by Mary Marks
I placed a brand-new high chair for my granddaughter next to my daughter’s spot at the dining room table. Once we blessed the candles and everyone was seated, Uncle Isaac sang the kiddush and prompted Hilda to recite the blessing over the bread.
“Baruch atah adonai elohaynu melech ha olam, ha motzi lechem min ha aretz. Blessed art Thou, oh Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.”
When she finished, he grinned at her. “This one is a very smart cookie.”
Hilda touched his arm ever so gently, gazed into his eyes, and smiled. “I did okay for a shiksa?”
He squeezed her hand. “Shoin.” Beautiful.
The skin on my arms prickled. Oh no. This can’t be what it looks like. I still hadn’t managed to get either one of them alone long enough to ask about the nature of their relationship.
Fanya had cooked a cheesy pasta casserole loaded with finely chopped veggies and pinto beans. “The pasta is whole grain. Adding beans makes it a complete protein.” She didn’t have to persuade people to try it. Everyone piled generous portions on their plates.
Uncle Isaac closed his eyes. “Mmm. This reminds me of my mother’s cholent.” He referred to the traditional savory stew for Sabbath day. He opened his eyes and smiled at Hadas. “How do you like Los Angeles, young lady?”
“It’s a lot more relaxed here. LA doesn’t have as many tall buildings as New York.”
Then Giselle opened her mouth. “What’s it like to be staying in the same house as your husband and his fiancée?”
The entire group fell silent.
I tried to save the moment. “It is an unusual situation, G, but we’ve managed quite well. Fanya, this casserole is delicious. What exactly is in it?”
Giselle ignored my attempt to change the topic. She spoke to me but kept her gaze on Hadas. “Really? What do you call having to drop everything to chase her sorry ass all over two counties?”
Hadas remained cool. “That was Martha’s decision. Not mine.”
Anger spots dotted my sister’s cheeks with red as she pinned Hadas in a wrestling match of words. “If I understand the situation correctly, you were the one who arranged a phony kidnapping. Then Martha’s house was broken into because of you. You were the one to call for help in sneaking out of the Hotel Delaware. You managed on your own to sneak away from the place Martha found for you in Ojai, and you called for help again from the third place you landed. Or was it the fourth?” With each indictment, Giselle’s voice rose. “Every time you got into trouble, you took advantage of Martha’s good nature. And now here you are again, a guest in her home, eating from her table.”
The angry words upset my granddaughter Daisy, and she began to whimper in her high chair. A second later, she screamed for her mother.
Quincy lifted her out of the chair and took her in the living room. “Hush, baby, Mommy’s here. Shah, shah.”
I wanted to stop Giselle but found myself silently cheering her on. It was Fanya who came to the rescue.
“First, I sautéed the onions with the mushrooms in olive oil. Then I added chopped broccoli, peppers, tomatoes, and carrots.” The longer she spoke, the more everyone’s faces relaxed. “Then I made a white sauce and added the veggies and a can of pinto beans to the cooked pasta. I heaped on piles of shredded cheese and baked until the cheese melted and the casserole bubbled.” She paused for breath. “I’m glad you like it.”
Hilda said, “I’d love to have the recipe. I’ll make it for Isaac. Could you please give me the recipe before we leave?”
“Sure, although cholent can be prepared many ways: with meat, with potatoes, with anything that can be cooked slowly.”
Giselle concentrated on her plate and shoveled in a large bite of casserole. But knowing my sister, she wasn’t through with Hadas. Not by a long shot.
After dessert of poppy seed roll and babka, Quincy and her little family were the first to go home.
My daughter carried her sleeping little girl in her arms. “Shabbat shalom, Mom. I don’t know how you do it.” She gestured toward Hadas with her head.
“I do it for Yossi. For the two of us. I sure wish he were here, though.”
The Friday foursome also prepared to leave. Giselle pulled me aside, handed me a folder she retrieved from her bag, and whispered, “I made you a copy of the police report. Obviously, tonight is not a good time to discuss it.” She stole a glance at Hadas. “The moment I saw her, I didn’t like her.”
