by Salar Abdoh
Ezzati quietly brushed past his friend. On his way out of the police station he gave a casual nod to the sentry and headed away from the garage.
* * *
Now here he was, inside this apartment on the fringes of Shush. His knees were still shaking from the climb. Colt in hand, Ezzati finally managed to stand upright and stagger over to the middle of the living room where a corpse lay faceup on the floor. Young woman. Girl, really. No more than sixteen. Her disheveled black hair covered most of her face and the headscarf was knotted around her throat. Ezzati reached over and undid the knot of the scarf with his index finger. Her pale white skin was bruised underneath. The sergeant got up again and moved to the heater to warm his hands a little. His intermittent coughing left him spent. Now he took note of the time and began inspecting the place with a cop’s eyes. The windows all had heavy curtains. There was a small desk in the corner of the living room. A woman’s brown handbag sat on it. Next to the bag was a watch, two rings, and three gold bracelets. In the bedroom everything appeared tidy. No one had slept there lately. A woman’s coat hung in the closet. Next to it, a man’s suit and a pair of loose Kurdish pants. The only other objects were a couple of spray bottles of air freshener and several bedsheets folded neatly inside a drawer.
He had been there all of ten minutes when the sound of a key turning inside the door lock brought Ezzati out of himself. He made straight for the bathroom and left the door ajar so he could peer inside the living room. A woman entered the apartment. She had on a drenched and muddy black chador. She paused and gave the place a quick once-over. Now she let go of her umbrella and, as she made her way to the heater, the chador fell off her head and dropped to the floor. She was tall and looked distracted. In fact, it was as if she hardly saw the corpse lying right there in front of her. She took a cigarette from her bag and lit it. Her eyes fell on the brown handbag on the table next to the window. She went over and took the bracelets and rings but for some reason missed the watch.
Ezzati was keeping his cough in check and watching her every move. She headed for the bedroom. From his angle, Ezzati could see her hands reaching into the drawer and searching underneath the bedsheets. She came up with a wad of cash and stuffed it all in her pocket. She retreated from the bedroom and passed the corpse without so much as a look. She picked up her chador and umbrella and was about to reach for the door when Ezzati’s bark made her freeze: “Stop!”
She gave a surprised cry and as she turned to face him the umbrella fell from her hands. She looked like she might scream. Ezzati took three quick steps to the door and grabbed her.
“Not a sound from you!”
“Mister, you scared me to death.” She had a hand on her heart and was gazing at Ezzati in utter disbelief. “For a second I thought I was finished. I thought you were . . . the police?” Her wrinkles were full of dirt, and when she opened her mouth to speak the rot in her teeth was something awful. “Are you really police or . . . ?”
“Or what?” Ezzati asked, watching her curiously.
The woman seemed to shake off the initial shock. “Or nothing. I mean, the way you suddenly came behind me, I just got scared. That’s all.”
Ezzati glanced away from her for a second and tried to focus on what he had to do next. Immediately he heard the sound of the door opening and turned back to see the woman running into the dark of the hallway. He caught up to her by the stairway and grabbed hold of her headscarf. She tried screaming, but he already had his other hand on her mouth and was dragging her back into the apartment. He tossed her onto the floor next to the corpse.
“Key!”
The woman looked at him without understanding.
“Give me the key to the apartment. Now.”
He took her key and locked the door with it. The woman had gotten up and dragged herself to the heater, the whole time not taking her terrified eyes off of him.
“Don’t lie to me; what are you doing here?”
“Me? I’m Najmeh. Don’t you know?” Her voice shook. She began to cry. “I swear to God I know nothing. For the love of your children, let me go. I’m innocent. I just do the work that—”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not police.”
The woman suddenly grew quiet and wiped her tears with the back of her hands.
Ezzati took the Colt from his pocket and stuck it in the back of his belt. “I’ll ask you again—tell me exactly what you’re doing here.” He was speaking quietly now, but the woman continued shaking.
