Finding Nouf (38 page)

S
TANDING IN FRONT
of the Shrawi estate on a white marble courtyard flushed salmon with dusk, Nayir watched the red womb of sunset enclose the world. The front of the house was most beautiful now, when a pale vermilion streaked the clouds and the sea shone the color of its name. He marveled at the details he had missed before: the elegant curve of the tiles on the roof, the complexity of the cliff wall, the fine grain of the marble beneath his feet.

A breeze flapped the hem of his pale blue robe, raising the scent of manure from the stables below. It was a comforting smell. A prayer came to mind, and he whispered it to himself.

By the heaven, and by the nightly visitant!
Would that you knew what the nightly visitant is!
It is the star of piercing brightness.
For every soul there is a guardian watching it.

He hoped for a guardian himself.

Turning, he crossed the courtyard in front of the main door and crept past the windows until he found the path that led down to the stables. He wanted to see the camel one more time.
And this,
he thought,
might be the last time.
It was darker than he'd expected, but he had his penlight, which was enough to guide him safely down the stairs.

The lower courtyard was empty. Overhead, houselights lit the scene, so he switched off his penlight and crossed the court to the stable door. It was open; he slipped inside. After a minute the penlight came out again, this time cupped in his hand. Nothing stirred. He made his way down the stalls until he reached the last one on the left. Peering through a crack in the wood, he saw that Nouf's camel was sleeping. He hesitated then, not certain he should wake her. She might startle and wake the others. But he heard a gentle shifting behind the door. He pressed his lips to the crack and gave a soft blow. Ever so soft. Peering back inside, he saw that she had moved.

Just then he heard a rustle behind him. He spun and aimed his penlight down the long corridor, but nothing moved. He waited. Hearing no further sound, feeling no other presence, he turned back to the stall.

The camel was awake. Gingerly he opened the door and stepped inside, reaching out to rub her ears. She nuzzled his arm, and he moved his hand down her neck and back. Eventually his fingers found the burn mark on her leg, and he probed it again, feeling its shape. It was indeed the Honda logo.

He continued stroking the camel, who grunted merrily for the attention. Outside, he heard the rustling again. It sounded like the swish of a robe. He turned and listened. Curious, he crept out of the stall and shut the door. The rustle came again. When he stopped, the sound stopped with him. He felt a presence now. Someone stood on the straw between him and the door. He flicked off his light to let his eyes adjust, took a hesitant step, then another; the rustling continued. He walked toward the sound, keeping as close to the stall doors as possible. The intruder was closing. As soon as he felt the warm aura of body heat, he flipped on his penlight and caught a woman full in the face.

She winced and shrank back. He recognized the camel keeper's
daughter; a large brown bruise above one eye was faded but still visible. Although her head was covered with a scarf, her face was fully exposed. She didn't turn away but stood patiently while he stared. His modesty took hold and he lowered the light, but his eyes didn't leave her face.

"How did you get that bruise?" he asked.

Her face tightened with what he thought was anxiety. She raised a shaking finger and beckoned him closer. He stared in surprise, but she was backing up, gesturing.
Come, follow me.

He went after her, swept on by curiosity. Halfway down the corridor she stopped at a stall door and put her hand on the latch. She waited for Nayir to approach with the light.

She swung the stall door open so that Nayir stood on one side and she on the other. He was left staring into an empty stall while she waited on the other side of the door, four fingers wound around its edge.

"What..." He cleared his throat. "What do you want me to do?"

He imagined he heard a sigh. "Look inside," she whispered.

With a flash of embarrassment, he looked into the stall. He shone his penlight on the walls. At the back of the stall hung a thick gray tarp, but otherwise, nothing was there.

"On the floor," she said.

His light caught a metallic glint on the ground. It was a handle, a trapdoor. Bending over, he brushed the straw away. The latch came up with a gentle squeak, and he raised the door slowly, revealing a small compartment. He shone his penlight inside and found a black velvet bag as large as a woman's purse. He picked it up and loosened the drawstring.

