They referred to themselves as the “Folksy Quartet," and enjoyed laughing at the rest of the residents of the neighborhood. They flaunted their wealth, dressed up in tight, fashionable clothes, and shared enviable pictures from their vacations and parties on social media, boasting with their well-shaped figures, which had not been degraded even though each of them had gone through at least three pregnancies. Their musical taste, which included Mizrahi singers like Eyal Golan, Koby Peretz and Shlomi Shabbat, was light years away from the accepted musical styles of the neighborhood. The four enjoyed reminiscing about the birthday parties they had organized for their kids, at which the other kids had been exposed to Mizrahi music for the first time. The little kids responded to the new sounds with joy and clapping, while their mothers rolled their eyes self-righteously. The Folksy Quartet knew that the other mothers regarded them as bad mothers - neglectful, even. But they reiterated to themselves that happy children had happy mothers, and enjoyed deriding the other mothers for being pretentious, reticent and sloppy.
Sharon, Rinat and Sigal preferred to ignore the heavy burden carried by Dorit's last name. They knew she was not involved in the family business, and focused on her attitude toward them. To them, she was the good-hearted, caring Dorit, who would do anything for her girlfriends. Sharon and Rinat, whose husbands were business partners and imported brand name products from China, knew that business was not entirely kosher in their families as well, and were not quick to judge others. Sigal was glad to have a warm, pleasant corner in the hostile neighborhood, where her senior position was not deemed prestigious enough since she had not studied at university.
When Sigal approached Dorit and told her that she needed her father's assistance, Dorit did not ask questions. She contacted her father and said that a good friend of hers needed his help. Yaakov asked for her phone number and promised his daughter that her friend would receive excellent service.
Yaakov contacted Sigal. She said she was at work and could not talk, and asked him to meet her in the evening, in the parking lot of the Industrial Park in Kfar-Saba.
Yaakov was not inclined to consent to such odd requests. However, since he had promised his daughter that he would help her friend, and since he was curious to find out what a bourgeois mother from Ramat Hasharon wanted from him, he agreed, and set up a late evening meeting with her.
Nothing had prepared him for what awaited him. Sigal was a good-looking, well-groomed woman. She slipped elegantly into his luxurious jeep, and Yaakov signaled his bodyguard to step outside.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she said, revealing a perfect smile.
"Any friend of Dorit is my friend."
"I’m glad to hear it, because what I’m about to ask you to do isn’t something I’d ask just anybody."
"I can imagine."
"By the way, so that you don't misunderstand it, friends are friends, but I intend to pay you for the service I need. However, discretion is critical in this case."
"Obviously."
"I don't know what Dorit told you about me, but I work in a big communication company, in the Finance Department."
"She didn't tell me."
"I don't want to elaborate on this matter, but let's just say that I got in trouble. Serious trouble. I believe I can put my problem in order, but there's some girl who’s on to me. That is, she doesn’t really know it yet, but, in a few days, she’ll figure out the entire business. She’s already asking too many questions."
"So you want us to threaten her?"
"I don't want to live in fear," she said coldly. "I’d rather she simply didn’t constitute a… sticky element."
Yaakov was stunned. "Then you simply want to eliminate her?"
"It seems to me that - yes, I do," she said without blinking. "Don't misunderstand me. I came to this decision with a heavy heart." Yaakov nodded, even though he found it hard to believe.
"This is a young woman without kids. I have four. If I go to jail, I’ll sentence them to life without a mother. It's either me or her. And with all the pain and sorrow, especially when I think about my kids, then it's me."
Yaakov thought it over. Sigal had made a poor impression on him. He knew a few quite sordid criminals, but the woman sitting in his vehicle appeared to be worse than them. He could not sense one iota of morality or compassion in her. However, maybe it was only his feeling, and Sigal was behaving that way because she had found herself in a dead-end situation. Besides, Dorit had told him that Sigal was a good friend of hers, and he promised to help her. Yaakov loved keeping his promises.
