Gold pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“I’m very sorry about your loss,” Marge said. “Who broke the news to you? Orit?”

“Yoni, I think.”

“Husband,” Marge whispered to Decker.

“Maybe it was Orit…”

Gold rubbed his forehead, then positioned himself on the couch opposite Decker and Marge. “I don’t know who’d do such terrible thing.”

Marge said, “No idea?”

“No.”

Decker said, “You know we’re going to have to question you.”

Gold looked up, then down. Burying his head in his hands, he broke into deep, dry sobs. It took him a minute to calm himself. He said, “I’m sorry. You want something to drink?”

Marge said, “No, thank you.”

“Do you mind if I get something to drink?”

Decker said, “Would you mind if I unloaded your weapon?”

Gold picked up his glass, then put it back down. “You don’t trust me?” He waved him off. “I was in the army—tzalaf—how you say…the one with binocular…scope…who shoots.”

“Sniper?” Decker said.

“Yes, sniper.” He pointed to Decker. “With scope, I shoot a nail from five kilometers away. I was in four wars—’56, ’67, ’73, and ’81. I did three years in ’56, three in ’67. In ’67 war, I was in Golan Heights. The Syrians shooting down on us, picking us off like video game. We send up fourteen tanks, one comes back. I say maspeek! Enough! I crawl on my hands and knees to top of mountains. I climb up tree. Next thing bastards know, I pick them off.”

He sighted down on an imaginary scope and pulled a finger trigger.

“Pop…pop…pop.” He blew on his finger. “Anyone fucks on me, I can take care of myself.”

Decker said, “Can I unload your gun?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Sure. Take the clip out. I don’t care.”

Decker did just that, laid them both on the coffee table. “Was Arik also a sniper in the army?”

“Arik was in tanks. Dalia did office work.” A slight smile formed on Gold’s lips. “She did filing papers. Nothing important. But she was proud to be in uniform.” His lower lip trembled. “So Arik and Dalia come to America for the good life.” Gold slapped his hands together. “Pow, it’s over. What a bastard God is!”

Marge said, “And you have no idea who would do this to Arik and Dalia?”

“No idea.” Gold swayed as he sat, then homed in on Marge. He pointed to her. “If you lived in Israel, you know you would be in army. They take women in Israeli army. Not like in America.”

Marge nodded.

“I bet you’d make a good soldier.” Gold made a muscle. “You look strong.”

Marge smiled.

Decker said, “You want to tell me what you were doing around two-thirty Friday afternoon?”

“I already tell you, I was at my office, seeing client.”

“You didn’t give me his or her name.”