them all. She inspired people.’ He bit his lip. ‘I was against it. I told her it was beneath her, but she insisted. She went out and found the job herself without telling me a word. Your work is the most important thing, she would say.’
There didn’t seem to be much to say in response to that, so Makana remained silent. But thinking about his wife seemed to knock the last vestiges of resistance out of Ridwan Hilal and his head bowed with a sigh like a gasp. A drop fell with a loud plop onto the table. With a sniff, he wiped a hand across his nose and looked around for a handkerchief. Makana passed him a box of tissues lying on the desk.
‘It’s true she didn’t want to worry me, Mr Makana. I have a heart condition. The doctor says I am to avoid stress, which in this world is like trying to stop breathing.’ Hilal spread his plump fingers in the air. ‘Now, I have police protection. Twenty-four hours a day. What good is that, when they have taken the one thing that matters to me? Those bullets were meant for me, and frankly they could not have done a better job. I am as good as dead right now.’
‘This was a professional execution. If they were meant for you, they would have hit you instead of her.’
‘But why would anyone want to kill her?’ Ridwan Hilal was sitting on the edge of his seat now, his hands gripping the armrests. His stomach heaved as he tried to draw breath. Sweat was beginning to form damp patches on his shirt. ‘Please,’ he wheezed impatiently, ‘whatever you have on your mind, I want to hear it.’
‘If she was the intended target then there has to be a reason someone wanted her dead.’
A heavy paw lifted and dropped to the armrest. ‘Meera’s only crime in life was to marry me. She could not offend anyone. Look outside. Her former students have come to guard her home.’
‘There was nothing controversial about her work?’
‘She taught literature.’ Hilal looked pained. ‘Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf. Things that are too complicated to offend people. They would need a modicum of intelligence.’ His hands still gripped the arms, as if he couldn’t decide whether to break the things or fling them across the table.
Makana took a moment to study the man who had been branded an apostate. His detractors claimed he had taken the sacred book and treated it like a historical dissertation that had not aged well. Was it any surprise some people wanted him dead? Another thought occurred to him. Was it possible that Hilal could have arranged to have his wife killed? He would have needed a strong flair for the dramatic to attempt it this way. A man of his intellectual prowess could surely have worked out a dozen quieter ways of getting the job done. Besides, the sad figure before him told its own story. Makana found himself distracted by the question of what had drawn Meera to this man in the first place. An intellectual attraction of like minds? Now that she was gone, Makana found himself wishing he had had a chance to get to know her better.
‘Violence marks our complete failure as human beings,’ mumbled Hilal. ‘Physical brutality makes us no better than dogs.’
‘Unfortunately, there are still enough dogs about to complicate matters for the rest of us.’
The professor gave a brief, concessionary nod. He passed a hand over his eyes.
‘I’d like your permission to look into her murder.’
The heavy-lidded eyes jerked open. ‘Money? Is that what you are after?’
‘I don’t need your money. I am still employed by Mr Faragalla, which means I am obliged to inform him of what I find. But I would feel better knowing that I had your consent.’
‘I can’t see what good can come of this. I would prefer Meera to be left to rest in peace. Can you understand that?’
‘Certainly. But until we understand why this happened other people might be at risk.’
Hilal’s mournful eyes darted around the walls, as if expecting them to cave in on him at any moment. ‘Mr Makana, if I understand correctly, you blame yourself in some way for what happened to Meera. I understand. Speaking for myself, I am convinced that you proved your bravery by trying to go to her aid during the attack. You cannot be held responsible for the actions of a mad man.’ He handed Makana a card. ‘That is my