All traces of fear had blown off Klausner's face, replaced by smug confidence. "You have a fertile imagination, Mr. Lapid, but nothing you said is true. I've never killed anyone. And I want you to leave right now."
"I never would have suspected you," I said, ignoring both his denial and his command, "if you hadn't made one mistake. You told me you saw Anna kissing a young man during her senior year. That was a lie. Anna never got involved with young men. Only with men much older than her and married as well. Like you."
"So now you're accusing me of having an affair with Anna?" he said. "What's next on your list? High treason?"
"You know, Mr. Klausner," I said, "you never asked me how I knew your address. Want me to tell you?" I didn't wait for a reply. "I paid a visit to a certain apartment building on the corner of Gordon and Ben Yehuda. Know the building I'm talking about?"
His confidence died like a snuffed flame, and the fear was back in force. He had thought I had nothing but accusations. But here was something I could prove.
"Anna lived there during her senior year," I said. "The landlord remembered her. He also remembered the uncle who paid the rent and visited his niece on an almost daily basis. That uncle was you. The landlord still had your address on file. He said you gave it to him so he could alert you if any man but yourself ever visited your niece. You said it was to protect her reputation, but it was really so that no one would steal her from you. Your jealousy, your need to dominate Anna, led me straight to your door."
I paused, but he just stood there, stunned. I said, "That's why you tried to dissuade me from talking to Mrs. Chernick. You were afraid she'd tell me Anna had moved out before her senior year. You needn't have worried. Mrs. Chernick is as corrupt as you are. I think she had already been paid for that year, and she decided to keep the money even after Anna moved out."
Right then, I heard the apartment door open, followed by the rhythmic taps of a woman's shoes approaching. Klausner heard it too, and his face went pallid. He plopped into a chair. I turned and saw a stringy woman in her fifties standing at the entrance to the living room, looking from me to Klausner.
"Menashe, what's going on?"
"Mrs. Klausner?" I asked.
"Yes, who are you?"
"My name is Adam Lapid. I'm a private investigator. Your husband didn't tell you we met about week ago, did he?"
"No, he didn't. Menashe, who is this man? What is he doing here?"
"It's nothing, Matilda," Klausner said. "Nothing you should concern yourself about. Give us a few minutes alone, okay? Go to the store or something."
Matilda Klausner didn't move. She had a narrow face with thin eyebrows and down-turned lips. She looked at me and must have read something in my eyes, because her slim shoulders sagged and her face crinkled in resignation and deep-seated anger.
"What's her name?" she asked her husband. "How old is she?"
Klausner bowed his head, hands laced between his knees.
Matilda turned to me. "Well?"
"Mrs. Klausner, I'm not here because of any woman your husband may be sleeping with. I'm—"
"Woman? I think girl is a better word, don't you?"
"Girl or woman. I'm here because of a woman by the name of Anna Hartman."
That gave her pause. She pursed her lips and exhaled through her nose. "What about her?"
"You know about the affair?" I asked, surprised.
She gave a curt nod. She didn't lower her head or avert her eyes. This was an old wound, and she was a proud woman.
"This wasn't the first time, was it?" I asked.
"No, it wasn't. My dear husband has a thing for young girls." She looked at Klausner as though trying to bore holes through his skull. "But she was special, isn't that right, Menashe?"
He didn't answer. His large shoulders trembled.
"You know about the apartment?" she asked.
I nodded.
"It's bad enough that your husband takes advantage of his students every once in a while. It's another thing entirely that he spends money his family desperately needs to put up a young girl in an apartment. We have two sons, Mr. Lapid, and both of them went without certain things because their father chose to throw our money away on his mistress."
She gave me a defiant look. "You're wondering why I didn't divorce him? You think I'm a weak woman?" I began shaking my head, but she was already speaking. "I did it to protect our boys and the reputation of our family. The same as I did with the girl before Anna Hartman and the one before that. But I did take steps so that it wouldn't happen again."
"The move to Haifa," I said.
She nodded, not bothering to ask how I knew. "My sister is a teacher there. She got Menashe a position in her school. She also kept an eye on him. And for five years he behaved, didn't you, darling?"
His head still hanging low, Klausner nodded dejectedly.
"After five years, he persuaded me to move back to Tel Aviv. I agreed because our boys were grown and living on their own, and because I believed he'd outgrown his inclinations. And by that time, Anna Hartman was dead, which made things easier for me."
"You moved back after Anna's murder?" I asked. This I had not expected. I was sure the five-year absence from Tel Aviv would fit more or less perfectly with the time gap between Nahum Ornstein's murder and the car attack on Dahlia.
"I wouldn't have agreed to set foot in Tel Aviv while she still lived."
This was also unexpected. I had thought Klausner had killed Anna because she worked for Shoresh Theater, or because she was involved with Isser Rotner, or because she no longer belonged to him—or a combination of the three. But here was another reason.
I looked at Klausner. He had raised his head and was staring right at me with a pair of hateful eyes.
"Mrs. Klausner," I said, "you gave your husband the perfect motive to kill Anna Hartman."
She frowned, five parallel lines engraved across her forehead. "What?" was all she said.
There was no good way to tell her, so I said it plainly. "Mrs. Klausner, I believe your husband killed Anna Hartman and many other people, too."
For the first time in minutes, Klausner spoke. "Tell him I didn't do it, Matilda. Tell him I couldn't."
She hushed him as though he were a toddler. "I don't understand, Mr. Lapid. Explain yourself."
So I did. She knew some of the story from the papers and listened attentively as I expressed my belief that Ofra Wexler was an innocent victim, not a murderer.
When I was finished, she looked disappointed. "Mr. Lapid, I'm afraid you've got it all wrong."
"How's that?"
"Menashe didn't kill Anna Hartman. He was with me."
"You can't hide what he is any longer, Mrs. Klausner. He needs to pay for his crimes."
"You don't understand. If he were guilty, I wouldn't defend him for a second. I feel no loyalty toward him. That died a long time ago. But he was with me that night. And not just with me, but with my entire family. You see, my father passed away two days before Anna Hartman was killed. Menashe and I went to sit shiva at my parents' house in the Jezreel Valley. We were there all that week, including the night in question. I didn't sleep a wink all that night; I was too consumed by grief. Menashe didn't budge from our bed. He snored his lungs out till daybreak."
I surveyed her face and saw no sign of deceit. But this couldn't be true. I was sure of Klausner's guilt.
Matilda smiled a tight smile. "You don't believe me? Then you should know that my sister and her husband shared the room with us. They can vouch for Menashe as well as I can. Menashe is guilty of many crimes, but he's innocent of this one. I don't know if I can provide an alibi for him for the other murders you mentioned, but I don't believe he committed them. You see, Mr. Lapid, Menashe is a big fat coward. And he can't stand the sight of blood. He couldn't kill anyone. He's not man enough."