by Farah Zaman
“Yes, they’re with Heba,” Zaid replied.
“They seem to have become good friends with her,” Mrs. Horani said.
It was the opening Adam had been looking for. “Yes, Heba has been very helpful. Her uncle used to teach here. She told us he was murdered three months ago.”
“Murdered?” Dr. Horani looked startled. “How did it happen?”
“Someone killed him and stole a book from their house,” Zaid said.
“How awful,” Mrs. Horani said. “I never thought something like that would happen in a quiet place like Sakinah.”
“It was very distressing,” Ms. Mahveen said with a little moue of distaste. “The police haven’t been able to find his murderer.”
Mr. Talish lowered his voice. “They think some political intrigue was involved.”
Chapter Ten:
A Clandestine Meeting
“Political intrigue?” Adam echoed.
“Na’am. Mr. Issa was a very influential man in Syria before he left,” Mr. Talish replied. His eyes were slightly protruding but held intelligence in their depths. “The police thought someone who might have been angry at his deflection gave the directive to take him out. Orders from high up and all that, you know.”
“That makes more sense than him being murdered for a book,” Dr. Horani said.
“Poor Heba,” Mrs. Horani said. “Now she’s all alone in the world.”
“She has a cousin in Australia,” Zaid said. “She’ll be going to live there soon.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Horani said. “I’m glad she has family.”
After Ms. Mahveen and Mr. Talish finished their meals and left, Dr. Horani said, “Our weekend starts tomorrow. We’ll be spending the day in Gilad. First, we’ll go to the Al-Adawiya Zoo and then Jumu’ah afterwards, insha Allah.”
“Sounds good,” Zaid said. “Hassan and Hakeem will enjoy the zoo.”
“There’s more sightseeing in store,” Mrs. Horani said. “On Saturday, Jawad will take us to the village. It will give us a chance to take in some of the local color.”
“Cool,” Adam said. “I can hardly wait.”
The Dar-un-Nur entourage departed with as much fanfare as when they had arrived. Students flocked into the atrium to see them off and there was much good-natured joking on both sides as the visiting team trooped out to the parking lot. With a prolonged blowing of the horn, their bright yellow bus rumbled out to the street and disappeared from view.
As everyone headed upstairs to rest, Heba and the girls waited in the atrium for the meeting while the youths went in search of Mahmood. Heba was all agog to learn what had transpired at the lake house last night and could hardly wait for the meeting to begin.
Adam and Zaid ran into Mahmood on the stairs. He was carrying Muk-Muk in the cage, his flute poking out from his shirt pocket.
“Mahmood, are you going to the pavilion?” Zaid asked.
Mahmood nodded.
“We need to talk with you,” Adam said. “You and Zaid go ahead. I’ll get the girls and join you at the pavilion.”
Mahmood nodded before following Zaid. When Adam and the girls arrived at the pavilion, the boy was playing a mournful melody on his flute with Zaid sitting across from him. Muk-Muk sprang down from the rafters, gibbering as he pranced around the benches.
Zaid told them first of his and Adam’s meeting with Mr. Mazin. “He said he’ll pass on our testimony about Mahmood when the administration meets tomorrow night.”
Mahmood grunted.
“Now, for our next update,” Layla said with shining eyes. “Our trip to the lake house.”
Mahmood started, his eyes wide with surprise.
The brothers and sisters took turns telling about their meeting with Danyal and the story he had told them. Heba looked stunned when they were done but Mahmood’s face was anxious.
“We’d like to help Danyal,” Adam said. “We’re going to meet him nine-thirty tonight at the boat house. Heba and Mahmood, we’d like you both to come.”
Mahmood nodded, looking relieved and Heba said, “Of course. That poor boy. Now you’ve got your hands full helping him as well as me.”
“Layla and I spoke to Ms. Tubaa earlier,” Zahra said. “We told her we heard Heba’s uncle was murdered for a book of poetry. She scowled at us and said we shouldn’t poke our noses in what doesn’t concern us.”