The bag was full of gold. There were rings and bracelets, earrings and necklaces, all 24 karat. Rubies and diamonds glinted in his penlight. Most of the gold items were stamped with the letter
N.
He shut the bag and left the stall.

The girl's fingers were still clutching the door. Although he wanted to see her face, he thought it best to keep the door between them.

"Who put this here?" he asked. She didn't reply. "Tell me. Who gave you that bruise? Did he knock you out the day Nouf disappeared?"

Silence. He almost swung back the door, but he didn't want to scare her.

"Who was it?" he asked gently.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"But you trust me."

She didn't reply.

"You trusted me enough to show me this, so trust me now."

Her fingers disappeared, and he heard her walk toward the stable door.

In the walkway in front of the house, Nusra ash-Shrawi stood in a penumbra between the night and the brightness from the foyer within. When she heard his footsteps coming up the side path, she turned to the sound.

"Nayir," she said.

He kept the velvet bag close to his side and hoped that Nusra wouldn't hear the faint clinking of jewelry. "Good evening, Um Tahsin."

"Where were you?" she asked. "I heard your Jeep, but then you didn't come."

Nayir stopped beside her. "I went to see the camels first."

She chuckled softly, groped for his arm, and steered him toward the house. "You may not be Bedouin by blood," she said, tapping his chest, "but you are in spirit."

"Thank you," he murmured.

"I will take you to the sitting room."

He stepped through the door with trepidation. If Um Tahsin knew he was here, then who else had noticed?

Inside, she released his arm and motioned for him to follow, but instead of the familiar path to the sitting room, she led him deeper into the mansion, down corridors as dark as her blindness. Nayir was forced to slow down and fumble his way through. He wanted to ask where she was taking him, but he didn't have the nerve to break the silence, and for a terrible moment he wondered if she was leading him into a trap.

Abruptly they entered a high-walled courtyard where the starlight twinkled. The air was moist from the spray of fountains. Nusra motioned him through another door, into a narrow hallway, and through a spacious gallery that seemed to have no purpose except as a vast, almost desertlike space for the servants to cross. With a quickness that startled him, she halted.

She took his arm, and her grip was firm. "I may not be able to see," she said, "but I know the workings of my household better than most." She leaned closer, so close that he could feel her warmth. "I knew you were in the camel stalls."

He didn't move. The glow of a nearby candle cast long shadows on her cheeks, deepening her scowl. "I heard you go down there, and now I can smell her on your clothing," she hissed, tightening her grip. "Her name is Asiya. And if you're going to ruin her, you'd better marry her."

Nayir, who had been holding his breath, let out an imperceptible sigh. "Please, Um Tahsin. I'm an honest man."

She raised her chin sternly, and he felt himself blushing. "It's about time you married anyway."

He couldn't speak. After a long, painful wait, she released his arm and stood back, drawing herself up and restoring her usual dignity. "Speaking of marriage," she said, "did Othman tell you our news?"

"No, what is that?"

She turned and led him on. "Our daughter Abir is going to marry next month."

"Congratulations."

"She is marrying her cousin Qazi, the young man who was supposed to marry Nouf."

"Ah. That's convenient." That must have been why Qazi had been at the house that day. Nayir thought of the boy's face, so young and uncomfortable.

"Yes, and prudent as well." She stopped short at the sitting room door. "Abir will be right for him."

Her words hung ominously in the air. Was Abir more right than Nouf? Um Tahsin opened the door and motioned him inside. "I don't believe Othman is home yet, but I will check. Meanwhile, I'll have a servant bring tea."

Without another word, she left.

Nayir looked around the room. Two of the window screens were gone, and a bank of white candles flickered in the windowsills, casting a golden light. He took a seat on the sofa and waited uneasily, imagining Othman's arrival, the awkwardness to which he knew they would both succumb. Everything he had planned to say seemed too harsh now.
I know you killed your sister. You hit her, took her to the desert, and abandoned her. You wanted her to die.
Wasn't this certainty, in the absence of proof, just another kind of sinful pride?