Sigal told Yaakov that the best way to carry out the job without tracing it to her would be to make Shirley's death look like an unintended accident, an unfortunate victim in the battle between crime gangs.
"Then it was a double hit from the start?" I asked Yaakov when he had finished telling his story.
"No. I don't know what Nagusto told you, and you probably won’t believe me. However, the instructions he received were to eliminate Shirley and injure Koby." I confirmed it by nodding. It was exactly what Nagusto had said. "Even though I knew Koby had been betraying us," he continued, "it was difficult for me to give an order that would lead to his death. We had many good years together. It hurt me to realize he was working with you. I wanted him to understand that he had to shut his mouth."
"And how did you coordinate it for Koby and Shirley to be in the same place?"
"Sigal informed me that Shirley used to go down to the Zelda Café and get takeout food from there two or three times a week. So one of my employees set up a meeting with Koby there. Nagusto was supposed to be on alert. In the event that Shirley did not go down there, we were going to postpone the whole thing for a day or two."
"But I understand that the entire operation was carried out at the first opportunity?"
"Right."
Alon was very satisfied with our progress, but claimed that the case was far from closed. What we had was the word of an organized crime chief against the word of a bookkeeper from Ramat Hasharon.
We could, of course, raid the Panda offices and carry out an audit of the financial system, where we expected to discover the large-scale embezzlement that had led to Shirley Navon's untimely death. However, we knew we might not find anything. It was possible that Sigal had already prepared herself for an interrogation and had managed to cover her tracks.
"In any case," said Alon, "at this stage, everything’s circumstantial. Yaakov could have utilized his daughter's friendship with a Panda employee to cast the blame for the conspiracy on someone else."
I disagreed. All my instincts told me that Yaakov was telling the truth, but instincts were not sufficient evidence in Court.
I returned to the interrogation room and suggested that Yaakov meet with Sigal wearing a wire. Yaakov agreed. In order to disguise the meeting and make it look like a chance encounter, he suggested that they speak during the birthday party Dorit had organized for her son Ophir, who was his five-year-old grandson, on the roof of their home next Saturday.
Alon did not like the idea. He contended that releasing Yaakov was insane. After all, so much evidence connected him to the incident, including a confession. However, I insisted on it. I knew it could be a rare opportunity to catch Sigal red-handed, when she was least prepared. I told Alon that, in any case, Lior was still in detention, and Yaakov would not do anything to risk his beloved nephew.
Furthermore, I had no doubt that Yaakov would cooperate. I sensed that he did not really like Sigal, and definitely wished to entrap her. I hoped it would be the move that would tie up all the loose ends in the case.
CHAPTER 21
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The birthday party was planned for eleven. Yaakov asked Tom to drive there separately with his mother, saying he had to go to a brief meeting before the party. The brief meeting was with me and a technician. The technician attached a tiny microphone to Yaakov's chest and added a button-shaped camera to his shirt. We confirmed that the e
quipment was working properly and released him to go to the birthday party.
Yaakov's bodyguard was waiting at the entrance to the building where Dorit and Sigal's families lived. He was used to accompanying Yaakov everywhere, and had been a little surprised when asked to wait there, while Yaakov was somewhere else, alone. However, the bodyguard knew well enough to carry out his orders without asking questions. Yaakov assumed that the bodyguard was redundant, anyway, following his release from the detention center two days earlier. He was right. Two detectives were following him everywhere. During those two days, he had been one of the most protected citizens in the country.
I settled into the back seat of a police car disguised as a commercial vehicle, inserted some earphones, turned on the computer and watched Yaakov’s live broadcast.
He and his bodyguard entered the elevator, joined by a young woman with a baby stroller and a young boy. The boy looked at the massive bodyguard with the menacing expression and clung to his mother.
"Are you going up to the birthday party?" asked Yaakov amiably.
"Yes," answered the woman, her voice trembling.