“We’ll try talking to her another time,” Layla said. “But I don’t know if we’ll have any better luck.”
“I doubt it,” Heba said. “She can be close-mouthed when she wants to be.”
Zaid said, “Adam and I also spoke to Ms. Rima, Ms. Mahveen and Mr. Talish about the murder. Ms. Rima thinks some madman from the village did it and Mr. Talish told us that the police think it was some kind of political revenge. Is that true, Heba?”
Heba’s mouth tightened. “Yes, the police asked me a whole lot of questions about Uncle Issa’s life in Syria. It’s true he was involved in politics, but I don’t think any political enemy would come for revenge after all these years. I know it’s convenient for everyone to think a madman or political assassin killed Uncle Issa. If so, why would they steal the book?”
A little niggle of doubt crept into Adam’s mind. “Maybe to throw the police off the scent of the real motive?”
“No,” Heba said firmly. “Uncle Issa told me the name of the book with his dying breath. His murder is tied in with that book. I’m convinced of it.”
“Alright, we’ll continue doing what we’ve been doing,” Adam said. “If the murderer is someone from the administration, something must come to light soon.”
A choked sound came from Mahmood. It was only then they realized they had shocked him with their discussion of Mr. Issa’s murder.
“Sorry, Mahmood,” Zaid said. “We forgot to tell you we’re helping Heba to find out who killed her uncle.”
Mahmood’s eyes were wide as Heba told him about the button they had found, which pointed to the guilt of someone in the administration.
“You see now why we were asking you about the sketch last night?” Adam said.
Mahmood nodded, lowering his head and concealing his expression. Adam felt more certain than ever that the boy knew something about Mr. Issa’s murder. He hoped Mahmood would trust them enough to tell them soon.
That night, the teenagers crept out of Villa Wadha, carrying a bag of goodies for Danyal. The night had taken the edge off the heat of the day and a cool breeze rustled the branches of the sidra trees as they trudged through the grove. Framed above the fluttering leaves, a waxing crescent moon hung low amidst bunches of white clouds.
When they arrived at the boathouse, Danyal was waiting on the jetty, the aqua colored canoe from the lake house moored next to the others.
After they greeted him, he asked, “Is Mahmood and your friend, Heba, coming too?”
“Yes, they should be here soon,” Layla said.
“I hope poor Mahmood is okay,” Zahra said. “I feel so bad for him.”
“Did something happen?” Danyal asked, his voice concerned.
Zaid told him about Baby Lina in the cage and the threat of punishment hanging over Mahmood’s head. “Adam and I met with Mr. Mazin to speak on Mahmood’s behalf. He said he’ll pass on what we’ve told him at their administration meeting tomorrow night.”
“Let’s hope they rule in favor of Mahmood,” Danyal said. “I can’t believe they actually think he would do something like that.”
Heba and Mahmood arrived at that moment. After Danyal and Heba were introduced to each other, they all went into the boat house to sit down on the upturned canoes.
Adam said, “It feels weird with all of us sitting in the dark. I’ll turn on my flashlight. I don’t think anyone from the orphanage will see it.”
As the warm glow lit up the boathouse, Zaid hel
d out the bag of goodies and said, “Here, Danyal. We bought some food for you.”
“Thank you so much,” Danyal said. “It smells delicious.”
Muk-Muk whimpered. He lay curled up in a ball on Mahmood’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong with Muk-Muk?” Zahra asked.
“He’s afraid of the water,” Heba said. “I think he’s still traumatized from that monsoon he and Mahmood escaped from.”
“Poor pumpkin.” Layla stroked the prostrate pet. “What an awful experience you and Mahmood had.”
“Maybe Muk-Muk also senses the jinns living beneath the water,” Adam said. “Animals are very perceptive.”
“Danyal, you haven’t seen anything weird in the lake, have you?” Heba asked.
“La, I haven’t. But I wouldn’t swim in it.”
“I think you’re brave living at the lake house,” Heba said.
“As I told your friends, I think if any jinns are there, they’re good ones.”
