A Possibility of Violence

by D. A. Mishani

  According to the tape from the interrogation, that first, spontaneous confession was spoken at 10:38 p.m. Avraham repeatedly questioned him about his intentions to murder the children in Manila, and Sara vehemently denied this and suddenly erupted and screamed, “Don’t you understand that I killed her for them? To protect them?” Avraham was shocked when he observed that he was smiling in the video upon hearing Sara’s confession. He smiled because this was the confession he had been trying to pry out of him, because his investigation plan had proved itself, because this was the moment when it finally became clear he wasn’t mistaken; but perhaps he smiled because something scared him as well.

  And then Sara fell silent once more.

  Ilana asked, “So tell me, what’s not clear?” and Avraham said, “I don’t know. That explanation sounds reasonable to you?”

  “Why not?”

  “So why did he plan to murder them afterward? And why is he denying it now, after he already confessed to murder? And why does she have pictures of the children in her wallet?”

  Ilana didn’t understand who he meant.

  “Jennifer Salazar. That’s what we found in her wallet that he hid in the shed.” From the case file he removed Ma’alul’s notes from the scene where the body was found. Sara’s mother showed Ma’alul where her son hid the suitcase, and in it he found a lot of clothes, two pairs of tennis shoes, and some inexpensive jewelry, bracelets, and plain necklaces. At the bottom of the tool drawer in the shed Ma’alul found the wallet and the passport and the cell phone. In the wallet there were neither credit cards nor cash, Ma’alul noted.

  In it were receipts and business cards and an elliptical wooden coin, perhaps a foreign amulet, and a dog-eared photograph of a young man, apparently a picture of the murdered woman’s father, and two passport photos of the children.

  Ilana looked at him puzzled.

  “Avi, I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.”

  “I’m trying to understand why he did what he did”—and as he spoke, the following questions formed in his mind. “Do you know that he explained to me that he loved her? He even sometimes misses her, but he had no choice because she’d hated the children ever since they were born and didn’t want them. Does that sound like an explanation to you?”

  “That is not what you want to do, Avi. You’re trying to cast doubt on the findings in your case.”

  “Not true, Ilana. I know that we caught the right man. And that we caught him in time. I’m just trying to understand him. He could have confessed to killing her in his sleep, let’s say, but he chose to confess to premeditated murder and wanted to explain to his children that that was what he did. And now he’s trying to convince me that he planned to take them to the Philippines in order to stage some kind of farewell. And I don’t understand her, either. I don’t get what kind of person she was. If what he says about her is correct, why did she marry him at all? Or have kids with him?”

  If he hadn’t lost that old picture that Garbo sent him he would have placed it on the desk and asked her to look at the wide, young face that so much resembled the face of her son Ezer. Ilana spoke to him like she always did, as if nothing had happened between them before this and as if nothing was about to happen afterward. “But that’s not your job, Avi. Your job is to understand what happened, not why. To prove what happened with the help of evidence. And that’s exactly what you did. Sara murdered his wife. And planned to kill the children because one of them was a witness to the murder of the mother. There can be a thousand reasons for the words that come out of his mouth in an interrogation after the fact, and you know it. It could be that he says he murdered her for the sake of the children because he’s trying to convince you that he didn’t plan on harming them, right? He’s ready to confess to the murder of his wife in order to evade blame for his intention to harm the children, that’s my best guess.”

  He hadn’t thought about this, but it seemed to him that Sara wasn’t so sophisticated. Was he mistaken?

  Even when he questioned him the first time, about the suitcase that was placed next to the daycare, he was disturbed by the gap between his short, clipped answers and the complete and organized story he told about the argument with the teacher. And last night as well, Sara was mainly silent, and it seemed like he’d never open his mouth, until after the meeting with his children he suddenly told the story about his wife, in a quiet voice, as if he were reading it from a script. And continued to deny, vehemently, that he planned to harm his children. But his explanation for the trip to Manila was absurd and unconvincing: he said he wanted to take his children there in order to say farewell to their mother, in order for them to understand that she didn’t love them; and he insisted that a letter would be found in the suitcase proving what he intended to do on the trip, but the fictitious letter hadn’t been found.

  Avraham was quiet, and Ilana asked, “Do you understand what the child meant when he spoke about the first father?”

  Avraham wondered what she was getting at. “I think so.”

  “Yes? What?”

  “That he saw Sara with his wife’s body. But it was unbearable for him to admit this.”

  “And are you sure of this?”

  He had no doubt.

  “Okay. And do you understand why you’re doing everything that you’re doing?”

  “I think so.”

  “Really? You understand why you chose to be a police detective? Or why it’s so hard for you to get over Ofer Sharabi? Or why you and I haven’t been getting along lately?”

  Avraham closed his eyes, and when he opened them he still didn’t notice anything.

  “We don’t get along?” he asked.

  THEY DIDN’T TALK ABOUT SARA ANYMORE because the time was short and Ilana asked him to present the findings from the other case.

  “There you do understand what happened and why?” she asked, and he smiled and said that he did.