"Are you a friend of Ophir's?" Yaakov asked the petrified boy, his voice gentle. "I'm his grandfather."
The boy nodded. His mother stared at Yaakov and the bodyguard, terrified.
The elevator door opened and I saw Dorit. She was a very impressive woman, tall and statuesque. Contrary to what I had expected, her outfit was elegant rather than risqué. She wore a low-key dress, but it emphasized the curves of her body. She welcomed Yaakov with a warm hug.
"It's wonderful they released you in time for the birthday party," she whispered in his ear.
"Yes. Everything's alright," said Yaakov.
Dorit turned to look at the boy and said, "It's great to see you! Ophir asked when you were coming. You can go on up to the roof. A few kids are there already. Go ahead."
The boy ran off happily and disappeared inside the apartment.
"Oops, he forgot to take the gift," said the boy's mother, and produced a wrapped package from the baby stroller.
Dorit took the package from her and thanked her. "I’ll tell Ophir it’s from you," she added.
The woman turned around and returned to the elevator.
"The mothers don't stay for the party?" Yaakov asked nonchalantly.
"The kids are old enough to stay without their mothers."
"Really?" he chuckled. "They grow up so fast."
"Tell me about it…" said Dorit reflectively.
"Too bad… I wanted to meet Sigal, your friend," he said and my heart missed a beat. "You know, the one you asked me to help. I wanted to know if everything turned out alright."
"Sigal’s not like the other mothers, she’s family," Dorit smiled. "Of course she'll be at the party. She went with her family to visit her in-laws in Nahariya. They’ll be here in a little while."
"Excellent," said Yaakov, and entered the apartment.
"Mother and Tom are already here," Dorit told him and closed the door. "Go on up."
Dorit went toward her designer kitchen and Yaakov turned toward an extravagant stairway near the entrance. The closer Yaakov got to the rooftop, the more noise I heard in the background. It was a mixture of kids shouting and music playing at an unreasonable volume. As soon as Yaakov set foot on the floor of the rooftop, a girl of about eight jumped on him and gave him a huge hug. I assumed it was another granddaughter of his. Ophir, the guest of honor, watched hypnotically as an adult dressed as a clown inflated a balloon, shaped it into a puppy, then handed it to him.
"Ophiri!" Yaakov called to the boy.
Ophir turned toward his grandfather and ran over to him, holding the balloon. "See what he made for me!" he said happily.
Yaakov lifted the boy into his arms and held him close in a warm hug. "What a beauty!" he said admiringly. "And what a great birthday party you're having!"
"All the kids think my birthday party’s the best one ever!" the boy said proudly.
"It's because you're such a special boy and your parents love you so much." Yaakov kissed the boy warmly and lowered him back to the floor.
Omer, Ophir's father, approached Yaakov, shook his hand, and kissed him lightly on each cheek. "How are you?" he asked.
"Everything's fine," Yaakov said. "Where's Naomi?" he asked about his wife.
"I saw her near the buffet," he pointed to the other end of the roof, which was decorated with balloons and colorful ribbons. "She’s busy setting up the food."
"What else?" chuckled Yaakov and went toward the buffet. On his way, he met Tom, who was sitting on a garden lounger with an older boy. They were engrossed in a game on the boy's cell phone.
"Hello there!" Yaakov tried to draw their attention. Tom looked up from the device, but the boy's eyes remained glued.
"Hi, Dad," said Tom. He got up and hugged his father. The youth didn’t move. Tom kicked his leg lightly. "Say hello to your grandfather…" he said teasingly.
"Hi, Grandpa," said the boy unenthusiastically and lifted his head from the screen for a split second. Tom shook his head incredulously.
Yaakov said, "Drop it, let him finish his game. We’ll talk later."
Tom sank back onto the lounger and was sucked into the game. I assumed there were a handful of people who dared to behave like that toward Yaakov Sela.
