"Did he and Anna get along?"
An unpleasant little smile slithered across her face. "Hardly. In fact, I think Anna had more to do with Haggai becoming a soldier than any desire he had to fight the Germans."
"What do you mean?"
"It was like a dreary romance novel, at least in part. He was infatuated with her. Ever since high school. But she didn't want him. It was quite pathetic to see sometimes, the way he mooned over her. Then one day he came to work and announced that he had enlisted, that he was off to fight Hitler. Then he looked right at Anna and said, 'And when I get to Prague, Anna, I'll personally get your family out and bring them here.'" Ofra rolled her eyes, making it crystal clear how ridiculous she found Geller's promise to have been.
"What was Anna's reaction?"
"It was the damnedest thing. I was sure she would laugh in Haggai's face, but instead she went to him, threw her arms around his neck, pressed her body tight against his, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. We were all astounded."
"We?"
"All the actors. We were all there. We watched her kiss him in dead silence, like an audience at the most suspenseful moment of a play."
"And Geller?"
"He was as dumbstruck as the rest of us. And excited. You could tell that by his flushed cheeks, shallow breath, and, well, you can imagine what else."
"I see," I said, feeling a tingle of distaste at her flippant tone. Geller's gesture might have been juvenile, and certainly naive, but he had still gone off to fight evil. He deserved more respect.
"And the next day he shipped out," she said. "And that was the last I saw of him."
"Did he and Anna keep in touch during his absence?"
"I don't know."
"Did they meet after his return?"
"Not a clue."
"Did she ever talk of him again after he left?"
"Not when I was around. It appeared that she'd forgotten him entirely."
"Did this surprise you?"
"What surprised me was that she kissed him."
"Why did she do it?"
"I asked her that very question. She said she wanted to give him a gift before he went to war." Ofra shrugged, as if to say she found Anna's action inexplicable.
I took a moment to consider the matter myself, wondering what it meant, what it said of Anna's character, but failed to come to any conclusion.
Ofra was examining her watch. "Anything else, Mr. Lapid? I really should be getting ready."
"Just a couple of minutes more," I said, "if that's all right."
She sighed theatrically. "Go ahead."
"Can you tell me whether Anna was involved with anyone in the year before she died?"
"Not to my knowledge."
I frowned. "You don't sound sure. Wouldn't you know, you being her friend?"
"Anna and I stopped being friends long before her death."
Ah, so that was the reason she was impatient with me. Either that or she had something more sinister to hide.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"We drifted apart. It happens."
I waited, but evidently that was all she was going to say on the subject.
"Did she also stop liking you, or was it just one-sided?" I asked.
"What makes you think I stopped liking her?"
"You do, Miss Wexler. You make it quite clear."
Her eyes narrowed and she gave me a long look. The green of her eyes, peeking between her nearly touching eyelashes, darkened in hue. "You're starting to annoy me, Mr. Lapid."
I feigned contrition. "I don't mean to, Miss Wexler. But I'd still like to know why your friendship ended."
"What difference does it make? It was a long time ago, and it has nothing to do with your investigation."
"Was it because you were competing for the same parts?"
She hesitated, then shrugged, and I took it as a yes.
"Was she a good actress?" I asked.
"Yes," Ofra said, sounding as though she were offering a painful concession.
"Better than you?"
She snorted. "Not even close."
"Yet she got the bigger parts, didn't she?"
A muscle pulsed in her cheek. Her jaw clenched.
"And when Dahlia Rotner had her accident," I said, "Anna was chosen to fill her shoes and not you. That must have hurt."
Her eyes flashed as bright as a forest fire. "Fill Dahlia's shoes! That's a laugh. She wasn't fit to shine them."
"And you were?"
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, the fire had subsided. She looked resigned and enraged at the same time. "No, I wasn't. Dahlia was a better actress than I'll ever be. But between Anna and myself, I was the better choice."
"Yet she was chosen."
"Yes."
"And that made you angry."
"Of course it did."
"Where were you the night of the murder?"
She stared at me in amazement. "Are you serious?"
"Deadly."
"I don't have to answer that question."
"No. But answer it anyway. Or do you have something to hide?"
"I was here."
"Alone?"
"You think I killed Anna? You're insane."
"You had a better motive than anyone else. And you have no alibi, do you?"
"I was in my bed. Asleep. And, yes, I was alone."
"That's quite convenient."
"It's also the truth."
"So you say."
"I. Did. Not. Kill. Her." She enunciated each word slowly and with emphasis. "I was no longer her friend, and I did not like her anymore. She thought too highly of herself and too little of me. And yes, you could say I benefited when she died. But I did not murder her." She paused, her small chest heaving, and in a voice shaking with indignation, added, "And you have no right to speak to me like that."
I studied her. Every muscle in her face was as taut as a hangman's rope. If she were acting, she was doing a fine job. God damn this case. Just about every suspect was a liar by trade. Maybe Meltzer had it right and Ofra was innocent. But she did have a strong reason to kill Anna, and she clearly more than disliked her erstwhile friend. She resented her fiercely, and such resentment can lead a person to do dreadful things.
Her size suggested it would have been difficult for her to do the deed herself, though certainly not beyond the realm of possibility. And she could have hired it out. Did she know someone who might be persuaded to take on such an assignment? And had that person decided that he would enjoy raping his victim before ending her life? I might have asked her about it, but it was clear I had pushed her as far as she would go. It was a miracle she hadn't thrown me out yet.
"I apologize, Miss Wexler," I said. "It gives me no pleasure to ask these questions, but I must." Before she could say anything, I continued, "I know it was Isser Rotner who picked Anna to take over for his wife. Do you know why he did so?"
"Because Isser likes his leading ladies to be beautiful."
Like Pnina Zelensky, I thought.
"Were he and Anna having an affair?"
She did not look shocked by the question. "Not that I know. But it wouldn't surprise me. I suspect he's having an affair with our current leading lady." She said those last two words with venomous mockery.
"Pnina Zelensky."
"Yes. So you see, Mr. Lapid, that any benefit I might have derived from Anna's death was purely temporary. As I knew it would be. I'm simply not pretty enough to remain our theater's lead actress for long."
I believed that last bit. Which made me detest Rotner even more.
"Did you, by any chance, tell Dahlia Rotner about her husband and Pnina Zelensky?" I asked, remembering how Dahlia had refused to tell me who had exposed her husband to her.
Ofra shook her head. "I haven't spoken with or seen Dahlia in years."
"You never visit her?"
"No."
"Any reason why not?"
"Because I don't wish to see her. Dahlia is an incredible actress, but she's also a horrible person. Make a tiny mistake or don't perform as well as she thinks you should, and she'll not only criticize you harshly in front of everyone, she'll encourage the others to join her. I'd prefer not to spend any time with her."