  “Ilanit Hadad told Uzan, when she worked at the daycare, that Chava Cohen was abusing children. Everything started from there. Uzan thought that he could make money off of this. She took a few pictures with her cell phone, per Uzan’s instructions, and tried to blackmail the teacher, but Chava Cohen refused to be blackmailed and fired her, and Uzan lost it and decided to take a harder line with the extortion. That’s the reason why she didn’t tell us. She knew all along who placed the suitcase next to the daycare and who called her, just as I thought from the first moment. But she was sure that she could deal with them by herself and didn’t want to risk us learning about the abuse. She took a recorder to the meeting, apparently in order to record them saying that they placed the suitcase, and Uzan discovered the device and attacked her. I don’t know if he was trying to kill her.”

  “And I understand that Hadad confessed, correct? So that case is in fact closed,” Ilana said, and he answered, “Not yet. There is one more thing. I want you to authorize me to open up an investigation of Chava Cohen regarding the abuse of children at the daycare. Ilanit Hadad will send us the photos she took and there will be at least a few parents who will have something to say.”

  He thought about Sara’s younger son and things Sara had told him about the day he murdered his wife. These two cases were connected in so many ways he hadn’t foreseen.

  Ilana asked, “We’re not going to wait until she gets out of the hospital?” and Avraham shook his head.

  “We’re not going to wait.”

  And it was then, when the meeting was about to end, that Ilana got up from her chair and opened the window facing out onto Salame Street and placed the ashtray on the desk and asked him how he hadn’t smoked until now and if he wanted coffee. He lit a cigarette and Ilana said, “I’ve wanted to tell you something else, for a while now, though maybe you already know.”

  Until the moment she told him, he was sure that she was about to say that she was separating from her husband. That strange e-mail address from which she’d sent him the report about the previous investigation; and the fam
ily picture that had disappeared from the desk. And because of her hypothesis about Jennifer Salazar, that she had probably lied to Sara and fled Israel with a lover, before the truth was discovered. Until the last moment he was sure she planned to tell him she was getting divorced.

  “This is my final week with the police. You know, my final week for now.”

  He set his cigarette down in the ashtray. He didn’t have to ask, because things became clear immediately.

  “Cancer. It’s unclear if it’s fatal or not, but the treatments will last a few weeks. Maybe more.”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, and Ilana laughed.

  “I think that it’s a mistake and the nurses at the hospital switched the test results. But the doctors seem sure.”

  Was he supposed to get up and hug her? That’s what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t. He examined her face and neck, and she noticed his gaze and said, “You can’t see it, Avi, it’s inside. Very deep down.”

  “Can I help with something?”

  “You can give me a cigarette. It’s not lung cancer. And, actually, that’s the reason I went back to smoking with you.”

  He brought the lighter up to her pale face and saw spots on the back of her hand, but he couldn’t remember if they had always been there. He wanted to ask her so many questions: Are you in pain, Ilana? When did it all start? And why didn’t you tell me anything until now?

  Are you scared?

  They met for the first time more than ten years earlier and a short time after that began working together.

  And now he asked himself just one question: How can I continue?

  They were silent, and Ilana wanted to make it easier on him and said, “I don’t know who they’ll nominate to replace me. They haven’t asked me yet, but I intend to recommend you. I’m hoping that this office will be yours. Temporarily, of course. That you’ll watch over it for me until I’m able to return. And now, since you’ve gotten over the previous investigation and solved this case, maybe there’s a chance that’ll happen.”

  He couldn’t look her in the eyes. Was it so she wouldn’t see what he wanted to tell her, that she was actually right?

  That he hadn’t gotten over it.

  That he had indeed fabricated another missing-persons case in order to make right what he’d mishandled in the previous investigation.

  That since his return to Israel he sat for long hours facing the sea that had swallowed up Ofer Sharabi’s body.

  That he still desperately wanted to save him.

  That, to be honest, he was still searching for that suitcase.

  Ilana hugged him at the door, and only then did he feel how thin she had become. Her body was so fragile, it seemed to disappear in his arms.

  HE DIDN’T GO HOME, DESPITE HIS exhaustion, because he sensed he wouldn’t be able to bear the grief in solitude. He returned to the station house, which was almost empty in the late evening hours, and made himself a cup of coffee. Across his office desk lay a bouquet of flowers.

  He didn’t think about the investigation any more that day, only about Ilana, and perhaps for this reason he found the strength to watch the interrogation video again and finally transcribe Sara’s confession. Looking for a pen in one of the drawers, he found the lost photograph of Jennifer Salazar, which he didn’t recall putting there, but he no longer had any interest in it and turned it over quickly and filed it away in the investigation folder. He wrote and erased for a long time.

  Question: You said earlier that you had planned to murder her for a long time, so why did you do it on that particular night?

  Answer: Because the day before, my boy returned bruised from daycare.

  Question: Which boy?

  Answer: Shalom. The younger one.

  Question: Okay, continue.

