by Adiva Geffen
“An interesting paradox, but not very original.” I gave her back the sticker. “At least when the Dalai Lama spoke about it, he didn’t forget to mention that he was influenced by the Buddha.”
“Exactly,” Eve rejoiced. “My sister-in-law is communicating via channeling with humanity’s greatest minds: Jesus, Moses, Elijah, and the Buddha too.”
“Well, that’s just fascinating, Eve. But I assume you’ve come to talk to me about something else.” Sammy had finally woken up.
Eve’s smug expression vanished. She started to wring her hands nervously and abruptly started crying. Her whole body shook as she wept shamelessly. Why the tears if she had Mr. Perfect Doctor for a husband and Ms. Genius Philosopher as a sister-in-law?
“It’s Daria.” One hand moved to her face. “Our daughter.”
“Daughter?” Sammy looked genuinely surprised. “I had no idea.”
Eve kept crying. Sammy gave me a “do not interfere” warning look.
“Our dear Daria.”
“I understand you’re concerned about the child.” Sammy, the ace detective, spurred her on. Her eyes sparkled. A troublesome daughter meant good business, and we were in desperate need of some cash. It looked like our morning was about to turn from fruity to fruitful.
“Daria is a good kid. She really is, but lately she’s… We kind of felt…something was off with her.” She started whimpering again, which was the last straw for me. I wasn’t touched by her crying, it just pissed me off.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re not sure, but something’s changed in her. It’s as if we’ve lost her. She’s inventing lies, she’s constantly aggressive, something is going on with her.”
“We run an investigation agency, not a mental health clinic,” I said gruffly.
“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s all so difficult for me.” She looked only at Sammy when she spoke, as if I weren’t even there. “Look, I know it seems a little curious that I came to you, of all people, after years and years of not being in touch, but I just don’t know what to do. And we thought, Barak and I, that perhaps with all your experience… To make a long story short, she’s gone. She simply took off one day and didn’t come back. Simona, we’re climbing the walls. We’re worried sick.”
“When did she go missing?”
“Eight days ago.”
“Did you have an argument?”
“No. I don’t understand what’s wrong with her. She lacks for nothing. You should see her room. The Duchess of Cambridge doesn’t have such a room. She just needs to ask and—”
“Did you go to the police?” Sammy interrupted her.
Eve sniffled. “We have. They can’t even find their way to the nearest kosher Dunkin’ Donuts — how do you expect them to find our Daria?”
Sammy chuckled. If the police ever pulled their shit together, God forbid, we’d be out of business.
“Your daughter. Daria. How old is she?” I asked.
“Twenty-one.”
“God, she’s twenty-one and you’re worried? At her age, I’d already crossed South America on foot and braided my pubic hair in a dozen different Peruvian villages,” I protested and instantly got a ferocious look from Sammy.
“Yes, but she’s a little…withdrawn.”
“In what way?”
“I’d say she’s a little immature. She needs protection. She… What can we do? You know what I mean, Simona, right? We’re extremely worried. We’re afraid she’s been kidnapped or worse. Our Daria, God, Simona…”
“Tell me everything from the beginning.” Sammy pulled out a lined notepad and rested it on her knees.
“There’s nothing to tell. On Wednesday, she left the house to go to work as usual.”
“Which is where?”
“She works as an assistant teacher in one of our preschools. You know that we—”
“Yes.” Sammy was quick to demonstrate just how knowledgeable she was. “The Magidal preschools, Deborah method. We’ve heard. Well done.”
“Thank you.” Eve’s smile somehow escaped through her folds of fat. “In the evening, when she didn’t return on the six o’clock bus like she normally does, we thought perhaps she’d stayed to decorate the preschool. We are very particular about the way our preschools look. She could have stayed there; we have an apartment there.
“But the next day, they called from the preschool to ask what happened to Daria. Said she hadn’t shown up for work. We got very nervous. We called relatives, staff members — Daria doesn’t have a lot of friends. We even spoke with bus drivers from the area. You can’t imagine how worried we are. She’s only twenty-one. It’s so unlike her to simply vanish like this, Sammy. We’ll do anything to find her. Anything.”
“Of course,” said Sammy then added sweetly, “I understand what you’re going through, Shosh. Of course we’ll help you.”
“My name is Eve now,” Evie corrected her. “Please, Sammy, it’s important to me. I’ve left Shosh behind me. She wasn’t good for me.”
“Eve, the mother of all who live,” I said.
“A new name, a new direction in life,” Evie summed up.
Sammy nodded with understanding.
“It’s important you understand that Daria — how should I put this — isn’t always completely focused. She’s an airy sort of girl, and she’s still only in the initial stages of being initiated into the method.”
“The method?”
“Yes. She’s finished with the cleansing stage. It’s a process, a stage she had to undergo and now—”
“Cleansing? From what?” I imagined Barak Method enema tubes cleansing the hell out of poor Daria.
“It is an essential step in our method,” Evie explained. “But that’s irrelevant now. What matters is that you find my Daria.” She burst into tears again.
