by Ed McBain
Amin said something else in Arabic.
“Let us in on it,” Nellie said.
“I told him it’s his own funeral,” Amin said.
Q: Mr. Kiraz, would you like to tell us where you were at three this morning?
A: I was at home in bed with my wife.
Q: You wife seems to think otherwise.
A: My wife is mistaken.
Q: Well, she’ll be subpoenaed before the grand jury, you know, and she’ll have to tell them under oath whether you were in bed with her or somewhere else.
A: I was home. She was in bed with me.
Q: You yourself are under oath right this minute, you realize that, don’t you?
A: I realize it.
Q: You swore on the Koran, did you not? You placed your left hand on the Koran and raised your right hand …
A: I know what I did.
Q: Or does that mean anything to you?
Q: Mr. Kiraz?
Q: Mr. Kiraz, does that mean anything to you? Placing your hand on the Islamic holy book …
A: I heard you.
Q: May I have your answer, please?
A: My word is my bond. It doesn’t matter whether I swore on the Koran or not.
Q: Well, good, I’m happy to hear that. So tell me, Mr. Kiraz, where were you on these other dates at around two in the morning? Friday, May second … Saturday, May third … and Monday, May fifth. All at around two in the morning, where were you, Mr. Kiraz?
A: Home asleep. I work late. I get home around one, one-fifteen. I go directly to bed.
Q: Do you know what those dates signify?
A: I have no idea.
Q: You don’t read the papers, is that it?
A: I read the papers. But those dates …
Q: Or watch television? You don’t watch television?
A: I work from four to midnight. I rarely watch television.
Q: Then you don’t know about these Muslim cab drivers who were shot and killed, is that it?
A: I know about them. Is that what those dates are? Is that when they were killed?
Q: How about Saturday, May third? Does that date hold any particular significance for you?
A: Not any more than the other dates.
Q: Do you know who was killed on that date?
A: No.
Q: Your cousin. Salim Nazir.
A: Yes.
Q: Yes what?
A: Yes. Now I recall that was the date.
Q: Because the detectives spoke to you that morning, isn’t that so? In your aunt’s apartment? Gulalai Nazir, right? Your aunt? You spoke to the detectives at six that morning, didn’t you?
A: I don’t remember the exact time, but yes, I spoke to them.
Q: And told them a Jew had killed your cousin, isn’t that so?
A: Yes. Because of the blue star.
Q: Oh, is that why?
A: Yes.
Q: And you spoke to Detective Genero and Parker, did you not, after a third Muslim cab driver was killed? This would have been on Monday, May fifth, at around three in the afternoon, when you spoke to them. And at that time you said, correct me if I’m wrong, you said, “Just find the fucking Jew who shot my cousin in the head,” is that correct?
A: Yes, I said that. And I’ve already explained how I knew he was shot in the head. I was there when the imam washed him. I saw the bullet wound …
Q: Did you know any of these other cab drivers?
A: No.
Q: Khalid Aslam …
A: No.
Q: Ali Al-Barak?
A: No.
Q: Or the one who was killed last night, Abbas Miandad, did you know any of these drivers?
A: I told you no.
Q: So the only one you knew was your cousin, Salim Nazir.
A: Of course I knew my cousin.
Q: And you also knew he was shot in the head.
A: Yes. I told you …
Q: Like all the other drivers.
A: I don’t know how the other drivers were killed. I didn’t see the other drivers.
Q: But you saw your cousin while he was being washed, is that correct?
A: That is correct.
Q: Would you remember the name of the imam who washed him?
A: No, I’m sorry.
Q: Would it have been Ahmed Nur Kabir?
A: It could have. I had never seen him before.
Q: If I told you his name was Ahmed Nur Kabir, and that the name of the mosque where your cousin’s body was prepared for burial is Masjid Al-Barbrak, would you accept that?
A: If you say that’s where …
Q: Yes, I say so.
A: Then, of course, I would accept it.
Q: Would it surprise you to learn that the detectives here—Detectives Carella and Meyer—spoke to the imam at Masjid Al-Barbrak?
