Chapter 36
Something in what Haliwa had said continued to bother her, even after the man himself disappeared from her life. Hadn’t he mentioned that he had done a great favor for Jonathan, something that she, too, as his wife, should repay him for?
This “favor”—the very thought of it sent shivers down her spine. Fastidious Jonathan in the company of such people! Since Haliwa’s allusion, which may or may not have contained any truth, she tossed and turned at night, unable to sleep.
Only one man can help her find out what really happened to Jonathan on the last night of his life. Larry. Since Haliwa’s arrival, she no longer attempted to get rid of him. a new relationship had formed between them— not a bond. She was still wary of him, and she still resented him, but not with the same fervor as before. The practical side of her, growing stronger and prominent with the new shape of her life, categorically told her she needed him.
She no longer hung up on him. When she had been at the detention center, either out of candor or in an attempt to win her trust, he had shown her the protocol, and she’d committed it to memory. Now she waited for an opportunity to ask him about what exactly had happened that night and the following morning. She knew she would not have to wait long; Larry had turned Jonathan into an obsession, which increased, alongside his interest in her.
Larry was a graduate in criminology and business administration, but he was yet far away from attaining the goals he had set of himself. He came from an underprivileged family of Holocaust survivors, and grew up in the Wadi Rushmiya neighborhood in Haifa. Most of his childhood playmates ended up criminals and junkies. He knew them well and understood them.
He himself was only a step away from crime, but very early on he had decided on the path he was going to pursue; for him the sky was the limit — he wanted a career, status, money, reputation and beautiful women, all at the same time.
“He had everything, money, a great job, a woman like you, a house, children,” he asked repeatedly, “How did he do it?”
“You’re jealous of Jonathan!”
“No way! I just want to know his secret.”
“Well, you can’t. Jonathan was unique.”
When Ditty told her that Larry was attracted to her, perhaps eve in love with her, Talia dismissed the suggestion derisively. But apparently Ditty was right; why else, in every conversation with her, did he ask her again and again about Jonathan y, what she saw in hi, why she loved him so much?
After long deliberation, she invited him for coffee on her patio, where the plants were in full bloom. She was uncomfortable, but hid it behind a smile. Sitting facing him, her knees trembled, as they had at the business meeting, and she had to put her hands on them to steady them. Dressed in Levis and a white, meticulously ironed shirt, Larry did not look scary at all, just handsome; he could be a young student. Act cool, she instructed herself.
He watched her, smoking his Marlboro. Now he looked like a local version of a movie detective. The mixture of smells—Paco Raban and the strong, manly cigarette—caused her a slight dizziness. She often wondered why he doused himself with so much cologne. Was it an attempt to impress her, to prove that he was a man of the world? Or was he covering up something?
He raised his face, with its rim of black hair, and his blazing blue eyes looked at her with amusement and gratitude. The admired lady finally deigned to show some good will; but she was in his hands now.
“Talia, you want something from me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I want to know exactly what happened to Jonathan on the last night of his life.”
“You mean if he was raped?”
She was taken aback by the explicit suggestion and did not answer. She looked into his eyes.
“You can’t tell what might happen on a night like that, with seven men in a cell.”
“Larry! Why are you keeping me in suspense? You know exactly what happened there.”
“No, I don’t think anything actually happened to him,” Larry dragged out his words, “The rapist didn’t touch him. He was only interested in little girls, and whined the whole night that he couldn’t control his urges. We taped him. The rest of his cellmates weren’t dangerous.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “But what about the political prisoner. He was handcuffed only part of the night. What happened later?”
“How do you know about this?” Larry looked surprised. He had no idea that she had located Moscovitz, a pleasant, lively Hungarian Jew, arraigned on charges of sales tax evasion and false capital gains reports, who had gone bankrupt several times in the past, yet always rose from the ashes like the phoenix. Moscovitz happened to be at the detention center the same night, but he was exhausted and fell asleep, so he had had difficulty reporting to her the events of the horrible night.
“What did he tell you?”
“He and Jonathan had a long conversation. Jonathan didn’t understand why he was being held. He told Moscovitz that his wife was in London with his two little kids, and that he wasn’t even allowed to phone her; that false charges had been brought against him, and that in order to prove his innocence he needed his accountant...”
She took a deep breath. “But what about the political prisoner, Larry? Did you take off his handcuffs?” Her eyes scrutinized him, allowing no evasion.
Larry shifted uneasily. “You have nothing to worry about. And I’m not going to say another word. Talia, you know I’m no liar.”
She was not ready yet to let him off the hook. She chose her words carefully. “There’s one thing I don’t understand; why did you treat him like a common criminal? You arrested him on Friday, without a subpoena. You told him it was only for ‘questioning.’
He believed the Israeli police and didn’t even bother to tell his friends that were waiting for him! He was that confident he’d be joining them at their table at the Olympia restaurant. He was so naive!” Her voice had risen to a high pitch, but she didn’t care. “You kept him there all day Saturday, interrogating him, when even the political detainee had not been investigated. Why was that? You wanted to be paid overtime?”
“Talia, please, don’t sink so low.”
“There’s something else I want to ask you; all this throwing up that’s mentioned, is that protocol? Did you know that Jonathan was asthmatic and suffered from allergies? Why didn’t you show some consideration?” Her voice thickened, filled with uncontrollable crying. She saw Jonathan standing in front of her, his noise running, his eyes red and swollen, going through boxes of tissues. In the springtime, when the trees bloomed in the distance, he was seized with incessant sneezing.
“Yes, we found a packet of antihistamines on him. That’s what he took on Saturday morning—two tablets and some tea. He didn’t’ want to eat anything.”
“Of course not. Who can eat your food?”
“I offered him cookies, but he declined. Then I went out to get him a sandwich, but I’ve already told you all about that.” Suddenly, belatedly, he flared up, “What is it you want from me, Talia? An apology? I’ve already apologized more than once. You’ve got to understand one thing. People like Jonathan attract fire; it’s only natural. And when there’s fire, there are casualties. It’s true that he vomited several times, but that’s precisely why I though he was hiding something.”
Talia rose to her feet. “Captain Koren,” she said, flushed with anger, hardly aware she was leading him off the patio, toward the gate, “Now I’m beginning to understand; you wanted his head. You wanted to see Jonathan Schwarz, the whiz kid of the financial world, splashed all over the Sunday papers, seen dragged to a judge for an extension of his detention and, if possible, with your own picture, the crack investigator, with the suspect, above a headline reading: ‘There’s more to it than meets the eye.’ This is what you wanted: to use him to make your own reputation!”
That night she saw Jonathan sitting in his armchair once more. In the dark she could not discern his feature, but the light from the garden lamp delineated the conto
urs of his body.
“Talin, you must realize that I am dead, I’m not coming back! stop probing the circumstances of my death. You have to free yourself of me, too. You are strong, you are famous; even if you encounter some hurdles along the way, don’t worry, I’ll be at your side all the time.”
“Jonathan, I only want simple things; to make you a cup of tea, to be in b d with you, to have your babies, Just another casual pat on the behind...”
“I know, Talin, but all this is in the past. You have much ahead of you. You have no idea what you’re capable of.
“Yoni, I haven’t even started, and I’m so started....”
“You’ll see, Talinka, you’ll make it, you’ll triumph, you’ll go very far... Don’t be afraid.”