Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel Read online

  "You couldn't look in the mirror before you left your room?" My mother still hadn't given up.

  "I think I look great."

  "I didn't buy you those sandals, and you could have worn something else with that top. You don't see that skirt is huge on you? Since when did you get to be such a small size? Why aren't you eating? Since you joined the police, you've just neglected yourself. Believe me, state security won’t be harmed if you went out to eat a normal lunch once a day." My mother was firing off rounds.

  "The last time I checked my ID, I was already over eighteen, so you can stop worrying about how much I'm eating and how I dress. Just say the truth, Mom - you're embarrassed I don’t fit in with this whole performance." I waved my hands around me.

  "All of this," Ayala tried to imitate my gestures, "is a performance for you?"

  "More or less."

  "What exactly are we performing?” I had a feeling Ayala was insulted.

  "You know that case I'm dealing with now, a family that outwardly was dressed up to the nines and completely functional, but inside, apparently, everything was rotten, if one day the father can get up and slay them all."

  "Wow, that's just too much." Ayala was practically stewing when she talked. I’d really managed to upset her. "If we dress nicely it means we're covering up something rotten?"

  "No, that's not what I said." Ayala managed to confuse me.

  "But that's what it sounds like." Shira surprised me by joining Ayala and my mother's team. Shira, herself, is not exactly a role model when it comes to color matching and ironed clothes, but she was a little better than me and when it came to events or weekends, she made an effort to fall in line with my mother and Ayala.

  "I'm just saying that pretty clothes don't mean anything. If I'm a slob, then that's how I want to look." I lied. I didn't want to look like this but I didn't know how to dress differently.

  "You're talking nonsense." My mother pulled back an empty chair and sat down next to me, careful not to talk loudly, so the other people in the lobby—some of whom were already intently listening to our conversation - wouldn't hear what she had to say. "A person who is dressed well conveys something about himself. It's true that sometimes it's a lie, but a lie is destined to come out, just like what happened in the shocking case of the Danilowitz family."

  "But maybe if people didn't work so hard covering up their lie so perfectly, things wouldn't explode in such a horrible way? If Hanni and Meir were busier sorting out their issues rather than covering them up, maybe this whole story would have ended differently."

  "Are we still talking about clothes?" Ayala wondered.

  "Yes, among other things, but not only that, I have a feeling that a lot of people, not only Hanni and Meir Danilowitz, are too busy with how those around them perceive them, rather than being true to themselves."

  "Not everyone can afford to leave everything and start working for the police." My mother explained the facts of life to me.

  "Why not?" I played dumb.

  "Because most people have a mortgage and children and they can't do whatever they feel like all of a sudden."

  "But the mortgage and the kids are part of it. Where does it say that you have to have three kids and a mortgage?"

  "So we're talking about the having kids again?" My mother rolled her eyes. "I thought you didn't want to talk about that with us anymore."

  "In my opinion," Ayala interjected before I could answer my mother, "you turned being a slob into a way of life. You perceive anyone who goes through the trouble of matching their shirt to their pants as someone who wastes their time in vanity. But the truth is, you're no better than those trying to cover up emptiness with beautiful clothes.

  “You dress the way you do because you're trying to show that you're better than everyone. That you, unlike all of us, have a life and an important job, so you can't waste your time on insignificant things like shopping or manicures." Ayala, my younger sister, was the exact opposite of me, especially when it came to grooming.

  "I assure you my sloppiness isn't deliberate." I said, almost, in a whisper.

  “I also don't dress nicely to cover up something dark, I just like to be aesthetic. I think personal grooming is important. If you look good on the outside, you usually also feel good on the inside."

  "No doubt." I smiled at her. I didn't feel like fighting, and I also didn't think she was wrong. Still, I personally felt that when someone is excessively busy with appearance, it’s often to make up for internal, substantial problems. I decided not to continue with the argument, and fortunately, my cell phone rang just then.

