Murder in Jerusalem Read Free Page B

around at night singing her songs. Her father marries her off to some intellectual, a researcher, who brings her to Jerusalem, and in Jerusalem she wanders the rooftops and sings, that’s all I know.”
    â€œMy sister’s daughter…,” Avi began, pulling the electrical cord from the wall and stepping to the side to make room for Max to pass.
    â€œShine the light over here,” Max urged him. “What’s wrong, you afraid of using up the battery?”
    Avi shone the light down the hallway ahead of them as he continued talking. “My sister’s daughter had moonsickness, the sleepwalking disease,” he announced to Max’s back as he walked quickly behind him, trying to keep up. “She’d wander around at night, and once I woke up and found her standing next to my bed. God, was that scary! I was still a kid myself, I didn’t know what moonsickness was, but I sure knew what it was to be scared!”
    Now he was shining the light on the scenery flats and the pillars. “Hey, come here, there’s someone…,” Avi whispered. “Look, over in the corner next to the pillar, someone’s there.”
    Max, too, saw the white boot, and then the whole leg in dark pants. Only when they drew near and stood next to the pillar did he bend down for a closer look. Avi shone the light on the face, and a muffled scream escaped his mouth. In a swift movement he turned his head and the sun gun wobbled in his hand, shining in the far corners, on the ceiling, and then it fell to the floor, landing next to the wall and shining on a dark puddle.
    â€œIt’s Tirzah. Tirzah,” Max Levin whispered. “What’s wrong, Tirzah?” he asked hoarsely, crouching to touch her arm. “It’s Tirzah,” he said, stunned. He raised his head and looked to his hand. “There’s blood, a lot of blood. Her face…look at her face…”
    Avi did not respond.
    â€œListen,” Max called out, choking on his words, “I think something fell on her…the pillar…call an ambulance, she doesn’t have a pulse, call an ambulance, quick.”
    Avi did not respond. He coughed and coughed, then Max heard him retching. There was blood all around them. Again Max heard Avi vomiting, and with a very cold hand he felt for the cell phone clipped to his belt, and dialed.
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    At that very moment it started raining harder, a heavy downpour that pounded at the windows of the building. But neither the rain nor the pellets of hail that were beating the thin walls made a difference to anyone, not even to Shimshon Zadik—head of Israel Television—who arrived after the police, nodding at Max Levin, who was waiting for him at the entrance as if he had not noticed the rain at all. Dripping water, Zadik stood for a moment in front of the entrance to the String Building and looked suspiciously into the brightly lit hallway. “There was a terrible accident on the way here, just outside of Mevasseret Zion,” he said. “You can’t imagine…. There’s still a two-hour backup, I made a detour…. It was terrible…two kids…destroyed the car, totaled it, they had to cut the car open with a saw to pull them out, I saw the whole thing with my own eyes…” His face, wet with rain, glowed in the blue light from atop the police van, while the headlights of the ambulance lit up the puddles on the asphalt parking lot. Water flowed from his leather jacket and from his close-cropped hair and from the collar of his shirt, and every step he took down the long hallway lit by spotlights belonging to the team from forensics left a wet footprint in its wake. (“Hold on, hold on a minute,” the guard shouted as he ran after Zadik. “I need your ID!” he had yelled when Zadik first stepped out of the car until Max Levin, who was smoking a cigarette at the entrance to the building, grabbed hold of his arm and said