Moonlight murder, p.3
Moonlight Murder, page 3
But Sana was already shaking her head. “I can’t stay here, Mom. I need to find a new place. A fresh start. Didn’t you want the same when you left Toronto?”
She had, though her reasons had been wrapped in guilt and the knowledge that if she did not leave the city where her son had died, she might join him. Which brought her to the point. “I have to tell you something. It is about Maleeha’s school.”
Sana’s hand paused as she lifted her teacup to her lips. “What about her school?”
“Maleeha is home from school today,” Kausar said. It was not a question.
Sana frowned. “How did you know that?”
“She always wears white sneakers to school when it is warm, and I spotted them by the door,” Kausar said.
“She said she had a headache. Her eyes were puffy and she looked pale. She’s sleeping now,” Sana explained.
Kausar considered. On the one hand, it wasn’t surprising that Maleeha had not shared the real reason for her puffy eyes with her mother. She wasn’t sure how her daughter would react if she found out that not only did Maleeha have a boyfriend, but the relationship had ended last night in tragedy.
“I’m sorry to hear Maleeha is unwell,” Kausar said.
“It’s nothing serious,” Sana said. “Now, are you going to share your news, or leave me in suspense?”
Kausar opened her mouth to tell Sana about Qasim’s death when her daughter’s phone rang. They both glanced down at the screen. It was Jessica Kaur, Sana’s criminal lawyer, and with an apologetic glance at Kausar, she picked up. “Jessica, hi, thanks for calling me back,” Sana said, disappearing into the main floor office. Kausar knew there were still a few loose ends in the police case against Imran’s murderer—including her own questions about the anonymous, threatening text messages she had received—that had never been explained. In the meantime, Kausar figured she had at least fifteen minutes to check up on Maleeha.
Upstairs, Kausar knocked softly on the door before entering. Her granddaughter’s room was messy, as usual, and she glanced at the closet, with its untidy pile of shoeboxes along the upper shelf. Maleeha was sitting up in bed, staring at her phone. She hastily hid it beneath her blankets when she spotted her nani.
“I heard about your friend,” Kausar said, taking a seat on Maleeha’s bed. “I am so sorry, beta.”
Maleeha’s eyes filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks. “Cerise texted me this morning, along with a bunch of other people. I couldn’t go to school, Nani,” she said. “I told Mom I wasn’t feeling well.”
“I am sorry I dismissed your worries yesterday. I should have listened to you and Cerise more attentively when you asked for my help,” Kausar said.
Maleeha shook her head. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway.” She wiped her eyes. “The worst part is, I didn’t get to say goodbye, and now he’s—” She choked back a sob and buried her face in Kausar’s lap, shoulders shaking. Kausar rubbed her back and stroked her hair until the storm of tears had passed, and they sat like that for a long time, silent.
Maleeha sat up and reached for the box of tissues beside her, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. “My friends have been messaging all day. Everyone is saying that Qasim . . . did this to himself.”
Kausar inhaled sharply. Suicide? The idea that a young person her granddaughter’s age might have taken their own life was unthinkable to her. “What do you think happened?” she asked.
“Qasim would never have killed himself,” Maleeha said resolutely. “Never. He had issues, like everyone else, but he was happy. He had so many things to look forward to. We’d made plans for this weekend, and I know he would never have done that to his family, or to me.” She looked at her grandmother. “Someone killed Qasim. Nani, you have to find out what really happened. Please.”
Maleeha’s hair was tangled, her eyes puffy from tears and a sleepless night, her clothes wrinkled and worn. She was so beautiful Kausar could hardly breathe, and she knew she would always do anything her granddaughter asked. She nodded.
“Qasim and I were dating,” Maleeha blurted. “He was my boyfriend. My first serious one, I mean. Neither of our families knew about it. I don’t think Mom and Dad would care that much, but Qasim’s parents are pretty strict. In any case, it was new for both of us, but we were serious.” Maleeha managed to look defiant and vulnerable at the same time, and Kausar knew that if she said the wrong thing now, her granddaughter would shut down entirely.
