Finally she said, "How close are you to solving this case?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "There is a chance I never will find out who killed her."
"But you've made progress?"
"I know more than I did when I started. And I had planned on learning even more tonight."
"Planned until this policeman came here with his threats?"
"Yes."
"And now you're rethinking things?"
"I don't want to see other people get hurt because of me."
"And if you don't proceed?" she asked.
"Then no one will ever find out who killed that girl."
"And other young women may die."
"Perhaps."
She tapped her forefinger against her lips, rubbing her arms as if she were cold. "I'm thinking about making some changes to the menu of the café," she said at length.
I frowned. "What changes?"
She smiled at me. Her crow's feet and the lines at the corners of her mouth deepened with her smile, and her eyes glinted with defiance. "Cutting some of the dishes off the menu. Temporarily."
I was beginning to understand and could feel a smile tugging at my lips. "And which dishes are you planning to cut?" I asked.
"Oh, I'll need to make a list. The cuts will be extensive, I fear. Anything that requires me to go to unsavory characters and acquire food items in a way which some may consider illegal."
"You'll be left with an abbreviated menu," I said.
She nodded gravely. "I think you're right. Still, it is a sacrifice I feel I must make. Rationing is unpleasant, but we're a new, poor country and if everyone just went off to the black market whenever they felt like it, what would our society be like?"
"Some would say it will be just fine, exactly like it is now."
"Perhaps. But my conscience would not let me rest if I went against the rules our benevolent government has set."
"I applaud your patriotism," I said, smiling. "Our country could use more people like you."
She glanced toward the door again, and when her face turned once more to me, no mirth remained in her eyes. "Our country has no use for people who kill young women. I'll take the risk of being badgered by the police. You just work quickly and try to bring this case to a swift end."
I opened my mouth to say I could make no promises, but she cut me off with her hand.
"I know, I know. There are no guarantees. No worthwhile venture is ever preordained for success. I had no idea this café would succeed when I started it, and we Jews had no assurance that we would have a country of our own when we set out to build it. Just do your best and as quickly as you can."
"It might not matter," I said. "Even if I find out who killed Maryam Jamalka, Rosen might still take it out on me, on you, and on Reuben. I know his kind. He's a vengeful sort. He would feel compelled to get back at me. And he will do it, partly, through you."
She let out a long breath. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," she said. "And if there is no bridge, I'll just have to swim across the river. The worst that will happen is I'll get a little wet."
Unless there are crocodiles in the river, I thought, but didn't say it. Greta was no fool. She was taking this risk with open eyes. I had never respected her as much as I did at that moment.
"All right. I'll do my best. Thank you, Greta."
She nodded twice, as if everything was settled. Then she said, "I wonder how the regulars will react to the new menu."
I couldn't help but smile. "There will be some grumbles."
"Nothing worse than grumbles?" she asked. "No one will choose to take his business elsewhere?"
"Not as many as one might suppose," I said, thinking that most of the regulars came to Greta's Café more for what Greta brought to it than for what was on the menu.
"I hope you're right," she said, and right then one of the regulars, a man named Yoel, entered the café and called his hello to Greta and me. She rose and said, "It's good that Yoel is here. He eats a lot. He'll help me get through my supplies faster." She went to tend to Yoel, and I closed the chessboard, put it in its box, and stashed the box behind the bar where Greta kept it for me. Then I went out in search of a telephone.
This time Reuben picked up.
"It's about time you got back to me," he said. "What took you so long? We need to talk. There's trouble."
"Let me guess," I said. "You had a chat with Inspector Rosen."
"More like he had a chat with me," he said, lowering his voice. "A rather unpleasant chat, I must say."
"Can you talk?"
"I think so. Give me a second to close the door." When he came back, he said, "How did you know about Rosen? He talked to you?"
"About thirty minutes ago. At Greta's." I described my conversation with Rosen and related the threats he'd made against Reuben.
"You gave him a similar story to the one I did," Reuben said when I was done. "At least that's something."
"Not that it matters to him. It won't stop him from carrying out his threats."
"No. I suppose it won't."
I didn't tell him about the go-ahead I got from Greta. I didn't want him to feel pressured to place his career at risk for me and my case.
He said, "You know, Adam, I've met all sorts of police officers during my time on the force, but I have never met someone like him. The way he came in here and questioned me, it was like I were a criminal and he wanted to put me away in jail."
"I'm sorry you had to go through this, Reuben," I said, recalling the conversation I'd had with him before meeting Yossi Talmon. Reuben had told me then he did not want to be caught in the middle of some interdepartmental mess. Now he was, and I felt responsible.
"It's not your fault. Rosen didn't learn of my talk with Talmon from you. He already guessed that you came to me for help. I guess too many people have seen me with you. Maybe I should start avoiding you."
"It may do wonders for your career," I said.
He sighed wearily, and I could hear the strain in his voice. Rosen had put genuine fear into him. And that made me feel like tearing the inspector’s insignia off his shoulders and forcing him to eat it. Reuben had more to worry about than Greta did. Greta's children were grown and leading their own lives. Reuben was the breadwinner of his family, the provider of four young children. And because he was a policeman, and only a corporal at that, his livelihood was in clear jeopardy if he dared go against Inspector Rosen's wishes.
"I just don't understand it," he said. "Since when do petty politics come before finding a murderer?"
"In Hungary the police used to make allowances for politicians and rich men all the time," I said.
"For murder?"
"I don't know of any such case, but it may have happened."
"Did you ever do that, Adam? When you were a policeman?"
"No," I said. "Never for murder. And never for political reasons. But I did turn a blind eye on smaller things. Looking back, it's not something I'm proud of, Reuben, but it's the truth. Sometimes I did it for information and sometimes for other things. But I never closed my eyes on murder. That is unthinkable."
He digested this for a moment. When he spoke, his tone had an accusatory edge to it, as if he were disappointed in me. "Well, I never did any of those things, and I certainly did not join the police department to disregard murder." He paused for a beat. "So tell me if I can help you any further in your investigation."
My grin was wide enough to feel it in my cheeks. "You do like to stick your neck out for me, don't you, Reuben?"
He let out a nervous little laugh. "So it seems. But compared to that other time, this one doesn't look all that scary."
In that other time bullets and artillery were flying everywhere around us, men were getting killed and maimed, and Reuben was carrying my bleeding, inert self on his back to find someone to plug the two holes in me.