“I suppose if there are any evil ones, you’d get bad vibes or something,” Heba said. “After Uncle Issa was murdered, some of my friends asked if I wasn’t scared to visit our house. I told them no.”
“Your uncle was murdered?” Danyal asked in a shocked voice.
“Yes, about three months ago. The awful part is, we think someone from the administration did it.”
“Really?” Danyal’s eyes were wide.
“Yes.” Heba went on to tell him about the button they had found in the bushes. “So, we’re doing some sleuthing on our own to find out if it’s one of them.”
“I remember Mr. Issa,” Danyal said. “I’m sorry to hear he was murdered. It’s hard to believe someone he worked with did it.”
“The button points to it,” Zaid said. “But of course, we don’t have any solid proof that one of them did it.”
Mahmood made a hoarse sound. Pulling out a folded-up piece of paper from his pocket, he handed it to Heba. As she unfolded it, Adam shined the flashlight on it. Everyone moved in for a closer look. Then they gasped. It was a sketch depicting the lake at night. It was masterfully done, the bold strokes and colors expressing clearly what Mahmood could not tell them by words. There stood the boathouse and the three canoes moored to the jetty. A yellow quarter moon shone from the gray sky, surrounded by several stars. And at the edge of the lake crouched a hooded figure in a black cloak, washing a blood-stained knife.
“Oh my God,” Layla said. “You saw someone doing this, Mahmood?”
Mahmood nodded.
“It’s not your imagination this time, is it?” Heba asked, a tremor in her voice.
Mahmood shook his head.
“Do you know who the hooded figure is?” Zahra asked.
Mahmood shook his head.
“Did it look like an adult?” Adam asked.
Mahmood nodded.
“You’re sure it wasn’t a student?” Zaid asked.
Mahmood shook his head before making a circular motion around his face.
“You’re saying no student would have a hooded cloak like that, right?” Heba said.
Mahmood nodded.
“Could you tell how tall the figure was?” Zahra asked.
Mahmood shook his head and hunched his body into a crouch.
“He was sitting down and you couldn’t tell?” Heba asked.
Mahmood nodded.
“Did the figure see you?” Layla asked.
Mahmood shook his head, covering his face with his hands.
“You were hiding?” Heba said.
Mahmood nodded.
“Did you see where this person went?” Adam asked.
Mahmood shook his head and mimicked a running action.
“You ran away?” Layla asked.
Mahmood nodded.
“It’s a good thing Mahmood ran away and the hooded figure didn’t see him,” Zaid said, his face grave.
They all understood Zaid’s unspoken words. If the figure had seen Mahmood, there might have been two murders that night.
“Mahmood, why didn’t you draw the sketch after Mr. Issa died and show it to someone?” Zahra asked.
Mahmood moaned and shook his head.
“Were you afraid no one would believe you?” Layla asked.
Mahmood moaned again.
“I think I know why,” Heba said. “Mahmood knew it was someone from the administration and he was afraid if he did that sketch, the murderer might have come after him next. Isn’t that so, Mahmood?”
Mahmood nodded and let out a pathetic sound.
“Why would Mahmood assume it was someone from the administration?” Zahra asked.
“They’re the only staff here at night,” Heba said.
“I think I understand now,” Adam said. “Mahmood knew that if the murderer saw the sketch, he or she would assume that Mahmood knows their identity. And would want to silence him for that reason.”
“Precisely,” Heba said.
Mahmood grunted his agreement.
“Mahmood, are you sure you didn’t notice anything that may tell us who the murderer is?” Zaid asked.
Mahmood shook his head.
“Think,” Heba insisted. “Is there nothing at all?”
Mahmood shook his head and whimpered, sounding uncannily like his pet.
“If you remember anything at all, you’ll let us know, won’t you?” Zahra said.
Mahmood nodded.
Layla said, “I think if Mahmood had known the hooded figure had killed Heba’s uncle, he might have waited around to see who it was. But remember, he had no idea Mr. Issa had been murdered. All he saw that night was a hooded figure with a bloody knife. I would have run away myself if I had seen that.”
