"Matilda," Klausner said in an angry voice. His entire face was aflame. "Enough."
She ignored him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lapid, but you'll need to find your killer elsewhere. Do you have any other questions for my husband?"
I tried to think, but my mind was reeling. I had been sure I had the right man, but I believed Matilda. And now, my brain was struggling to free itself of my mistaken certainty.
Klausner had gotten to his feet. He pointed a shaking finger at me. "Get out!"
"Shut up, Menashe," Matilda said calmly, "and sit down. Mr. Lapid hasn't answered my question yet. Is there something you wish to ask my husband? You see, I don't hate Anna Hartman. She was a victim of my husband. If he can help you catch her killer, then he'll do so, whether he wants to or not."
"Matilda, I want him out of here," Klausner said, but he clamped his mouth shut when his wife pinned him with her gaze.
"You will sit down now and cooperate. If you do not, I'll expose you for what you are. I no longer care what people may think of me."
Klausner looked stricken. Matilda had spoken with such uncompromising iciness that it was obvious her threat was not an idle one.
"I do have some questions," I said, once my mind stopped churning and cleared.
"Go ahead," Matilda said.
"They're about your husband and Anna's relationship. Perhaps you should leave the room. You may not wish to hear the answers."
"On the contrary. I want to know everything. And I can help you. Because over the years, I've become quite good at reading my husband. Which is why I know that he has his eyes on a new girl, don't you, dear?" Klausner looked at his wife in horror. "I didn't want to admit it to myself until your visit, Mr. Lapid, but I've known for a while. I can read him. He wouldn't dare lie to you in my presence."
Matilda sat as still as a headstone as her husband told us about his affair with Anna. She didn't weep. She didn't hurl recriminations. She didn't even look at him. The only sign of her emotional state was her tightly clenched fist. It stayed balled up all the way through her husband's narration. She was an immensely strong woman, and I hoped she would finally break loose of her husband and lead a free life.
Klausner spoke with surprising candidness. It took me a minute before I realized he was proud of what he'd done. It made him feel powerful and masculine, and talking about it gave him the chance to hurt his wife even more than he'd already done.
I became sick listening to him tell with perverse delight how he had identified Anna's weakness, how her separation from her family had made her vulnerable. When he began describing in graphic detail their first sexual encounter, I told him to shut up, but Matilda raised a hand and said, "Let him talk. I want to be thoroughly disgusted with him."
So we listened. I cringed and shifted uncomfortably while Klausner expounded on his and Anna's lovemaking, comparing her glorious body to his wife's sticklike figure, Anna's passion to Matilda's frigidity. And still Matilda sat with barely a motion.
"She was the best of the lot," Klausner said. "Not only was she the most beautiful, but she was also the most inventive, adventurous, and compliant girl I had ever known. Someone trained her well."
When he grinned, I had the urge to knock each and every one of his teeth out—one with each punch.
"One of the unique things about Anna was that she liked doing it in weird places. Not just in the bedroom in the dark like some women—" a sneer at Matilda "—but in the park, on the beach, on the roof of a building. And always she would wait for me fully clothed, apart from one item. Want to guess what it was, Matilda?"
She didn't reply, and neither did I, though the answer popped in my head like the flame of a lighter.
"Her underwear," Klausner said, confirming it. "She would wait for me without underwear. First time she did it, I was stunned, and she got confused. 'Did I do something wrong?' she said. 'Does this not please you?'" He laughed. "Of course it pleased me. Of course it did. Someone sure trained her properly. She was no virgin, I can tell you that. She had experience, and she knew how to please a man."
That was when I knew that Anna had not been forced into Trumpeldor Cemetery. She had gone there for a tryst, and I knew with whom. I also knew that her killer had not stripped her of her underwear. She had taken them off herself in preparation for her lover. She must have put them in her bag, which the killer had taken with him.
Klausner began another story, but I'd had enough and no longer cared what Matilda wanted. I told Klausner to be quiet. My skin crawled as though covered by a million insects. My mouth burned with a sour, acidic taste. My knuckles itched with the desire to form fists and clobber this disgusting, perverted creature who called himself a man and a teacher.
Matilda finally stirred. Her body shook from head to toe, a single tremor followed by a long breath, as though she had come out of a trance. She turned her head to look at her husband, and I saw her eyes were utterly dry. Klausner shrank under her gaze.
"Thank you," she said in a flat voice. "I needed that." And she pulled off her wedding band and let it drop to the floor. She flexed and bent and rubbed her ring finger, as though circulation was flowing into it freely for the first time in years.
"Will you stay while I pack a bag?" she asked me.
I nodded and waited in the living room with Klausner while Matilda went into the bedroom. Klausner called after her, but she paid him no mind. He tried to follow her, but I pushed him back. When he tried again, I kicked him in the crotch and watched him curl on the floor, breathless and purple-faced.
He was still lying there when Matilda returned, clutching a small suitcase.
"Thank you again, Mr. Lapid," she said at the sight of her husband. "For myself and all of Menashe's girls."
She asked me to walk her to the bus stop. I told her to wait a minute, crouched down next to Klausner, and for the second time in as many days ended a man's career.
"Tomorrow," I said, "you'll hand in your resignation. You will not apply at any other school. You will not work with teenagers ever again. If you do, I'll come after you, and a kick in the balls will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you. Don't think you can hide from me. Don't think I'll forget about you. Every once in a while, I'll check up on you—up close or from a distance. If you ever go near young girls again, I'll hunt you down and hurt you bad. Do you understand?"
Fear wafted off him in thick waves as he stared at me with gigantic eyes. He was still holding his private parts, but then his mouth twisted and he lifted his hands, and I saw the dark stain spread from his groin down his pant leg.
I rose to my full height and backed away from him. Then I escorted Matilda down the stairs, out of the building, and into her new life.
43
I was back at square one. Back to Isser Rotner. And I didn't have a shred of evidence that would convict him in court.
But I knew without a doubt that he had been in Trumpeldor Cemetery on the night Anna died. He had arranged to meet her there. A secluded place, perfect for exciting lovemaking. And also for murder.
I went by Ohel Shem. The crowd looked bigger than ever. It was the penultimate performance of King Lear. The final one was to take place the following night at eight o'clock.
That night I slept without dreams, courtesy of the kick I'd given Menashe Klausner. I woke up very early, and time trickled past with tormenting slowness. It was ten o'clock by the time Reuben got the files back.
I hurried to the police station, bounded up the stairs to his office, and found him at his desk. Reuben handed me the files, told me he had to attend a staff meeting, and said I could use his office for the next hour.