Pretending to be illiterate only took more of Batya’s time. She put out a hand to the prosecutor. “I can read it myself.”

“You can?” Sergio blurted out, then, as if regretting his outburst, leaned back in his chair.

“Before your arrival I’ve already prepared for you clothes made of silk.” Batya raised her head and looked at Señor Ramos’s bushy white eyebrows. “It’s from a husband who plans to bring his wife from the old country to work here for him.”

“As a prostitute?”

“What else?”

“Why was the letter in Moskowitz’s possession if it was between a husband and his wife?”

Batya pointed at the letter’s heading. “It has no woman’s name,” she said. “Zwi Migdal sets the husband up in business by loaning him money to buy a girl at an auction, then it helps the husband bring the wife over to work so she can help her husband pay his debt.”

“Please let’s be clear: Zwi Migdal writes these letters for a husband to send to his wife? Does he know that she will have to prostitute herself here?”

“Of course. That’s his new plan.”

“Allow me to explain,” Sergio said to Señor Ramos. “A man leaves the old country with the intention of finding honest work, to earn money and send for his family. He discovers that he can’t pluck gold fruits off trees, and without Spanish or work skills he’s unable to earn a living. Zwi Migdal convinces him that in the New World pimping is a form of good business—and that he is already blessed with a potential income in the form of a wife waiting to be brought over.” He paused. “The divorce rate in such cases is high, and our community tries to help these wives when they arrive and learn the truth.”

And then what do these divorced women do? How do they feed their children? Too exhausted, Batya kept her mouth shut. Cooperating in this investigation for months, she was helping neither her family nor herself, only assuming an enormous risk.

Back in the house, Glikel interrogated Batya about her outing. “Such a handsome man must be cutting Moskowitz off from his earnings.” Laughing, she made crude remarks about Sergio’s anatomy.

“You’re just jealous.” Batya turned her back to her. Just the week before, exiting the dance hall with Sergio, she thought she’d caught Glikel’s silhouette next to a vendor’s cart. It turned out to be a woman selling vegetables. But that night in Batya’s dream, men stuck pins under her nails and burned her with cigarettes. Then one man waved a sword and stuck it in her belly. Batya woke with a start and sat up, her heart pounding.