"Why the sudden move?"

"I don't know. I asked, and he mumbled something about his wife. That made me even angrier. It's a cowardly thing to hide behind your wife. You're a man, stand by your decisions."

"But you don't remember the exact reason?"

"No. Listen, I gotta ask you, what's this about? Why do you care about what happened ten years ago?"

"It's confidential," I said, knowing that I would get no more from him. "I can't talk about it, and I'm instructing you to keep quiet about it as well. It's police business. Don't mention our talk to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, yeah. I gotta get back to work, all right?"

I considered asking him for names of colleagues of Moshe's, but decided not to. Harel would likely keep his mouth shut about our talk; anyone close to Moshe wouldn't. For the time being, I saw no upside in Moshe knowing that I was considering him as a suspect.

I handed some money to the hatchet-faced barwoman.

"For the call," I said. "Can I get a coffee?"

"Ran out of the real stuff yesterday," she said, tucking the money into a box below the bar. "Chicory coffee okay?"

It wasn't, so I ordered an orange soda. It was lukewarm and flat. Something told me this café wouldn't be in business for long.

"Thanks," I said and toted the bottle with me back to the phone. I swallowed some more soda. It did quench some of my thirst. That was something.

Taking another sip, I called Itamar Levine's law firm. The same secretary as yesterday picked up.

"He just came in," she said once we got through the introductions. "Hold on a minute."

I did and soon heard a soft male voice: "Hello, this is Levine."

"Mr. Levine, my name is Adam Lapid. I'm an investigator from Tel Aviv."

"An investigator? Police?"

"No. Private," I said. Pretending to be a policeman is a risky tactic with lawyers.

"I see. What is this about?"

His voice was soft and cautious. The voice of a man who doesn't step off the curb before checking at least twice in both directions that the road is clear.

"Esther Kantor," I said.

A sharp intake of breath. "I haven't heard that name in a long while."

But from the way he said it, I would have bet the name had cropped up in his mind not that long ago.

"You worked together at Becker & Strauss."

"Yes. But why are you asking me about Esther?"

I told him.

"What hope is there after ten years?"

"More than there was two weeks ago," I said.

"If you say so. I don't know what I can tell you. I cannot imagine who might have killed her. I certainly didn't, if you're entertaining any such notion."

"I know you didn't," I said. "I read the police report. You were away."