Dear Uncle, his face knotted with rage, shouted, “Layli, Layli, come here!”
Layli’s appearance, like the warm sun on a chilly autumn day, warmed my whole being. It seemed as though a whole lifetime had passed since I’d last seen her. Finally her black eyes returned my eager gaze. But I didn’t have much chance to savor and enjoy her presence. The detective’s shouting interrupted my rapt feelings of love. “Mr. Asadollah Mirza, don’t be too pleased with yourself, I haven’t forgotten my question! Who cut, and what was cut?”
“Moment, officer! Am I the keeper of Dustali Khan’s members? Why are you asking me? Ask his wife!”
“It happens I wish to ask you! Answer. Quick, now, immediately!”
I think that under cover of the confusion that reigned after Qamar had bitten the detective’s finger, either Dear Uncle or Shamsali Mirza had got it through to Asadollah Mirza that he was to say nothing about Aziz al-Saltaneh’s attempt on Dustali Khan, because he nonchalantly answered, “Well, I don’t actually know anything!”
“Strange! You don’t know? First you knew that you didn’t know that you’d said you know, or you didn’t know that you know? Well? Answer! Quick, now, immediately! You don’t know anything! Murder, concealing the corpse, insulting a representative of the state while . . .”
Asadollah Mirza took up the list, “ . . . executing his duty . . . hindering a legal investigation . . .”
The detective cut him off in a threatening tone, “Mocking and deriding a representative of the state while executing his duty . . .”
“Moment, moment, now don’t you one-two-three with a list with me! The truth is that . . .”
“The truth is . . . ? Well? Eh? Answer, quick, now immediately!”
“Well, quick, now, immediately, the truth is that since Dustali Khan had not been circumcised, his wife decided to circumcise him!”
“Strange, very strange! And how old was the late Dustali Khan?”
“The late Dustali Khan was about . . .”
“Aha! So you confess that he is now the late Dustali Khan . . . another confession! Speak! Answer, quick, now, immediately, how old was he?”
“Moment, officer, I wasn’t keeping a record . . . from his face he was about sixty.”
Aziz al-Saltaneh lost all self-control. “Sixty yourself . . . shame on you. Sir, Dustali Khan, the poor thing, was fifty.”
Taking no notice of what Aziz al-Saltaneh was saying, the detective went on with his interrogation of Asadollah Mirza. “Well, you were saying . . . quick, now, immediately, answer! They’d brought a barber to circumcise Dustali Khan . . . what was the barber’s name? Quick, now, immediately answer!”
“The barber’s name was . . . Aziz al-Saltaneh!”
Aziz al-Saltaneh opened her mouth to scream but the detective didn’t give her permission. “You, madam, silence! You said the barber’s name was what? Now, immediately, quick! No, don’t you answer. You, Mr. Mash Qasem . . . tell me! Quick, now, immediately! Where is the barber Aziz al-Saltaneh?”
Mash Qasem bowed his head and said, “Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . Mrs. Aziz al-Saltaneh’s this lady who’s present here.”
“Aha! Very strange! The matter is becoming very intéresstant.”
Asadollah Mirza interrupted, “He means intéressant, of course!”
“You, silence! It’s not necessary for you to give me lessons. I know Russian and Istanbuli Turkish like the back of my hand!”
Then once again he leaned over Asadollah Mirza’s chair. “Then, in your opinion, it was the lady herself? Silence! You’re making fun of me? They want to circumcise a man of fifty or sixty years old. And his wife with a barber’s circumcising knife . . .”
Mash Qasem interrupted, “Sir, it wasn’t with a circumcising knife. The lady was . . .”
“Silence! . . . If it wasn’t with a knife, what was it with? Answer quick, now, immediately answer!”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . It was with a kitchen knife . . . one of them pointed knives they cut meat with.”
Deputy Taymur said with a mocking laugh, “The matter’s becoming even more intéresstant. They want to circumcise a man of sixty. His wife circumcises him, and she does it with a kitchen knife . . .”
