During the following weeks, Boaz and I kept exchanging procedural broadsides. Each clever move cancelled out another, which meant that we produced more heat than light. The proceedings, though, did not disrupt our friendship. During the very same period, I came over regularly to the Tamirs’ residence, usually bringing with me a bottle of wine or, as was the custom in Israel, fresh fruit for their table. Invariably, we had a pleasant time, playing after dinner a game of Monopoly, listening to music, or discussing fervently some political events or newly published books. The only subject we stayed clear off was the Omri Tal trial.
I recall one evening, when Miri prepared a sumptuous meal. Noting my apprehensive look, she smiled at me warmly: “No, Eli, I’m not being extravagant. We have just received a letter from America. My Aunt Lilly passed away a few weeks ago. She left us some 35,000 dollars!”
“That’s wonderful,” I said.
“Let’s hope Auntie Lilly’s spirit agrees with you,” observed Boaz dryly. “Still, we are now able to repay our mortgage in full!”
“But don’t you want to take a trip to Europe or America first?” I asked.
“Sooner or later we shall. We’ll start saving for it straight away. But first I want to tell our bank manager to go jump!”
A few days later the Tamirs went for a fortnight to Kibbutz Yokneam. I, in turn, proceeded to Mount Karmel, then a sparsely populated and unspoiled haven. Leaving the office and my work behind me, I went for long walks in the brisk mountain air which, even during the Mediterranean summer, retained its cool and dry touch. I returned to Tel Aviv revitalised, ready for the start of the new Judicial Session.
As I prepared myself for the hearing before Ehood Morag, I sensed that all procedural antics had been exhausted. Unfortunately, a discreet report of Joseph Almog, a well known private investigator, affirmed that, up to then, young Omri Tal had not put in an appearance in his beloved dancing club. I was raking my brain for a good excuse for a further adjournment, when I got an unexpected telephone call from Miri Tamir.
“Eli,” she said in her direct manner. “Boaz asked me to ring you about the appearance before Judge Morag next Monday.”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Not really. We are all fine, but Boaz was called up for reservist service! He had to leave yesterday!”
“Didn’t they give him some notice?”
“They said they sent him a summons, but we never got it. They probably sent it to the wrong address. When he didn’t respond, they came over to take him!”
“Just like that?” I let my annoyance show.
“Just like that; and they were rude. Still, he’s an officer: so, in the end, they had to behave themselves. But Boaz had to go; and he won’t be back for six weeks!”
“What is to be done?”
“Nobody in the office wants to take the case over. Boaz wants you to explain the position to the Judge.”
“It’s unusual, Miri. Still, Morag knows both of us well. So I’m pretty sure he’ll understand.”
“That’s what Boaz said,” she replied.
“I’ll ring you as soon as I have appeared before Morag. In the meantime, please give my best wishes to Boaz.”
Ehood Morag’s associate led me to the Judge’s Chambers as soon as I arrived but, to my surprise, did not stay put. As I was being heard in the absence of the ‘other party’ this was unusual. Noting my surprise, Morag explained the position readily.
“In view of what I have got to say, we can skip all formalities, Berger. But, first, how was your break?”
“Good, Judge. I had a pleasant time up Mount Karmel. I love it there.”
“Hopefully, your haven will not be discovered too soon by tourists,” he said with a smile. Looking at him more closely, I concluded that he, too, had had a relaxing holiday. All the same, he did not appear particularly ebullient. Indeed, I had the impression he was ill at ease.
“Boaz Tamir asked me to apologise to you for this irregularity, Judge. Regrettably, the army did not give him any warning. He was called up suddenly; and he’ll be away for six weeks.”
“I understand. The army says the safety of the homeland constitutes a first priority. In their eyes, our timetables are irrelevant. Unfortunately, Tamir’s ‘abduction’ means that I shan’t be able to hear the case.”
“Why, Sir” I said, correcting myself instantly, “I mean, Judge.”
“The Frumm Factory explosion case is coming up in five weeks and I have been asked to take it on. I expect it to last at least four months. Your case should not be in abeyance for such a span. It would have to be heard by another judge, probably Baruch Shoham. I hope Tamir and you will appear before me in another matter in the future. I like to watch my former students in action.”
Boaz Tamir, to whom I conveyed the information through Miri, expressed his unequivocal approval. “Boaz,” Miri informed me, “says he prefers Shoham’s common sense to Morag’s brilliant but often fancy analysis.”
Hannah, too, voiced her relief. “I always know where I stand with Shoham. Morag is mercurial! I know he is very clever. But I’d rather have a down to earth judge than an intellectual giant!”
A few days later Hannah told me the major case, handled by Keren and herself, had been settled. “A sudden breakthrough?” I asked.
“Not really. They could have settled on the same terms from the word go. But all involved had to exhaust themselves before they were prepared to come to the conference table in a mood to compromise!”
“And the lawyers made a handsome profit. Still, the settlement lets you off the hook earlier than expected.”
“It does. And Keren has already found a suitable replacement.”
“Who?”
“Rachel Zeitlin. She has ditched her second husband and feels Jerusalem is too small a place for the two of them!”
“So, we’ll have the honour of seeing her in Tel Aviv,” I grunted.
“And you better watch out,” Hannah confided, maternally. “Rachel is sure to look for her number three!”
“You better introduce her to Abraham Kadmon. The poor chap had a bad shock when his wife ran away with that taxi driver. A liaison with a hot shot lawyer like Rachel will boost his shaken ego.”
