by Joan Hess
“Nah, the money came in regularly, but there hadn’t been any withdrawals in over two years. Your theory that Nava funded the terrorists didn’t pan out; they had another source of income that I haven’t identified. Maybe they found a gold mine in the desert.” He stood up and looked in the mirror as he settled the hat on his head. “I’ve been ordered to forget about it and return to Washington for a debrief, so I’m not going to worry about it, myself. You’re crushing the collars on those shirts, Bloom. My wife uses tissue paper.”
Sitermann left, chuckling under his breath. Theo took out the shirts and rearranged them, but the collars were a lost cause unless Mrs. Sitermann appeared with a bundle of tissue paper. It did not seem likely. Abandoning the shirts, he sat down on the bed.
There were still several untidy problems. He considered the wisdom of telling Miriam to cancel the search for Sarah, but decided to wait until he heard an update on Yussef’s condition. The news that Yussef no longer had a nest egg in Switzerland might produce a second, decidedly fatal, attack. The fact that he no longer had a wife in residence might help to pull him through it. Then again, the fury of the kibbutzniks when they learned of the theft might warrant a stroke. A medical dilemma best left in the greenhouse for the moment.
His thoughts returned to the locket. Tissue paper having not materialized, he packed everything he would not use the following day, then went to Dorrie’s room and tapped on the door. She yanked it open seconds later.
“What? What?” she demanded in a harried voice.
Theo looked over her shoulder at the aftermath of a hurricane, coupled with an earthquake or two and a stampede of cattle. “How’s the packing going, my dear? Can I be of assistance?”
“No thank you, I’ll have it by tomorrow, Uncle Theo. It simply takes time to fit everything in, and I don’t understand what possessed me to bring seven—count them—seven cocktail dresses on a tour of Greece!” Her eyes had the feverish look of a malaria victim, and the appropriate shade of gray glinted under her makeup. “Simmons almost expired when I suggested a martini in the lounge the first night out. You’d have thought I offered her a pinch of cocaine.”
“Please allow me to ask a question before you return to your chore. Although I realize Essie’s possession of your locket had no significance, it continues to puzzle me. You wore it the last morning Essie cleaned your room. You went to the beach with several individuals that afternoon, and Judith seemed to think you put your locket in your beach bag. What subsequently took place?”
“I am trying to remember how I packed nine pairs of shoes in three suitcases. I cannot divert myself in order to think about a little beach party,” she said darkly. Her fingers tightened on the door as if to slam it in the face of so trivial a request. Packing was, he deduced, not among her many talents. A genetic problem. Her mother had once thrown a lamp through a bedroom window before a trip to Nassau. Charles had been furious.
“Take a deep breath and think for just a minute,” Theo insisted with a façade of sympathy.
“Oh, I’ll try,” she muttered, “but it won’t get the Guccis in the suitcases.” She ran her hands through her hair and stared at the beach in the distance. “I went with Judith, and we met Gideon, Ilana, and Prince Charming in person. Gawd, now I remember, Uncle Theo! Not one, not a single person, warned me not to shave my legs before I went to the beach, so of course I did. I deplore the very idea of stubbles, and I always shave my legs before going out. It’s a policy of mine. Anyway, I floated out in the water, and three seconds later I thought I’d died and gone straight to hell.”
“The salt water stung?” Theo said, slathering on more sympathy. “It must have been dreadful.”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “The worst pain I’ve ever had, and everyone thought it was trés amusant. Even Judith had the nerve to giggle as I ran for the shower, as if she’d known what would happen. I could have murdered all four of them right then, and never given it a moment’s thought. I probably should have.”
“But you left your bag with your towel on the beach?”
“I did not take it with me to the shower, Uncle Theo. I was more concerned that my poor legs would flake away like onion skins. The Chinese ought to investigate that as a form of torture—they’d have more confessions than they’d know what to do with.”
“Then the others were sitting together on the beach while you were at the shower halfway up the sidewalk?”