Asadollah Mirza jumped into the conversation, “You should be aware that they’re very thrifty people. So that they wouldn’t have to pay the barber, his wife agreed to put herself out and . . . besides, his wife’s an expert at this work, she circumcised her late first husband too, and to be fair, she made a very nice neat cut. Once I was in the public baths and I . . .”
Aziz al-Saltaneh attacked Asadollah Mirza with such fury that, if the detective hadn’t prevented her, she would have pounded the poor gentleman into pieces with her blows and kicks. Deputy Taymur screamed, “Silence! Go and sit in your chair, madam! Immediately, quick, at the double!”
And he turned to Asadollah Mirza. “Continue, sir! The matter has become extraordinarily intéresstant.”
Asadollah Mirza was a little taken aback. He looked from side to side searching for help but Dear Uncle and Shamsali Mirza, though they were trembling with rage and discomfort, were staring down at the floor. He had no choice but to continue, “But what I mean to say is this . . . that the lady wasn’t able to carry out the task. Because before she could cut his little flower the kid had run away . . .”
Deputy Taymur, who was pacing around the room, suddenly—like a teacher who wants to surprise a naughty, daydreaming child—stopped in front of Mash Qasem, who was standing at one side of the room, and shouted, “You, tell me! Why did he run away? Why did the late Dustali Khan run away? Quick, now, immediately! Silence!”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave . . .”
“Silence! Speak, quick! Why did he run away?”
Asadollah Mirza answered instead of Mash Qasem, “Moment, moment, if it had been you and a woman like her had wanted to cut your flower with a kitchen knife, wouldn’t you have run away?”
Deputy Taymur turned round and gave Asadollah Mirza a furious look. “Who gave you permission to speak? Well, so let’s hear you speak . . . you who clearly have a great deal of information about the matter in hand, tell me just why the lady wanted to circumcise the late Dustali Khan at his time of life?”
“Well, for that you’d better ask the lady herself . . .”
“Silence! It has occurred to me to ask the lady . . . I’m asking you. Why did she want to circumcise him? Answer, quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
“You’ll have to excuse me on this one . . . I suppose there was some problem with the traffic on the road to San Francisco.”
Deputy Taymur suddenly leapt from the middle of the room toward Asadollah Mirza and shouted, “Aha . . . so there’s a secret in San Francisco, too ! Well . . . well . . . San . . . Fran . . . cisco! Answer, quickly! What happened in San Francisco? Quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
Dear Uncle Napoleon, who was close to exploding with rage, jumped up from his chair and shouted, “That’s enough! Officer, let the children go out. It’s shameful, I cannot allow that in the presence of children . . .”
Deputy Taymur screamed, “Silence! Silence!”
And he narrowed his eyes, staring at Dear Uncle’s sunglasses; weighing each word, he said, “Now that you see that with my scientific system of attack I have got hold of the important thread that will lead me forward, you’re being insolent? How is it at all clear that you are not an accomplice to this crime?”
Shamsali Mirza took Dear Uncle by the arm. “Sit down, sir . . . let this charade, this circus, finish by itself, then I know, and this gentleman . . .”
Deputy Taymur, who had been moving toward Asadollah Mirza, suddenly stopped and drew himself up to his full height and, without turni
ng round, once again spelled out the desperate situation of everyone present, “Murder . . . concealing the corpse . . . insulting a representative of the state while executing his duty . . . disturbing the course of a legal investigation . . . wounding a representative of the state . . . and finally threatening a representative of the law!”
Raising his hands, Asadollah Mirza tried to act as go-between, “Moment, moment, you must excuse us, officer, my brother’s a little angry . . .”
Deputy Taymur went for him. “Fine, and so you who are not angry, tell me the secret of San Francisco! Quick, now, immediately, at the double! My sixth sense tells me that the key to this complicated criminal enigma lies in this very San Francisco! Answer!”
“It so happens that’s exactly right. But would you allow me to whisper in your ear?”
“Silence! In the ear is forbidden!”
Asadollah Mirza was having great difficulty holding back his laughter; scratching the back of his head, he said, “Well now, how can I put it . . . San Francisco’s a city . . . a big city that . . .”
