The Boarding House Horror

8. Mariam Saab

My next victim, Mariam Saab, tucked her festive skirts in around her thighs as she sat. "You have a good bedside manner, Inspector Visser. Are you in the right profession?"

Her question jarred me. Surely, my face must have registered some of my shock. I asked myself that same question almost daily. I pasted on a clay smile. "It pays the rent. Barely."

"Mmm," she rested deep brown eyes on me. They surely judged, but somehow I didn't mind their warm discernment. "We all have to pay rent."

I poised my pencil over my pad of paper. "Where are you from?"

"Tunis. I'm here in The Hague for a job interview."

"Where?"

"Etos. Cosmetics counter. I'm a beautician."

"Yes," I said.

"Ooo, Inspector!" She waggled her eyebrows to emphasize her teasing tones. My face heated.

"I meant ... Never mind. I've already lost. So. Did you hear anything in the night?"

She heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I mean, I think I woke up to some banging sounds from the ground floor. Thumping, maybe. But by the time I woke up enough to open my eyes all was quiet."

"Any idea what time that was?"

"Not really. The night outside the window was deep and dark. My stomach said it was nowhere near time for breakfast. So. The hours after midnight."

"And you stayed in bed?"

"Yes." Her eyelids lowered to half-cover her beautiful eyes.

"Among the guests, who did you know before arriving?"

"Ooo, Inspector!" she said again. This time her eyebrows shot up and stayed up. "I think I'd better behave. You know things. Yes, I knew George Raptis a little bit from the Great War. He was stationed in Elbe."

"Were you an Ottoman as well?" My tones came harsh.

She lowered her eyes. "I was surviving, Inspector. Africa fell to the Ottoman Empire swiftly, but the world did not take heed. Somehow, the Allies managed to be surprised when the booted feet marched across Belgium and France and your own Low Countries."

"Go on." I made my voice gentle.

"My method of surviving was trivial. I smiled. I flirted. I attached myself to an enemy officer, and made sure to keep his ego stoked. And with him I travelled away from Tunis to many places. Even Istanbul. My general inspected the shipyard at Elbe and the officer in charge there was George Raptis."

She met my eyes. I don't know what she saw in mine. In her soulful depths I saw a list of regrets and a sunburst of past glories and a chain of guilty decisions.

She rambled, "I thought him a bit of a lizard, really. We were expected to dine together for the few days we were there. He ate like a shark, and his jokes were even more horrid than my general's."

"And that's all?"

"Yes, that's all, until I arrived here. And there he was again. Has it only been five years? It seems like a lifetime."

"How did you feel, seeing him again?"

"Mildly amused. You know why, yes?"

"I can guess, but tell me."

Her giggle warmed me. "If you say so. The Dutch are united against the Ottoman Empire, now that it's dead and gone. But at the time, it wasn't so clear. And now, of course, former Ottomans are running around everywhere. They just won't say out loud how their loyalties shifted when the tides of battle turned."

"But Raptis was an officer, you say."

"Yes. Perhaps he'd be brought to trial here at the Peace Palace. Well. Too late, now. He died in terror. Did you see his face?"

"Err." Raptis's accusatory rictus swam before my eyes. "I did. Do you have any other things to add about Raptis, Miss Saab?"

"I love how you are so polite, Inspector."

My face felt hot again.

Mariam dragged a finger down across her lips and chin. "His daughter seems like a lovely young woman, probably because she had nothing to do with her father. And, what else? Oh, he was a beast to me last night. He really is a lizard. I kept a noble silence at the time, but I tossed and turned in bed afterward. You know how it is."

"Yes." We exchanged glances again. I wondered if I floated above my chair. Gravity seemed irrelevant for a moment.

I regrouped. "Who else did you know previously?"

"No one. Well, no, that's not true. The other tall one besides you. I'm so bad with names. Lazar, that's it. I know his face. He was an Ottoman, too, I believe. I can't remember where or when. But he has a memorable face."

"He does." I jotted a few notes. My lips curved upwards a little. "We seem to agree a lot, Miss Saab."

"We do." She sent me a cool gaze, then broke it with a wink.

I chuckled. "On a different note, how did you know that Mario Costa was afraid of insects?"

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "I guessed, but I guessed correctly. He hates cats, and the cats are always trying to get in this house, who knows why."

"Yes."

She flashed a smile. "Stop it, you cad. Well, Mario mentioned that cats had fleas, and he shuddered. So I guessed that what he felt about fleas might extend to other small, innocent creepy-crawlies."