It was quarter past two when Othman got to the police station, which was almost empty since people don’t get back from lunch until two thirty. Nonetheless, a uniformed policeman quickly called out to Othman, led him down the hallway, and told him to sit on a chair next to Alwaar’s office. The cop went away for a moment and then came back, standing there as if pinned to the ground at the end of the hallway. It seemed he suspected Othman might change his mind and take off. Less than ten minutes had passed when Othman heard some noise and footsteps approaching. Alwaar and Boukrisha appeared with a group of about five men behind them.
Alwaar opened his office door, smiling at Othman and moving his head menacingly. He motioned with his hand for Othman to enter, and Boukrisha shut the door behind them. He took off his jacket and sat down in front of his typewriter.
“Let’s wait a bit to ask where our friend was,” Alwaar said to Boukrisha with his well-known heaviness.
Othman stayed on his feet since no one had asked him to sit down. Alwaar scrutinized him and noticed how different his demeanor was from the previous time. Othman was calm and displayed no visible fear, as if he wasn’t feeling the terrible danger encircling him.
“Sit down, sit down,” said Alwaar in a cautious voice.
Othman sat down in a relaxed way. The detective and inspector exchanged a glance.
“God gave you a chicken that lays golden eggs but you ruined it and you ruined yourself,” said Boukrisha harshly. “Were you so afraid of everyone running from the sight of you with your wife? You’re not even thirty-three and she was seventy-three.”
“I’m innocent,” said Othman confidently, “and I maintain my innocence.”
Boukrisha let out a ringing laugh.
“Before you continue your lies,” said Alwaar, “you should know the lab confirmed that your fingerprints are on the knife used to kill Sofia.”
Othman was struck and his face went pale.
“Whatever the evidence against me,” said Othman as soon as he regained his composure, “I’ll maintain my innocence.”
“In your case,” said Alwaar, “whether you’re innocent or guilty doesn’t matter. The evidence is against you. Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon and the motive is obvious: to speed up taking over the estate that the victim had willed to you. You were at the murder scene when the crime took place. What’s all this evidence lying about? You know the law and you know proof speaks for itself.”
He stole a glance at his watch as if he had remembered something.
“And in a minute,” he added, “I’ll have a special surprise for you.”
Othman shuddered and thought about Naeema. Did she fall in their trap? He heard a knock on the door. It opened and an inspector appeared with another person. Othman was stunned and his eyes widened as he saw the cook, Abdelkader, come into the room. Alwaar asked him to sit down. He took a seat in front of Othman, looking at him with hatred and total disgust.
“There is no power and no strength save in God,” he said mournfully.
“When you called me,” said Alwaar to Abdelkader, “you said you have something important to tell us.”
Abdelkader shook his head with grief and looked away from Othman.
“You said Sofia was stabbed to death?” the cook asked.
“Yes, that’s true,” said Boukrisha.
“I discovered that the biggest knife we have at the restaurant is missing.”
Without opening his mouth, Alwaar snapped his finger at Boukrisha, who got up, opened a drawer in an iron cabinet, and took out a file that he put in front of the detective. Alwaar flipped through a number of pages, pulled out a photo, and placed it in front of Abdelkader.
“Is this the knife?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Alwaar gave the picture to Othman.
“Do you recognize this knife?” he asked.
Othman took a quick look at it.
“Yes, that’s the biggest knife at the restaurant.”
“When’d you take it?” asked Alwaar.
“I didn’t take it,” he said, his voice quivering.
“I know when he took it,” said Abdelkader, glaring at Othman. “It was the night he committed the crime. We all left the restaurant together and before we drove off, I saw Othman get into the car next to Madame and turn the engine on, but he turned it off and ran back into the restaurant.”
Othman was stunned and his face went pale again.
“Why’d you go back to the restaurant the night your wife was murdered?”
Othman couldn’t open his mouth. He was frozen in his spot and his knees began shaking.
“I didn’t go into the kitchen,” he said finally with a bitter smile on his lips. “I went back to the box to take some money I forgot there.”
“I don’t know why you insist on lying,” said Alwaar in a chiding tone. “You’re a former student of the law and you know the legal code. All the evidence is against you and you’re still defiant. Why all this nonsense? Is it only to torture us instead of us torturing you?”
Alwaar turned toward Abdelkader, thanked him, and told him to wait outside.
“I’m innocent of Sofia’s murder,” said Othman, about to break into tears. “I’m begging you to listen to me. If I was the killer, why would I leave my fingerprints on the murder weapon? Why wouldn’t I wipe them off? Why’d I call the ambulance and the police as my wife was still dying in my arms? Why would I take the knife from the restaurant kitchen in front of a witness?”
“What do you want us to say?” asked Alwaar, cutting him off in a mocking tone. “Since you’re asking these questions, you’ve got an answer for them. Whatever that may be, it won’t change what the witness said against you. And it won’t wipe your fingerprints off the knife. We’ve got all the evidence we need, whether you confess or not.”
He turned away from Othman and ordered the inspector to start writing the arrest report.