Reaching into his pocket, Nayir took out the bag of gold that had belonged to Nouf. It was possible that Othman had stolen the gold and hidden it to prevent Nouf from leaving. But how had he gotten the combination to the safe where the gold was kept?

Allah, I need your help. Guide my thoughts.
Nayir's mind turned back to the sites of his discoveries: the zoo, Eric's apartment, the cabana at the beach. Had he overlooked something? A small detail that was quietly out of place?
Help me, Allah. Help me see the detail.
He shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind, but his thoughts were racing. What if there was no detail? Perhaps the killer had left no trace, nothing to direct him.

One image persisted in his mind: a map, the city map he'd found in the cabana, half hidden beneath the hem of a robe.
What is it?
he thought. There was nothing unusual about the map. Nouf had used it to find the zoo. He reached into his pocket and touched his prayer beads. Shutting his eyes, he continued to pray, a long prayer that unspooled like a mesmerizing dream and that found its refrain in a simple stanza:

Oh Allah, my Light, my Guide
Show me the kernel of the truth
Give me the heart of a lion
And a falcon's eye.

He was on his fifth repetition when the door creaked open and a woman entered. Nayir's eyes sprang open. In amazement he stared at the black robe, the
burqa,
and finally the hands, which belonged to Abir. He stood up.

This time she set the coffee service on the table. Keeping her
veil down, she poured a cup and handed it to Nayir, spilling only the slightest drop. He was surprised by her new confidence.

"I've been practicing," she said. "Please be careful—it's hot."

He took the cup, sat down again, and found himself staring at the sleeve of her robe. All of a sudden his thoughts clicked into place. It wasn't the map—the map meant nothing. It was the robe that had obscured the map.

A man's white robe had hung in the cabana.

At the time it had seemed natural. Nouf wore the robe when she went out on the motorcycle; she had to dress like a man. But Muhammad had said that Nouf wore a black cloak when she left the island, then changed into the white robe when she got to the beach. She was wearing the white robe when she died, so where was her black cloak? And why was there another white robe in the cabana?

Who else would wear a white robe and then leave it at the beach?

Nayir was stunned by the discovery, empowered by it even as he marveled at his ignorance. He looked up at Abir, wondering suddenly why she'd come. Did she want information, or was she afraid he was going to say something to Othman?

"I think I know what happened to your sister," he said calmly.

Abir stood back and wrapped her arms protectively around her chest, but he saw a frown in her eyes.

"And I think you might know too," he said.

She bowed her head, a gesture he now recognized as a feint of modesty. "How would I know that?"

"I found this." He set the black bag on the table.

Abir looked at the bag with mock confusion, then tried to let recognition seep slowly into her eyes, but the result was a look of childish stagecraft. "Is that Nouf's jewelry bag?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Unfolding her hands, she quickly knelt by the table, lifted her
burqa,
and pried open the bag. Seeing its contents, she rolled her eyes and let out a moan that managed to approximate authentic grief. "Why would she leave it at the house?" she asked, clutching the bag to her chest.

"How do you know she left it at the house?"

She paled.

"I think you can stop pretending now," he said. Abir's puzzlement held a touch of hostility. "She never took it out of the safe in the first place," he went on, energized by the sudden clicking into place of his thoughts. "You took it out. You had to make it look like she ran away, and you knew that if she disappeared, someone would check to see if her gold was gone. My only question is, why didn't you find a better place to hide it?"

"You think
I
—?" she sputtered unconvincingly. Abir swallowed, blinked, and shook her head as if to chase away a fly. Her face wore a brief look of fear, but it resolved to the cold, well-mannered aspect that belonged in a Shrawi sitting room. "You're wrong about this," she said plainly. "I have no idea what happen—"

"Stop." He raised his hand. "Lying will only make your sins grow greater. I know what you've done." He imagined she'd seen the flash of excitement in his eyes; she struggled to compose herself. Carefully setting the bag on the table, she tried to stand up but seemed unable. She was trembling.