“I already said—my name is Najmeh. I clean houses. I work in people’s homes.”
He sprang at her, grabbed at the knot of the headscarf again, and hissed, “Bullshit me one more time and I’ll destroy you. This is the last time I’ll ask you: What are you doing here? What’s your real job?”
The woman fell to pleading: “Mister, I’ll tell you everything. I promise. Just don’t hurt me. This thing,” she pointed to the dead girl, “I had nothing to do with it. I never even saw her before today. I just come to wash the dead bodies he leaves behind. That’s my job.”
“How long have you been doing this?” Ezzati snapped.
“Can’t say for sure. A year, maybe a bit longer.”
“How did he find you?” Ezzati still held tight to the woman’s headscarf.
“How should I know? He probably asked around. Everyone knows Najmeh the corpse washer. Everyone knows I’m always broke. When this guy called me, my child was already sick. She still is. I needed money for the hospital bills and the surgery. He told me over the phone there was good money in it.”
“How does he get in touch with you?”
“He calls me. Tells me to get over here, and that there’s a body to be washed and shrouded. The man is serious about the corpses being properly cared for. So I do exactly as he says. I go to the cloth market and buy some calico for the shroud. I wash the body in the bathroom, shroud it, and then I leave. That’s it. I swear to you I know nothing about anything else. He never shows himself to me. I’ve never seen him in the flesh. He gives me specific times. He says I can’t be a minute late or early.”
Ezzati let go of the woman and took a few steps back until he was standing over the girl’s corpse. “How many times have you done this?”
The woman paused. Ezzati watched her carefully. “I can’t say for sure. Ten, twelve, maybe thirteen. I didn’t keep count. Why should I? For the love of God, I’m a corpse washer. They say wash, I wash. If not here, then at the mortuary at Behesht e Zahra where I keep regular hours.”
“How does he pay you?”
“Leaves the money in the drawer in the bedroom.”
“How much?”
She hesitated. “Um, it’s yours if—”
“How much?” Ezzati yelled.
“Hundred fifty.”
“How much do they pay you at the cemetery for the same work?”
“Forty.” The woman had begun shaking again. She stayed by the heater. “Can I smoke?”
Ezzati nodded. She fished a cigarette and stuck it between her rutted lips.
“Finish your smoke and get on with your work.”
“Finish? Finish what?” she stammered.
“The job you got paid for.”
She took quick drags of her cigarette and watched the corpse. There was no feeling in those eyes. Just another thing she had to wash. Ezzati went to the window and took a peek outside through the gap in the curtain. It didn’t look like it would stop raining anytime soon.
“Hurry up!”
The woman took her last drag and went over to the body. She grabbed the girl under the arms and dragged her to the bathroom. She seemed to have a second wind now.
“Don’t shut that door.”
“But I have to strip her.”
“Leave it ajar.”
The woman nodded.
“How will you wash her? Only with water?”
The woman stared at him doubtfully.
“Answer my question. Don’t you need to mix the water with anythi
ng else? Maybe with cedar powder and camphor?”
“It’s not a must. It would be nice to have them. They give a body some fragrance. But it can be done without it. That’s what the law says anyhow.”
Ezzati stood there watching through the half-open door. “Talk. Every little thing you do in there, I want you to describe it to me.”
“What’s there to describe? I’ll just strip the corpse and wash her. Like the rest of them.”
Ezzati leaned against the wall behind him. “Have you known any of the bodies?”
“Personally, you mean? No. Why should I?”
“But you do know they were street women.”
“Maybe I heard some things. Yes.”
“Why do you think he asked you to wash and shroud the bodies according to the law?”
She was struggling to take the girl’s clothes off and seemed annoyed. “How should I know? I guess he’s a religious man. He believes in God and the Prophet. He prays. He’s virtuous. Righteous. All that stuff. Whoever does something like this, he has to know right from wrong.”
The girl’s upper body was naked now, but the tight jeans seemed glued to her legs and wouldn’t come off. It appeared that she was going to wash her outside the bathtub and let the water run off to the floor drain.