“Enough, sweetie.” Sammy softened up. “Everything will be fine. I’ll find her for you, safe and sound, but I’ll need some—”
“Of course,” said Evie, “we’ll pay you generously.”
Sammy waved her hands in a mock philanthropic gesture that said: Money? Forget about it! As if we hadn’t received a notice from the electric company just the day before. As if we didn’t need to sneak up the stairs so as not to bump into the landlord.
“You’re an angel.” Eve collapsed into a fresh round of tears, and Sammy wrapped half a ton of arms around her neck. They just stood there, all tears and embraces. I had no choice but to finish the third package of Oreos all by myself.
5
“All right, Shoshkowitz,” said Sammy, after she’d finished selling me to Eve as a world-class expert specializing in finding lost relatives. “We need to start applying our missing persons protocol.”
An uncomfortable expression settled on Eve Magidal’s face. “I thought… I turned to you… I was hoping you’d handle the investigation personally.”
“I’m the supervising investigator in charge,” Sammy reassured her. “Shoshkowitz is the head of our Missing Persons Department.”
Department my ass, I didn’t even have a chair to sit on. Apparently, Sammy didn’t intend to tell her soul mate about her meniscus problem and the doctor’s strict orders to keep her knee on the sofa and under bags of frozen peas.
“Shoshkowitz here is just going to do the legwork. You should know that she’s…” Sammy left the sentence incomplete and simply shook her head admiringly, as if she’d run out of compliments.
Evie looked at me and seemed to reconsider the idea. I was secretly hoping she and her oily face and her private cloud of perfume that sucked all the oxygen out of the room would take her missing daughter business elsewhere.
Sammy wasn’t too bothered by Eve’s hesitation. “You’re starting first thing tomorrow morning, Shoshkowitz,” she announced.
“You do remember the Saunders case isn’
t closed yet.” I tried another little lie.
“Finding Daria is now our top priority,” she ruled. “The rest of the cases can wait.”
“Whatever you say.” I fished out my notepad, and Eve gave me her telephone numbers.
“There’s one last thing I need to stress,” said Eve, giving me a cold, disapproving smile. “You will get all the relevant details from me. Please do not bother my husband. He is extremely busy. He has a new workshop to plan.”
“Perhaps Deborah could help us?”
“No need. Just coordinate everything with me. My driver is preparing copies of lists and photos you might find useful as we speak. He will leave everything at your office.”
“Fabulous.” I closed the notepad and prepared to leave.
“Just one more thing.” Evie stopped me. “You will need to give me a very detailed daily report. I want to know what is or isn’t done every single day — with whom you’ve met, and what you were able to come up with. As far as I’m concerned, that’s an essential condition.”
Her determination surprised me. “You mean—”
“Yes. I need to be updated with whatever you discover, every detail, every single day. My heart can’t take this… I want this child back… Sammy, help me.”
I sighed in relief. An escape route at last. Sammy’s rules regarding customer communication were crystal clear. I expected her to kick out the weeping Evie at any moment. But Sammy managed to surprise me once again.
“No problem. You’ll get a personal report directly from me every single day,” she promised with a sweet, sweet smile and placed a restraining hand on my shoulder.
She looked straight into my eyes. “With Dikla on the case, you’ll be reunited with your daughter faster than you can say czardas,” she said and winked.
◊◊◊
“I’m calling you an ambulance,” I let Sammy know as soon as the door had closed behind Eve Magidal. “You’re a sick woman. You should be committed ASAP.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, excuse me, Sammy, since when do we work for free? And for people who own a successful preschool chain, a house the size of an oil tycoon’s, and a fleet of cars second only to Vladimir Putin’s. The lady is loaded, Sammy, extremely loaded, and you — you haven’t even signed a contract with her!”
“I owe her. I’ll tell you all about it one day.”
“Owe her for what?”
“Forget it.” Sammy waved a heavy hand.
“I want you to tell me about it now.”
“You’re being absurd. It’s not a big deal,” said Sammy. “That’s just the way life is. Some circles need to be closed, and that’s the last we talk about it. Got it, Shoshkowitz? Find that child for me and that’s it. Besides, don’t worry your greedy little heart, we’ll have expenses on top of our expenses, and she’ll get a hefty bill.”
“Well, that’s just great, but I’m not willing to wait. I demand that you tell me why you’re in her debt right now.”
“Keep pissing me off and you’ll never get to know who called me yesterday and asked about you.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Who?” I asked in a hoarse voice.
“A son of a bitch called Cooper. Same son of a bitch who vanished and left me the job of caring for your broken heart. I spared his life and let him know you’re getting married in the near future. Tomorrow afternoon, actually.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“What was I supposed to say? That you’re having an affair with Superintendent Bender? You told me yourself Cooper was history.”
Cooper was back. What would I do with him? What would I do with the fingernails starting to scratch at the inside of my heart?
