'These are police. They're looking for your pig brother.'
'He's not here,' said the woman, looking scared.
'They're coming in to see bur home.'
The boy had rolled double sixes. He moved three discs into his home zone and removed one from the board.
'Ahh,' said Maksoud, and he rose from the table. 'Put it away, Tawfik. You learn too well.'
There was an overtone of threat in his voice, and the boy complied, looking frightened, just like his mother.
'Get out of here,' said Maksoud and the boy ran off. The brother-in-law pushed the wife out of the way and went inside. The detectives followed him.
Just what you'd expect, thought Shmeltzer. Two tiny rooms and a cooking area, hot, filthy, smelly. A baby on the floor wearing a skullcap of flies, a chamber pot that needed emptying. No running water, no electricity. Crawling bugs decorating the walls. Administered.
The wife busied herself with drying a dish. Maksoud sat down heavily on a torn cushion that looked as if it had once been part of a sofa. His paleness had taken on a yellowish cast. Shmeltzer wondered it it was the light or jaundice. The place felt dangerous, contagious.
'Have a smoke,' he told the Chinaman, wanting something to burn away the smell. The big man pulled out his pack of Marlboros, offered it to Maksoud, who hesitated, then took one and let the detective light it for him.
'When's the last time you saw him?' Shmeltzer asked when the two of them were puffing away.
Maksoud hesitated and the Chinaman didn't seem interested in waiting for an answer. He started walking through the room, looking, touching things, but lightly, without seeming intrusive. Shmeltzer noticed that Cohen seemed lost, not knowing what to do. One hand on the Uzi. Scared shitless, no doubt.
Shmeltzer repeated the question.
'Four or five days,' said Maksoud. 'Insha'Allah, it will stretch to eternity.'
The woman gathered enough courage to look up.
'Where is he?' Shmeltzer asked her.
'She knows nothing,' said Maksoud. A glance from him lowered her head just as surely as if he'd pushed it down with his hands.
'Is it his habit to leave?'
'Does a pig have habits?'
'What did he do to piss you off?'
Maksoud laughed coldly. 'Zaiyel mara,' he spat. 'He is like a woman.' The ultimate Arabic insult, branding Abdelatif as deceitful and irresponsible. 'For fifteen years I've been putting him up and all he creates is trouble.'
'What kind of trouble?'
'From the time he was a baby-playing with matches, almost set the place on fire. Not that it would be a great loss, eh? Your government promised me a house. Five years ago and I'm still in this shithole.'
'What else besides the matches?'
'I told him about the matches, tried to knock sense into him. Little pig kept doing it. One of my sons got burned on the face.'
'What else?' Shmeltzer repeated.
'What else? When he was about ten he started to knife rats and cats and watch them die. Brought them inside and watched. She didn't do a thing to stop him. When I found out about it I beat him thoroughly and he threatened to use the knife on me.'
'What did you do about that?'
'Took it away from him and beat him some more. He didn't learn. Stupid pig!'
The sister suppressed a sniffle. The Chinaman stopped walking. Shmeltzer and Cohen turned and saw the tears flowing down her cheeks.
Her husband stood up quickly and turned on her, screaming. 'Stupid woman! Is this a lie? Is it a lie that he's a pig, descended from pigs? Had I known what lineage and dowry you brought I would have run from our wedding all the way to Mecca.'
The woman backed away and bowed her head again. Wiped a dish that had dried long ago. Maksoud swore and settled back down on the cushion.
'What kind of knife did he use on the animals?' asked the Chinaman.
'All kinds. Whatever he could find or steal-in addition to his other fine qualities he's a thief.' Maksoud's eyes scanned the putrid house. 'You can see our wealth, how much money we have to spare. I tried to get hold of his U.N. allotment, to force him to pay his share, but he always managed to hide it-and steal mine as well. All for his stinking games.'
'What kinds of games?' asked Shmeltzer.
'Sheshbesh, cards, dice.'
'Where did he gamble?'
