"Oh, sure. She was very nice. Whenever she saw me, she'd ask how I was doing, how was school, things like that. I remember one time I was playing in the street with some friends and Esther walked by. She called out to me and smiled and waved. My friends were full of questions: Who was she? Where did I know her from? How old was she? I felt so proud knowing this beautiful woman." He gave his father a sheepish smile and added by way of explanation, "I was a boy then."

"Did you ever see her with any men?"

"No," Haim said.

"No one you remember hanging around the building?"

No, again.

"Do you remember Alon Davidson?"

"Sure. One time he taught me how to tie a special knot, like they use on boats. For a time, I wanted to be a fisherman when I grew up. First time I stepped on a boat, I got so seasick I thought I might die. That was the end of my sailing dreams."

"Ever see him with Esther when his wife wasn't around?"

He shook his head. I turned to his father, who I could see was frowning at me from his end of the sofa. "How about you?"

"Don't recall seeing them together," the elder Sassoon said stiffly. He obviously did not approve of the implication of my question. "Why are you asking this?"

"Just something I'm trying to clear up," I said, quickly turning back to Haim and changing the subject. "Think back to the day of the murders. Did you see anyone lurking around, someone who didn't belong?"

Haim took a sip of coffee. "I don't remember anyone. I'm sorry." He looked disappointed with himself that he was giving me so little.

"No need to apologize. What about that night, did you hear anything?"

"Just the baby crying."

"What time was this?" I asked, sitting up straight. Nowhere in the police report had this been mentioned.

"I don't know. I didn't check my watch. I just remember waking up and hearing a baby crying. It wasn't unusual. I'm not even sure I told the detective about it at the time. There were two babies in the building: the Davidson kid and Erich Kantor. Babies cry."

"But you remember it still, so something must have been different."

Haim gave a cautious nod. "If it hadn't been on that particular night, I'd probably not remember it at all, but I remember the crying sounded very loud, louder than it usually did. Then it gradually grew softer, and then it died down completely." He paused. His eyes became huge brown orbs. "Died down—you think that what I heard was the baby being killed?"