“Then I am even more sorry for your loss, beta, if he was your first love,” Kausar said.
For a moment, Maleeha’s face crumpled, but she fought to control herself. “I want to help,” she said, choking back her sobs. “Please. I need to do something or I might lose my mind.”
“Naturally, I could not look into Qasim’s death without you,” Kausar reassured her.
Maleeha sagged with relief, and a new energy suffused her. “The police say they found Qasim at the pond, but that makes no sense. He never went there.” Kausar was unfamiliar with this neighborhood landmark, and Maleeha explained. “It’s this fake pond thing, behind those newer houses at the edge of Golden. Because it’s surrounded by all these trees, sometimes kids go there to drink, or smoke, or . . . do other things.” Maleeha’s cheeks were pink now. “Not me, though. And not Qasim, either. He wasn’t that kind of guy. We weren’t . . . we didn’t . . . we mostly just hung out at school, or at the mall.”
Kausar swallowed her smile. “Of course, beta.”
Maleeha continued, determined. “All I can think is that he must have been lured there by someone. I don’t know why, but you can find out. People talk to you, all kinds of people.”
It was the same thing May always said, and she wondered if it were true. Somehow, she doubted her legendary powers of listening would work on young people, even if she was approachable and harmless looking.
“Did Qasim have any enemies?” Kausar asked. “Can you think of anyone who would wish him harm?”
Maleeha shook her head, eyes filling with fresh tears. “Everyone loved Qasim,” she said.
Kausar sighed. Maleeha was not entirely unbiased. “You must have known his friends,” she said, coaxing.
Maleeha paused, thinking it over, then shook her head. “We spent a lot of time together just the two of us,” she said.
Kausar filled in the rest: Qasim had not spent as much time with friends lately, now that he was in a relationship.
“I guess he was sort of close to this new kid at our school, Joquiem. They were both in the poetry club together,” Maleeha said. This made Kausar pause. Had her granddaughter fallen for an artistic type? Evidently, she had. “Qasim is, like, the smartest guy in our grade, but he was also part of the drama club and poetry club. He wanted to act and sing and perform,” Maleeha said.
“What did his parents think about that?” Kausar asked, and Maleeha’s expression said it all. For many desi kids, an interest in the arts was never taken seriously, not like a career in the more reliable STEM fields.
Maleeha had started crying again, softly this time. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said. “How am I supposed to live in a world without him?”
It wasn’t a question, and Kausar’s heart broke for her granddaughter. How many times had she wondered the same thing, the ache for her son a deep cavern in her heart? “We will find out the truth, Maleeha,” Kausar vowed. “I promise.”
Outside in the hallway, Kausar took a deep breath. Her granddaughter’s request had been expected, but she still felt shaken. Naturally, she had reassured Maleeha that she would do whatever she could to help, but in truth, she wasn’t sure what form her aid would take. When she tried to imagine what Qasim’s family must be going through, it brought up painful memories. But would launching an investigation into Qasim’s death simply be another way of delaying the promise she’d made to herself and to Ali’s memory? She had fallen apart when her son died. If she took up Maleeha’s request now, as she had promised, it might unearth terrible memories from her past. Not to mention that she had limited resources at her disposal. What would she do if she couldn’t find justice for Qasim? It might destroy her burgeoning self-confidence. She could not wait another eighteen years to look into her son’s death.
“How is Maleeha?” Sana’s voice broke through Kausar’s thoughts, making her jerk.
“She said her head feels better,” Kausar offered.
“I know she doesn’t really have a headache, Mom. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I’ve learned to let the girls tell me in their own good time. Maybe you should try that approach, too.”
The words were too pointed to ignore, and Kausar felt a brief flare of irritation with her daughter and her inconsistency: Sana was determined to do things on her own, yet was still angry at her mother for moving out. She tamped down the feeling. She still had to tell Sana about Qasim and followed her to the kitchen, ostensibly to finish her tea, but also to get out of Maleeha’s earshot; the walls in this house were thin.
