A Possibility of Violence by D. A. Mishani Page A

LIS until the following day, after he’d finished the investigation’s pressing tasks.
    Uzan again left his apartment at eleven and drove in the black Civic to the hospital without stopping on his way. When he got out of the automobile he was carrying the large bag with a change of clothes for his mother. He left the hospital at four, without the bag, and traveled to his home. Avraham debated whether or not to summon him for additional questioning, but there was no new information, other than the testimony of the neighbor who identified his face from the photograph and thought that he was the father of a child at the daycare. But Uzan had no children.
    He left two messages on the cell phone of the assistant, and, just as Chava Cohen said, she did not respond. Nevertheless, he decided he would summon her to give testimony at the station and not question her at the daycare in the presence of the older teacher, and this would prove to be the right decision.
    Though he seemed to be getting nowhere, he sensed that a breakthrough was near.
    For the first time since his return to work he went outside to smoke a cigarette on the steps of the station, just as he loved to do. The heat was bearable, from time to time a breeze even blew, and he thought that he ought to go shopping before Rosh Hashanah. He called Ilana from his office and she was happy to hear his voice.
    â€œYou’re in Israel for two weeks and you haven’t come by yet to say hello?”
    He told her that he returned to work and that he was handling the investigation into the fake bomb that had been placed on Lavon Street all by himself.
    Ilana was silent, and it seemed to him that there was doubt in her silence. “How’s it coming along?” she asked, and he said, “Actually that’s why I called,” and he told her about the liquor store.
    â€œI thought the bomb was placed next to a daycare.”
    â€œThat was the assumption,” he said. “But when I arrived at the scene I discovered the store, and I think we shouldn’t dismiss that possibility either.”
    Ilana agreed. She recommended that he check if other business owners in the area were being blackmailed, and he said he had done this already. No business owner in the area had submitted a complaint about blackmail, and to the best of the district’s intelligence officers’ knowledge no gang operating in the area was extorting protection money from business owners.
    He listened to the familiar voice and waited for her to mention the report that she wrote about the Ofer Sharabi investigation.
    Ilana told him that in recent months a covert investigation was being conducted on a national level, in cooperation with supervisory bodies from the Ministry of Industry, Trade, and Labor, into the practice of importing counterfeit liquors into Israel. This was a massive industry, and apparently more than one crime family was involved in it. If this turned out to be the direction, catching the individual who placed the bomb might lead investigators to whoever was running it. “It’s possible that this is really the issue,” she said. “But as far as I know, they push these counterfeit bottles onto the kiosks and the clubs, and the owners cooperate because the prices are much lower than the prices of the real brands. It’s hard for me to believe that now they’re trying to push them onto the stores, and by force. First thing, invite an investigator from the Ministry of Industry to check the store. Start there.”
    He waited until the last moment and Ilana still didn’t mention the report, but before they got off she said to him, “Avi, there’s something I have to tell you face-to-face, because I don’t want you to hear it by chance from someone else. Will you tell me when you have time to meet outside of work?”
    Marianka also sounded distant when he finally managed to speak with her, that evening.
    He told her that he