He’d been gone for exactly ten months and seven days before. Took off to fulfill his traveling dreams in India. I’m used to losing guys — Cooper wasn’t the first to break my heart — but when he went away, we shed a lot of tears together, told each other nonsense over marshmallow and cookie crumbs. At the airport, he whispered in my ear that he already missed me. That if he only could, he’d stuff me in his backpack and take me with him. Then he asked me to mail him my sweet scent and murmured some sentimental little lies. I still slept with the pair of his forgotten underpants beneath my pillow. Unwashed. It was that bad.
The first week, he sent me three long, steamy emails. The week after that, two brief ones followed by a final email with just a few words before he evaporated into thin Indian air. I kept writing him for two months, begging him to tell me what was going on, what he was doing. I told him he could ask me for anything, even if it meant coming there personally and releasing him from a bunch of crazed Buddhist monks.
He never answered.
His parents knew enough to tell me he’d come to no harm, but they gave me no details. They did promise to tell him that I’d asked. I desperately missed him. I was worried, angry, insulted, steaming, but eventually I decided to delete him from my phone and from my heart. Since then, I’ve had my fun with Superintendent Bender.
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing, only that he’s very happy for you and wishes you all the best. I was kind enough to ask him if he wants a wedding invitation. You’re not angry, are you?”
“I don’t know. Did the bastard leave a number? An address?”
Sammy rolled her eyes and kept quiet, as if to say Why are you doing this to yourself? A man who abandons you like that is nothing but a piece of shit. You don’t talk to shits like that. She was probably right.
“The hell with it. I’m ordering a taxi. Let’s get some work done.”
Montefiore Street in Tel Aviv had been under construction since we moved there three months before to save some rent money. Second floor, with an elevator the size of a walnut. We used to tell the startled clients, the ones who didn’t run away and managed to squeeze inside, it was our management level and the rest of the staff was on the ground floor.
A manila envelope was leaning against the office door. On it, in black ink: To Sammy — Personal. Inside, we found a perfectly organized and up-to-date list of details that would help in our investigation. Phone numbers of preschool employees, names, telephone numbers, and addresses of neighbors and acquaintances. It also had some photos.
Now we could finally take a look at our missing person — Daria.
In the first photo, she looked like she was still in high school. She wore pink Bermuda shorts folded above the knees, and a manly shirt of the sort girls who want to hide themselves wear. Her hair was tied back, revealing a wide forehead and brown eyes staring angrily at the camera. In another picture, she looked a little more mature, wearing a flowered dress, her hair wrapped around her head in two braids, old style, as if she were about to have tea with the Queen of England. There was another photo showing her sitting on a porch with her parents. She sat on her father’s lap, like a little child would. Eve stood next to them, eyes sparkling with pride.
Daria wasn’t especially pretty, but if you stared at her face long enough, you could find some hidden charm and grace.
“We won’t find the truth in there. Eve and Barak can’t give us the information that would light our way through the investigation darkness,” said Sammy,suddenly poetic, and slid the photos back in the envelope. “Parents never know what’s really going on with their children. You will need to get to know the missing person yourself. Find out what she likes to do with her free time, who she’s been with lately, what she eats, drinks, wears, who she sleeps with, and what people say about her. Then we’ll see.”
I examined the list of phone numbers Eve had prepared for us.
“I can’t find Daria’s cell number,” I said. “Don’t you think that’s a little strange? Do you know anyone younger than ninety-seven who doesn’t own a cell phone?”
“What are you trying to say?”
�
��That maybe Eve deliberately omitted it. That maybe it’s worth finding out why. Maybe the girl has some bizarre beliefs and attitudes about keeping things simple or a fear of radioactivity that we should know about. Talk to your Evie, ask her.”
Sammy continued looking at me while dialing Eve Magidal’s number.
“It’s true,” she said after she hung up. “Daria doesn’t have a phone number. Eve says she’s against cell phones. You were right, it’s some sort of stupid stance about radiation and environmental pollution. Daria belongs to the lunatic tribe of landline users.”
“May she live long and prosper,” I snorted with contempt.
“Just so you know, tomorrow you’ll be visiting the preschool she worked at.”
“Says who?”
“Management.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I have a note from the doctor, sweetie.”
6
In the evening, I went through the contents of the envelope Eve Magidal had left us and found out Daria’s preschool was in Upper Yokneam, which I remembered as being an incredible rathole right between the middle of nowhere and the end of the world. I called Eve to check.
“Yokneam is not the end of the world,” Eve corrected me angrily. “Do you have any idea how much history that place has? How many cultures have struck root in its soil in the past five thousand years? How many wars and conquerors it has seen?”
I wanted to pick a number from one to ten, but I kept my mouth shut, hoping the lecture would soon be over.
“It is also close to Mount Megiddo, where it is believed Armageddon will begin — the final battle between the forces of good and evil at the end of time. Yokneam is a spiritual place; it’s not a coincidence our center is located there.”
“What center?”
“The complex, the activity center, The House, that’s what we call it. I told you Daria used to sleep there sometimes. When will you be going there?”