“We didn’t finish our conversation from before,” Sana said, once Kausar had resumed her seat at the kitchen table. Her tea was cold now.
Kausar nodded, taking a deep breath. “A young boy from Maleeha’s school was found dead this morning at the pond,” she said. Sana’s face drained of color.
“My God. I had no idea. How did he die?” Sana asked.
Kausar shook her head. “Unclear. He was Maleeha’s age. They were . . . good friends.” She leveled a look at her daughter. “I believe they were romantically involved.” Kausar knew that keeping the nature of Maleeha’s relationship from Sana would do more harm than good. Besides, Maleeha had told her she was sure her parents would be okay with the truth, so she did not feel too bad.
Sana closed her eyes. Kausar stood up, suddenly restless, and started opening cupboards. “Where are the Osmania biscuits I bought?” she asked, referring to the salty-sweet shortbread cookie popular in Hyderabad, which she had left behind when she moved out.
“I threw them out. I’m on a no-sugar cleanse,” Sana said, watching her mother’s movements. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”
“The rest is Maleeha’s story to share. Which I am sure she will, when she is ready,” Kausar couldn’t help but add.
Her daughter leveled her with a look, but could hardly press further, considering the advice she had just given her mother.
“How was your call with Jessica?” Kausar asked, changing the subject. She placed her and Sana’s mugs in the microwave to warm up.
“She wants me to come by and talk about a few remaining items, but otherwise there’s nothing left to do but negotiate a payment plan,” Sana said.
“I would be happy to—” Kausar started, but Sana shook her head.
“You’ve already paid most of Jessica’s fee. I can take care of what’s left.”
The frugal living that had become habit, as well as Kausar’s lifelong interest in investing, combined with her late husband’s high income as a medical doctor, had left her a wealthy widow. Even after generous inheritances were provided both to Sana and Adam, Kausar’s eldest child who now lived in London, Kausar was left with more than enough to live comfortably. Her daughter knew that but was still determined to make her own way. Kausar couldn’t help but feel a flare of pride at Sana’s tenacity. Her daughter knew she had a significant safety net but didn’t want to use it unless her hand was forced.
“How is Hamza?” Kausar asked, placing the reheated mug of tea in front of her daughter and resuming her seat. She was reaching for a safer topic, one they shared a mutual loathing for.
Sana shrugged. “Not as unhappy as he deserves to be,” she said. Kausar’s lips quirked at the comment. Her daughter was so careful not to speak badly of her ex in front of her children that it was gratifying for Kausar to hear her let loose.
“Give it time,” Kausar said. “He will ruin his life in some spectacular fashion, I’m sure.”
“One can only hope,” Sana said wryly. She sighed. “Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind. I can’t settle on anything, and I can’t sit still. Some days, the house feels so big and quiet, I want to scream. Other days, it feels like the walls are closing in, and I’m suffocating.”
Kausar was touched by her daughter’s vulnerability; she knew it did not come easy, for either of them. “You have been through so much, beta,” she said. “Give yourself time to heal. Your number one job is to focus on yourself and your children. Nothing else matters.”
Sana’s expression hardened. “Plenty else matters. There’s still the matter of the lawyer’s fees, getting the house ready to sell, the store, and filing for divorce, sorting out whatever trouble Maleeha has gotten herself into . . .”
“Don’t worry about the lawyer’s fees, and we can hire movers to help with everything. As for Maleeha, I promise I will help. Besides, the divorce cannot be granted until a year’s separation has passed—”
Sana put up her hand. When she spoke, her voice was calm, but there was a thread of something underneath that sounded like exhaustion. “I know I called you to come to my rescue six months ago, and I’m so grateful for all your help with everything that happened. I truly don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.” Her voice cracked, and she struggled to regain control. “But I need you to back off now. It’s time for me to get my life in order, on my own. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll turn to you every time things fall apart, and I’ll never learn how to stand on my own. I know the girls and I have given you a bit of a hard time about moving out, but it’s made me realize just how much I was relying on you.”