  It was Yinon.

  My father gave me an angry look, and before he could launch into a tirade I got up and found a secluded corner of the lobby.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "Everything's great." He was breathing hard.

  "What's that? Where are you, huffing and puffing like that?"

  "I went out for a jog with Tsumi. The poor dog's really out of shape. Do you even walk him?"

  "Yes," I said, almost in a whisper. I wasn't lying, I did walk him - a walk around our back yard is also a walk.

  "Listen, that dog is so cute you could eat him." I smiled. I loved that dog although I hadn't cared for him properly in a long while. "This week I had lunch at a restaurant and one of those deaf people came by, selling little dolls. I usually ignore them, but because I remembered I’d be taking Tsumi, I bought a little teddy bear so he'd have a new toy from Daddy. Anyway, he’s completely in love with this little bear, doesn't leave it for a second. I even had to take the bear on our run."

  "What a cutie," I laughed.

  "Yeah…I wish I had him for all the weekend. The day I bought the teddy bear, I went to the gym and left it in my locker, so I only really gave it to him this morning."

  Yinon went on talking and describing the dream weekend he had with Tsumi, but I found it hard to listen. I remembered Meirav, Meir's sister, owned a chain of gyms. How did I not think of this earlier? Maybe Meir was hiding something in his locker.

  I anxiously waited for Shabbat to end so I could call Meirav.

  *

  "Shavua Tov [good week]," she answered.

  "Shavua Tov. Meirav?"

  "Yes. Who is this?"

  "It's Hadas Levinger, from the police. We met this week."

  "Yes, of course." I could hear her smile. I knew she liked me too. "How can I help you?"

  "Do you remember you told me that you gave Hanni a membership to your gym?"

  "Yes."

  "Was Meir also a member?"

  "Yes."

  "Did they have lockers?"

  "I don't know. I’d need to check."

  "When could you do that for me?"

  "Tomorrow morning, but in any case, I can't let you open a locker without a warrant."

  "We already have a warrant to search the house and car, and it also applied to lockers."

  "No problem, darling, I'll get back to you in the morning."

  Chapter 21

  Sunday, 5.31.2009

  Meir had a locker.

  Meirav called me at eight-thirty and said she checked with the gym in Kiryat Ono where Meir and Hanni had memberships, and it turned out they each had a locker.

  "When do you want to go there?" Meirav inquired.

  "Straight away."

  "Do you need me there?"

  "No, not at all. As long as someone can identify the locker for me and open it, if that's possible."

  "What do you mean, if that's possible?"

  I smiled. "I'll get it open anyway, but I think it's better to keep the lock whole."

  Meirav laughed. "No problem, honey. If there's any trouble let me know."

  I usually didn't like to be called "honey" or "darling" by women or men. Even my mother and Shira were careful not to call me by nicknames, but coming from Meirav, it gave me a nice feeling that she liked me.

  On my way to Kiryat Ono I got a call from Iris, Hanni's good friend, who had fina
lly returned from England.

  "Is this Hadas Levinger?" she asked in a hesitant voice.

  "Speaking," I said in a singsong voice. I was in a good mood.

  "You left me a message."

  "Who is this?"

  "Iris Green."

  "You're the friend of the late Hanni Danilowitz?" I asked as if I had not been looking for her for days.

  "Yes, I was Hanni's friend," she said sadly.

  "I understand you just got back from England."

  "Sure, we were at a family event."

  "I need to ask you a couple of questions. Can you come to the station?"

  "Of course."

  "I just left, so could you come in about four hours?"

  "No problem."

  The last time I visited the gym was during the compulsory sports lessons at university. I chose gym because it just worked out in my curriculum. Luckily for me, the grade was pass or fail and you had to really make an effort to fail this course. What I remember from those lessons was a dark gym in the University's bomb shelter and a fitness instructor who had very little to do with health. He used the breaks between the lessons to smoke cigarettes and maintain his potbelly.

