He took another sip of wine. "I want him to invest in a business venture. A big one. The more I know about a potential investor, the better."
"Was that why you met Gafni the same day you and I did?"
He nodded. "I showed him some papers relating to the venture."
"Let me guess, he wasn't too impressed."
Something hateful and dangerous glinted in Harpaz's eyes and then was gone. He finished his wine and poured himself some more.
"He'll come around. He just needs more convincing. The deal is too good for him to pass on." He drained his glass and refilled it. "You said you and Baruch were talking about me because of Moria." He was striving for a nonchalant tone, but I knew he was bothered by it, that this was why he had agreed to speak with me. "I'm not sure I understand."
I smiled and let the silence stretch for a few seconds. "I think you understand perfectly well."
"I assure you I don't."
He was goading me to tell him what I knew or thought I did. He was hoping it was less than he feared.
"Let's just say I don't think you and Baruch Gafni will ever do business again."
His eyes tightened, and there was that glint again. I realized it was a kind of hunger, a ravenous craving. For wealth, status, success. And that it was dangerous to stand in the way of that hunger, that Arye Harpaz was a man who'd cross many lines, break many norms, to achieve his goals.
His tone was low and suggested a threat. "And why is that, Mr. Lapid?"
"Because he knows you were sleeping with his daughter. And let me tell you, he didn't like it one bit."
Harpaz gaped at me, shocked that his secret was exposed. "Whatever gave him that idea?"
"You did. You thought you were being careful, but it wasn't enough."
"What the hell are you talking about? Careful about what?"
"Your middle-of-the-night visits. You thought no one would see you go in and out of Moria's apartment that late. But one neighbor did."
"They're lying. Or maybe you're lying. I never visited Moria's apartment. Not at night nor at any other time. Never." Not a trace of his suaveness remained now. His voice was agitated, as were his movements. Seemingly oblivious of the full wineglass in his grip, he spoke with jerky shifts of his hands, and red liquid sloshed over the rim, spattering the floor, his shoes, and his trouser cuffs.
He stopped suddenly, his face coiled into a less handsome configuration than normal. A vein throbbed at his temple, like a tethered snake. He pointed a finger at me as though he wanted to stab it into my eye. "You told Baruch this. Why did you do this to me?"
"He hired me to learn more about Moria's life," I said, guessing Harpaz had already deduced that. "Reporting about your affair was my job."
"There was no affair," Harpaz screamed, and more wine flew from the glass.
The door burst open. The burly barkeep was on the threshold, a scowl on his face. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked.
Harpaz became aware of his glass, his wine-drenched hand and sleeve. He set the glass down, wiped his hand dry with a handkerchief. "Just a lively discussion among friends," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
The barkeep looked dubious. "Maybe keep it a notch less lively, what do you say?"
Harpaz and I both nodded.
When the barkeep left, Harpaz said to me, "I don't know where you got the stupid notion that I was sleeping with that cold bitch, but it never happened. Not even once."
"A neighbor saw you, I told you."
"They're either imagining it or lying, or they saw someone who looks like me. Because I never went to Moria's building. I never slept with her."
"Why was Moria a cold bitch?"
He hesitated, then figured he had little left to lose. "Just because it never happened doesn't mean I didn't try. I pursued her all right. Used all my regular tricks and... nothing. Total rejection."
"That makes her a cold bitch? That she didn't want you? Does every woman have to fall at your feet?"
I waited, but he didn't answer. His head was lowered, and he was shaking it slowly, like a lazy pendulum.
"Why did you want to sleep with her anyway?" I asked. "I've seen pictures. Moria wasn't nearly as pretty as that woman you were with tonight."
Harpaz raised his head. His face was set, his eyes hard and calculating. "How much?"
"How much what?"
"How much money do you want to call Baruch and tell him you made a mistake, that some other guy was sleeping with Moria, not me?"
"You want me to lie to my client?"
"A hundred liras? A hundred and fifty? And you won't be lying to him, I tell you, because I never slept with her."
"Sure you didn't. And you and Moria didn't fight a week before she died? It happened on the street where she lived. Or was the neighbor who saw you two also lying or imagining things?"
"No, that truly happened. At least you got that right."
"Moria yelled at you to stay away from her. Seems to me like she was ending your affair."
"There was no affair, I tell you. Why can't you get it through your thick head?"
"Then why warn you to stay away?"
Harpaz raked both hands through his hair, then leaned on the table, his back to me, head bent and shoulders hunched. He stayed that way for a full minute, muttering to himself words I failed to pick up.
Finally, he straightened and turned to face me. Red spots of anger marked his face. His hair was in disarray, and sweat glittered on his forehead.
"Baruch was being obstinate, the lousy cheapskate. You couldn't get a lira out of him. But then I heard that he'd made a large donation to Ariel Hospital. It wasn't like him at all. It didn't take long to learn why he'd done so: his daughter, Moria, worked there as a nurse. Then I learned that this was the second time Baruch had given the hospital money. He'd done it a few months before, too. I realized he had a soft spot for her. That she could make him part with his money."
That explained why Dr. Leitner hadn't fired Moria despite Dr. Shapira's complaints. Leitner was angling for a promotion, and his fundraising was key to that. Having Moria on staff made it easier for him to lobby her father for donations. That was why Leitner had telephoned Gafni to offer his condolences, and why he had prevailed upon me to not taint the pristine image of Moria he had painted for her father. He didn't care one bit about Gafni's feelings. He only wanted to keep the money spigot flowing.
"How do you know Moria was personally involved in getting these donations? Couldn't Gafni have donated simply because she worked there?" But even as I asked this question, I recalled something Gafni had told me during our first meeting. He said he and Moria had talked a couple of times on the phone and that he had been pushing for a face-to-face meeting. That was when he said he'd spent a lot of money. At the time, I didn't know what he was referring to, and later thought I'd learned the answer when Naomi Hecht told me about the expensive gifts Gafni had sent Moria. But that was small change, probably, in comparison to what he'd given the hospital, and he'd done so at his daughter's behest.
Acid churned in my stomach at the thought of how Harpaz had tried to manipulate Moria.
"So that's why you had the affair with her? To get her father to go into business with you?"
"You're not listening to me," he said, sounding peevish and surly. "I already told you, I tried getting her into bed, but no luck."
I didn't believe him, but a good interrogator lets a suspect talk. Maybe there'd be a nugget of truth in the river of lies.
"But you didn't give up on her."
"I offered her a percentage of the deal if it came through. A lot of money. More than she made in a year in her crummy job. She said no. I offered her more, but still she refused. She wasn't interested in money. Just like she wasn't interested in me."
He shrugged to share his bewilderment with me. He was puzzled as to why Moria wouldn't jump at having the two things he valued most in the world: money and himself.