"That lecherous son of a bitch," Levine said, anger and hatred dripping from every word.

I finished my soda and set the empty bottle on the floor.

"Were Leah and Esther as close as Leah says?"

"They looked friendly enough," Levine said. "But were they close friends? That I cannot say. The only person Leah seemed truly close to was Mr. Strauss."

"Wouldn't she be upset or jealous seeing him set his sights on Esther?"

"It's logical. But maybe she was blind to it, like Strauss's wife was blind to all his philandering."

I wedged the receiver between my jaw and shoulder and lit a cigarette. It wiped away the overripe aftertaste the soda had left in my mouth.

I said, "A few days before she died, Esther told a friend she had some trouble at work. Any idea what it was?"

"No," Levine said. "I don't. Whatever it was, it must have happened while I was in Egypt."

"Strauss told me that Esther was upset because when she'd asked him for a raise, he'd refused. But given that he'd bought her an expensive necklace, it doesn't seem logical he would refuse her a raise, does it?"

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Why would he lie about something like that?"

"I don't know, Adam. The man is not above lying, that I can tell you."

"Is he also capable of killing?"

Levine was silent for a long, hollow moment. At last he said, "I don't know. He's ruthless in business, but that's not quite the same thing, is it?"

"No," I admitted, watching cigarette smoke undulate before my eyes.

"And I just can't picture him killing a baby. I hate him. I despise him. I fear him. But I can't see him doing that."

That was the thing, wasn't it? So far, none of the people I'd encountered were the sort who would kill a baby. But then again, would you recognize such a person? Would you see their depraved nature on their face? A madness like that was coiled deep inside the dark recesses of the soul, where no one could see it. It only emerged when opportunity allowed it to, or, as in Auschwitz, when the reins of civilization were loosened and madmen were given license to satisfy their maniacal urges.

"Do you think Strauss did it?" Levine asked.

"He had an alibi. His wife told the police he was with her that night."

"You think she was lying?"

"Wives have been known to do that. But it's too late to find out."

"I know. But what would be his motive?"

"I don't know," I said, staring at the burning tip of my cigarette. Strauss's smug face hovered before my face. I stabbed at it with the cigarette, and it vanished.