The deputy screamed, “How do you know it is two hours till noon? You’ve looked at a watch? Which watch? A gold watch with a chain belonging to her late father? Well? Yes? Answer! Quick, now, immediately . . . Where have you hidden it? At the double, quick, quick. Answer! Silence!”
At first Mash Qasem laughed. Then he suddenly realized what the deputy was implying and he expostulated, “’Slike you’re wantin’ to say that, God forbid, that I . . .”
For the first time Aziz al-Saltaneh exploded, “Why are you talking such nonsense, sir? All these people of ours have been with us for twenty or thirty years. They’re pure as the driven snow. And who told you to come here anyway? Mr. Ghiasabadi was supposed to come.”
At this moment Dear Uncle, who must have heard the noise, came out of the inner apartments. “What’s happened, madam? Who’s this . . .”
Aziz al-Saltaneh shouted, “I don’t know what all this crazy ruckus is all about. I asked the director to send Mr. Ghiasabadi here . . . now this gentleman comes and starts his caterwauling.”
Deputy Taymur Khan flew at her. “What’s this? I can’t believe my ears! Insulting a representative of the state while fulfilling his duty?”
Dear Uncle tried to calm him down. “Don’t upset yourself, sir. No insult was intended. The lady has lost something and thought that . . .”
“You be quiet! A man’s watch is not something that the lady would put in her purse and lose. I am certain that this watch has been stolen. Theft, stealing, and treachery.”
“How can you be so sure? Who has told you?”
“My instinct! The instinct of Deputy Taymur Khan, originator of the international system of surprise attack!”
For a moment Dear Uncle stared uncertainly at Aziz al-Saltaneh. It seemed they had made no decision as to what they were to say had been stolen. And they couldn’t really be blamed for this since they’d had no thought of Deputy Taymur Khan’s coming and it had also been agreed that when Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi arrived Aziz al-Saltaneh would tell him that the stolen object had been found. But Deputy Taymur Khan’s famous system of surprise attack had forced Aziz al-Saltaneh to say, without any hesitation or opportunity for thought, the first thing that came into her head. In any case the deputy’s involvement was not to be taken lightly, and they had somehow or other to get rid of him. But the deputy was not someone who would easily give up once he had started his investigations.
At this moment our servant walked past us, with a basket in his hand. The deputy saw him. He shouted, “Halt! . . . Well, well! Who gave you permission to go outside? Who? Eh? Answer! Quick, now, immediately, at the double!”
Our servant was startled and, with his mouth wide open, he stared at the deputy.
Mash Qasem pushed in, “Don’t be scared, mate, this Mr. Deputy’s character’s that way . . . he’s come from the criminal office to see who’s stolen the watch.”
The deputy shouted, “Mash Qasem, silence!”
Then he turned to our servant again. He brought his huge face almost into contact with the servant’s face and said, “You! You! If you confess immediately your sentence will be reduced. Confess! Quick, now, immediately, at the double! Confess! Tell us where you have put the watch!”
Our servant’s body began visibly to tremble, and he stammered out, “I swear by the blessed Morteza Ali I found it. I didn’t steal it. I found it.”
We all froze as if we’d been electrocuted. No one could understand what had happened. The sound of the deputy’s smug laughter, which was terrifying, rang out, “Ha, ha! Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, the handcuffs!”
Our poor servant had turned strangely pale, and he started pleading, “No, don’t put me in jail! By Morteza Ali, I swear I didn’t steal it, I found it.”
“You found it? Where? When? Who with? How? Quick, immediately, now, silence!”
Then he threw us a proud look and muttered, “Deputy Taymur Khan’s international system of surprise attack cannot fail.”
At this moment the garden door opened and Asadollah Mirza, accompanied by Shamsali Mirza, came in. As soon as the sound of Asadollah Mirza’s voice was audible, without looking at the two of them the deputy spread his arms and shouted, “Silence! Interfering with the investigation is forbidden!”
By gesturing with his hands and head, Asadollah Mirza asked what was going on. But everyone seemed more dumbfounded than the next person, and no one could answer him. Once again the deputy brought his head close to our servant’s face, and said, “Where is the watch now?”
