I drummed on my thigh with two fingers, wondering what to say next. I wanted to ask more about Mira and Esther's relationship, but couldn't think of a way of doing so without it seeming odd.

I cast my eyes over my hosts. Moshe reclined with his legs wide apart, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. Yael sat close to the edge of the seat, knees pressed together, hands folded in her lap. There was some tension in her body, I noticed, while her husband appeared completely relaxed. Perhaps it was as he'd said, that his wife was closer to Esther and Willie than he was. By what she told me, that was indeed the case. Maybe she simply cared more than he did whether their killer was brought to justice.

I hated to admit it, but it seemed that my trip to Netanya had been a wasted one. I could think of nothing more to ask either of the Klingers. Wait a minute, that wasn't entirely accurate. I did have one more thing I wanted to know.

"Why did you stop sheltering immigrants after Esther and Willie left?"

I hadn't meant anything by the question, but apparently it had touched a sore spot. Husband and wife blinked in unison. They exchanged weighty glances. Moshe lowered the arm he had draped over the sofa's back. He no longer looked relaxed.

"Who told you that?" he asked.

"Michael Shamir."

Moshe grimaced, and I had a good idea why. Like Mira, he idealized Michael Shamir, and he hated the fact that his idol was aware that not only had he refrained from fighting the British, but that he had also closed his door to needy Jewish immigrants.

"I still gave money to the Irgun," he offered lamely.

"That's not quite the same thing, is it?"

He didn't like that one bit. He sat forward, eyes flaring, and pointed a finger at me.

"I did plenty, all right? Plenty. More than most people. Probably more than you. Were you part of the resistance? What did you do to get the British out?"

"Nothing," I said, "but I did fight in the War of Independence and took two bullets in the process. Where did you fight during the war?"

Moshe's face was red. He almost spat out his words at me. "What are you implying, that I was a coward? That I was not committed? Damn you, is that what you're saying?"