“You?” Elmahdy raised an eyebrow. “You have no jurisdiction here.”
“I don’t need it.”
Elmahdy leaned forward, his jaw twitching. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t waltz in here and try to take over.” His face turned a deep shade of pink. “Being her boyfriend doesn’t give you any rights to my case.”
“I’m offering to help.”
“What are you? You’re not a detective. SO1? What is that?”
“Security.”
The detective snorted.
Xander picked up a stray pen and squeezed it in his fist with unnecessary force. “I don’t see why that matters.”
Elmahdy eyed him for a moment, then straightened in his seat, still glowering beneath his dark eyebrows. “I’m following procedure. The trail is cold, but I’m still digging. The only reason I’m talking to you is to gain some insight. If I need anything else, I’ll ask.”
Xander ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. He was standing in quicksand, wasn’t he?
“Of course, Gov.”
Elmahdy cleared his throat and flipped a page. “Now, back to our subject.” The detective took out a few sheets from his folder and slid them across the table toward Xander. “Here are the transcripts of interviews with Sterling’s neighbors. Do you read Arabic?”
Xander set the pen down and scanned the documents, written in a flowing Arabic script. He read the words on the first page from right to left, the weight on his chest growing heavier with each paragraph. He flipped through the next few pages, but they all said more or less the same. No one noticed anything. He pushed the stack of papers away. Useless. All of it.
“What did Emanuela Giovanni tell you?”
The inspector licked his thumb and turned a page in his notebook. “She stated that Leila Sterling called, insisting that they had agreed to meet for dinner. She showed us a screenshot of an SMS, which appears to have been sent from Giovanni’s phone.” Elmahdy reached another sheet of paper across the table. “Giovanni says that she did not write or send it. She was home all evening working and told Sterling to come to her flat once they realized something wasn’t right. When Sterling didn’t show up or answer her phone after two hours, Giovanni called the police.”
Xander locked his teeth together and anchored his gaze on the papers on the table. He didn’t suspect Emma of foul play. She was quirky, but not a criminal. But if Emma didn’t send the SMS, then who did? Someone who knew Leila well enough to know she wouldn’t question a message from her closest friend. Someone who had been watching. Xander’s head shot up.
“What about Soliman?” He hated voicing that question. Soliman had always been kind to them. But it had to be asked. “He was the last one to see her.”
“He has a solid alibi. The lab janitor was with him that evening as they fixed a broken window.”
Xander rubbed the back of his neck, relieved. But now that was cleared up, they needed to get moving.
“Would it be possible to see her flat?”
He had to get to the apartment building. He had to speak to the security guards himself. Watch the surveillance videos with his own eyes. There must be something there the police had somehow overlooked.
Whoever was after Leila couldn’t be invisible. There was no perfect crime. There would be a mistake somewhere. And he wouldn’t stop until he found it.
“We already collected what evidence we could.” Elmahdy said. “Hair samples, fingerprints, and so on. Nothing seems to have been touched. No weapon or blood or anything unusual was found, so I don’t believe any crime happened there. As soon as I receive lab results, I will let you know. You can look at the photos, if you like.”
Xander swallowed back a nettled response. “I’m sure you did a very thorough job. But if you want more insight, maybe I could look and see if something seems out of the ordinary.”
“The flat is still sealed.”
“But if you don’t think a crime happened there, it wouldn’t hurt for me to have a look, would it?”
“That doesn’t follow procedure.”
“You want more insight, don’t you?”
“Indeed.” Elmahdy sighed and pushed his chair away from the table. “Very well. Let’s make it quick.”
CHAPTER 8
With a flick of his wrist, Elmahdy ripped the red tape off the door and eased it open. Instead of entering the room, the inspector took a step to the side, and waved a hand for Xander to enter.
He stood, frozen, his chest suddenly tight. Everything would be the way she left it. All her clothes and things would be in there… but she wouldn’t be. Maybe that was what made this hard to see.
After a long inhale infused with the acrid scent of burned chicken, he stepped through the doorway and into the living room. He stopped as his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. The only light came from a golden glow that seeped through the bottom of the heavy curtains. The air as still as the inside of a tomb.
It was as he remembered. A gray rug lay between the couch and a desk covered with stacks of papers and books. Ballpoint pens punctuated the disarray. The walls were bare, except for the bookshelf that hung over the couch.
His heart twisted at the familiar aroma of her flowery perfume that fought the burned chicken for dominance. The pink kind. Cherry flowers or what were they called? His eyes slid shut. He could almost feel her in the room beside him. A rustling sound from the door reminded him of the investigator waiting by the entrance.
Whoops. He’d probably stood there a moment too long. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and strode farther into the room. Unsure of where to start, he wandered to the window and pulled the curtains open. The cobblestone pavement of the courtyard sprawled out below. Near the front gate stood a guard shack, where a dark figure reclined inside with a newspaper or magazine covering his face.
Xander turned to Elmahdy. “Has anyone spoken to the security guard on duty that night?”
“Of course I have,” the detective snapped and stepped into the living room. “He doesn’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”
“That’s it?” Xander raised an eyebrow.
“That’s it.” Elmahdy crossed his arms.
