Ish-Kosher smiled broadly. "Well, perhaps I can help you. How would you like to have his name?" From the briefcase on his lap. he drew a slip of paper and passed it across the desk to Adoumi. It read: "I came back at seven as I said I would. Stedman."
"Where'd you get this?"
"One of my men thought to look in the mailbox. It was there."
"But there's no date. This could have been left a couple of days earlier. The doctor didn't mention his writing a note. In fact, he said he watched him go up the street."
"But he could have come back after the doctor left."
"Possible." Adoumi studied the note. "Stedman. Stedman— where have I heard that name?"
"There's a fairly well-known American journalist named Stedman. He's in the country now, staying at the King David."
"No. no." He began rummaging through the folders on his desk, flipping one after another open to glance at the contents. "Ah, here it is— Stedman. That. Chaim." he said impressively, "is the name of an American student at the university who has been seen frequently in the company of an Arab student named Abdul El Khaldi. Now, Abdul is someone we've been interested in for some time."
"You have something on him?" asked Ish-Kosher eagerly.
"Something in the sense that would interest you police people? No. Nothing suspicious about his behavior. He has been most circumspect."
"Well, then—"
"That in itself might be suspicious. Chaim."
"You mean that the Arabs who act up you are interested in, and those who don't you are also interested in?"
Adoumi laughed shortly. "Chaim. that's not far from the truth either. We are suspicious of all of them. But when I say that we're interested in Abdul. I mean that we try to keep an eye on him because while he's done nothing that we know of, there have been rumors. Arabs who for one reason or another want to be on the good side of us pass us little tips every now and then. And his name has come up more than once. So we keep him under observation. Not a twenty-four-hour-a-day surveillance, of course; we don't have the manpower. But we keep an eye on him, and the last report I have mentions a student named Stedman who is frequently in his company. So that stirs my interest in Stedman. And when I see that someone named Stedman has some connection with Memavet. maybe went to see him the very night he was killed—"
"Are you going to pick him up?"
"No, Chaim. I think for the time being I'll stay out of this. Your people will pick him up, and you will question him. Now this is what I'd like you to do."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ish-Kosher glanced through the passport and then pressed a button on his desk. To the clerk who entered in response to his ring, he handed the book and said. "Check it through." Then he turned to Roy once again.
"Now. Mr. Stedman. I'm curious why you didn't come forward. As a guest in our country. I should think that having some knowledge of a crime, you would be only too eager to cooperate with the police."
"But I didn't know of any crime. I mean I heard about the bombing, but it took place after I'd left. And I didn't see anything."
Ish-Kosher fingered his yarmulke and smiled. "You are not an ignorant man. Mr. Stedman. You are a student at our university. Surely, you must realize that negative evidence is also important. The fact that you saw nothing between, say, five minutes of seven and fifteen or twenty past means the bomb must have been set earlier— or later. Didn't it occur to you that this might be helpful to the police?"
"Well, I thought of it." said Roy, " but since this doctor was there, he was able to see anything I could see."
"Not quite." Ish-Kosher corrected him. "He was in the house while you were outside. But then when you came back to leave the note, he was gone."
"Well, I guess I didn't figure it out that fine. I just thought he was there and went to the police because he made a statement, so why should I?" Roy had been frightened when the police had first come for him and again when he had been brought into the office of the inspector. But he was at ease now. An inspector with a yarmulke— it was reassuring.
"This appointment with Memavet, you made it when?"
He had thought not to mention the earlier meeting, if only not to involve his father and the rabbi; but the inspector was so matter-of-fact that it seemed pointless to conceal it. "I didn't make the appointment. Memavet did. You see, we were there in the morning, well, it was practically noon."
"We?"
"Yes. My father called and said he was planning to see Memavet about buying a car, and since he thought I might know more about cars and besides. I'd be using it. suggested we should go the next day, Saturday—"
"The Sabbath."
"Yeah, I guess that's right but my father said Memavet wouldn't mind and I didn't have much other free time. Well, anyway, we met up at the corner of Shalom and Mazel Tov—"
"You and your father?"
"That's right. And he had a friend with him. a Rabbi Small from America—"
"Rabbi Small?" Ish-Kosher's voice gave no hint of his surprise.
"Yeah, Rabbi Small. David Small, I think."
"And he was along as another expert on cars?"
Roy glanced at Ish-Kosher. Was he being sarcastic? But the inspector's face was impassive. "He had arranged to take a walk with my father, and so he just came along."
"I see."
"Well, we saw Memavet and we talked about cars. He offered us a drink, and he talked about himself a lot. about his early life, I guess. It was in Yiddish— that part, so I didn't get any of it. just a word here and there from my German, you know. Then he saves if we'll come back at seven, he'd probably have a car for us."
"But you returned alone."
"Yeah. well, my father said he wouldn't come back because he didn't want Memavet to think he was overeager. That was after we left the place, you understand. I mean, he didn't say it to Memavet, but to me."
"Then why did you come back?"
"Well, I thought I could take a look at the car if there was one."
"But there wasn't."
"That's right. But I thought the fact we'd showed up for the appointment or at least I had, and there wasn't a car for us. would put us in a better bargaining position. After all, since he hadn't kept his part of the bargain, he might shade the price a little."
"I see."
"But then this doctor said he was asleep and couldn't be disturbed, and like what was I doing bothering a sick man — so I left. But then I thought why couldn't I write him a note and leave it in his letterbox. So I came back."
"M-hm. Your father does not live with you—"
"No. he's at the King David. But he's not there now. He's gone up to Haifa for a few days."
"His address there?"
"I don't know it. I called him at the hotel and they said he had gone to Haifa. I didn't ask for the address. Maybe they know it at the hotel though."
"All right. Mr. Stedman. That seems clear enough." He rose to indicate that their meeting was over.
"Is that all?"
"I may want to see you again, but that is all for the present." He smiled in dismissal.
"Yeah, but my passport. You still got my passport."
"Oh, of course." Ish-Kosher picked up the phone. "The passport. Mr. Stedman's passport. Will you bring it in, please.... What? Well, look on his desk...Oh, I see, Well, I suppose it will have to do." He replaced the instrument and turned to Roy. "The man who was working on it. he's not at his desk. He probably has it with him. We'll send it to you through the mail."
When Roy had gone, he lifted the receiver again. "Avner?
Ish-Kosher. Young Stedman was just here. No. nothing special, except that he had been to see Memavet earlier with his father, and his father was accompanied by a friend. And who is this friend. Avner? It is Rabbi David… Small…Don't you remember? He lives at Five Victory Street…No. he was the one tenant who was out when we checked on the Carmi bombing."