"If I told him I didn't do it, he wouldn't have paid me. So I told him I killed the woman and the baby too. He didn't like the baby being dead, but he didn't make a fuss about it."

"I don't see you taking the time to ransack her apartment, not with two dead bodies on the floor."

"It was the middle of the night, and I worked quietly. I thought she might have some jewelry worth nabbing, but none of it was worth a damn. Not a lot of cash, either."

I looked at him for a long moment. Outside, the waves kept on slapping the beach. He was breathing rapidly and his arms had started trembling. What he'd told me made no sense, and I had no doubt it was all lies.

I said, "You're just making this up on the fly, hoping I'll let you live to see morning. If I hadn't shown you the picture, you'd still be denying ever hearing of Esther. Not that it matters. You're a killer. You came to kill me, and you killed Esther and the baby. You must have great faith in your buddy Strauss, don't you? You figure he'll work his connections and get you off with a light sentence. He won't get the chance."

I slackened the belt and pulled it off his leg. The blood started pumping from his wound. I put the gun away.

He protested, pleaded with me, and reiterated his ludicrous claims in ever more desperate tones. When he saw I was unmoved, he cursed me and then began shouting for help. I crouched beside him, slapped one hand over his mouth, and held him down. He thrashed, but he was weak from blood loss. It took less than three minutes for him to bleed to death.

The casing of the bullet I'd fired had landed beside the kerosene lamp. I bent down, picked it up, and put it in my pocket. I inspected my clothes for blood and found none. I hung the lamp back on its peg and used my handkerchief to wipe the lamp, door, and door handle. I took a final look around, saw nothing amiss, darkened the lamp, and exited the shed.

There was no one outside. Music floated from the cafés and dance clubs facing the beach a few hundred meters away. I walked south along the water's edge where it was darkest for half a kilometer before cutting east across the beach and into the city streets. I tossed the casing into a sewer grate. Then I went home.

31

About eight the next morning I went to the hair salon. Mira wasn't there.

"She starts at ten," said the hairdresser on duty. "It's a slow morning."

I walked to the corner of Frishman and Sirkin, ascended the stairs, and knocked on her door. When she opened it, I was filled with a sense of accomplishment that I had completed the task she had given me.