“Gideon and Hershel were in the water, jabbing each other with their elbows and making nursery-school wisecracks. Judith did come to see if I would survive,” Dorrie admitted in a begrudging tone. “And Ilana came about five minutes later to see if she could rub an additional handful of verbal salt in my wounds. She’s such a sweet girl; I must think of a little present for her when I get home. Maybe a whip and a monogrammed leather mask …”
Theo wished her success with the task of repacking her suitcases and went back to his room. If the young men had remained in the water, then only Ilana could have taken the locket from Dorrie’s bag. But why would she subsequently give it to Essie? Essie had been too peculiar to take bribes—if she possessed any information of value—and she wouldn’t have understood the premise in any case. Her strengths were mysticism and adenoidal mimicry rather than such mundane things as comprehension or deceit.
Aware that he was endangering his life, he returned to Dorrie’s door. This time it took several minutes for her to respond, and in the interim he heard several shrill comments about disruptions. When the door swung open, he quickly said, “One final question, I promise, and then I will allow you to pack in peace. You mentioned a conversation with Essie the day before she disappeared. What precisely did she say?”
Dorrie’s face was a masterful ice carving of patience at the splintering point. “I do not remember, Uncle Theo. It was some absurd, meaningless nasality that meant nothing to me, and I therefore did not take notes for my diary.”
“It’s vital that you try to remember,” Theo said.
“Do you have any extra space in your suitcases?”
Unlike Essie, both Theo and Dorrie were acquainted with the delicate art of bribery. He mentally acknowledged the necessity of donating his pajamas to the state of Israel. “Yes, I can fit three pairs of shoes in my luggage, and perhaps a few other things. May I presume that your mind is now eased enough to recall the conversation in question?”
“Four pairs of shoes, a sweater, and my beach robe.” When Theo nodded (farewell, cheap sandals), she said, “We’ve been over this before, and I told you that I was pained by it, but since you insist, Essie said I was cheap. She then threatened to run and bite me. It seemed an extreme reaction.”
“Are you quite sure, my dear? That doesn’t sound like the girl.”
“Then she put some kind of weird gypsy curse on me. It was too silly to bother with, as I told you earlier, and I simply retreated to the bathroom. When she finished, I emerged and hustled her out of the room before she moved on to cursing my unborn children á la Rumpelstiltskin.”
“A curse? That’s even more peculiar. Please try to remember her exact words, Dorrie.”
“She warned me that I was going to trip on my great aunt’s crypt, if you must know. I was floored, just floored. What could I say in response—the family crypt is now under a shopping center and Daddy replanted Auntie amidst the booboisie in the local cemetery?”
“And that was all?” Theo said, trying to make sense of the senseless words. Essie must have been repeating something she had overheard, but the message had been severely muddled along the way.
“Only her name and sex,” Dorrie sniffed, “an improbable combination at best. Now I really must return to the packing, if you’re finished with all this. Why you find that poor girl’s last words of any interest is beyond me, but—”
“Thank you, Dorrie.” He went back to his room once again, wondering if there was an indentation on the balcony from his many sojourns between the rooms. He sat on the bed and repeated Dorr
ie’s fragmented version of the conversation and one comment Essie had made to him, until he at last arrived at a possible interpretation. It explained much of what had occurred in the last few days, but finding a way to confirm it would be more challenging than the storage and safe passage of nine pairs of Guccis.
22
Theo went alone to the restaurant for what he hoped would be the last dinner of leaden turkey and limp vegetables. As he entered the lobby, Ilana beckoned from the registration desk.
“You left this earlier,” she said, flapping a manila envelope at him. “It was by the telephone; Miriam thought it was yours.”
The present from Judith. He guiltily took it, then gave her a bland smile. “Thank you, Ilana, I had quite forgotten it in the excitement of making reservations. Dorrie and I will leave tomorrow afternoon. Would you be kind enough to arrange for a taxi to take us to the airport?”
“With great pleasure. Judith intends to stay?”
