else? That kind of pressure existed in secular society too—to get married and have kids, maybe at a later age, but the pressure still did exist. Among secular society, there were those who settled, who just got married so they didn't miss the train—not for love and sometimes without passion.

  The fact was that the divorce rate among secular couples was higher than for the religious population. Maybe the religious formula was the right one? Statistically, it worked out better for them.

  Or maybe religious society was less open to accepting a divorced couple. Dina spent years living in an emotional prison; almost twenty years with a man who didn't love or desire her and she did nothing about it because she thought it was like that for everyone.

  And the truth was, everyone’s the same. None of us invented the wheel.

  Most of us wanted family and friends.

  Most of us wanted children.

  For most couples, desire did wear off with the years.

  Dina just got dealt a bad hand.

  Because Yigal really wasn't like everybody else.

  Chapter 27

  Wednesday, 6.3.2009

  Yigal cracked after two days.

  On Wednesday morning, he returned from Abu-Cabir to the station for another day of interrogation. Of course, we could have left him in the station for holding, like other people detained for interrogation, but Alon thought another night in Abu-Cabir would encourage him to start talking.

  He looked terrible: unshaven, eyes red from tears, and dark circles around them from lack of sleep. He wore the blue detainee uniform that Abu-Cabir gives to anyone whose relatives don’t provide a change of clothes. Usually only homeless people get the dubious honor of wearing the detainee uniform. Yigal's family hadn't come to visit him and after two days in the same clothes, he showered and wore what he was given.