“I’ll do my best,” Hannah giggled. “But I have it on good authority that Rachel is looking for a nice, young and innocent bloke!”
“That leaves me out!” I asserted.
“Glad to have allayed your fears. We better turn our undivided attention to Omri Tal! I remain on the case. And, Eli, have a look at Almog’s latest report: Valentino is back on the dancing floor but restricts himself to Waltz and Tango.”
“Does this help our cause?” I asked, skimming through the document. “The chap was a virtuoso. Some social dancing is neither here nor there!”
“True! But where there’s life there’s hope. Before long, Omri will start afresh!”
“But surely,” I persevered, “there is a difference between social dancing and Omri Tal’s original aspirations to fame?”
“There is. But the orthopaedic surgeons did not rule out rehabilitation. So, perhaps, we can demand a further medical examination?”
“I’ll raise the matter in the pre-trial session. If the case is really assigned to Shoham, we’ll get an order.”
“Very likely. In the meantime, we better keep Omri Tal ‘under observation’. But, Eli, we need time!”
“I’ll see what I can do. But I’m running out of gimmicks!”
“Play it by ear, then” she suggested.
In the event, Fortuna smiled on us. Some ten days before Boaz’s discharge from reservist service, Miri called again. “Eli, Boaz asked me to tell you he needs a further extension.”
“Don’t tell me they’re keeping him for some extra time?”
“No, that’s not the reason,” her voice shook as spoke.
“What is wrong? I hope nothing happened to him.”
“He is sick, Eli. He’s got hepatitis! He is in hospital.”
“Jaundice?” I asked anxiously. “I’ve never known Boaz to be sick, Miri, except of course a cold or soar throat here and there. What happened?”
“Two of his men took him for a meal in Ramleh. You know he loves Arab food. I suspect the plates had not been properly rinsed.”
“Can I visit him?”
“He’ll be hospitalised for two weeks. You can come over when I bring him home. But you better be careful: it’s very contagious. I’m sending the kids to Yokneam. Mom will look after them until Boaz recovers.”
“Let me know how he is doing and when he is likely to be back at work? The judge may ask.”
“It’ll take him six weeks to recover and he’ll have to rest at home for another two or three weeks.”
“I’ll ask for a two months adjournment.”
Judge Shoham’s associate secured the required adjournment straight away. During the next two months, Hannah kept getting detailed reports from Joseph Almog, our P.I. He confirmed that Omri and his ‘charming Dahlia’ were attending two, occasionally three, social dancing sessions in their club each week. In later reports, Almog, who had gained Omri’s confidence, confirmed that Omri was again keeping normal working hours in his workshop. Later still, Omri had confided he was ‘fed up with the stuck up society of Tel Aviv’ and planned to move to Be’er Sheva in the Negev. In due course, Omri and Dahlia put down a deposit on a three-bedroom house in a fashionable suburb of their chosen town. They planned to get married as soon as they moved down South. Almog had been invited to attend their engagement party.
“So you see, Eli,” Hannah smirked with satisfaction. “Young Valentino’s positive outlook on life is standing him in good stead. I bet that as soon as Mr. & Mrs. Tal settle in Be’er Sheva, they’ll start a dancing club!”
Boaz took longer than anticipated to recover. Like most vigorous and self assured men, he was a difficult patient, given to petulant outbursts followed by spells of remorse, melancholy and depression. Their effect on Miri was devastating. Occasionally, I felt more concerned for her than for the invalid she was painstakingly nursing back to health.
In an attempt to alleviate their burden, I came over to their place as often as work permitted. Because alcohol and fruit had been proscribed by the doctor, I brought Boaz books, magazines and, from time to time, reports of new legal decisions. Boaz was a voracious reader and, over the seven weeks he remained bedridden, got immersed in some philosophic tracts as well as in modern novels.
Reading, though, did not keep Boaz fully occupied. Every now and then he rang up his secretary to get the latest office news and, whenever I turned up, cross-examined me on what was going on in our small and closely knit legal fraternity. After a while it dawned on me that I was not his only source of information. One evening, for instance, he asked whether Hannah had already taken up her new post at Rotem.
“She has. We gave her a splendid farewell party. Keren used the occasion to deliver a moving speech!”
“Praising Hannah’s performance?”
“That too. But his main theme was the virtue of steady work and perseverance.”
“Was Keren by any chance trying to impress Rachel Zeitlin? I’m told she has taken over from Hannah!”
“You do keep your ear to the ground.”
“I am allowed to tap the grapevine – even although drinking is prohibited for the time being. And, Eli, I hope you’ll come to like Rachel. She’s exciting and – let me tell you – a nice girl!”
“Nice? How about her two divorces?”
“I’m not suggesting she’s suitable for a lasting relationship. She is self-centred and can be quite a handful. But an evening with her is fun!”
“I’ll convey the information to Abraham Kadmon. We are making a concentrated effort to bring the two lost souls together!”
“Don’t be silly. Kadmon is too old for her. And he is a non-entity. Rachel will have a fit if he dares to ask her out.”
“So why do you wish her Ladyship on poor me?”
“Because you, Eli, must not go on pining for the girl who said ‘no’ to you ages ago!”
“I’ll look around when pressure eases at work!”
“Balderdash. You use every spare moment to dash over to the Philosophic Society. You better take stock of the situation or you’ll end up a confirmed bachelor with beautiful dreams behind you!”