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."
"It was probably not that serious, then."
"Maybe not," I said, remembering Natalie Davidson telling me that Esther had assured her she could handle this problem, whatever it was. Still, I was disappointed that Leah Goldin could not fill in this gap in my knowledge.
I scratched my knee through the fabric of my pants. Leah clasped her hands together over one thigh. Her expression was one of solemn reflection. Probably thinking about Esther.
As the silence lengthened, I gave Leah a long look, reconsidering my early assessment of her. She was flighty and self-centered, but that was not all she was. Esther must have known a different side to Leah to have confided in her about her affair with Alon Davidson. In her way, Leah had been a friend to Esther, had cared for her, and had mourned her loss. I could tell by her face that merely talking about Esther and the murders had a deep effect on her. She appeared withdrawn and worn out. Her eyes were downcast, shoulders slightly hunched.
I reached over and touched her shoulder. She started.
"Sorry," I said, withdrawing my hand. "I didn't mean to scare you."
She chuckled. "It's my fault. I was just…someplace else for a minute."
"I understand," I said. "The past can be a dark place."
"Yes. Yes, it can."
"I should get going. Thank you for talking to me."
She walked me to the door and mumbled a goodbye. I heard the snick of the lock before clearing half a flight of stairs.
It was just shy of eleven when I exited Leah Goldin's building. Too early to pay Becker & Strauss another visit. Too early for lunch. But Lunz Street was a five-minute walk away, and Haim Sassoon was due back from his army unit that morning, so that was where I went.
Haim Sassoon was so similar to his father, the two might have been cast from the same mold, only twenty-something years apart. Their height and build were almost identical, as were their facial features and hair. But unlike his father's, the skin on Haim's face was unmarked by age or acne scars, giving him a look of youthful innocence.
His father had accompanied me upstairs to his son's apartment. Haim's wife had gone out and taken their baby boy with her, so there were only the three of us. The elder Sassoon and I sat side by side on the sofa while Haim poured coffee into three glasses before taking a chair. The brew had the same scent as the coffee his father had offered me when I visited him—harsh and bitter. I took a careful sip and found that its taste did not stray far from its scent, but both father and son relished it.
Haim Sassoon was in uniform, sleeves rolled up his thin biceps, dog tags hanging on a chain outside his shirt. He had removed his army boots but still had on the thick woolen socks that went with them. He looked tired, as soldiers often do. I told him I was sorry for keeping him from his bed.
He waved a hand. "Don't be. Dad told me what you're doing. I want to help any way I can."
"Good," I said. "You were twelve when the murders took place. You remember the victims?"
"Sure. I used to see them almost every day."
"Did Esther ever talk to you?"
"Oh, sure. She was very nice. Whenever she saw me, she'd ask how I was doing, how was school, things like that. I remember one time I was playing in the street with some friends and Esther walked by. She called out to me and smiled and waved. My friends were full of questions: Who was she? Where did I know her from? How old was she? I felt so proud knowing this beautiful woman." He gave his father a sheepish smile and added by way of explanation, "I was a boy then."
"Did you ever see her with any men?"
"No," Haim said.
"No one you remember hanging around the building?"
No, again.
"Do you remember Alon Davidson?"
"Sure. One time he taught me how to tie a special knot, like they use on boats. For a time, I wanted to be a fisherman when I grew up. First time I stepped on a boat, I got so seasick I thought I might die. That was the end of my sailing dreams."