“Who could’ve guessed?”
She ignored my snarkasm. “Look at the file and call me in the morning.”
When the last guest left, Fanya and I began cleaning.
Hadas yawned. “Looks like the two of you have everything under control. I’m going to bed.” She didn’t bother to compliment or thank Fanya for cooking an excellent meal. She didn’t offer to help us. She walked toward the hallway. “Good night.” Her highness was off to bed.
I lifted a dinner plate from the rinse water in the sink and wiped it dry a little too vigorously. “Fanya, has she always been this self-centered?”
My future sister-in-law screwed up her mouth and nodded. “Always. She was her daddy’s little princess. Since the family owned a successful shmata business, she came to school with a different outfit every day, it seemed. In the winter, she wore a white rabbit-fur coat and cap. She was spoiled, for sure. But she was also smart. Top of the class.”
“What about Ze’ev? What was he like?”
Fanya blew out a puff of air. “Also spoiled. Always carried a pocket full of cash. Compared to the rest of us, he was rich. He wasn’t smart or good in school, like Hadas. He was lazy and self-indulgent, but he oozed lots of charm and knew how to use it.”
I finished her thought. “Which must explain how he seemed to get away with his bad behavior. But in the end, karma finally caught him. Giselle gave me a copy of the police file tonight. I’m going to look it over and get back to her in the morning.”
“Ooh. I’d like to see it, too.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together in a gesture resembling a cricket making music with its hind legs.
“Sure. But don’t let the princess know what we’re doing. I’ll study it tonight and then hand it over in the morning.”
I wiped clean the apricot-colored marble countertops, the last chore of the evening, and wished Fanya a good night. Then I carried the police file to my bedroom and closed the door, where I could get a good look in private.
Giselle was right. The file on Ze’ev’s death was scanty. The list of personal items on the victim’s body included a wedding ring, two condoms, and a wallet containing his driver’s license, two hundred in cash, and the Uhrman Company credit card he used to rent the car that killed him.
The police file contained almost no information until the eyewitness statement dated three months after the incident. The witness told the detective he’d waited to come forward because he was frightened. But his priest urged him to do the right thing. He’d seen a white car with a rear spoiler deliberately accelerate and swerve toward the victim. After the impact, the driver fled the scene, leaving behind some glass from the headlight and a dying man bleeding out on the road.
He remembered part of the license plate because it bore his initials—Alberto Gomez Acevedo—and the number one: AGA1. He didn’t know the make of the car. Although he didn’t get a good look, he got the impression the driver was short.
The detective tracked the car to an automobile rental agency. The file contained a copy of the rental agreement signed by Ze’ev, who used the Uhrman Company credit card. The clerk who helped Ze’ev identified him in a photo lineup.
When the police questioned Hadas about the car, she claimed to know nothing about it. She was surprised her brother still used a company card, but, given his history of theft, she wasn’t shocked. There was one further note about the vehicle. It was never recovered.
A printout from the credit company listed heavy activity on the same day as the car rental. Ze’ev ra
cked up purchases totaling $3,000 at Best Buy and $4,000 to an online poker game.
The detectives investigated the second lead the witness provided. They reasoned if the driver of the car was short, it could’ve been a woman, which led them to question all the women in Ze’ev’s life who might have a motive to kill him.
The first one they looked at was crazy Gita Glassman, the one who publicly threatened Ze’ev’s life. Gita claimed to have been in an all-day adult care facility on the day of his death. Her alibi was corroborated by the art therapist who worked with schizophrenic adults. At the time Ze’ev was killed, Gita was painting a picture of a blue vagina.
Three female suspects remained: his wife, Ettie; the mother of his illegitimate child, Shelly Jacobs; and his sister, Hadas. Ettie claimed to have been babysitting her son Zelig’s youngest children. One neighborhood mother confirmed she and Ettie were watching their children play at the park at the time of Ze’ev’s death.