A: I would have no way of knowing whether or not they …
Q: Will you accept my word that they spoke to him?
A: I would accept it.
Q: They spoke to him and he told them he was alone when he washed your cousin’s body, alone when he wrapped the body in its shrouds. There was no one in the room with him. He was alone, Mr. Kiraz.
A: I don’t accept that. I was with him.
Q: He says you were waiting outside with your aunt. He says he was alone with the corpse.
A: He’s mistaken.
Q: If he was, in fact, alone with your cousin’s body …?
A: I told you he’s mistaken.
Q: You think he’s lying?
A: I don’t know what …
Q: You think a holy man would lie?
A: Holy man! Please!
Q: If he was alone with the body, how do you explain seeing a bullet wound at the back of your cousin’s head?
Q: Mr. Kiraz?
Q: Mr. Kiraz, how did you know your cousin was shot in the head? None of the newspaper or television reports …
Q: Mr. Kiraz? Would you answer my question, please?
Q: Mr. Kiraz?
A: Any man would have done the same thing.
Q: What would any man …?
A: She is not one of his whores! She is my wife!
I knew, of course, that Salim was seeing a lot of women. That’s okay, he was young, he was good-looking, the Koran says a man can take as many as four wives, so long as he can support them emotionally and financially. Salim wasn’t even married, so there’s nothing wrong with dating a lot of girls, four, five, a dozen, who cares? This is America, Salim was American, we’re all Americans, right? You watch television, the bachelor has to choose from fifteen girls, isn’t that so? This is America. So there was nothing wrong with Salim dating all these girls.
But not my wife.
Not Badria.
I don’t know when it started with her. I don’t know when it started between them. I know one night I called the supermarket where she works. This was around ten o’clock one night, I was at the pharmacy. I manage a pharmacy, you know. People ask me all sorts of questions about what they should do for various ailments. I’m not a pharmacist, but they ask me questions. I know a lot of doctors. Also, I read a lot. I have time during the day, I don’t start work till four in the afternoon. So I read a lot. I wanted to be a teacher, you know.
They told me she had gone home early.
I said, Gone home? Why?
I was alarmed.
Was Badria sick?
The person I spoke to said my wife had a headache. So she went home.
I didn’t know what to think.
I immediately called the house. There was no answer. Now I became really worried. Was she seriously ill? Why wasn’t she answering the phone? Had she fainted? So I went home, too. I’m the manager, I can go home if I like. This is America. A manager can go home if he likes. I told my assistant I thought my wife might be sick.
I was just approaching my building when I saw them. This was now close to eleven o’clock that night. It was dark, I didn’t recognize them at first. I thought it was ju
st a young couple. Another young couple. Only that. Coming up the street together. Arm in arm. Heads close. She turned to kiss him. Lifted her head to his. Offered him her lips. It was Badria. My wife. Kissing Salim. My cousin.
Well, they knew each other, of course. They had met at parties, they had met at family gatherings, this was my cousin! “Beware of getting into houses and meeting women,” the Prophet said. “But what about the husband’s brother?” someone asked, and the Prophet replied, “The husband’s brother is like death.” He often talked in riddles, the Prophet, it’s all such bullshit. The Prophet believed that the influence of an evil eye is fact. Fact, mind you. The evil eye. The Prophet believed that he himself had once been put under a spell by a Jew and his daughters. The Prophet believed that the fever associated with plague was due to the intense heat of Hell. The Prophet once said, “Filling the belly of a person with pus is better than stuffing his brain with poetry.” Can you believe that? I read poetry! I read a lot. The Prophet believed that if you had a bad dream, you should spit three times on your left side. That’s what Jews do when they want to take the curse off something, you know, they spit on their fingers, ptui, ptui, ptui. I’ve seen elderly Jews doing that on the street. It’s the same thing, am I right? It’s all bullshit, all of it. Jesus turning water into wine, Jesus raising the dead! I mean, come on! Raising the dead? Moses parting the Red Sea? I’d love to see that one!
