The Hit (Police Inspector Hadas Levinger, An Israeli Mystery Series Book 2) by Michal Hartstein

Author:Michal Hartstein [Hartstein, Michal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Sunday, June 26, 2011

"Am I allowed to know where you are?" my mother barked into my ear.

"At home." I played dumb. I knew very well what she was driving at. "That is, I’m already on my way out… in a couple of minutes."

"Where were you all Saturday?"

"Asleep."

"You slept for twenty-four hours non-stop?"

"No -" I tried to answer, but she had already pressed on.

"And even if you did, when you finally got up, didn’t see you all the messages I sent you? And the missed calls? Didn’t you think it was worthwhile contacting your poor mother, who might be worried about you?"

In fact, I had not looked at my cell phone at all. "It’s now barely seven a.m., Mom. I was thinking of calling you later," I lied.

"Let’s say I believe you," she sighed. "The important thing is that all’s well with you."

"Yes, all’s well with me," I answered, and felt eleven years old again.

"Then can you explain to me why we didn’t see you on Friday for dinner, or on Saturday for lunch, and why you couldn’t call when Shabbat was over?"

"I told you I wasn't sure I could come because I was in the middle of an ongoing investigation and I might have to work over the weekend. And that’s exactly what happened. I worked Friday straight through Saturday morning. When I came home, I was so tired I fell asleep until just now. I woke up about an hour-and-a-half ago, showered, ate, walked Tsumi, and now I intend to go to work."

"Anyone would think you’re the only policewoman in the Israel Police force."

"Believe me, I’m not the only one working like that." It was partially true. There were other cops, like Shachar, who were hooked, like me, but there were quite a few cops who had rightfully earned the police their bad reputation. Simple investigations dragged along because of laziness and lack of motivation. There was an excessive use of bureaucracy to create the false impression of hard work. Rather than investigate and examine the facts, cops utilized excessive and unnecessary authoritarianism. Alon had somehow managed to find people like Shachar and me, who loved their profession, and, indeed, wanted to be cops. We did not care which one of us was working more shifts or fewer shifts, and we didn’t bother analyzing our pay slips. We regarded our work as our calling.

"Well, my sweet, you know I’m very proud of you. I’m simply worried. You don’t work at a regular job -"

"And I also don’t have a regular mother," I added and she laughed.

"All mothers are like me," she continued to laugh. "If you were a mother, you’d know what I’m talking about."

I knew she no longer said it as a reproach, so I did not bother to answer, particularly because, in my line of work, I had encountered more than one mother who did not live up to the standards set up by my mother.

I arrived at the police station. The atmosphere was relatively sleepy. The week had just started.

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