Khalid hesitated again. “I don’t think so. But I don’t actually know.”
Alex sighed into the phone. This was not what he needed. Khalid might have information that would help the police. But there were issues of priest-penitent privilege involved, or whatever you call that privilege when it’s a Muslim imam. And those issues tended to get messy. “Tell them you can’t speak to them without your attorney present. Ask them to wait outside until I get there.”
The next call, which came less than three minutes later, was not from Khalid but from a man who identified himself as Detective Sanderson. “Is this Mr. Madison?”
“Yes.”
“Do you represent Mr. Mobassar?”
Not really, Alex thought. But this was no time for technicalities. “Yes.”
“Good,” Sanderson said, as if that would solve everything. “We’re in the critical first forty-eight hours of a missing person investigation. We have reason to believe that the potential victim was taken against her will. And we think your client might have valuable information to help us find her kidnapper, but he says he can’t talk to us-”
“Is he a person of interest?” Alex interrupted.
“At this stage, Mr. Madison, most everyone who knows the victim is a person of interest. But we’d like the opportunity to clear your client. And more importantly, we think he can help us find her before it’s too late.”
Alex thought about this for a moment. The line about clearing Khalid was something the cops said every time… just before they finagled a confession and slapped on the cuffs. But the part about helping them find this woman might be legit. Could he really sit by and tell his client to withhold information that would help the police find a kidnapped woman?
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Alex said. “I’ll want to talk with my client first. And I’ll stop the questioning if I sense that you’re trying to set him up.”
“Time is of the essence, Mr. Madison. We really need to talk with him right away.”
“What do you want to ask him?”
“I’d rather not say over the phone.”
“Half an hour, then,” Alex said. “It’s the best I can do. And wait outside. I don’t want you talking to him until I get there.”
“We’ll be in our squad car.”
Alex pulled a pen out of his desk drawer and addressed the manila envelopes by hand. He would leave the documents on Sylvia’s desk and call a courier service on his way to Khalid’s house. He had a bad feeling about Khalid’s “interview.” In a kidnapping, the cops didn’t usually question a family’s spiritual advisor. They had something. And there was only one way to find out what it was.
24
Alex sat down next to his client on a soft leather couch with old cushions that sagged under his weight. Alex felt like he was sitting on the floor, knees in the air. Unlike the detectives, Alex had removed his shoes out of respect. The officers took the two chairs in the room, the same ones Alex and Shannon had occupied last week.
The seating arrangement put Alex and Khalid at a definite psychological disadvantage. The officers were erect in their chairs, looking down at Alex and Khalid, who slouched into the couch like two schoolboys in the principal’s office.
The female officer sat across from Khalid and leaned forward, a clear posture of aggression. She was thin and intense, midforties, with curly blonde hair, small blue eyes that seemed too close together, and a narrow face that looked like somebody had placed it in a vise and squeezed. Age wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes and mouth, and her left eye was bloodshot. When Alex first shook her hand outside, she had introduced herself as Detective Brown.
“I’m Alex.” He flashed a disarming smile. “Do you have a first name?”
“Yes.”
Alex waited… “O-kay… then,” Alex said. Guess I’ve discovered which one’s the bad cop.
Detective Sanderson sat directly across from Alex. He was a pleasant guy with clipped brown hair and a linebacker’s build. He had a pug nose that made Alex think he might have been a boxer in his younger days. He placed a recorder on the table. “Mind if we record this?”
Alex put his own digital recorder next to it and turned it on. “I was going to ask the same thing.”
Sanderson gave his partner a look that wasn’t hard to read- this guy’s going to be a jerk -and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Detective Sanderson stated the names of everyone in attendance and the time and place of the interview, then assured Khalid that he could terminate the interview whenever he wanted.
“Is my client a suspect or a person of interest?” Alex asked. It was the same question he had asked over the phone, but he wanted a response on the record.
Brown gave him a sharp look, but Sanderson responded with a calm tone. “Right now, this is still a missing-person investigation. But to the extent we determine a crime has been committed, everyone who knows Ja’dah Fatima Mahdi will be a person of interest. So yes, that would include your client.”
“Fair enough,” Alex said.
The questions began innocently, mostly background questions about Khalid’s relationship with Ja’dah and Fatih Mahdi. The two families had been part of the same mosque in Beirut and had resettled in the United States within six months of each other. The husband of the missing woman was a friend of Khalid’s and a respected leader in the Islamic Learning Center. Ja’dah, a second wife, was fifteen years younger than her husband.
“When was the last time you spoke with either Fatih or Ja’dah?”
“I spoke with Fatih yesterday.”
“Did he mention that his wife was missing?”
“Of course. He was distraught beyond words. He does not show emotion easily, but he was nearly beyond…” Khalid searched for the right word… “beyond being reassured. Beyond comforting. He was worried that something had happened to Ja’dah. That maybe she had been kidnapped. Maybe she ran away with someone else, never to return.”
“Do you have any idea where Ja’dah might go if she was trying to get away from her husband? Does she have friends or family in other parts of the U.S.?”
Khalid thought for a moment, the kind of hesitation that Alex coached his witnesses to avoid. “I don’t know,” he said. “And honestly, I cannot imagine her leaving Fatih. Not on her own.”
“Really?” Brown asked sarcastically. “You can’t think of any reason she might want to leave him?”
Khalid looked puzzled, shaking his head.
“What happened to Fatih’s first wife?”
Khalid hesitated again, and Alex made a mental note; they would have to work on this. “She was unfaithful to Fatih. He put her away.”
“What does that mean?” Brown asked. “‘Put her away’?” She emphasized the words, as if Khalid had been talking about putting an animal to sleep.
Khalid kept his voice pleasant, though Alex could see his neck muscles tighten. “Under Lebanese law, he obtained a divorce,” Khalid said evenly. “Under Sharia law, it is as if he was never married.”
“And you’re saying the grounds for this… ‘putting away’… was infidelity?” Brown asked.
“Yes, I believe it was.”
Brown checked some notes and gave Khalid a cold stare. “And is it true that under Sharia law, if a woman claims she is raped, she must provide four witnesses or she is presumed to be unfaithful?”
Khalid mulled this over as if it were a trick question. Alex was glad the interview wasn’t being videotaped.
“First, I should point out that Lebanon does not operate under Sharia law,” Khalid explained. “In Lebanon, Sharia law is more like a moral code that some Muslims follow. So in Lebanon, what you say would not be true. In some countries, such as Pakistan, this could well be the case.” Khalid paused, looking unsure of exactly how much he should say. “However, in the case of which we speak, there is little doubt that Fatih’s wife was unfaithful.”
This response triggered a number of follow-up questions by Brown, insinuating that Fatih had something to do with Ja’dah’s disappearance. Khalid steadfastly defended his friend. No, Fatih was not known for a violent temper. Yes, Fatih truly loved his wife. Fatih was a man of truth, Khalid said. His words could be trusted.