Yaakov continued toward the buffet. He stood quietly behind a woman who was arranging a stack of cupcakes and kissed the back of her neck. She jumped away with a start and the cakes dropped from her hands.
"Ay, Yaakov!" she said and put her hand on her chest. "You scared me."
"Sorry," he said and laughed, amused by her reaction.
She hugged him and stroked his face gently. "Did you manage to do what you needed to?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, grabbing a cupcake from the stack.
She slapped his hand lightly. "Leave those for the kids!" she reprimanded him.
"It doesn't look like they'll miss it," he said, gesturing with his hand toward the buffet, which was loaded with cakes, cookies, snacks, fruits and candy.
"Dorit’s really overdone it…" she chuckled.
"We know exactly who she got that from," he laughed. She joined his laughter and took a cupcake for herself.
"Bon Appetit!" Dorit surprised them as they were enjoying the cakes. "Just don't forget to leave something for the kids," she said and placed two bottles of soft drink in the center of the table.
Yaakov and Naomi burst out laughing again.
"Where should I put these?" came a voice behind them. Yaakov turned in the direction of the voice.
It was Sigal. She also held two bottles of soft drink in her hands.
"Put them there," Dorit said and gestured with her finger to the edge of the table.
"Sigal. How are you?" said Yaakov.
Sigal looked at him, puzzled. She smiled oddly and muttered that she was well.
"You two know each other?" asked Naomi, surprised.
"Yes, Sigal helped me with something to do with my income tax a few weeks ago."
"Don't you have your own CPA?"
"Don't worry, I’m not leaving Shimon, but I had a problem with something small. Sigal happened to know the supervisor at the Income Tax Authority, and he fixed the entire thing in two minutes."
"Good for you!" Naomi looked appreciatively at Sigal, who responded with an embarrassed smile.
The man in the magician’s costume announced that he and Ophir were about to begin a spectacular magic show. The three women deserted the buffet and ran toward the improvised stage. Yaakov also turned in that direction and I had the opportunity to enjoy the magic show as well. Who said there were no perks in my line of work?
After a long session, the man announced an intermission and the kids thronged toward the lavish buffet. Yaakov used the opportunity, and finally approached Sigal.
"Did everything turn out as you wanted it in the end?" I heard him whisper to her, and I saw her chin moving up and
down.
"Do you want to go talk somewhere quieter?" he whispered again. She nodded in a barely noticeable motion. “Where can I go for a little smoke?"
"Oh, Dad," Dorit grumbled. "Do you really have to?"
"Sweetie, you know I had a difficult week," he said in a slightly lower voice.
Dorit turned up her nose. "You can smoke on the living room balcony, but don't throw the cigarette butt down. The neighbors here really aren’t nice."
I heard the sound of someone clearing her throat.
"Except for Sigal, of course," Dorit said, and smiled.
"Then I'll go down there for a few minutes. I have to make a few phone calls, anyway."
"Don't you dare miss the birthday cake," Dorit said menacingly and waved her finger.
"When is it?"
"In about twenty minutes."
"No problem."
Yaakov went down to the lower level, past the spacious, designer living room, and went out to the balcony overlooking a green park. I used the opportunity to call him.
"You're first-rate!" I complimented him.
"Thank you. I think I could have been a detective."
"It's possible," I laughed. "Listen, I assume Sigal will join you soon. It's important for me to remind you: I have to hear her say something that connects her to the story without a shadow of a doubt. Is it clear?"
"And what will happen then?"
"We’ll make an immediate arrest."
"Really? In the middle of the birthday party? In front all of the kids?"
I thought quickly. "You're right. We’ll wait until the party’s over, but if Sigal leaves earlier, we’ll have no choice."
"Actually, it looks like she'll stay till the end."
At that moment exactly, I heard the door to the balcony open. The monitor showed Sigal standing in the doorway.
"We'll talk later," Yaakov said and hung up.
"So, how are you?" he asked her.
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