“Yes, she feels that Kibbutz Mishkan is her home, and the kibbutzniks the family she never had. I hope her expectations will prove true and that she will be happy here.”
“Strong, she isn’t, but she is intelligent enough. Maybe I will train her to make little packages for me.”
“Then the Sons of Light will continue without its leader?”
“I shall change the name to the Daughters of Light,” she said, letting the words roll off her tongue like malted milk balls. “The other name was insulting to me. Now I shall teach them that woman can accomplish much violence in the name of retribution. Things will go boom, Mr. Bloomer.” She sounded childishly pleased with the alliterative sound effects. “Boom!” she repeated softly. “Boom, boom!”
Theo was less pleased. “I understand from Lieutenant Gili that the murder investigation is closed, and there has been no link to the terrorism. I imagine you’ll be able to continue your acts of vengeance for a while longer.” He blinked through his glasses at her, disturbed by the depth of her complacency. “One day, of course, you will be careless and the little package will explode in your hands.”
“Or in Judith’s hands.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he said. “You may find yourself alone in your endeavor. Hershel seems to be interested in returning to the university to continue his work in archaeology.”
“If he does, it will be with empty hands,” she growled.
Theo again smiled, pleased with her inadvertent support of his theory. “You will arrange for the taxi after lunch tomorrow?”
“Immediately, Mr. Bloomer.”
“By the way, Ilana, why did you give Dorrie’s locket to Essie?”
She jerked to a halt and glared over her shoulder. “I did not,” she said. She managed an even tone despite the sudden twitch of her shoulders, and her mouth remained slightly agape with what Theo hoped was debilitating astonishment.
“But you did steal it,” he persisted. “You’re the only one who could have taken it from Dorrie’s beach bag while she was trying to save her legs from the Dead Sea.”
“It was a tasteless display of vanity,” Ilana growled, “and she did not care enough to keep it in the safe. I thought I could sell the locket and use the money for more important matters.”
“Did you hope to sell it to Popadoupolis?”
She opened her mouth to retort, then caught herself and sullenly shook her head.
“I understand that Popadoupolis was always interested in purchasing things. He might have considered the locket even though he specialized in antiquities.”
“I have never met this Popadoupolis person, so I do not know what he might have considered,” she said coldly. “Now I must make arrangements for the taxi so that you can leave tomorrow, Mr. Bloomer. I do not want to be the cause of a delay.”
“So you stayed here while Gideon and Hershel went to Athens?” Theo said. He felt no remorse in continuing to badger a terrorist with notches in her belt. “They seemed to enjoy the vacation, didn’t they? Coffee in sidewalk cafés, chats with pretty girls, amorous visits to hotel bedrooms …” As difficult as it was, Theo essayed a smirk that competed with any of Yussef’s. It succeeded.
“They were not on vacation, Mr. Bloomer; they were there for the sole purpose of doing what they did. They picked up the girls to acquire a safe means of bringing the plasticine through customs. They made the trade—the deal—and left as quickly as possible.”
“I gathered that they enjoyed themselves, despite the rushed itinerary,” Theo said, nodding amiably.
“Why don’t you ask Hershel if he enjoyed the trip?” she sneered. “He’s been a senile zeyde since he came back. Moaning and whining, mumbling to himself. Hoo-ha!”
“What did you trade?”
“Better you should talk to the wall. I will tell you that it was not the locket. Your niece lied to you, for it was given back to her. Gideon was very mad at me for taking it and he took it away from me to return to her. He accused me of jealousy—as if I wished I were like the stupid shiksa!” She abruptly spun around and went into the office. The door banged closed.
“Essie and sex, and a stroll at ten,” Theo murmured to the wooden barrier.
“Essie and sex?” Miriam said from behind him. “That’s the most unlikely thing I’ve heard in a long time, Theo. I doubt she ever figured out the intricacies of reproduction, much less how to enjoy them. Are you certain you have the right schizophrenic in mind?”
