"No." He offered a tight-lipped smile. "The money is better in business law, and the clientele is of a noticeably higher quality."
"How long have you been with the firm?"
"Over twenty-five years. It was founded by my father-in-law, Mr. Becker. He died seven years ago. If you're going to ask me what he thought of Esther, save your breath. He'd retired before she began working here."
"Yes. The police report said as much. Apart from her typing skills, was there any other reason you hired Esther?"
He took another sip from his glass. Whatever the liquid was, it seemed to go smoothly down his throat. "She impressed me. A smart girl. Most German girls are smart."
"You're from Germany?"
A curt nod. "I was born in Hamburg. My parents and I came here when I was nine."
He still had an accent, but it was very faint. The influence of his German upbringing was more apparent in his impeccable clothing, his arrow-straight posture, and his overbearing manner. He was one of those Jews who retained an admiration of Germany and German culture and habits, even though their former country had rejected them utterly and attempted to wipe them off the face of the earth. I had run across a number of such Jews in Israel and understood none of them.
"How did Esther come by her English?" I asked.
"I don't recall," Strauss answered.
"Is typing all she did?"
"And filing and dictation and making coffee and fixing drinks for clients. The usual secretarial functions. I fail to see what all of this has to do with her murder."
"Just some background information, Mr. Strauss. I appreciate your patience. Were you satisfied with Esther's work?"
"Yes. She was a fine secretary."
"No complaints from any clients?"
"None."
"Any ever show an interest in her?"
"Meaning?" he asked, though his tone made me suspect he knew exactly what I was asking.
"Meaning that Esther was a beautiful woman. Did any of your clients ever express an interest in more than her typing skills? Any of them ever ask you about her? If she was married, for instance?"
His voice came out as dry as a crust of leftover bread. "I run a law practice here, Mr. Lapid, not a matchmaking service. If any of my clients had his eye on Esther, I am not aware of it." His eyes narrowed. "I hope you're not suggesting any of my firm's clients had anything to do with these murders?"
"Not suggesting anything, Mr. Strauss. Merely exploring the possibility."
"Well, cease your exploration this instant. I can well imagine the sort of people you run across in your line of work, but our clients are of a different class. We have no criminal element among our clients."
"It's been my experience, Mr. Strauss, that murderers come from all classes of society."
He sneered. "Maybe that's true of Hungarians, but it isn't true of any of our clients. Is that clear?"
"Yes. Quite clear," I said, biting back what I'd been about to say, that Germans made far more adept murderers than Hungarians.
"Good. Because I can tell you right now that I will not stand idly by if you foolishly decide to bother any of our clients with this nonsense. This firm has a reputation to maintain."
"Is your reputation more important than finding Esther's murderer?"
The flash of anger in his eyes, like light reflected on ice, told me he didn't like that last line one bit. "If that was the case, I would throw you out this instant. And if you step out of line again, I will."
"I'll be sure to remember that. Tell me, was Esther happy here?"
"Happy? I treat my employees well, but I don't have heart-to-heart chats with them. She seemed perfectly satisfied."
"It's just that a few days before she died, Esther confided in a friend that she was having some difficulties here."
Strauss did not look surprised by this revelation. "I see."
"You have an idea what was troubling her?"
"I do. It's quite straightforward, actually. Esther asked me for a raise in her wages; I refused to give her one."
"When was this?"
"As you said, a few days prior to her death."
"You told the police nothing about it at the time."
"Why would I? It was a routine matter, of no relation to her murder."
"In fact, you're on record saying how good Esther was at her job."
"She was."
"Then why did you refuse her this raise?"
"Because she'd only worked here for a few months. If she had waited until she'd been here a year, I might have made a different decision."
"That was all? That was the only thing?"
"Yes."
I stared across the desk at him. He was as calm and relaxed as before, his hands clasped around his nearly depleted glass. It suddenly struck me that this latest line of questioning was the first that had not engendered impatience or irritation on his part. In fact, he had answered these last few questions almost without inflection.
"Do you regret this?" I asked.
"Regret what?"
"Not acceding to her request for a raise, considering what happened soon after."
A frown carved two crooked lines across his brow. He did not answer for a few seconds. "What possible difference would that have made?" he said finally.