“Silence, please do not give me a geography lesson. San Francisco is a big city in Europe. This I know for myself . . . then what? Answer!”
“Moment, whether San Francisco’s in Europe or in America, it’s a port . . . since Dustali’s ship couldn’t dock in this port . . . now the ship being wrecked, the port sadly dilapidated . . .”
Suddenly Aziz al-Saltaneh’s yells and screams interrupted Asadollah, “Shut up, you rotten brat! I’ll smack you in the face so that your teeth rattle down your throat!”
And she pretended to burst into tears.
Deputy Taymur went over to her and said, “Madam, I understand your pain and suffering, but be patient . . . the murderer cannot escape from my clutches!”
“Oh sir, how can I ever thank you enough . . . but I . . . I . . . I’ve an intuition. I’m certain that the murderer of my poor husband is this brat. It’s an old story, ever since he had eyes for me, he could never bear to see my husband.”
Asadollah Mirza jumped up from his chair. “Moment, now really moment . . . who are you talking about? I had eyes for you?”
“It’s obvious you did . . . with those cheeky come-to-bed eyes of yours staring at me, just say you didn’t!”
“My God, may your kitchen knife that you wanted to cut off Dustali Khan’s noble member with gouge out both my eyes!”
“I spit on your shameless face . . . when my first late husband was alive you used to flirt with me; that time when he was praying, didn’t you kiss me in the hallway?”
“My God, may my lips get stuck to a scalding samovar!”
Aziz al-Saltaneh made a lunge for Asadollah Mirza but Deputy Taymur and Dear Uncle Napoleon rushed between them. In a moment there was a general confused noise of arguing voices, but Aziz al-Saltaneh’s voice drowned out everyone else’s, “Officer, sir . . . this is the man who killed my husband . . . I’m positive of it . . . I’ve proof, I’ve information that this rotten brat, even though he doesn’t look the part, is a dangerous murderer. He’s a pitiless killer . . . and I’ve information as to where they’ve buried my husband’s body . . .”
Deputy Taymur’s shouting silenced everyone, “Silence!”
Then the deputy brought his huge face close to Aziz al-Saltaneh’s face and said in a quiet voice, “Madam, this is a sensitive moment! You said you know where the murderer has hidden the corpse?”
“Yes, I do, I know.”
“Then why didn’t you say so before?”
“So that you could catch the murderer first . . . so that this killer wouldn’t get away from you!”
“Silence! Where is the corpse? Answer! Quick, now, at the double!”
“They’ve buried it in the garden.”
Dear Uncle Napoleon yelled, “Madam, this is shameful, what kind of rubbish are you talking?”
“You, silence! Let us go to the garden!”
Deputy Taymur patted Asadollah Mirza’s pockets with his hands to be sure he had no weapons. “You are under arrest! You have no right to make any move without my permission! Silence!”
Aziz al-Saltaneh went ahead, with everyone else following her, to the large, beautiful sweetbrier bush in the garden, which more than anything else, and perhaps more than any member of his family, was Dear Uncle Napoleon’s chief pride and joy.
With a little care I could make out my father’s profile among the branches of the boxtree; with a wicked smile he was listening avidly to the events he’d been waiting for. But I had got hold of Layli’s hand and was standing a little apart from everyone else, and in this state nothing else mattered to me.
Aziz al-Saltaneh stamped on the ground and said, “They’ve buried Dustali underneath this sweetbrier.”
In a calm voice Deputy Taymur said to Mash Qasem, “A spade and a pickax.”
Thunderstruck and appalled, Mash Qasem looked at Dear Uncle. Dear Uncle Napoleon, who was foaming at the mouth with rage, grabbed hold of the detective’s collar and yelled, “What do you want to do? You want to dig at the foot of my sweetbrier?”
Deputy Taymur calmly removed his collar from Dear Uncle’s grasp and shouted, “Silence! It is exactly as I said . . . it’s not possible to have a quicker confession . . . a spade and a pickax! Quick, now, immediately, at the double! It’s clear that the ground here has recently been dug!”