It all goes back to the time of the dinosaurs, when men huddled in caves in fear of thunder and lightning. It all goes back to God-fearing men arguing violently about which son of Abraham was the true descendant of the one true God, and whether or not Jesus was, in fact, the Messiah. As if a one true God, if there is a God at all, doesn’t know who the hell he himself is! All of them killing each other! Well, it’s no different today, is it? It’s all about killing each other in the name of God, isn’t it?
In the White House, we’ve got a born-again Christian who doesn’t even realize he’s fighting a holy war. An angry dry-drunk, as they say, full of hate, thirsting for white wine, and killing Arabs wherever he can find them. And in the sand out there, on their baggy-pantsed knees, we’ve got a zillion Muslim fanatics, full of hate, bowing to Mecca and vowing to drive the infidel from the Holy Land. Killing each other. All of them killing each other in the name of a one true God.
In my homeland, in my village, the tribal elders would have appointed a council to rape my wife as punishment for her transgression. And then the villagers would have stoned her to death.
But this is America.
I’m an American.
I knew I had to kill Salim, yes, that is what an American male would do, protect his wife, protect the sanctity of his home, kill the intruder. But I also knew I had to get away with it, as they say, I had to kill the violator and still be free to enjoy the pleasures of my wife, my position, I’m the manager of a pharmacy!
I bought the spray paint, two cans, at a hardware store near the pharmacy. I thought that was a good idea, the Star of David. Such symbolism! The six points of the star symbolizing God’s rule over the universe in all six directions, north, south, east, west, up and down. Such bullshit! I didn’t kill Salim until the second night, to make it seem as if he wasn’t the true target, this was merely hate, these were hate crimes. I should have left it at three. Three would have been convincing enough, weren’t you convinced after three? Especially with the bombings that followed? Weren’t you convinced? But I had to go for four. Insurance. The Navajos think four is a sacred number, you know. Again, it has to do with religion, with the four directions. They’re all related, these religions. Jews, Christians, Muslims, they’re all related. And they’re all the same bullshit.
Salim shouldn’t have gone after my wife.
He had enough whores already.
My wife is not a whore.
I did the right thing.
I did the American thing.
They came out through the back door of the station house—a Catholic who hadn’t been to church since he was twelve, and a Jew who put up a tree each and every Christmas—and walked to where they’d parked their cars early this morning. It was a lovely bright afternoon. They both turned their faces up to the sun and lingered a moment. They seemed almost reluctant to go home. It was often that way after they cracked a tough one. They wanted to savor it a bit.
“I’ve got a question,” Meyer said.
“Mm?”
“Do you think I’m too sensitive?”
“No. You’re not sensitive at all.”
“You mean that?”
“I mean it.”
“You’ll make me cry.”
“I just changed my mind.”
Meyer burst out laughing.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” he said. “I’m sure glad this didn’t turn out to be what it looked like at first. I’m glad it wasn’t hate.”
“Maybe it was,” Carella said.
They got into their separate cars and drove toward the open gate in the cyclone fence, one car behind the other. Carella honked “Shave-and-a-hair-cut,” and Meyer honked back “Two-bits!” As Carella made his turn, he waved so long. Meyer tooted the horn again.
Both men were smiling.
New York Times bestselling author and MWA Grandmaster Ed McBain has gathered ten masters of modern fiction and had them each write a novella for this one-of-a-kind series. Look for more Transgressions featuring new tales from these bestselling authors:
Lawrence Block
Jeffrey Deaver
John Farris
Stephen King
Ed McBain
Sharyn McCrumb
Walter Mosley
Joyce Carol Oates
Anne Perry
Donald E. Westlake
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright Acknowledgments
“Walking Around Money,” copyright © 2005 by Donald E. Westlake
“Walking the Line.” copyright © 2005 by Walter Mosley
“Merely Hate,” copyright © 2005 by Hui Corporation
TRANSGRESSIONS
Copyright © 2005 by Hui Corporation
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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eISBN 9781429997560
First eBook Edition : April 2011
The novellas collected in this volume and the three companion volumes of Transgressions were previously published in 2005 as a single-volume hardcover edition under the title Transgressions.
First mass market edition: October 2006