Harel snorted. "Hardly. In the back of his truck, most likely. It's what most drivers do if they don't have family who can put them up for the night. It's not as bad as one might think; I've done it a few times myself over the years."

He sounded right proud of it, as if it proved that he was a down-to-earth sort, one who could do with little and not complain about it. Not that I believed he knew the first thing about how little people could get by on. After all, he had been in Israel since at least 1939, not in Europe.

Not that it mattered. What did matter was that Moshe Klinger was often away from home at night. Could he have been away the night of the murders? Moshe had no motive that I could see, but he had evaded telling me that he and his family had moved from Haifa to Netanya shortly after the murders. And I suspected his wife had not told me the whole truth about the reason they had stopped housing immigrants after Esther and Willie.

"You keep a list of drivers and routes?" I asked.

"Sure. I have to know I got everything covered."

"Do you still have Klinger's work schedule?"

I could almost hear Harel's eyebrows crank up. "After ten years? Are you kidding?"

No, just hopeful. So there was no way of knowing whether Klinger was away from home that night. I was ten years too late. Again.

I kneaded the back of my neck. The wound behind my ear throbbed. "Were you satisfied with his work?"

"Yeah. He did his job fine. Truth is, there's not much to excel at. It's a simple job: you take stuff from one place and drop it off at another. As long as you're on time and nothing turns up missing, I'm happy."

"What kind of man is he?"

"What kind?" Harel sounded bewildered. "I don't know. A regular kind. We weren't close or anything. Like I said, he did his job. That's all I cared about."

"No problems with other employees or customers?"

"What kind of problems?"

"Anything. He ever get angry or physical with anyone?"

"No, nothing like that." He had said this slowly, suspicion creeping into his voice. I had asked a question that seemed out of place—if indeed I was not interested in Moshe Klinger as a suspect of a crime.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"His last day of work here. He moved to Netanya and now works for our outfit there."

"What made him leave Haifa, do you know?"

"No," Harel said. "Now that you mention it, that was the only time I was angry with him."

"Why?"

"Because he hardly gave me any notice. Look, I run things in an orderly manner here. I plan things in advance. Klinger just came into my office one day and told me he was moving to Netanya in a week's time. Just a week. I had to scramble to find a replacement driver. Lucky for him I didn't make any noise about it, or he would have been out of a job, you can believe that."