A part of me wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her hard, and yell in her face that she should be thankful that her parents had found the fortitude to uproot themselves and immigrate to a land they knew only from Jewish history and tradition. That by doing so, they had surely saved their daughter's life. That I blamed myself for not having the foresight to do the same. That my family was dead because of my blindness.
I gritted my teeth, biting back the words. Hitting her with the truth would do no good. It would only alienate her, and I needed her cooperation.
"Do you have a cigarette?" Leah said, jerking me out of my furious thoughts.
I yanked the pack out of my pocket and tapped one out for her. I fired up a match. She leaned forward toward the light, cigarette stuck in her small mouth, laying a steadying hand on mine as she brought match and cigarette together. Then she took a pull, making a face before tilting her head back and blowing out a cloud of smoke at the ceiling.
"You must be a strong man to smoke such potent tobacco." She was giving me a half-lidded stare, one that sent a message that was impossible to mistake. On the wall above the sofa hung a large framed wedding picture of Leah Goldin and her husband. She was beaming again, all in white—her dress, her earrings, her necklace, her veil, and the bouquet of daisies in her hands. He was a lanky man wearing a three-piece gray suit and a self-conscious smile. He was looking directly ahead, but also appeared to be gazing down at us. I shifted slightly away from her, my back pressed against the armrest.
"About Esther Kantor," I said, "you two were friends?"
"Oh, yes. The very best of friends. We worked together, side by side, every day."
"You were already at Becker & Strauss when Esther was hired?"
"I started two years before she did."
"She settled in fine?"
Leah nodded. "I helped her of course, showed her where everything went, how things worked. She caught on quickly. Esther was a smart girl."
"She told you things about herself, about her life?"
"Of course. We would talk a lot. I remember feeling sorry for her because she had to raise a child all on her own. You know her husband drowned?"
So Esther had not revealed her true identity to Leah, and Leah had not seen through her lie the way Natalie Davidson had. But maybe Esther did share other parts of her life with Leah.
"Did she tell you about her lover?" I asked.
Leah blinked, clearly surprised. "You know about him?"
"Yes. Alon Davidson."
A glass ashtray lay on a side table by the sofa behind Leah. She twisted around, showing me her back while she mashed out the cigarette. She turned back to face me. "Yes. She told me about him."
So, I thought, Elena's eyes had not deceived her.
"What did she say about him?"
Leah hesitated. "Not all that much. I don't feel comfortable revealing intimate details."
She hadn't needed to tell me that last bit. I could tell as much by her tense posture and the shift in her manner. Her flirtatious bubbliness had evaporated. The gravity of the subject of our conversation had finally dawned on her.
"Did she tell you how serious they were? Whether they had plans for him to leave his wife?"
"Oh, they were very serious," Leah said. "Esther was in love with him, I think, though she never said so in so many words. I asked her if they were going to be together, but she said it was too soon."
"I see. You ever meet him?"
She shook her head.
"What about Davidson's wife? Did Esther ever express any qualms about sleeping with her husband?"
Leah lowered her gaze. A few curly strands of hair fell across her face. "I'm sure she felt bad about it, but sometimes you can't help yourself when you're in love, can you?"
I supposed that was true, but it still rankled. I hated the thought of Esther betraying Natalie Davidson. It changed the way I saw her. Up to this point I'd had an idealized image of Esther. She was this brave, generous soul who had taken a strange baby with her on a long and arduous journey, who had nurtured him for months and was planning on doing so for months more. Her doing something bad and dishonorable—like having an affair with a close friend's husband—had been unimaginable.
Now I saw her in a different light—not as some paragon of goodness, but as a woman of virtues and vices, of good deeds and sins.
It changed nothing. I was still determined to catch her killer. For one thing, he or she had also murdered an innocent baby, and there was no excuse or justification for that. For another, while she had betrayed Natalie Davidson and might have committed other sins I was unaware of, Esther Grunewald had not deserved to die.
"How long was the affair?" I asked.
"Two months, if I remember right."
"Were they getting along? Think back to the final two weeks of her life—did Esther say they had a fight, an argument?"
She thought for a moment. "No, I don't remember anything like that." Then her eyes grew big, making her look more like a child than ever before. "Why? Do you think this man—Davidson—might be the killer?"
"No," I admitted. "I have no evidence to that effect. I'm just asking questions."
"I understand." Leah heaved a breath. "I don't think I can tell you more about the affair. Like I said, Esther didn't tell me all that much about it, about him."
I nodded. Time to move on.
"Did Esther talk a lot about Erich?" I asked.
"All the time," Leah said, clearly eased by the change of subject. "Erich did this and Erich did that, and how cute he was when he smiled, or even when he cried."
"She loved him a lot."
"Oh, yes. Well, it stands to reason, doesn't it? She was his mother."
I considered telling her the truth, but decided against it. Telling Natalie Davidson had yielded no new details. I doubted enlightening Leah as to Esther's true name and identity would prove different.
I said, "I know Esther went out dancing a lot, to a club on Hayarkon Street. Ever go with her?"
Leah said that she hadn't.
"So you have no idea if she ever met a man in that club? Or if anyone ever approached her too forcefully?"
"No, I don't."
"What about at work?"
"What about work?" Leah asked.
"Did any client ever show any undue interest in Esther?"
"No."
"That seems hard to believe, she was so beautiful."
"Oh, I thought you meant did anyone step over the line. Sure, clients used to flirt with her, with both of us. That's what men do—there was no harm in it. You learn how to let them down easy, without hurting their feelings. I taught Esther how to do that."
"No one tried too hard?"
"No. No one. I would have known if anyone had."
Which left Alon Davidson as the only man in Esther's life. Someone who was in an illicit relationship with her, a relationship he had kept secret from the police.
But he had an alibi, I reminded myself. Unless that alibi was false, he could not have been the killer.
I needed to go talk to Davidson. Just as soon as I heard from Reuben whether he had a history with the police.
Having the affair confirmed was enough to make my visit to Leah Goldin worthwhile, but perhaps she could solve another little mystery for me.
"Was Esther happy working at Becker & Strauss?"
"Yes. It's a great place to work. Mr. Strauss is a wonderful man, a wonderful boss. You talked to him?"
"Not yet. I went by the firm earlier, but he was out. So Esther told you nothing about having trouble at work?"
Leah slowly shook her head.
"It would have been in the last few days of her life. According to her neighbor, she was upset about something related to her job. Any idea what it might have been?"
"No. The neighbor didn't know?"
"Esther was vague about it, she said."