Leah flinched at my tone. "Gerhard went at her again, and again she resisted. She threatened to lodge a complaint with the police and to tell his wife he attempted to rape her. So Gerhard threatened her back. If she told anyone about what had happened, he would expose her as Inspector Clapper's whore. In fact, he would do it anyway if she didn't sleep with him." Leah paused and wet her lips. "Gerhard told me Esther was frozen with shock when she heard he knew about her and Clapper."
"But Esther didn't sleep with Strauss, did she?"
"No. She ran out of the office, crying."
And later Esther told Natalie Davidson that there was a problem at work, but that she could handle it. What had she planned on doing? Had she had a plan at all?
I said, "When did Strauss tell you all this?"
"Later, when we were in—" She bit off the end of her sentence, but I would have put money on the missing word being
"How could you do this to her? To your friend?"
Leah's eyes flashed and her face hardened into a childish mask of fury. "She wasn't my friend. I hated her. Her perfect skin, her height, her beauty, her flawless English, her grace, the way men looked at her. She could have had her pick. I'm sure she could have married some English officer if she wanted, and he would have taken her away from here, to England. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her humiliated. I wanted her to be just like me so she wouldn't be better than me."
"But she was," I said softly. "She was infinitely better."
Leah stared at me for a breathless moment, the fury slowly evaporating from her eyes. Then it was as if an invisible hard shell around her had crumbled and a sliver of her repressed humanity peeked out. Burying her face in her hands, she broke out in tears, her small frame quaking with loud sobs.
I gave her a minute to stop crying. It took her more than twice that. Finally, she ceased and lowered her hands. Her face was a mess—eyes reddened, nose runny, cheeks slick with tears.
"I know I shouldn't have done it," she said in a choked voice. "I know it was wrong."
"It's too late for that," I said. "What I need you to tell me now is whether Strauss killed Esther and the baby."
She stared at me in shock, then violently shook her head. "No. Of course not."
"Why not? He tried to rape her and she threatened to tell his wife. It's as good a motive as you'll find."
"He couldn't have done it. He was with his wife."
"How do you know? She might have covered up for him. Wives do that, just like mistresses."
"I can't believe it. I know him. He couldn't—Gerhard couldn't."
"Yes, he could," I said. Because Strauss had a good motive and a lot to lose, and I had seen the coldness in his eyes. "It wouldn't bother him none."
"No. It's not true. I know it's not true." Leah was frantic now, desperate to believe her own words, clutching at any straw that would alleviate her guilt.
She began crying again, and a surge of searing rage came over me. I grabbed her arms, squeezed hard, and thrust her against the kitchen door. She yelped in pain.
"Stop crying!" I shouted into her face. "You're not entitled to tears. You knowingly conspired to help a ruthless man rape an innocent woman, a man who may have murdered her and her child. And you did it for the lowest reasons—greed and envy. I hope not a day goes by in which you don't see their faces before you, that they'll visit you in your sleep every night. And if your lover did kill them, I will make him pay if it's the last thing I do."
I shoved her aside, away from the door. She bumped against the counter and sagged to the floor, wailing. I slid the door open so fast it shuddered on its track, and was about to step out into the hall, when I stopped short.
There, on the floor beyond the kitchen door, huddled two children, a boy and a girl. They had their arms around each other, and both looked up at me with eyes wide with shock and terror, silent fat tears streaking down their little faces. What had scared them more, my shouting or their mother's crying?
The sight of them snuffed out my rage. A freezing chill of shame replaced the scorching heat of my fury. I wanted to tell them something, but I couldn't think what. For five seconds, I stood stock-still, paralyzed by their frightened faces. Then, with a conscious effort, I tore my eyes away from theirs and stepped past them and out of the apartment.
I walked west, stopping on the corner of Borochov and King George Streets to contemplate my options.
I could head north to the hair salon right now and tell Mira everything I'd learned. I had little doubt as to what she'd do. Eager to avenge Esther and Willie, Mira would exact her vengeance on Strauss for his attempted rape of Esther. I was certain her revenge would be deadly.