“In my room . . .”
“Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi! Escort this man to his room so that he can fetch the watch!”
Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi took our servant by the arm and they set off. Dear Uncle, Aziz al-Saltaneh and the rest of those present looked this way and that, wondering what the truth of all this could be. With a couple of phrases spoken in French, Asadollah Mirza asked Dear Uncle what was going on. The deputy shouted, “Aha! Who talked in Russian? Silence!”
Finally Mash Qasem, in a few phrases, gave some sort of an explanation to the two newcomers. But the deputy didn’t want to give anyone permission to talk. Our servant and the cadet officer returned.
“Silence! Where did you find it? Quick, now, immediately, answer!”
“In the gutter. By the blessed Morteza Ali . . .”
“Silence! When?”
“Yesterday.”
The pocket watch, together with its chain, was transferred from the cadet officer’s hand to the deputy’s. Suddenly Mash Qasem’s shouted at the top of his voice, “Eh m’dears! I bet that’s the Indian brigadier’s watch, what fell out of his pocket in the fight . . . and then they took that shoeshine feller away for it!”
The deputy leapt toward Mash Qasem, “What? An Indian? A fight? A shoeshine man? What’s all this about? Answer! Quick, immediately, at the double!”
“Well now, why should I lie . . .”
“I said now, immediately, at the double!”
“God keep you, sir, it’s like you’re always in a tearin’ hurry, I bet you was born two months premature ’cause you couldn’t wait. You won’t let me say what I have to say . . .”
“Say it! Now, immediately, at the double!”
“I forget what you asked.”
“I said the Indian, the fight, the shoeshine man, what was all that about?”
“Well now, why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . This neighbor of ours, Brigadier Maharat Khan, yesterday he had a fight with the shoeshine man who works round here. Today he went and lodged a complaint that the shoeshine man had pinched his watch . . . but, it looks like it dropped out of his pocket into the gutter, when they was fightin’. This lad here found it.”
Mash Qasem’s explanation clarified the matter for everyone. It was as if a cloud were lifted from Dear Uncle’s face. Hurriedly he said, “Then run and take this watch down to the police station, Qasem, so they’ll let the poor devil go.”
Deputy Taymur Khan frowned and said, “Just a minute! He’s to take the stolen watch down to the police station without so much as a by your leave? And who has enacted such a law? You? Or you? Answer! Quick, now, immediately! Silence!”
For the first time Asadollah Mirza intervened in the conversation. “Moment, moment, Mr. Detective, sir . . .”
Deputy Taymur Khan had not paid any attention to Asadollah Mirza’s presence; he turned and looked at him. Suddenly he raised his eyebrows and said, “Just a minute! Aren’t you the murderer from last year? Answer! Quick, now, immediately! Silence!”
Asadollah Mirza assumed a mysterious air and said, “That’s right, I am that murderer . . .”
And making a circle with his open hands he advanced on the deputy as if about to take him by the throat. “And today I want to take revenge on the officer who discovered my crime. Murder of
police detective at the hands of a malignant assassin.”
Deputy Taymur Khan took two steps backwards and shouted, “Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, the handcuffs!”
Shamsali Mirza took his brother by the arm, “Asadollah, this is no time for joking. Let this gentleman do his job and leave.”
“You, silence! . . . I’m to leave? Just like that? Just like that? Then what about this lady’s stolen watch?”
Aziz al-Saltaneh said, “You know, sir, I really don’t want you to find my late father’s watch . . . by the way, let me take a look at that watch . . .”
And more or less by force she wrenched the watch from the deputy’s hand and gave it to Dear Uncle. Dear Uncle quickly handed it to Shamsali Mirza and said, “Shamsali, please run to the station and hand over the Indian brigadier’s watch so they can release that poor shoeshine man.”
Shamsali Mirza took the watch and set off. But Deputy Taymur Khan’s voice rang out, “Halt! What do you think you’re doing with that watch? Give it to me, sir! Quick, immediately, silence! I have to give the orders.”