Ezzati turned away. “So you’re saying the man who did this is virtuous?”
The woman was panting from the effort to strip the body. “These girls are not human. They’re vermin. They need to be wiped off the face of the earth.”
“How long since you stopped bothering to wash the corpses?”
Still panting, she began talking fast. “It was just this one time. I swear it. I was in a hurry. I told you I have a sickly child. There’s no one to look after her. I have to get her to the hospital. She’s been spitting blood since yesterday.”
Ezzati let his glance linger on what was happening in there. The girl’s white skin, her ankles and thighs, they would come into the sergeant’s line of vision and then disappear as the woman worked on her.
“I have to rid her of the impurities before actually washing her,” she explained.
“Which impurities?”
“You know, piss, shit, semen, blood, everything in every single hole.” She was running the water now and had to talk loud over the noise. Steam came out of the bathroom. She spoke with revulsion in her voice. “This dirty bitch, she has everything you can name on her.”
Ezzati barely moved. He kept his eyes on the blank wall and remained frozen.
“Now I wash her back. I have to run water over her three full times. Then I dry her and bring her out for shrouding. I’m going to take her into the bedroom.”
Ezzati stayed in the living room. He could hear the woman’s voice better now that the water was off.
“By the way, I had no chance to buy cloth at the market. If you permit it, I’ll just use one of the sheets in the bedroom. As far as sharia law goes, it’s allowed.”
Ezzati said nothing. Slowly he lost track of time. He walked like some caged animal in that living room, stopping to lean on the heater and against the walls. When the woman finally appeared in front of him again, she had another cigarette in her mouth. “My job is finished,” she said with emphasis. “I laid her in the bedroom nicely shrouded and facing qeble. She’s ready for the prayer for the dead. If you are done with me, I’d like to go now.”
Ezzati slowly lifted his eyes. “You said there were impurities on her?”
“I cleaned it all.”
He asked the same question as if he hadn’t heard what she just said. “There were impurities?”
The woman wiped her face with the edge of her chador. “With God as my witness, I cleaned everything. Why are you giving me a hard time? Let me go!”
Ezzati walked toward her. “You can’t go anywhere. There’s police all over the place.”
“Please! What police? You? If there was other police, they would have broken the door down by now.”
He pointed to the bathroom. “You have to stay in there until my job here is finished.”
The woman was pleading with him again. He stood there for a second watching her, and then he pounced. He caught hold of her wrist and dragged her after him.
She was wailing now. “You are not a man. You promised to let me go if I did my job. I beseech you!”
He let go of her in a corner of the wet and still-steamy bathroom. “I have to tie you up. It won’t be for long.”
“I won’t tell anyone anything,” she cried. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
He bound her hands with a pair of cuffs. Then he took a bandanna from his pocket and expertly tied her mouth up too. “Don’t you move from here.”
Back in the living room Ezzati just about fell on the corner chair, exhausted. He leaned his head back and felt for the gun he was carrying. The weapon’s presence bought him a measure of confidence. There were no more sounds from the woman. He stared at the water stains on the ceiling, his mind drawing blanks. Then, just as he was closing his eyes, there was a sound of steps in the corridor.
Ezzati willed himself off the chair and stood gazing at the door. There were no other apartments on this floor. Whoever it was, they seemed to be slowing down as they got closer to the door. Gun in hand, he tiptoed to the bedroom, but the vantage point from there wouldn’t do. He was wheezing again and wanted to cough, but he managed to keep quiet and get himself to the bathroom just as the keys jangled at the door. He shushed the woman with a gesture of his index finger and turned to face outside.
A young man, thirtyish. His long hair soaked. He was skinny and wore a coat that reached below his knees. Ezzati kept his eyes on him from the gap in the bathroom door. The guy seemed to be taking the place in, though it was obvious it was hardly his first time here. He stood by the radiator and kept rubbing his hands to warm himself. He shook his hair out and Ezzati could hear the hiss of the water as it sizzled on the radiator. Over at the window the man took awhile carefully peeking outside. Then he walked over to the desk and his eyes fell on the watch.