  Twenty years earlier, he’d been a renowned coach in Belarus, but in Israel he had to choose between cleaning stairwells and training in the University's broken down gym. His gym was equipped with apparatus that was considered old even in his hay day in Belarus.

  The Fitroom gym, or to be exact, Health and Fitness Center, was completely different from the distant memory I had from the university gym. The gym, located in the new shopping mall, was well lit and ventilated. The equipment was state of the art and spotless. Bulky fitness instructors walked around among the different apparatus, their main clients at this time of day—late morning—being mostly pensioners and bored housewives.

  A tall and muscular guy, in a tight T-shirt embossed with the word "trainer" in large font, leaned against the reception desk. He had a forelock, which was fashionably disheveled, chiseled chin and blue eyes. I made a mental note that I could stand to work out every once in a while.

  I approached the desk. He turned to me and smiled. I was blinded—I really have to start working out.

  "I'm looking for Mirit." I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  "She went down to the grocery store for a minute. We ran out of milk." He managed to talk without losing his smile for a second. I smiled. Without showing my teeth. I was reminded that I hadn't seen the dentist or dental hygienist in over a year.

  "She'll be right back," he leaned over the counter to grab something. You could put a picture of him in the dictionary next to 'firm buttocks'. "You can fill out your details in the meantime." He handed me a clipboard with a personal details form.

  For a minute, I considered becoming a member. I ignored the fact that this was a gym in Kiryat Ono and that I have at least five gyms within walking distance from my house and workplace, and the sad fact that I can barely walk two hundred meters at a slow pace without beginning to have suicidal thoughts.

  "Thank you," I returned the form to him and held my toothless smile. "I'm not joining the gym."

  "Really?" he rounded his eyebrows. He seemed really surprised.

  "I'll wait here for Mirit." I sat down on a couch at the corner. I had a hard time remembering when I’d last sat on a couch this uncomfortable. I guess they do anything here to keep the customers from sitting down for even a moment.

  A few minutes later, a young, smiley woman skipped joyfully to the reception desk and handed the trainer a plastic bag filled with cartons of 1% milk, which, to my knowledge, is more or less white colored water. From the other bag she pulled out a package of rice cakes. I tried to understand why a size-36 girl has to torture herself with something that tastes and smells like Styrofoam. The charming instructor collected the plastic bag and pointed in my direction.

  "Hello." Mirit revealed perfect, white teeth. She really seemed happy; I guess she was also on in a constant endorphin high.

  I pulled out my badge and placed it on the counter. "I'm Hadas Levinger from Israel Police." A couple of pensioners who were standing a few meters from me, enthralled with the June activity schedule, immediately went into listening mode. "Meirav Avni referred me to you."

  "Oh, the Danilowitz lockers." The smile was erased from her face.

  "True."

  She led me towards the dressing rooms. The lockers were just inside the dressing rooms. She gave me the key to Hanni's locker.

  "It'll be problematic for you to go in to open Meir's locker. I'll get Niv to open it for you, if you’d just tell him exactly what you're looking for."

  "I have to open Meir's locker myself." I said decisively.

  "But women aren't allowed to enter the men's dressing room."

  "You don't have cleaning ladies here?"

  "They clean after activity hours."

  "Listen, I'm going in whether you clear out the locker rooms or not. You can be sure I've seen it all before." Actually, I haven't seen that many, but I didn't want her to think that I'm some rookie that can be disregarded.

  Eventually, I began in the women's dressing room with Hanni's locker. In the meantime, Niv asked the men showering to hurry up, while Mirit asked other gym members to wait outside the locker room for a few minutes.

  Hanni's locker was nearly empty. In it were a towel and a change of clothes.

  A few minutes later I moved on to the men's locker room. In it was a pensioner, drying his hair, completely disregarding my dramatic entrance.

