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"You had me worried for a while there," she said at length.

"I know. I was worried myself."

"Now that this case is over, should I stop worrying about you?"

I thought for a moment. "Maybe not forever but for a while."

We finished our coffee and Greta poured us some more.

The conversation drifted to mundane matters. We talked a bit about Israel and the news. We talked about the weather. We talked like normal people, and after a while it ceased feeling strange. Toward the end Greta told me that she was going to America to visit her daughter.

"I'll be gone for a month. I'm leaving the day before Rosh Hashanah and will return after Sukkot. Rita will take over while I'm gone."

There was a question in her eyes, and I answered it: "Don't worry. I'll be all right. And I'll be here when you get back."

At ten in the morning of the eve of Rosh Hashanah, I went into Levinson Drugstore. A message was waiting for me from Reuben, reminding me that his family's holiday dinner would begin at seven o'clock that evening.

I left my apartment at six. The streets of Tel Aviv were nearly empty of pedestrians, and the few I saw were dressed in holiday white, their shoes polished like black marble, their expressions glowing with hope for the future. Some early revelers had begun singing holiday songs, and rhythmic clapping accompanied the out-of-tune singing. In an hour the entire city would be in song.

Just about now, Magda and David Abramo would be sitting to the holiday meal with Magda's cousin and her family. They'd be eating with the extended family that is the kibbutz. Greta would be helping her daughter make final adjustments to the table.

I recalled the jubilation with which my father greeted each Rosh Hashanah, how he would blow the shofar, and how my mother and sisters and I would gather in our best clothes around the dining table and share well wishes for the new year. This was what awaited me in Reuben's home—family, warm companionship, holiday songs, joyous anticipation for the year that was about to begin.

When I reached the building, I climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Sima Vaaknin was dressed in a high-necked, knee-length white linen dress trimmed in green. Her dark skin shone as if it had been burnished. Her hair had been twisted into a long thick braid. The braid hung over her left shoulder, its tip resting between her breasts.

"Happy new year," she said. If she was surprised to see me, she showed no sign of it.

"And to you too, Sima."

"May we be the head and not the tail." She uttered the traditional holiday blessing with a smirk on her face. "I never understood that saying. Do you?"

"It's from Deuteronomy," I said. "Chapter 28. It means that we should lead our own lives, not be dragged like a tail after the will of others."

"Well—" she gestured for me to enter "—I like the sound of that."

She had lighted a number of tall white candles, some in holders, others on saucers, and the scent of melted wax wafted about the room. A large circular plate lined with apple slices sat on her coffee table, a small bowl of golden honey at its center.

"Were you expecting company?" I asked.

"Not really. Most of my clients rediscover the joy of family life during the holidays. But just because I don't have a family of my own does not mean I don't celebrate the holidays. And besides, you never know who might drop by."

She gave me a playful smile, fluttering her long lashes at me.

She took an apple slice, dipped it in the honey, and handed it to me. Then she took one for herself. She bit into the apple slice, chewed and swallowed it, and licked a droplet of honey from her lips. Smiling coyly at me, she said, "Will you be my family, Adam? Just for tonight?"

I nodded. "Just for tonight."

THE END

Afterword

Dear reader,

Thank you so much for reading The Auschwitz Violinist. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

The greatest pleasure I get as a writer is to hear from readers. So drop me an email at contact@jonathandunsky.com with any questions or feedback, or even just to say hi.

Before you go, I’d like to ask you to do a little favor for me. If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review on its Amazon page. Independent authors such as myself depend on reviews to attract new readers to our books. I would greatly appreciate it if you could share your experience of reading this book by leaving your review on Amazon. It doesn’t have to be long. A sentence or two would do nicely.

Back already?

Great!

Before you go, I’d like to share with you a brief history of how this novel came to be.

All I had when I sat down in front of my laptop to begin this novel was the initial idea—someone was killing former members of Auschwitz prisoners’ orchestras because he thought of them as collaborators. I did not know who the killer was, how he had developed his hatred for these inmate musicians, and I had absolutely no idea how Adam Lapid, the private investigator who would be the hero of this tale, was going to uncover who the killer was.

I simply began writing, adding a thousand words or more each day to my manuscript, going for walks to clear my head when I got stuck. Slowly, the words added up. Scenes and chapters got written. A complete narrative formed. Along the way, I decided who the killer was. Or maybe the story decided it for me. That’s the way it goes sometimes.

When it was done, and I had done my editing and revising, I reread the whole thing and found that I had written a novel that was more than a mystery story. It also touched upon how little understood Holocaust survivors were in Israel soon after its independence and how many of them had to deal with various mental issues following the ordeal they’d survived.

It’s strange how the story took its own shape and form, and how it ended up as more than I had planned it to be. That’s part of the beauty of writing.

I hope and plan to write more Adam Lapid novels in the future. For now, there are four: Ten Years Gone, The Dead Sister, The Auschwitz Violinist, and A Debt of Death. All are available on Amazon. I hope you will check out the other novels if you haven’t done so already.

Here are the links to all the books:

1. Ten Years Gone

2. The Dead Sister

3. The Auschwitz Violinist

4. A Debt of Death

Before we part, I want to thank you again for reading my book and to invite you to join my VIP readers club at http://jonathandunsky.com/free/. You’ll get a free copy of one of my short stories when you join and be notified when my next book comes out. I’ll try to get it written quickly.

Jonathan Dunsky.

p.s. You are also welcome to contact me on Goodreads or Facebook.

About the Author

Jonathan Dunsky lives in Israel with his wife and two sons. He enjoys reading, writing, and goofing around with his kids. He began writing in his teens, then took a break for close to twenty years, during which he worked an assortment of jobs. He is the author of the Adam Lapid mystery series and the standalone thriller The Payback Girl.