Trembling with rage, Dear Uncle screamed, “If you touch the roots of this sweetbrier, I’ll knock your brains out with the pickax!”
“Well, well! Well, well! Wonders will never cease! Murder . . . concealing the corpse . . . hindering a legal investigation . . . insulting and wounding a representative of the state during the execution of his duties . . . and now starting on the crime of murdering a representative of the law . . . silence! From now on you also are under arrest! Silence!”
Deputy Taymur had struck an extraordinary fear into the hearts of those present. Shamsali Mirza, who had gone pale with anger, took Dear Uncle’s arm and sat him down on the stone bench. In the midst of this silence the deputy stood in front of Mash Qasem and shouted, “Silence! What’s happened to the pickax?”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . My master has to give me orders to bring the pickax . . .”
The deputy’s scream went up to the heavens, “What? My orders are not sufficient? Murder . . . concealing the corpse . . . disobeying the orders of a representative . . .”
His words were cut short by the sound of hammering at the garden door. The deputy jumped and placed a finger on his lips, “Silence! Everyone, silence! It is forbidden to breathe! Open the door very gently . . . if you make the smallest sign, God help you!”
And then he went on tiptoe after Mash Qasem up to the main door to the garden. He hid himself to one side of it, and as it opened the deputy was about to fling himself on the newcomer. But as soon as he saw him he stopped in midstride, “You idiot . . . you utter cretin, where have you been till now?”
The newcomer, who was wearing old civilian clothes, clicked his heels together and, instead of saying hello, snapped his hand up to the rim of his hat and said, “At your service, sir!”
Deputy Taymur whispered in the newcomer’s ear for a few moments and then walked with him toward the group of people there, and while everyone waited in absolute silence, with their eyes fixed on his lips, he shouted, “Silence! The orders of my assistant, Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, have the same force as my own orders!”
Mash Qasem went toward the newcomer excitedly, “Are you from Ghiasabad? Which one? The one near Qom?”
“Yes; so what?”
“Well, am I glad to see you . . . I’m glad to see anyone from Qom. I’m from Ghiasabad near Qom, too . . . how are you, then? Good, I hope. You’re not sick, are you? You’re keepin’ well, are you? Where in Ghiasabad?”<
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His voice shaking with anger, Deputy Taymur interrupted him with a yell, “Silence! Instead of this chatter, bring a pickax for your fellow townsman!”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . our pickax is broken, we’ve given it to be mended.”
Deputy Taymur sneered between gritted teeth, “Well, well, so your pickax is broken and you’ve given it to be mended? I suppose it’s blown a fuse, has it? Answer, now, immediately, quick, at the double, answer! Or its pendulum’s broken? Eh?”
“Well now, why should I lie . . . I’ve no learnin’ and I don’t get these things . . . in the middle . . . I mean at the side . . . imagine this is the pickax . . . the iron part’s there and fits in the wood . . . now imagine this is the wood and this is the iron . . .”
“Silence, and I hope the wood of it splits your head open! You’re making fun of me? Silence!”
Dear Uncle wanted to interfere but, before the first word had left his mouth, Deputy Taymur screamed, “You, silence! Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi! The pickax is sure to be in the shed; run and fetch it!”
Shamsali Mirza protested in a strangled voice, “Deputy, officer, this is violating the boundaries of a home and personal property! Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Silence! When your brother was violating the boundaries of that poor murder victim’s soul, why didn’t he think of that? Silence!”
Asadollah Mirza cried out, “Moment, moment! Now they really are going to pin the murder of that donkey on me! God damn him and his soul’s boundaries!”
Again the deputy’s voice rang out, “Silence!”
Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, who had ignored everyone’s protests and gone looking for the pickax, returned and clicked his heels again and said, “Sir, the door to the shed’s locked.”
The deputy stretched out his hand toward Mash Qasem, “The key!”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . the key to this shed . . .”
“I’m sure the key’s blown a fuse, too, and you’ve given it to be mended.”
My Uncle Napoleon Page 14