Theo gave her a pensive look. “No, I’m not at all certain that I do.” He suggested they move to the sofa, then fetched brandy from the bar and returned to sit beside her. “May I presume that Yussef has regained consciousness?”
“Yes, for a few minutes. He asked me for something rather strange, Theo—a notebook. He was very agitated about it, and the doctor was alarmed. I went to Yussef’s office and went through all the drawers and files, but I couldn’t find the notebook that was so important. He was asleep when I returned, so I haven’t told him.”
Theo took the notebook out of his pocket and gave it to her, then told her the significance of the number that had been scrawled on one page. She downed the brandy in one gulp, choking on the last few drops.
“Oh, Theo, how can you say such a thing? Yussef’s always been so loyal, so enthusiastic and involved with the kibbutz. He was the chairman for several years and our representative to the kibbutzim association. He never complained about the long hours with the ledger or the tediousness of dealing with the nudniks in every bureaucratic division. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s a matter of linens and bed frames,” he said, wishing she were not so visibly shattered by the information. Old friends, he reminded himself in a resigned tone. He told her about the double set of books and his conclusion concerning the Swiss account.
Miriam sank into the sofa. “Poor Sarah, how can I tell her?”
Theo told her that Sarah—well, already knew about the nest egg and had left Israel to deal with it. At this next recital of treachery, Miriam finished Theo’s brandy and weakly requested another. He left her to assimilate the information and went to fulfill her request, but as he went across the lobby he saw a peculiar sight through the glass doors. Sitermann, stealthily approaching a jeep parked near a hibiscus. Sitermann, sliding into the driver’s seat and disappearing under the steering wheel as if he had been sucked into an eddy. The same, popping back up, glancing around with noticeable furtiveness, and then driving out of the parking area with the scowl of a condor taking to wing. Very spyish stuff.
He returned with the two snifters and handed one to Miriam, who looked pinker and more composed.
“Thank you, Theo. I thought I knew Sarah and Yussef after twenty years of communal life. They never pretended to care for each other, but they did seem to care about the kibbutz and the future of Israel. Is no one what he claims to be?”
A touchy subject for Theo, very touchy. He thought for a moment and then said, “It is, I suppose, the nature of the beast to do whatever is necessary to survive, althoug
h the definitions of survival may vary. Essie, for instance, preferred to be overlooked so that she could keep her freedom. She was treated as a shadow, but she did listen to what occurred in her presence—not only listened but also absorbed and later repeated. Quite a bit got lost in the translation.”
“Does that have something to do with the ‘Essie and sex’ remark you made earlier?”
“I think it does, if I’ve correctly deduced the original phrasing that led to her distorted version,” Theo said humbly. “But other people have produced façades of equal deception. Yussef and Sarah are obvious candidates, as are Ilana and Hershel. Sitermann, our resident cowboy. Even Gideon played a role.”
A spasm of pain flashed across her face. “Gideon never pretended not to be an outspoken radical who believed in violence as a means to insure the existence of Israel. I tried, Theo. God knows I tried to reason with him, to make him see that terrorism was not the solution, but I could never overcome the malignancy of hatred. I couldn’t stop him from destroying himself.”
“He was beyond help, I’m afraid. His behavior the night he argued with Dorrie was manic, and he sounded as if he felt omnipotent. The success of the bomb in Hebron must have triggered something within him. He seemed ready to blow up any and all of the West Bank Arabs. I suspect he would have tried to do so.”
“I, too, heard hysteria in his voice,” she said, looking away. “As you said, he was convinced of his power and willing to do anything to further his cause. He would have destroyed anything he felt threatened him. In that sense, one might say his death was a mitzvah.” After a minute, she slowly turned her head to look at him through bleak eyes. “You don’t think that Gili arrested the murderer, do you?”
“No, I must admit that I don’t; there are too many loose ends his tidy, timely arrest cannot explain. I have a theory about much of what has happened—the trip to Athens, the financing for the explosives, the searches in certain rooms, the appearance of Dorrie’s locket in Essie’s hand, and the reason Essie was killed.”
