The Bar Mitzvah Murder

by Lee Harris

  “Did you get a list of Gabe’s personal effects?” I asked. “I’m interested in the house key.”

  “In fact, I did. I’m not connected to the case so I’m on nobody’s list, but I got hold of an inventory today. It’s in my briefcase, but don’t bother opening it. The key ring is there and what is probably his house key is there, too. He probably left all his unnecessary keys home, maybe in that safe of his. There are a couple of car keys on the ring and what looks to be a key to a house. If Marnie were here, we could have her identify it.”

  “Then how did they do it, Jack? I figured someone flew back to the States with Gabe’s key and they waited to dump his body till after they got into the house.”

  “They didn’t have to fly anywhere.” Jack turned into the street where the hotel was and then into the compound. I loved the greenery. “Is that a space?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Glad I’m not driving a big American car.”

  “We could never afford the gas here.” I had blanched when this little car with its economical stick shift had had its small tank filled to the tune of twenty-four dollars.

  “Glad to see you’re not getting corrupted.”

  He got out and we went upstairs, Jack pulling off his shirt as we got in the room. “Maybe I’ll start dressing down like everyone else in this country.”

  I looked at him in shock.

  He laughed. “Just kidding. But it’s a nice idea and no one seems to care around here.”

  “You said they didn’t have to fly anywhere,” I prompted him. “The key.”

  “The key. Right.” He sat down and pulled his shoes off. “Here’s how these guys do it. You take a key off the ring, lay it down on a piece of foil, and fold the foil carefully over the irregular side of the key, making a foil duplicate. Then you Xerox the foil and fax it back to the States.

  “If they had a locksmith involved, it would be very easy. The locksmith looks at the key, notes the brand and the ‘cuts,’ the little hills and valleys, and simply uses a blank to cut a duplicate. If this ‘dupe’ was a little off, it could be dressed up with a Swiss file as they tried it in the door. Most locksmiths are honest guys, but hey, money talks.”

  “And you put the key back on the ring, put it in the victim’s pocket, and it’s there when the body is found.”

  “Exactly. Meanwhile, your fax arrives at its destination and is used to make the new key. Back in the old days, keys were duplicated from wax impressions. No more. The new key works in the lock and no one ever took the key anywhere.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “Technology,” Jack said offhandedly. “The good guys develop it and the bad guys use it to their advantage.”

  “So they didn’t even have to take Gabe’s key to a fax machine and rush to get it back. They could dump his body any time they wanted and the key was in his pocket, just as it was when he was kidnapped.”

  “You got it.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “But none of this tells us whether anyone made a key and got into the house and, if they did, whether they opened, or tried to open, the safe.”

  “Because if they used a key they made the way you described, we can’t prove it, and if Marnie doesn’t find anything missing, how do we know it happened?”

  “And it’s just possible that the security system went down because of a fluke like bad weather or telephone line trouble.”

  But I was more convinced than ever that it wasn’t a fluke, and I suspected Jack was, too, and that someone had gotten into Gabe Gross’s house as he lay dying five thousand miles away.

  “Why did they beat him, Jack?”

  “Good question. I’d guess to find something out. The other possibility is that someone really hated him and wanted him to suffer.”

  “They wanted the combination,” I said. “And they kept him alive until they got word from the States that someone had gotten into the safe.”

  “Which means they got into the safe—if that’s what they did—the day after Gabe was kidnapped, or maybe even that Sunday night.”

  And then they finished him off and dumped his body, I thought. “A very well coordinated operation,” I said.

  “So how come Marnie says nothing’s missing?”

  He ducked into the bathroom, leaving me to ponder the question. And ponder I did. One of the things I’ve learned in the years I’ve been looking into homicides is that you can’t automatically exempt a person from suspicion because he’s such a nice guy or, in this case, such a nice woman. How would any of us know what Marnie found or didn’t find in that safe? Even assuming there was a list of the contents of the safe, she could easily rewrite it before she showed it to anyone. If she was hiding a theft, how could I figure out what was missing without, for example, talking to her insurance company? And perhaps she hadn’t bothered to insure things that were in the safe, considering them immune from theft.

  Obviously, I needed to find out more about Marnie, but I didn’t think that her husband’s family would be privy to the kinds of details that would be useful to me. I started to change my clothes and saw a folder on top of Jack’s attaché case. It was marked “Inventory” and I opened it to find a sheet of paper with a list. They were Gabe’s possessions on the last day of his life.

  All the clothes he was wearing were listed. There was also a gold watch and a gold wedding band, both engraved. A linen handkerchief, monogrammed. A leather folding case containing an American passport, American money and Israeli money, photographs of unnamed people, a medical insurance card, a driver’s license, several credit cards, and a membership card in an organization I had never heard of.

  I could think of several things that an American man would be likely to have in his wallet that were not listed. One of them would be the registration to his car. Another might be a library card. Possibly a number of membership cards to professional organizations and the kinds of clubs Jack and I don’t belong to. What that meant was that Gabe had weeded out the things he needed on the trip and left the rest of the contents of his wallet at home. Where had he left them? Probably in his safe, since he had one. And probably he had never recorded those items on the inventory.