  I was disappointed to find that Meir's locker was almost empty too. Here, I also found a towel, a change of clothes and an old health magazine. I put it all in the bags I’d brought, although I didn't know what the forensics department would be able to find. Deep inside the locker was a pair of rolled up socks, I reached out my hand to get to them.

  Once I touched the socks my heart started beating wildly. Inside the rolled up socks a flash drive was hidden.

  Without knowing what was on the disk, it was clear to me that it was something important, otherwise, what reason would Meir have to hide it in a ball of rolled up socks in the corner of his locker, far from everyone's eyes?

  I raced to the office. I was impatient. I wanted to know what Meir had to hide in those socks. The whole way I prayed that the disc was working and that there was something on it that would finally give us a lead.

  I stormed into the station, carrying the bags of Hanni and Meir's clothes and towels. The flash drive was sitting atop the pile. I’d pushed it back into the socks; I didn't want something to happen to it on the way.

  Riki blocked my way. Her face looked like she had hot gossip to tell.

  "Riki, I'm really into something. Is it brief?" I said tensely.

  "Just one second… I just want to warn you."

  I stopped. This sounded interesting. "What?" I was curious.

  "Alon’s mad."

  "Tell me something new." I kept walking and Riki trailed after me.

  "I know, but today a little more than usual. He even yelled at Amos earlier."

  That was unusual. Alon was careful not to start any unnecessary wars with Amos. I stopped again.

  "What happened?"

  "That’s it…" she rolled her eyes and rubbed her hands together. "I don't know for sure, but I hear that, over the holiday, Alon's ex-wife introduced him to her new boyfriend."

  "So?" I didn't see what the problem was. The fact Alon and his ex-wife have a relationship that’s far from over even after eight years of divorce, in my opinion, is not enough of a reason, in my opinion, to get Alon screaming at everyone, especially at Amos.

  "Her new boyfriend is a firefighter," she said with a meaningful gaze, "and he's also at least five years younger than her."

  Now that definitely sounded problematic. Dorit had a younger boyfriend, and even worse, he was a firefighter. Alon had a thing about firefighters - a strange little battle of ego.

  I made extreme
efforts to make myself invisible, especially when I passed by Alon's door. It didn't do me any good.

  "Levinger!" I heard him shout and knew there was nowhere to run.

  I entered his room and lingered in the doorway.

  "Come in, come in," he said angrily and gestured. "You have nothing to be scared of."

  Oh, but I do… no reason other than the fact that Alon was furious and was looking for someone to pour his rage out on, and I, unfortunately, was the latest victim.

  I took two more steps and placed the bags of evidence on his desk.

  Alon stretched out in his chair, as if loading his gun before firing it. "Could you explain please," he fired the first shot, "how it’s possible that nearly two weeks have passed since the event and a whole week since we found Meir's extorting letter, and we still have nothing? Just nothing? All I hear is that you're wandering around endlessly—going to the bank, to the school, the public library—and conducting interviews at witness’ houses.

  “How many times do I have to tell you: ask the people to come here. We don't have time for unnecessary trips. If you have nothing, it's no shame. Just say the word and we'll transfer you to a different case or add another one to you, I don't exactly have too many people to spare here."

  "But you also told me numerous times that the best way to understand a case is to search as closely as possible to the scene. You, yourself, also told me that you gave me the case because I have a religious background, and it would be easy for me to understand this family. This is not an ordinary homicide. We're not looking for a murderer, we're looking for a motive, and since Meir's letter was found it has become clear to all of us that the story here is a bit more complicated than a family feud.

  “How do you want me to get into Meir's head in my office? In order to understand Meir, in order to get to know his family, I have to meet the family, the friends, the teachers, the neighbors and, in my opinion, nothing beats getting to know them and understand them in their natural environment."

  "I didn't say you shouldn't." Alon was probably surprised by the fact I answered him, and his voice softened a bit. "But still, two weeks with almost nothing, just more and more questions… can you please explain to me where you disappeared to this morning? What's that bag, for instance?"