She was looking at me as if she was desperate for my approval. "You did the right thing keeping quiet about it," I said, "and the right thing when you told me about it now."
When I left Elena Warshavski's apartment, I was carrying two small paper bags, both given me by Elena. One contained half a dozen rugelach, the other the pictures I'd taken from Manny Orrin. At the door, Elena shook my hand. "I'm glad you stopped by, Adam."
"I am too."
"Drop by again sometime, and we'll talk of other, nicer things."
"I will. Goodbye, Elena."
I knocked on some more doors, but learned nothing new. When I finally left Lunz Street, now carrying just the one paper bag with the pictures—I had consumed all the rugelach and tossed the other bag in the trash—it was a quarter to two. The heat was so ferocious that I felt caught between the hammer of the sun and the anvil of the baking sidewalk.
I trekked west, every few seconds tugging my shirt free of my sweat-sticky skin. At home, I dropped the bag with Esther's pictures on the table and drank a tall glass of water. I took a long shower and did not bother to towel my hair dry.
After washing my shirt at the sink and hanging it up to dry, I got into fresh clothes and headed out. In my pocket were the two pictures I had shown Elena, alongside the picture of Esther and Willie I had taken from the police report. At the Levinson Drugstore, I placed a call to Reuben Tzanani.
I asked him to check whether Manny Orrin, Alon Davidson, or Natalie Davidson had a police record, and read him the list of women I'd assembled from Orrin's albums. I said that I wanted him to check whether any of these women had died a violent death.
"Why?"
"Because then I'd have my killer."
I heard a shifting sound, as if Reuben had adjusted his posture. "Who?"
I hesitated, knowing that Reuben would feel obligated to pass on this information to his superiors. I didn't want anyone to interfere with my investigation. "Manny Orrin," I said and explained about the pictures. "But I don't want you to share this with anyone else just yet. Okay?"
"If this man's killed multiple women, Adam, I can't just sit on it."
"Agreed. But so far I don't know that he's anything but a harmless peeper. This is why you need to check if any of these women have been murdered. If they haven't, I doubt he's my man."
"What he's doing is still wrong."
"It is, but even if it's illegal, I doubt it's a serious offense."
Reuben sighed. "I suppose you're right, but I feel strange not doing anything about it."
"Let me wrap up this investigation and then you can do what you feel is right."
He agreed to wait a bit and told me to call him tomorrow afternoon. I hung up, paid Mrs. Levinson for the call, and left. Ten minutes later, I was seated at my table at Greta's, with my chessboard before me.
Just as I'd finished setting the pieces, Greta came over to my table, bearing a glass of orange juice in her hand.
"Here. Freshly squeezed, but not cold, I'm afraid. I can stick it in the refrigerator for ten minutes if you like."
"No. It's fine." And it was, pulpy and tangy and luxuriant as it went down my throat.
Greta sat down. "Guess who I saw this morning?"
"Rachel Weiss."
She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. But it was only a matter of time before she talked to you. What did she say?"
"She told me what you did to her attacker's hand. She got quite emotional."
"I can imagine."
"Not the most pleasant conversation of my life. She accused me of connecting her to a violent madman. Did you have to break his fingers?"
"Yes," I said flatly, and was surprised to note that I felt no anger toward Rachel Weiss. A person such as her could never understand me or what I knew had to be done to Yuri. She did not have the necessary life experience. She was not like Mira Roth.
Greta nodded. "That's what I told her. 'If Adam did it, then it had to be done.' I understand she blew off at you. I'm sorry about that. I wish I never gave her your name."
"Don't. I'm glad you did."
"Really?"
I nodded. "Rachel Weiss was in real trouble, and she might have been seriously hurt if I hadn't been there that night. She may not like how I went about it, but I saved her. That's the important thing. That, and the fact that she paid me."
I smiled and Greta smiled back.
"Besides, helping her taught me an important lesson on not being arrogant."
"What do you mean?"
I told Greta about that night. I kept nothing back, apart from the glimmerings of passion I had felt. Apparently, Rachel Weiss had not told her I'd faced two men that night, because Greta's eyes grew wide when I said this. She shook her head a few times while I spoke, and gasped when I related how close I'd come to being bested by Max. She flinched when I got to the part about breaking Yuri's fingers, but told me I did the right thing. That meant something.