“That’s what family is for, beta,” Kausar started, but Sana shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“Please, Mom,” she whispered.
“Of course, beta,” Kausar said.
“I’m going to check on Maleeha now,” Sana said. She still hadn’t finished her tea, but her words were a clear invitation for Kausar to leave.
Chapter 4
Kausar decided to forgo the bus and walk home from her daughter’s house. She needed to clear her head and organize her thoughts. She knew she had no business making promises to Maleeha without even knowing the basic facts of Qasim’s death, but the words had spilled out in the face of her distress. Luckily, she knew one person who could help.
Constable Ilyas Marjani of the Toronto Police Service was her son Adam’s oldest friend and, more recently, her daughter’s arresting officer, which meant he owed the family a few dozen favors. He picked up on the second ring.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, and she smiled. Ever since the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the unmasking of Imran’s real killer, he had answered every phone call from Kausar with this same mix of panic and guilt.
“Alhamdulillah. How are you, Ilyas?” she answered easily.
“I’m on duty. How can I help, Kausar Aunty?” She could hear noises in the background, the rumble of a truck, the chatter of pedestrians, and the familiar sound of a man yelling in Korean. Ilyas was nearby, and from the sounds of it, he was at the Golden Crescent Plaza. She changed direction and began to walk faster.
“I’m sure you heard about Qasim Jaffry,” Kausar started.
“No comment,” Ilyas said immediately, just as Kausar spotted the Golden Crescent Plaza in the distance. The older, squat building had a unique construction, built on a low slope so pedestrians walking past looked down at the array of shops, including Sana’s desi fashion boutique. Kausar had always worried it was a flooding hazard. “Actually, one comment,” Ilyas said. “Stay away.”
She could see him now, standing just outside Mr. Jin’s grocery store, the door propped open for airflow. He looked hot and exasperated in his heavy navy-blue uniform, but Brianna was right, Ilyas was a good-looking man. He was thirty-eight years old, a year older than Sana, with dark brown hair cut in a close fade, just starting to gray. His eyes were sharply angled up at the edges, a gift from his Yazidi father, his smooth skin light brown, features even more sharply defined than usual, as if he had not been eating regularly. There was a new groove between his eyebrows as he spoke intensely into his phone, and she wondered briefly if she had put that crease there.
Ilyas continued. “Qasim’s family holds a lot of sway in the community, and they’re looking for someone to blame. You don’t want to get involved in this, believe me.” Except he was talking to empty air, because Kausar had hung up. He looked down at his phone, annoyed, before he noticed her standing in front of him.
“Qasim was Maleeha’s friend,” she said, but he only frowned.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s always a tragedy when a young person is involved. It’s never the outcome we hope for in cases like this.”
“What do you mean?” Kausar asked, and Ilyas sighed.
“I’m only telling you this because it will be released to the public soon enough, but Qasim’s death was most likely an accident following a drug overdose. We’re just waiting for the test results to come in.”
“There were drugs involved?” Kausar asked. This was surprising, considering the rumors Maleeha had heard.
“The medical examiner said there were signs of drug use in the vicinity, and that pond is pretty notorious. Kids have used the spot to get high for decades, even back when I was young,” Ilyas confirmed. “It’s become a no-go zone for the neighborhood. Everyone knows what goes on there. Some people still walk their dogs, but certainly no one ventures there in the evenings.”
“Mr. Walters, Qasim’s old teacher, said he was a good kid who never got in any trouble,” Kausar said.
“Jeff Walters is still around?” Ilyas asked in surprise. “I had him for grade ten history.” Then his eyes narrowed. “When did you speak to him?”
“I happened to walk past Goldenview Secondary this morning,” Kausar said innocently. Ilyas snorted, quite rudely, she thought.
“I’ve been a cop for over ten years, Kausar Aunty. One thing I’ve learned is not to be taken in by the mask. You never know what’s really going on with people, not even a so-called ‘good kid.’ Qasim’s death is a tragedy, and I’m truly sorry Maleeha lost a good friend, but that’s all this is. An unfortunate accident.”
