"I don't think it'll be that long," I said.
"Oh?"
"He'll do a few years for sure, maybe seven or eight. Then they'll let him out."
"You really think so?"
I nodded.
"Even though he committed a murder?"
"But he's also a hero. Young countries tend to be forgiving of their heroes. Certain kinds of heroes, anyway. And as you said, Michael was driven to madness by circumstances. I believe all that would be taken into account and he will be treated with lenience."
Greta thought it over. "I'm not sure how I feel about that. Hero or not, he is a murderer. He should be punished accordingly."
"I could be wrong. They might make an example out of him. The ruling powers in Israel are no fans of the Irgun."
Greta sighed. "All this infighting amongst ourselves. So senseless."
"It's part of who we are," I said. "We Jews are argumentative. Always have been. It's our culture."
"Yes, but now that we have a country of our own again, we need to come together."
"With time, maybe we will."
"I hope so," Greta said. A frown etched deep lines in her forehead. "So the only remaining mystery is the identity of the woman Haim Sassoon saw fighting with Esther a few days before the murders."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," I said. "I know who she is."
"You do? Who?"
"Yael Klinger."
"How do you know that?"
"The same way I discovered Michael was the killer: by accident. I was walking up King George a couple of days ago when I happened to see two men unloading produce from the back of a Tnuva truck. It reminded me of something Alon Davidson said. The night he kissed Esther by the docks, he said he saw her getting out of a truck. Moshe Klinger drives a truck for Tnuva. I paid a visit on Haim Sassoon yesterday and asked him whether the woman he saw with Esther had fiery red hair. The question triggered his memory and he said that she had. Yael Klinger has fiery red hair."
"So Esther and Moshe Klinger—"
"Were having an affair of some sort. I don't know when it began or how serious it was. They must have met pretty rarely, on nights Moshe Klinger was in Tel Aviv and Esther did not meet with Clapper. That was the reason the Klingers never had another immigrant stay with them. Yael Klinger did not want to risk her husband having another affair. It also explains why they moved so soon after Esther and Willie were killed. They needed a fresh start, at a place where there were no memories of Esther." I paused and scratched my right eyebrow. "So it turns out that Esther wasn't perfect after all. She had her faults like the rest of us."
"And she knew love before she died," Greta said. "It's good that she had that, at least."
"Yes, I suppose you're right."
Greta took another sip of coffee. She put down her cup and laid her hands on the table. Looking toward the café window, she said, "From all you told me, Esther was a woman worth knowing. I lived here, in Tel Aviv, in 1939. I might have seen her a dozen times. But somehow I think I never did. I can't help but think I would have remembered her if I had." She turned her head to face me. "Any news from Henrietta?"
"We spoke on the phone this morning. She's at the kibbutz. She met her son yesterday."
"And how was their meeting?"
"I didn't ask."
"Aren't you curious?"
"No. Not really."
"Why ever not?" Greta said. "That was what you were working to achieve, isn't it?"
I finished my coffee and examined the black residue at the bottom of the cup as I considered and rejected several replies. The truth was, I did not want to hear of Henrietta's happy reunion with her son because it would bring to mind the fact that I would never be reunited with my daughters. I wondered, not for the first time, why I found it so easy to talk to Greta about some things, and was utterly incapable of sharing others with her.
Finally, I said, "I'm just not. Henrietta did sound happy, that I can tell you. Ecstatic. The kibbutz has given her a room. They'll make her a new member soon if Birnbaum comes through, and I'm sure he will."
"That's good," Greta said. She paused, then said gingerly, "And Mira Roth?"
I forced a small smile on my lips. Greta, ever the matchmaker, had sensed a reason to be hopeful. I hated having to disappoint her. I hated the truth I was about the tell her even more. "I went by the hair salon this morning," I said, striving to keep the bitterness I felt out of my voice. "I brought with me the pictures of Esther I'd taken from Manny Orrin. I thought Mira would like to have them. She told me she never wanted to see me again. I feared as much. She adores Michael, and I brought about his arrest."
"But she can't fault you for that," Greta protested. "He's guilty."
"Mira knows that, but it doesn't change how she feels about it. In her mind, her helping me landed Michael in jail and brought shame upon the Irgun. She also resents the fact that I went to the police instead of coming to her when I learned that Michael was the killer."
Greta was silent for a long moment. "Maybe with time, she'll see things differently."
