Haim shook his head, his expression close to despair.

"It's all right," I said, warding off the pointless apology or excuse that I could see coming. "You couldn't have known what was happening." I smiled a reassuring smile, but I was cursing inside. If Haim could have told me at what time he'd heard a baby crying, I might have known the exact hour the murders took place. All I had now was the frustrating sense of being close to a crucial piece of information, only to see it slip from my grasp.

"You did good," I told him, feeding him the lie that would make him feel better. "You helped."

"Yeah?" He smiled, relieved.

"Yeah."

I started to get up, extending my hand to him, when I caught a contemplative look on his face.

"What?" I said.

"It's funny, but a memory just popped into my head. I'm not sure how useful you’ll find it."

I sat back down, elbows on thighs, hands clasped together between my knees. "Let me hear what it is and I'll decide."

"It was a few days before the murders," Haim said. "I can't say for sure how many. Two, maybe four or five, no more than that. I was walking down Rothschild Boulevard and I saw Esther sitting on a bench. She was talking with a woman—more accurately, the woman was doing most of the talking. She was angry. She wasn't shouting, but I could tell by her gestures."

"Angry with Esther?"

"Yes. I think so. I couldn't hear what she was saying."

"Did you tell Sergeant Rivlin about this?"

"No," he said sheepishly.

"Why not?"

Haim shrugged helplessly. "I didn't think it was important. He only asked me about men whom I might have seen with Esther." Then he added by way of an excuse, "I was a boy."

There it was again, I thought, Rivlin's assumption that the killer had to be male. And my assumption as well, I hated to admit.

"It's all right," I said. "Was this woman familiar?"

"No."

"You never saw her before?"

"I don't think so."

"How did she look?"

Haim tried to recall her image, but soon gave up. "I don't remember."

"Think," I said. "Take as long as you need. Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Try to reach the memory. I'll help you."

Haim shut his eyes, and I started walking him through what he remembered of that day: what the weather was like, how he was feeling, what time of day it was, the clothes Esther was wearing. It was a technique I had learned as a policeman, whereby getting a witness to recall some details connected to a scene made it easier for him to recall even more details—including those you most wanted him to remember.