Your position is precarious, obscure, just like death. Most probably they are already investigating you, watching you closely, your every move. You won’t realize it. Just like Khalil before the fatal blow. Weigh your every move. You cannot afford a false one. The hotel is quieter now. The smell of death drove many of the guests away. But others will come. The lounge is cold, cold as the grave. Nothing new in today’s paper. Talk about cotton, currency, and war. The wind howling outside as though chorusing the perpetual chant of the beggar.
He heard footsteps, looked up, and saw Sawi greeting Karima. He felt his stomach turn with emotion. Karima sat down with her old mother and Sawi. Did she come to take over the hotel? Will their eyes meet? He felt much better seeing her. When will we meet? Somehow she’ll contact you. She’s even more beautiful and sensuous in her mourning dress.
You’re in desperate need of her passionate condolences, consoling you in your plight. She was talking quietly to Sawi. He heard him say, “I don’t know when they’ll allow us to enter the flat.”
Where is she staying? It would be insane to follow her. How could you have possibly overlooked asking her mother’s address? She must contact you by phone. She must remember how badly you’re in need of money.
“Telephone, Mr. Saber.”
Damn the telephone. What now? Has Reheimy perfected the art of mocking me? He walked to the telephone and, passing her, offered his hand. “I repeat, Madame, my sincerest condolences.”
She shook his hand without looking up. He kept his eyes on her while speaking on the phone.
“It’s Elham, Saber.”
Why isn’t it Reheimy? Why did I come to Cairo? Why this hotel in particular?
“How are you, Elham?”
“Are you all right?” She sounded anxious.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Why didn’t you come yesterday?”
“I’m sorry. I was rather tired.”
“Well, I won’t reproach you now. You’re coming today?”
“No, not today. As soon as I get rid of my cold.”
“Well, I won’t trouble you. You know where to find me.” She seemed hurt.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” He didn’t put the receiver down but pretended to continue with the conversation, looking straight at Karima.
“You must contact me in any way. By telephone perhaps.”
She turned her eyes; she must have gotten the message.
“I want to know several things,” he continued. “I am sure that you are aware of my situation; we must talk, and don’t forget that my money is running out.”
She gave him a warning glance. “I’m fully aware of your problems,” he added quietly, “but I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He walked back to his seat in the lounge, feeling slightly relieved although still very worried. Karima got up, followed by her mother. He felt that he was seeing her for the last time. The crime was meaningless without her. He waited, hoping for that phone call. No call. A terrible silence was left in her wake. The lounge was empty except for him. He noticed Sawi looking at him, so he nodded to him, smiling.
The man asked, “Why are you here all alone?”
“It’s my cold. I’ve taken a couple of aspirins. I’ll go out if I feel better.” He moved to the chair that had been occupied by Karima and sat down. “The telephone has driven me to utter despair.”
“Well, I’m sure there must be a good reason for his not calling.”
Saber looked at Sawi and said with some sympathy, “You’ve been going through very hard times.”
The old man’s face contorted with pain and sorrow. “May you never go through what I’m going through.”
“It must have been a terrible sight. I’ve never seen a dead body before. Even my mother, I closed my eyes.”
“Yes, but murder, that’s something else.”
“Yes, that’s true. Murder, blood, savagery.”
“Unbelievable savagery. No punishment is sufficient.”
“I’ve often asked myself, what would drive a person to murder?”
“Yes, I wonder.”
“And the murderer. What kind of person can he be?”
“I saw a murderer once, an errand boy. I had always thought he was so kind and gentle.”
“Incredible.”
“Yes, but what can we do?”
“How true. What can we do? We’ll soon hear that he’s been arrested.”
The old man looked sadly at him. “He already has been arrested.”
“Who?”
“The killer.”
“The killer! But we didn’t hear anything about it.”
The old man nodded.
“Who is it?” asked Saber almost in a whisper.
“Aly Seriakous.”
“That…that idiot.”
“Just like the errand boy.”
“Is that why I didn’t see him around yesterday evening or today?”
“May God have mercy on us all.”
“Has the wife been informed?”
“Naturally.”
“Man is truly an enigma.”
“They found the money on him.”
“It could have been his money.”
“He confessed to the theft.”
“And to the murder?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you just said that they’ve arrested the murderer.”
“That’s what Karima said.”