Aziz al-Saltaneh went for him. “Oh yes? And what’s it got to do with you?”
“Silence! Madam, you have no right to speak.”
Her face glowing with rage, Aziz al-Saltaneh glanced this way and that. She snatched up a dry branch from the ground, took a couple of steps toward the deputy, raised the branch to hit him on the head with it, and said, “Just let me hear you say once more that I’ve no right to speak!”
With a laugh Asadollah Mirza said, “Mr. Deputy, sir, didn’t you hear the lady? She said that you were to repeat once again the words you just said. Politeness is a virtue. Obey the lady’s order!”
“Well well, what a splendid scene! Threatening an officer of the state during the performance of his duties . . . intending to strike and injure an officer of the state . . .”
Aziz al-Saltaneh hit the deputy with the branch and said, “Get going, you! Get going, so I can set you straight.”
“Where, madam?”
“I want to have a couple of words with your boss.”
Deputy Taymur Khan melted. “I never claimed, madam . . . if you yourself . . . if you have no complaint to make, I will be on my way . . . Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, quick march!”
Asadollah Mirza jumped into the conversation, “What do you mean ‘Quick march!’ Wait, sir . . . the matter of the watch has to be cleared up . . . someone has to investigate it after all.”
And he signalled Aziz al-Saltaneh to carry out her decision, Aziz al-Saltaneh gave the branch to Mash Qasem and said, “Mash Qasem, keep an eye on this gentleman while I make a phone call.”
A few moments later Layli came out of the inner apartments of Dear Uncle’s house and said, “Mrs. Aziz says the deputy is wanted on the phone.”
The deputy hurried off to the inner apartments, followed by Dear Uncle. In a friendly voice Asadollah Mirza started to ask Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi how he was doing. As always, seeing Layli made me forget my sorrows and worries for a few moments, but this didn’t last for very long because I started thinking about Puri, uncle colonel’s son, who was supposed to turn up that night. For a while we gazed mournfully at one another. I couldn’t think of anything to say to her.
A little later Deputy Taymur Khan, followed by Aziz al-Saltaneh and Dear Uncle, came out of the inner apartments. The deputy’s face looked very preoccupied. In a curt tone he said, “Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi! You stay here and continue the investigation to find the lady’s watch. My superior has recalled me. Silence! For the moment the accused is at liberty.”
“Yes sir.”
As he passed Asadollah Mirza the deputy said in a choked voice, “I’m leaving, but I shall see you again. For now I have to leave . . . I hope I place the hangman’s noose around your neck myself.”
“You, sir, if you please, quick, immediately, back where you came from. They need you at your office.”
As soon as Taymur Khan had left, Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi assumed his superior’s expression and said, “Right, let’s begin the investigation . . . Where was this watch, madam? Answer! Quick, immediately, at the double!”
With a smile Asadollah said, “Moment, Cadet Officer, sir, there’s no need to be in such a hurry now, why don’t you have some tea, and then when the time is right we’ll look around and find the watch. I’m quite sure the lady has put it somewhere and she’s forgotten where. If by any chance it really has been stolen, then your extraordinary intelligence and sagacity’ll find it soon enough. Your face clearly shows what an intelligent person you are.”
“Very kind of you, sir.”
“No, no, I’m telling the simple truth. I’m an excellent judge of character. I promise you that it’ll be your mind that unravels the truth of this criminal affair. Every child knows that you stand head and shoulders above the deputy when it comes to intelligence and sagacity, and the fact that for now you’re under his command is another matter all together.”
Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi was so pleased and embarrassed that his face turned bright crimson; he said, “Very kind of you to see it that way. Of course, it makes a difference who’s got pull and influence and who hasn’t.”
“If you really want that, it’ll be no problem at all. I’ve a hundred friends and acquaintances, ministers and lawyers and such like, and if I tipped any one of them the wink the business would be as good as done . . . You’ve been very kind to us, we’re very much in your debt.”
“You’re really too kind . . . you’re embarrassing me.”