Shelly Jacobs was the next to be interviewed. On the day of Ze’ev’s death, she was teaching challah baking at her daughter’s school, the Bais Sarah Jewish day school for girls. The school’s principal and other teachers vouched for Shelly’s presence.
The last to be interviewed was Hadas. At the time of Ze’ev’s death, she told deputies she’d been in an “intimate situation” at her lover’s home. The man backed her story. My eyes gleamed as I turned the page and read his name—Alexander Koslov.
After that, there were no more notes in the file.
I realized one of the alibis couldn’t have happened the way she claimed it did. Hadas told the detective that on the day of Ze’ev’s murder she’d been in bed with Alexander Koslov. But Hadas couldn’t have been with Koslov. They didn’t hook up until after Ze’ev’s death. I wasn’t surprised Koslov, the mobster, lied to the police by giving Hadas an alibi. Slowly, things began to fall into place: motive, means, and opportunity.
The motive to eliminate her brother was clear. He jeopardized the company she’d devoted her life to. He’d left Uhrman Company with lots of debt she’d somehow have to cover. His life was messy and chaotic, and the people closest to him suffered. Maybe she was tired of rescuing him. Whatever the motive, Hadas was angry enough to kill and smart enough to wait until the right opportunity presented itself. And it did, two weeks after she severed his ties with her company.
How did Ze’ev get his hands on the company credit card he used at the car rental? Hadas ended her brother’s access to the company two weeks prior to his death. She would’ve cancelled any card he might have still possessed.
Yet the company card was found in Ze’ev’s wallet when he died. What if she gave Ze’ev the card and asked him to rent a car for her? She was devious and manipulating. Knowing her brother had no income, she could’ve bribed him in some way, like letting him use the card for his own personal benefit. The printout from the credit card account, showing $7,000 in charges, confirmed my suspicions. Later, when the police discovered Ze’ev’s name on the automobile contract, she could deny any involvement.
Poor Ze’ev. He probably thought he’d scored big with the credit card. It likely never crossed his mind his sister planned something else for him. Ze’ev’s murder was premeditated and clever. If convicted, Hadas would spend years in prison. I felt sorry for her unborn child, who would take its first breath in jail.
There was one good thing about that sad situation, though. We would know exactly where to serve the divorce papers.
I placed the police file back in the folder and put the folder under my pillow. Tomorrow morning wouldn’t be easy to navigate. Confronting Hadas with my suspicions could trigger a violent reaction. After all, she did use a car as a lethal weapon. Still, she was pregnant and no match for the much stronger Fanya, who knew Krav Maga.
I drifted off with a thousand questions roiling around in my head.
CHAPTER 34
Saturday morning, I woke to the sound of an argument coming from the kitchen.
Fanya said, “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you leave this house again.”
“You’re pathetic, Fanya. No wonder you’re not married. Who would have a mieskeit like you!” She used the Yiddish word describing an ugly person.
That does it. Nobody calls my sister-in-law nasty names.
I rolled out of bed, threw on my robe and slippers, and marched to the kitchen. Hadas sat at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. Fanya stood at the sink, clutching a dish towel to her chest. From her expression, Hadas’s hateful arrow had clearly pierced Fanya’s heart.
I glared at Hadas. “What is going on here?” I leaned into her space. “How dare you talk to Fanya like that. If I didn’t need your signature on those divorce papers, I’d kick you out of my house this minute. You’re a self-centered, coldhearted witch. You use people. You care nothing about hurting others and ruining lives. You even killed your own brother!”
Oh crap, oh crap, and double-crap. How did that slip out of my mouth?
Hadas slowly placed her coffee cup on the table. “What did you say?”
In for a penny, in for a pound. I took a deep breath and jumped into turbulent waters. “You heard me. You duped your brother into renting a car for you, then you used the car to end his life. God only knows what happened to the vehicle afterward. You probably thought you’d gotten away with the perfect murder. But then a witness came forward three months later. By then, you were sleeping with Koslov, so he supported your alibi and confirmed you were with him when Ze’ev was killed. But that was your big mistake, Hadas.”