“Does that mean that theft was the motive?”
“I think so.”
“He could have stolen without killing.”
“Probably Mr. Khalil woke up and saw him, so he had to kill him.”
“He was kind to the point of idiocy almost.”
“As you said, man is an enigma.”
“He’s more than that,” said Saber.
“Did you know that the poor beggar we hear singing every day was once the tough guy around here?”
“That decrepit old man?”
“He lost everything, money, health, his sight. He had no other recourse but to beg.”
“But Aly Seriakous showed great honesty when he returned my wallet, which I had misplaced.”
“He’s smarter than we think.”
Do such things happen so easily? Or is it purely our imagining based on emptiness? Nothing, nothing at all.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier for him to escape?”
“Escape would be tantamount to confession.”
“How could he have hidden the stolen articles in his room?”
“Maybe they found them at his home.”
“Taking them there would have been foolish.”
The old man sighed. “Such is the will of the Almighty.”
“When I saw him the morning of the crime—before it was discovered, that is—he appeared calm and pleasant as usual.” Saber’s heart was pounding.
“Some people kill and attend their victim’s funeral!”
Be careful. Don’t let your hidden fears surface. The telephone might throw some light on matters.
The old man continued, still in a sad, tired voice: “I was the first to be questioned by the police.”
“You?”
“Yes, of course. I was the last to see him alive last night and the first to enter his apartment this morning.”
“But who could think…?”
“I was bombarded with questions. I had closed the door myself. The windows were shut, but I found a window ajar.”
“Maybe he forgot to close it.”
“No. She insisted that all the windows were closed.”
“Did Seriakous break in?”
“No, that’s impossible. The noise would have woken everybody up, certainly Mr. Khalil.”
“Maybe he knocked on the door and Mr. Khalil opened it.”
“But why open the window? And also it was established that he was killed in his sleep.”
Saber stared in silence. Then he said somewhat hopefully, “Maybe he hid in the bedroom?”
“No. He left the apartment before me. I locked up myself.”
“Well, maybe…” The sentence died abruptly. It was stifled by a sudden fear. He was about to say that maybe Seriakous pretended that he was closing the windows. He is not supposed to know that Seriakous closed the windows. That was a close shave! It left him ice cold with fear. “Maybe what?” the man asked.
“Maybe he used another key to open the door.”
“Possibly. But why open the window?”
“It is most probable that they were left open. Forgotten.”
“God knows.”
“It must have been hard on you,” Saber said sympathetically.
“I don’t understand how they let me go. But they know their job.”
“There’s no more talk of the murder in the papers. All news stopped suddenly.”
The old man was close to tears. “May God rest your soul, Mr. Khalil. I knew him for sixty years.”
“How old was he?”
“Over eighty.”
“When did he marry?”
“Ten years ago.”
“It’s a strange marriage, don’t you think?”
“He married when he was young. He had a child; then suddenly, tragically, he lost his family. He remained single for a long time until she came along. He loved her as a father would his daughter, above anything else.”
“That sounds reasonable, considering.”
“He was a good man, kind and generous. He helped me raise and educate my children.”
“How did he get married?”
“He used to travel frequently to Alexandria.”
“Alexandria! Is she from Alexandria?”
“No. He used to stay with a friend of his who lived in Tanta. She was married at that time.”
“Married?”
“Yes, to her cousin, a good-for-nothing. He met her at this friend’s.”
I am talking too much. “How did they get married?” Saber’s curiosity made him reckless in his questions.
“She got a divorce, and they were married.”
“She married a man over seventy?”
“Why not? He gave her honor and security.”
“And peace of mind,” Saber interjected heavily. He remembered his mother’s last words. “But a good-for-nothing, as you describe her ex-husband, wouldn’t divorce such a beautiful woman. Why did he divorce her?”
“Everything has its price.” The old man immediately regretted this remark.
Saber noticed and said quickly, “Anyway, those things are past.”
“I’ve said more than I should. Ever since I saw him lying in his blood, I’m not myself. May God forgive me.”
A pimp’s whore. A purchased slave. A coolheaded criminal, a vessel of unbelievable pleasures, your torturer to the end. Groundless intuition, nothing else, led you to this bloody hotel and flung you into crime, murder, blood. Just like the intuition that made you chase the car like a maniac.