“Yeah, yeah, I asked the same thing. Lieutenant just shrugged and said, “What, Sturgis, you mean you're not a genius?' Only thing I can think of is the Israelis figure all the teamwork scut's been done, they want to keep it low-key so some Arab terrorist won't get ideas and declare open season on other consulate kids. As to why me?” He shrugged. “Maybe they heard about the Devane solve.”

“So you're supposed to clear it quickly but quietly,” I said. “Quite a mandate.”

“It has that smell of futility, Alex. For all I know someone's setting me up for a fall. Lieutenant was sure smiling a lot.” He drummed his fingers on the box.

I picked out the second file. Page after page of transcripted interviews with family members, teachers. Lots of stiff, wordy cop prose. Lots of pain seeping through but no revelations. I put it down.

“So,” he said. “Anything else?”

“A planner, a sneak. Maybe an outdoors type. Physically strong, possibly a history of child molestation, voyeurism, exposure. Smart enough to wait and watch and to sweep up. Maybe meticulous in his personal habits. He didn't assault her, so the thrill of the chase probably did it for him. Stalking and capture.”

Picking the weak one out of the herd… I said, “If he did choose Irit, why? With all those other kids, what made her the target?”

“Good question.”

“You don't think it could be something to do with her father's position?”

“The father claims no and my feeling is if it was political the Israelis would take care of it themselves.”

“Being a diplomat's daughter,” I said, “did she have any special security training? Did her disabilities cause her to be especially gullible?”

“Gorobich said he asked the father that but the guy brushed him off, kept insisting the murder had nothing to do with Irit personally, that L.A. was a hellhole full of homicidal nuts, no one was safe.”

“And because he was a VIP, no one pushed.”