Fanya’s mouth gaped as her attention bounced between Hadas and me.
Hadas looked trapped. She licked her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“By your own admission, you didn’t begin to see Koslov until after Ze’ev died. The first time you saw him was after his funeral and during shiva at Ettie’s house. How could you have been in bed with a man you never met on the day your brother was killed?”
Hadas suddenly rose from the table. “I don’t have to put up with this. I’m leaving!”
“Oh no, you’re not!” Fanya grabbed Hadas by the arm and wrist and twisted them in a pressure lock, like the one she used on Hauer.
“Ouch! Stop it. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.”
“Then sit down,” Fanya ordered. “We’re making a citizen’s arrest and you’re not going anywhere.”
Back in the chair, Hadas rubbed her wrist, where Fanya twisted it. “You’ll never prove a word of what you said, Martha!”
“It’s not my job to prove anything. That’s the job of the prosecutor and police. Which I’m calling right now. Watch her like a hawk, Fanya.” I returned to my bedroom, closed the door, and phoned Beavers.
“Hello, Martha. What mess have you gotten into now?”
“Stop it, Arlo. I discovered who murdered Ze’ev Uhrman in New York.”
“New York? Did you teleport back and forth or do your superpowers allow you to read minds from the comfort of your home?”
“You know, Arlo, sometimes you can be a real jerk. I’m serious. Hadas Uhrman deliberately killed her brother in a hit-and-run.” I unfolded all the facts as I knew them. When I finished, the phone was so silent I thought he’d hung up. “Arlo?”
“I’m here. Trying to figure out how you managed to read a homicide report from the NYPD.”
“I’ll die a horrible death before I reveal my sources. What’s important here isn’t how I got my information, but whether my conclusions are credible. You need to arrest her and extradite her back to New York.”
“I’m not doing anything until I speak to the detective in New York. What did you say his name was?”
I gave him the information. “Don’t take too long. Since Hadas knows she’s the number-one suspect, she’ll take the first opportunity to vanish again. Fanya and I have made a citizen’s arrest, but we can’t detain her forever.”
Beavers ended the call with a promise to contact the NYPD.
I
dressed, made my bed, and rejoined Hadas and Fanya in the kitchen. The air was thick with animosity, and I could scarcely breathe. A knocking on the door broke the silence. I looked out of the peephole and saw a FedEx driver with a large white envelope in his hands. I tore open the stiff package. Deke was true to his word. He messengered the divorce documents for Crusher as promised.
I strolled into the kitchen, reading the petition for dissolution of marriage. “The divorce papers have arrived.”
Hadas snarled. “If you think I’m going to sign anything now, you’re crazy. I’ll contest the divorce and drag this thing on for years.”
“The only thing you can drag on for years is the settlement agreement. The divorce will go through regardless. And frankly? The dissolution’s all I care about.”
An hour later, a new white Camry, followed by a black-and-white, parked in front of my house.
Beavers nodded a greeting as I opened the door. “We’re here to bring Mrs. Levy to the station.”
“You spoke to New York?”
“I did. Turns out the feds took over this case because of the Koslov connection. They’re anxious to speak to her, too. Where is she?”
I stepped aside so they could enter. “Kitchen.”
He pulled a set of handcuffs out of his pocket, told Hadas to stand, and Mirandized her.
As she was being led out of the house, she screamed, “Now I’ll never sign those papers!”
I tried to be a nice person. I was never deliberately mean. But, in her case, I made an exception. I motioned for Beavers to stop. I needed to speak to her. I smirked at Hadas. “Actually, now I think of it, I don’t want Yossi to file for divorce.”
Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Huh?”
“Yeah. As it stands now, if you’re dead or incapacitated, the Uhrman Company goes to him as next of kin. Right? Didn’t you recently put that in your will? I just realized that while you’re incapacitated in prison, your husband, Yossi, will move to New York to take over Uhrman Company. And I will join him.”