  In his pocket were coins from Israel and the U.S. And then there was the key ring. The keys were enumerated in the inventory. One was assumed to be a house key, two were car keys, another a key to a suitcase or small lockbox. Two keys were unidentified. I had to be right that he had taken only keys he would need on his trip and on his return. I walked over to the dresser and looked at the ring of keys Jack had taken with him. He had left nothing home and he had so many, I teased that they weighed him down. Gabe, of course, was a more experienced traveler than we were and knew better than to carry what was unnecessary.

  I picked up the phone and called Mel, catching her in her room before they left for dinner. Mel,” I said, “were any of Marnie’s relatives invited to the Bar Mitzvah?”

  “No. We were mostly Gabe’s relatives and a couple of his old friends. Children weren’t counted, by the way. There were actually more than the forty I told you about because several of us brought our kids, and Gabe reserved a room for them, but he didn’t invite his in-laws.”

  “Any reason?”

  “I think he felt this was a family thing. Why?”

  “I really need to know more about Marnie, and I guess I’d learn more from one of her relatives than from one of Gabe’s.”

  “You’re probably right. She kind of walked into the family as his wife. They didn’t have a big splashy wedding, just parents, brothers, and sisters. She didn’t dress up in a fancy white dress.”

  “Who are her closest relatives?”

  “Let’s see. She has a sister who’s younger and a brother who’s older.”

  “Parents?”

  “Both living, I think.”

  “She doesn’t have any kids, by any chance, does she?”

  “Not that she’s made public.”

  “I see.”
>
  “I did hear she had a miscarriage, so they may have wanted to have one child together.”

  “Do you know anything about her brother and sister?”

  “Oh, gosh. I really don’t. I’m not sure I’ve ever even met them.”

  “OK. If you think of anyone who’s here that might know about her, let me know.”

  “I’ll tell you, it’s getting tougher and tougher. Everybody’s leaving. Maybe you’ll just have to wait till we all get back.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. The answers don’t seem to be here. Whoever orchestrated this plan just wanted to make sure Gabe and Marnie would be far from home and couldn’t get back quickly. I don’t know how we’ll ever figure out what was in that safe when they left and what, if anything, was stolen.”

  “I’m sure Marnie knows.”

  “I’m not so sure, Mel. Maybe Gabe had something he didn’t tell her about. If it’s gone, she won’t be aware. And maybe she knows and doesn’t want to tell.”

  “That’s an interesting thought.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ve got to dress for dinner.”

  At dinner I related the story of Mel and the taxi drivers to my rapt family. My mother-in-law, who is no shrinking violet, was surprised and rather delighted by the tale.

  “She sounds like a spunky person, your friend.”

  “She is. I really admired her for the way she stood up for our rights. I don’t think I’d be able to do it myself.”

  “Well, now I see why the cabdrivers are always trying to make deals with us,” my father-in-law said. “I thought they were being nice to strangers.”

  We all laughed.

  When Jack and I got back to the hotel, he said, “Have you reached the point yet where you want to talk to Sister Joseph?”

  “I don’t have enough, Jack. About all I know is that someone made a very intricate plan to kidnap and kill Gabe Gross. I don’t even know if they originally planned to kill him or just get that key from him and the combination to the safe.”

  “You may never know that.”

  “True. I don’t know what I could tell Joseph that would give her enough to come up with something. I think the answers are in the States, somewhere in Gabe’s background, as you suggested, or in Marnie’s life.”

  “So you’ve given up on his relatives?”

  “I only interviewed a few and I got nothing from them. Including Hal and Mel. Mel says most of them have left for home by now. What am I missing?”

  I must have sounded rather forlorn, because Jack gave me a grin and patted my back. “You’re missing the key. We all are.”

  “What are the Israeli police looking into?”

  “The usual things—drugs, black-market deals, covert shipment of military equipment. His name doesn’t come up anywhere.”

  “Has anyone tried to get a copy of his will?” I asked.

  “They’ve asked. I’ll check tomorrow and see if it’s come yet.”

  “Maybe that’ll shed some light,” I said.

  16

  While I was driving Jack to the police station the next morning, I asked him if he knew where Gabe’s body had been found.

  “It was on a street,” he said, “in an Arab district. Someone went outside and found it and called the police.”

  “Is there a house address?”

  “You want to go there.” He didn’t sound happy.

  “I really should. After we leave, anything I’ve missed I’ve missed forever.”

  “Look, I’ll find where the place is, but I don’t want you going there by yourself. Just a precaution.”

  “Maybe I can get Hal to come with me.”

  “I hope he doesn’t sue me when he sees where you’re taking him.”

  “I’ll protect him. After all, he’s my friend’s husband.”