  Answer: On Tuesday he returned from daycare with serious bruises on his forehead.

  Question: Right. You said this. And what happened then?

  Answer: I asked how he got the bruises and she said she didn’t know and that it didn’t interest her. I said to her, why didn’t you speak with the teacher, ask her how it happened, maybe some kid hit him, and she said, you speak with her, they’re your kids, I’m not interested in how they get their bruises. She would talk about them like that all the time.

  Question: Then what?

  Answer: The children were standing there and heard her, both of them. She didn’t say it quietly. Ezer heard too.

  Question: When was this?

  Answer: When I returned from work. In the afternoon.

  Question: So why didn’t you kill her that same day? How did you answer her?

  Answer: I didn’t answer. What could I have said?

  Question: And you murdered her because of this?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: Did you suspect her of beating Shalom?

  Answer: No. She wouldn’t dare touch them.

  Question: So, then, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Did she threaten to take the children from you?

  Answer: She wouldn’t have taken them because she didn’t want them with her. One time she said that she’d take them just so I’d suffer like she suffers in life. She knew how much I’m attached to them, and because of this she would insult me around them.

  Question: When was this?

  Answer: That was a long time ago.

  Question: And why didn’t you do anything then?

  Answer: I hadn’t thought about it yet.

  ( . . . )

  Question: But on the day the child returned from daycare with bruises you did think about it?

  Answer: (nods) She refused to speak to the teacher, and so because of this I went to the daycare myself the next morning, and then there was the fight with the teacher. She didn’t listen, either.

  Question: That was on Wednesday morning?

  Answer: Yes.

  Question: And what happened later that day?

  Answer: Nothing happened. When I returned home from work we ate dinner, and afterward Jenny put them to bed and went to sleep early and I finished working in the kitchen, and then I prepared the blanket.

  Question: Was there another incident between you that same evening?

  Answer: What do you mean, “incident”?

  Question: She didn’t feel that you were planning to do something?

  Answer: Why would she feel that?

  Question: Did you beat her in the past?

  Answer: I never in my life touched her.

  Question: And was there anything different she did that evening? Describe for me exactly what she did.

  Answer: There was nothing different. She watched TV in the living room and then went to bed.

  Question: Did you sleep with her that night?

  Answer: (no response)

  Question: Did you have sex that night?

  Answer: No. I worked and she fell asleep.

  Question: And did you already know how you would kill her?

  Answer: Yes.

  ( . . . )

  Answer: I set an alarm clock for four a.m. but I didn’t fall asleep.

  Question: Why didn’t you do it as soon as she fell asleep?

  Answer: Because she sleeps deeper in the middle of the night, and so do the boys. And then it would be easier to remove her without anyone seeing.

  Question: So the murder was carried out at four?

  Answer: Slightly before. And I checked that the children were fast asleep.

  Question: And then? How did you carry out the murder?

  Answer: I suffocated her with the big pillow.

  Question: Which pillow is that?

  Answer: From the living room.

  Question: And is it still there?

  Answer: Yes. A blue pillow.

  Question: Show me how you did it. Did you put it on her face?

  Answer: Yes. I put it on her face and pushed with both hands. (extends his hands forward)

  Question: And she didn�
�t struggle?

  Answer: No. Well, she tried grabbing with her hands, and kicked the bed with her legs, but after a while she stopped. I stayed there with the pillow on her face for a long time.

  Question: Have you washed the pillow since then?

  Answer: No.

  16

  AVRAHAM SAW THE CHILDREN WHOM HE so badly wanted to save one more time, at a mass in St. Peter’s Church a week after the body was discovered.

  It was a gray Sunday morning in the middle of October, and even though winter was still far off, strong winds blew outside, battering the tops of the palm trees. Avraham searched for Sara’s sons but didn’t spot them. Dozens of Filipino women were already crowded into the church pews, some of them with children. And that was the only reason he came. Two days earlier, Garbo sent him a fax with an announcement about the mass in memory of Jennifer Salazar and about the fact that the murdered woman’s sister would be arriving from Berlin to take part, as well as a representative from the Philippine embassy in Israel, and it seemed to Avraham that Garbo expected him to be present as well. He told no one from the station that he planned to go to the ceremony. He sat down in one of the rear pews and waited.

  The American priest who rose to the pulpit looked like a hippie who came home from Vietnam in the sixties and became religious. His mane of hair was white and his beard long. He started by saying that he was dedicating his sermon to Jennifer Salazar, a beloved member of the community who was murdered, but he didn’t mention her again in his sermon, whose subject was miracles. He tried to impress upon the believers that even if they had never seen a miracle in their own lives, that didn’t mean they don’t take place all the time, and that if they continued to hold their faith dear to them, one day they’d be granted the vision, with their own eyes, of a miraculous revelation.

  Each of Avraham’s coughs echoed inside the space of the church like thunder.

  Orange lights flickered around him in the dark space, and colorful figures gazed down on him from the stained-glass windows.

  He was certain that someone would speak in her memory, but it didn’t happen.