“With your intelligence and sagacity and preeminence it’s really a pity that you just sit on your hands and—because you’re naturally such a fine, magnanimous person—you don’t make any effort to push yourself forward. I’d have thought you would be head of the department by now. Your wife and children haven’t committed any sin that they should be held back because of your fine magnanimous nature, Cadet Officer, sir!”
“I’m not married . . . I mean I was but we were divorced . . . I’ve a child that lives with its mother but of course I pay for its support.”
“Incredible! . . . Ah well. Mash Qasem, won’t you bring a tea for the cadet officer?”
“Right away, sir . . . why don’t you come with me, us bein’ from the same town and all . . . come in my room and have a tea, it’ll refresh your throat like.”
“And so the investigation for the watch . . .”
“There’s lots of time for that, let’s go off to my room and have some tea.”
Mash Qasem and Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi, who had kept his porkpie hat on his head the whole time, went off to Mash Qasem’s room.
Asadollah said to Dear Uncle, who had been standing there silent, “It seems we’re getting somewhere.”
The conversation veered this way and that for a few minutes. Dear Uncle was so anxious to see Shamsali Mirza return from his mission to the police station to free the shoeshine man that he couldn’t be separated from the garden door, and Aziz al-Saltaneh was nervously pacing up and down. Asadollah Mirza winked at me and quietly made for the inner apartments of Dear Uncle’s house. I followed him.
“Uncle Asadollah, where are you going?”
“I want to find out what’s up, to see how far this business of our new son-in-law’s progressed. Whether he’s said ‘I do’ yet or not.”
Mash Qasem’s room was in the basement. With Asadollah in front and me following him, we tiptoed quietly down the corridor that led to the basement. We heard Mash Qasem’s voice asking anxiously and incredulously, “Eh, swear on your mom’s life you’re kiddin’! Swear you hope to die if it ain’t so!”
“Eh, die yourself . . . I was hit by a bullet in the war in Lurestan. I was in hospital six months. And that’s why my wife divorced me . . .”
“You mean it’s all gone? Like it was never there? Not
one little bit’s left?”
Asadollah threw me an appalled look and whispered, “Of all the rotten luck . . . our castle in the air’s about to crumble.”
Mash Qasem said, “But come on now, didn’t you take some medicine to heal it like?”
“What medicine? There has to be something there for the medicine to heal.”
“Eh, it’s just our luck, what a place for the pesky bullet to land! And there’s me been tellin’ tales of how manly the folks in Ghiasabad are!”
It seemed that Mash Qasem had decided to leave Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi alone for a while and to pass on the results of his conversation to the rest of us, because we heard him say, “My friend, you stay here a minute, I’ve just got to pop my head in the kitchen, by the time you’ve drunk your tea I’ll be back. And have some of these nuts. Don’t hold back, make yourself at home . . . eat up!”
Asadollah Mirza and I returned from our hiding place to the yard. Asadollah Mirza was deep in thought. Hearing the voices of Dear Uncle and Aziz al-Saltaneh coming from Dustali Khan’s room, he went in that direction. I followed him.
Aziz al-Saltaneh was sitting by Dustali Khan’s bed and Dear Uncle was pacing up and down the room.
“What’s happened Asadollah? Do you know whether their conversation’s over or not?”
“Well now, as Mash Qasem would say, Why should I lie? To the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . It seems as if the matter has come up against a San Franciscan problem.” Dustali Khan lifted his head and said, “Even if they put you in the grave, you’d still have to be talking rubbish.”
“Moment, moment, as of now our shot-riddled hero is closer to the grave than I am.”
There was no opportunity for an argument to develop, because Mash Qasem appeared. He had a very hangdog expression on his face.
Dear Uncle asked, “What’s happened, Mash Qasem? Did you talk to him?”
“Yes, sir, I said a lot.”
“And what was the result?”
“Well sir, why should I lie? to the grave it’s ah . . . ah . . . I haven’t dared tell this neighbor of mine yet about Miss Qamar being expectin’. He’s agreed to it all the same, but there’s a . . . well, the poor devil has a problem, a difficulty like.”
My Uncle Napoleon Page 38