  Jack got out of the car and gave me a kiss. I drove back to the hotel and waited for his call. I really wanted to do something and there didn’t seem much to do at this end, unless the location of the body led me somewhere productive. About fifteen minutes after I got back to the room, Jack called with the address. He cautioned me firmly and I promised not to be stupid. The truth was, I was too scared to be stupid. There’s something about being in a foreign country that makes everything worthy of suspicion.

  “What did the police learn from the canvass?” I asked.

  “Nada. This is a group that doesn’t like the police.”

  “Good,” I said brightly. “Maybe they’ll like a woman who isn’t police.”

  Jack had said the area was called Silwan and it was located below the Dung Gate, to which I made an appropriate comment. But that’s what that gate to the Old City is called. The neighborhood had once been part of Jordan, and the people living and working there were Arabs. It was definitely accessible by car.

  I found the street on the map, then picked up the phone and called Mel’s number.

  No one answered and I decided, considering the time, that they were probably at breakfast. If I hurried, I could get to them before they left the hotel.

  I was lucky. When I got to the house phone, they had just come back to their room. I talked to Mel, then to Hal, then to Mel again. I could tell Mel was dying to come with me and Hal didn’t want her to. We finally decided to drive over in two cars, with Mel sitting next to me to navigate and Hal and the kids following. When we were done, they could take off and I could go my own way.

  I sat down in the lobby to wait and suddenly the little round man of yesterday morning appeared.

  “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “You are still in Jerusalem.”

  “Yes, we’re staying several more days.”

  “But you are not at the hotel you told me you were staying at.”

  My heartbeat signaled panic. He had checked up on me. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I went to the American Colony to talk to you. You are not registered.”

  “Mr. Kaplan— What is this about? Why did you go to my hotel?”

  “I thought perhaps we could continue our conversation. There is no one named Bennett registered at the hotel.”

  “I’m registered under my husband’s name,” I said, feeling a little better. “I’m sorry; I didn’t think you were going to look for me.”

  “I have things to tell you.”

  Something about him began to annoy me, but I didn’t want to give up a source. “I would like to hear your information,” I said, hoping he had something I didn’t already know.

  He didn’t look very happy. “If you really want to know how Gabriel Gross died, you should set aside some time so we can talk.”

  I looked beyond where he was sitting and saw Sari and Noah charge out of the row of elevators. “I’m sorry. My friends have just come down. We have somewhere important to go.” I stood and picked up my bag. “Call me at my hotel.”

  “Miss Bennett.” He sounded insistent or perhaps irritated. “Your husband’s name?”

  “Brooks,” I said. “John Brooks. I have to run.”

  Mel studied the map for a few minutes when we got to my car. “It’ll take us a while, but so what? What do you expect to find there?”

  “I have no idea. It just seems to me I ought to cover every base before we go back home.”

  “You’re right. Who was that little man you were talking to?”

  “I wish I knew. He claims to know things about Gabe and Gabe’s father, but he won’t talk except under his conditions. I can’t set aside a lot of time. Which way do I turn from here?” We were at the curb, leaving the hotel parking lot. In my rearview mirror I could see Hal clearly.

  “Left. If you can.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  The buildings on the street where Gabe’s body had been found were old and two stories high. They were, of course, made of the same Jerusalem stone as the rest of the city, but they had a distinctly shabby look to them. Laundry dried on lines between and behind buildings. Dark-haired children played noisily on the street.
I turned into an alley and stopped the car, leaving enough room behind me for Hal to park his. We got out.

  “No wonder Jack didn’t want you to come alone,” Hal said, joining us. His children were sitting in the backseat of their car, peering out the windows. “Where did they find the body?”

  “In one of those alleys, Jack said. Not on the street we drove on.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  What I wanted to do was leave and forget about this. I assumed the police had canvassed the area as thoroughly as they did in the States when a crime occurred. “I want to find out exactly where the body was left and who found it. I guess that means I have to knock on doors.”

  “You think they’ll speak English here?”

  “I’m crossing my fingers.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Mel got into the car with her children, and Hal and I walked up the stone steps to the nearest dwelling and knocked on the door. A woman dressed all in black opened the door and listened to me introduce myself. Then she responded in what I was pretty sure was Hebrew. I looked at Hal, but he just shrugged. The woman smiled, showing two missing teeth, and closed the door.

  “Don’t say anything,” I said to Hal. “Maybe we’ll have better luck next door.”

  “You’re a plucky lady,” he said. “I hope that doesn’t count as having said something.”

  I laughed. The next door yielded only a slightly better conversation. The woman who answered knew a few words of English but assured me she knew nothing about a body. I wasn’t even sure she knew what the word meant.

  Hal and I continued from house to house, smelling odd food odors as doors opened, but accomplishing nothing. One old man said in quite good English that he had spoken to the police and there was nothing more to say. I asked him exactly where the body had been, and he told me to ask the police.

  When he closed the door, Hal said quietly in my ear, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a guy watching us. Don’t turn. I’m keeping my eye on him.”

  We started walking. “Where is he?”

  “Right now behind us. He was standing outside one of these houses and then he started to follow us.”