Heba sighed. “That’s true.”
“There’s a bookstore in Old Gilad that my father took me to a few times,” Danyal said. “It’s called the Lighted Scrolls. It’s run by an old man named Omar Alkhalaf. He’s in his eighties and has a sharp memory. You can check to see if the store has an Arabic version of The Hour of the Oryx or if Mr. Alkhalaf has heard of it.”
“That’s a great idea,” Layla said. “We should go there tomorrow instead of the zoo.”
“I don’t know if Mom and Dad will let us go on our own after what happened at the mall,” Adam said. “I can ask them and see what they say.”
“If you do go, can you please let me know what you find out?” Danyal said. “I’d like to keep track of your investigation even though I can’t help you. I need a distraction or I’ll go out of my mind.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll let you know,” Zaid said. “Let’s talk now how we’re going to help you.”
Danyal heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if you can. Uncle Nidal is too clever.”
“I think if we tell my parents, they’ll know what to do,” Layla said.
Danyal shook his head. “Uncle Nidal will convince them it’s all my imagination. When he speaks, it’s like honey dripping off his tongue. No one will believe he’s such a black-hearted monster. Before I know it, I’ll be back home again. Then it will be just a matter of time before he finds some way to finish me off. In the meantime, he’ll continue to make me and my mother’s lives miserable. I’m not ready to go back yet.”
“But how long will you hide out for?” Heba asked. “You can’t stay at the lake house indefinitely.”
Danyal sighed. “I’ll probably stay until it’s time to go back to school.”
“But your stepfather can’t be allowed to get away with his wicked plan,” Zahra said. “He must be exposed.”
“Isn’t there something we can do about that, Danyal?” Adam asked.
Danyal was quiet for a few moments. Then he said, “Maybe there is. I’m a bit fuzzy with dates right now but isn’t the Orphans Evening Out coming up soon, Heba?”
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“Yes, next Thursday.”
“Will you boys be going?” Danyal asked.
“We haven’t asked my parents yet,” Adam said. “But I’m sure they’ll let us go.”
“What do you want us to do at the Orphans Evening Out?” Zaid asked.
“You could search Uncle Nidal’s office for anything incriminating.”
“Alright, Zaid and I will give it a try,” Adam said. “If it’s fine with everyone, we’ll meet here again on Tuesday night.”
Everyone agreed and they bid farewell to Danyal.
“Be careful when you go to Gilad tomorrow,” Danyal said urgently, gripping Adam’s arm. “Uncle Nidal must be getting desperate. I’d hate for his hoodlums to kidnap you thinking it’s me.”
A chill went through Adam as he read between the lines of Danyal’s warning. If they kidnap me thinking I’m Danyal, I could very well end up dead.
Chapter Eleven:
The Legend of Mehrshad
The next morning, Adam had to use all his skills of persuasion to convince his parents to let them go to the bookstore instead of the zoo. After putting up a good argument that they preferred checking out books rather than staring at imprisoned animals, his parents relented.
“We’ll drop you there on our way to the zoo,” Dr. Horani said.
“Make sure you remain together,” his mother warned. “We don’t want anyone mistaking you for Danyal Hazni again.”
“We’ll stick together like glue,” Adam promised.
When Jawad arrived, the change to the itinerary was discussed with him. He assured them it was not a problem since the bookstore was along the route to the zoo. They piled into the minibus and were soon off. The journey to Gilad was accomplished with the usual nerve-wracking style that Adam was beginning to get accustomed to. In due course, the bus pulled up in front of the bookstore and the teenagers were let off. They waved to their parents and the twins as the bus sped away.
The Lighted Scrolls was a pleasant surprise. Expecting a poky hole-in-the-wall shop, they were delighted to find it was a standalone structure situated in a charming cobbled street. Judging by the customers bustling in and out, business was booming. Inside the store, the books were housed in stalls, with narrow aisles running in between.