“Gold!” he exclaimed. “This could be your lucky day today, daash Ebram.”
Ezzati watched him as he made the rounds of the place, water still dripping from his hair and his poorly trimmed beard. Then he was standing still in that bedroom. Ezzati had to push the door open a little more to be able to see what he was up to. The man just stood there over the corpse, staring. Then he began talking to himself again: “The guy’s like a bulldozer. Come rain or shine, he has to do his thing. It could be hailing stones from the skies and he still has to do his killing. The hell with him!”
He bent down and pulled the white shroud off the face of the dead girl. “O freshness! May Ebram here die for you a thousand deaths. You were a peach. Fuck the guy who did this to you. Fuck him and his mother. He gets his pleasure and leaves the bodies for me. The bastard.”
Then, with one swift pull, he ripped the improvised shroud apart and let out a deep sigh. “I bet you were just a beginner, weren’t you? May he that put an end to your sweet breath stop breathing himself.”
From Ezzati’s vantage it looked like the man had begun caressing the corpse’s breasts. It was an appalling moment which Ezzati shared with the woman behind him. She had heard everything he’d heard and she turned away, embarrassed and uncomfortable. The man’s moans were getting louder now. He sat on the girl’s stomach and seemed to be undoing his pants.
“Forgive me, little angel. Just one single quickie and I’m done. Time is short and I have to get on with my work.” His voice trembled with excitement and he kept repeating, “A quickie and I’m finished, I promise.”
Ezzati’s kick was vicious and it threw the man right off the corpse and against the wall. The sergeant stood there with his legs wide apart, gun in hand, dry coughing several times before he finally spoke. “Get up, you ungrateful piece of garbage. Do it now before I put a bullet in your head.”
And then Ezzati was fighting to stay on his feet. A viole
nt coughing attack took hold of him and wouldn’t let go. The other man saw this and for a moment made a halfhearted attempt at closing the distance between them. But Ezzati held on, their eyes met, and then the man noticed he himself was bleeding from the nose. He must have smashed his face against the wall when Ezzati kicked him. The sight of blood appeared to purge him of any idea of a fight. He pulled his head back to stop the flow of blood and then dropped himself onto the floor. Ezzati’s coughs soon subsided. He took a couple of steps toward the man and stuck the muzzle of the gun in his face. Ebram moaned. Ezzati’s military boots crushed the guy’s left ankle with such force that he didn’t even try to protect them. He just grabbed his own face in his bony hands and let out another animal moan.
“You’re afraid, are you? You’re afraid, daash Ebram?”
The next kick was in the chest. Ezzati watched Ebram knot into himself from the pain. And he stood over him, coughing, spitting, yelling in truncated sentences. “You know, I owe you an apology. A year and a half ago. Thinking you had scruples. Killing your wife. Telling me you did it because . . . she betrayed you. Sorry for not arresting you back then. I let you escape. Thinking you deserved a second chance. Sorry. That’s what I am. Sorry thinking you were a man.”
Ebram lay prone on the floor. He was barely breathing and his face was covered in blood. Ezzati yanked his hair. Suddenly the other man opened his mouth and gulped air as if he’d been drowning. “Don’t kill me. For the love of your children, don’t! I’m innocent. It was the devil’s work. I didn’t mean to—”
Ezzati delivered a torrent of blows. “You know what I’m sorry for, you beast? I’m sorry I convinced myself you were partnering with me out of faith.”
The blows landed every which way and brought only more resigned moaning from Ebram. They sounded like the groans of a man on his deathbed. Ezzati stopped for another attack of coughs; this time it made his body spasm. He fell to the floor. He was spitting blood and his gun lay next to him. The other man made a feeble move for the Colt, but Ezzati managed to pull himself together, grab the gun, and get up.
“On the blood of Imam Hossein, I implore you not to kill me. Forgiveness!”
