Her son, alerted by his mother's tears, began whining. Shulamit said a few reassuring words to him, went into the kitchen, and returned with two cookies. The smile she had on her face as she handed the cookies to her child looked forced, but the boy did not seem to notice. He quieted down, happy with his treat. She returned to her seat opposite me.
She said, "I fell in love with Alon. Or at least I thought I did. He told me he loved me, said he would leave his wife for me, but he always had reasons and excuses why now was not a good time for him to divorce her—usually something along the lines that she was not well or in an emotional state, that he felt sorry for her. Things like that. I foolishly believed every word of it."
"So you kept seeing him."
She nodded. "I couldn't be without him. That's how it felt, anyway. Eventually, I got tired of waiting. I told Ethan I had met another man, that I wanted a divorce. When I told Alon about it, I thought he would be happy, that it would prod him to break up with his wife. Instead he got very angry. He shouted, he raved, he called me names. He…" She paused and a haunted look came into her eyes.
"He hit you?" I asked.
A jerky nod. "Slapped me. Twice. When I began crying and accusing him of lying to me. The first slap might have been to quiet me down, but the second one…I think he enjoyed that one." She took another sip then set her glass down on the coffee table. I did the same. "He said he wanted nothing to do with me, that he didn't love me. He said I was stupid, that he would never leave his wife. Then, when I threatened to tell her everything, he gave me the coldest of stares. 'Better not do anything foolish, Shulamit,' he said, 'or you might not live long to regret it.' I remember those words perfectly and how he sounded when he said them. I kept hearing them in my dreams for months after."
"You think he was serious?"
She rubbed her arms as if a chill had settled on her skin. "I think so, yes."
"Is that why you weren't shocked when I raised the possibility of him being a murderer?"
"I suppose so. Although…I can see Alon hurting me or another woman, but you said a baby was also killed."
"Yes."
"I can't see Alon harming a child. Or maybe I just don't want to believe I was intimate with such a man."
"Davidson said you were with him the night of August 26, 1939."
"He might have been, but I can't swear to a specific night. Not after ten years. I'm sorry, Mr. Lapid."
"That's all right. Tell me, on nights he was with you, when would he arrive and when would he leave?"
"He'd be at my door anywhere between ten to midnight and leave around four or five in the morning. Does that help?"
According to the police report, the murders took place between 23:00 and 04:00. Would Davidson have been able to commit the murders and still make it to Shulamit's apartment at the usual time? I did some rapid calculations and decided that he would. Davidson could have killed Esther and Willie at eleven p.m. and arrived at Shulamit's apartment by midnight or slightly later. He wouldn't even need to have run from Lunz Street to Ussishkin Street—a brisk walk would have sufficed. It was unlikely that Shulamit would have remembered it if he'd been fifteen or even thirty minutes late. Not after ten years.
Of course, it was possible that Davidson had not seen Shulamit that night at all. He could have killed Esther and Willie and spent the rest of the night elsewhere. But if Dr. Hendleman was working that night, if Shulamit was home alone, she could have provided Davidson with a backup alibi, in case his first one fell apart under scrutiny. Which was exactly what had happened last night at Greta's.
But Davidson's affair with Shulamit raised another question.
"In the time you had the affair," I said, "could Davidson have been involved with another woman?"
Shulamit mulled it over. "If you had asked me this question then, I would have said no, but now? Yes, I suppose it's possible."
"But you saw no sign of it?"
"No. Nothing. Why do you ask?"
I didn't answer her. My mind was churning, swirling with questions.
Davidson could have denied having an affair with Esther, because he figured it would cast him as a suspect. But why had he insisted on it even after I told him a colleague of Esther had confirmed the affair? At that point, Davidson believed his initial alibi was strong, that he was beyond suspicion. He should have felt safe enough to come clean about the affair. It was only later that I revealed to him what I knew about Saul Mercer and got him to admit he had not been on his boat the night of the murders.
