and exhausted—dark blue rings had appeared under his eyelids. Had they asked, he would have been willing to write a blank check to avoid scandal. Nezha came back into the room, drew close to him, and kissed his head. Despite her uneasiness, she feigned a smile and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I don’t think the guy at the front desk was working with the police. I know him well. Maybe there was a misunderstanding between the police and hotel owner.”
Hamadi started to feel a tightness in his chest. Nezha’s babbling was making him feel nauseated. He was trembling, not from fear, but because he felt he was getting sick.
“You didn’t have to give them all your money. They would have been okay with the thousand dirhams that you first suggested. Trust me, I’ve seen this before.”
Clearly Nezha had overheard what had happened. Hamadi remained in place, silent. He couldn’t deal with her right now. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes under his thick-rimmed glasses and felt the fever creep through his body. He stood there, still stunned, unable to even look at Nezha.
“I’m leaving,” he said, feeling suffocated. He paused for a moment, holding his keys and waiting for her response.
“Don’t you want to stay till the morning as usual?” she asked.
He looked down and shook his head. He stood at the door while Nezha took out a pack of cigarettes and lit up the last one in the pack.
“Can you wait until I finish my cig?” she said angrily as she blew smoke in his direction.
She drew one leg over the other in an attempt to lure him back in, but he turned his back. It was clear to her now that things would never be the same between them. Her generous monthly client was about to vanish into thin air. She then remembered that she didn’t even have enough money for a cab home, and there was no way she could ask Hamadi since he had just emptied his entire wallet.
“Can you give me a ride home?”
He didn’t even answer her as he left the room.
An amusing scene awaited Detective Hanash in the next room. There was a pretty, polished woman in risqué underwear, accompanied by a young man who could have been her son’s age. He was wearing only his underpants, and despite the tense atmosphere in the room, his penis remained hard as a rock. This amused the police so much that they called their boss to come take a look. Hanash was shocked when he saw the guy, and after taking a second to catch his breath, he looked at the woman. She seemed respectable and refined—likely not a prostitute at all. What a catch, especially if she was married! And then there was this young guy, in his underwear, with his weapon standing up. The officers were too distracted by the guy’s penis to ask the woman any questions. The woman seemed unshaken. To Hanash, her calmness suggested that she had already been given the okay by another officer.
Hanash looked squarely at the young man and said, “Put down your weapon, you bastard!”
All the officers burst out in laughter. Even the woman couldn’t resist a wry smile.
“What can I do? I can’t control it,” said the young man, shaking from fear.
Everyone started laughing again, and the detective looked at the woman, feigning scorn.
“Didn’t you do anything to cool him off? You should have chosen someone closer to your age, madam.”
This made the woman blush, but the young man took it as an insult.
“We did it twice,” he said.
One of the officers told him to shut up and the young man recoiled, still straight as a spear.
“Did you take Viagra?” Detective Hanash asked.
The young man bristled and fired back at him: “I’m from Dakala, and men from my region are well known for their virility.”
Hanash didn’t know how to respond to this at first. The young man had crossed the line. How dare he suggest that his manhood was greater than that of Hanash and his men!
“What makes you people so horny is that you’ve been having sex with animals since you were kids,” Hanash quipped.
Everyone laughed, and Hanash ordered the officers to take the man to the station.
“We’ll see if he stays like that at the station,” said an officer. He pushed him away and a security guard grabbed him.
The detective turned his attention to the woman.
She began explaining, as if she had prepared her statement in advance: “I’m an agricultural engineer who travels a lot for work. One time I visited the agricultural area in Dakala and met this young man, who was working in the fields. I’ve been divorced for three years . . . and when it comes to my body, just like anyone else, it’s my right to do what I want. Since getting divorced I hadn’t been with anyone until I met this guy a month ago. I was really scared, and I know what I did was wrong, but it just happened. I got in touch with him, and he brought me to this place. I’m responsible for what happened and I’ll pay whatever you suggest.”
Hanash was confused by her story. It got him thinking about his wife, whom he hadn’t even touched in months. Sometimes he’d see her putting on makeup and jewelry. Was she getting ready to meet up with a secret lover somewhere? He was silent for a minute as he contemplated the woman in front of him in her underwear. He told her to wrap something around herself. She got dressed quickly, putting on a long dress. She was a bit chunky, and the scars from a cesarean section were still visible on her soft belly. She wasn’t beautiful but certainly wasn’t unattractive either.
Hanash felt a sense of empathy overcome him, and his anger began to subside. He believed her story.
“Why did you come with him to this place? Couldn’t you have found somewhere else?” he asked.
“He picked the place. It would have been tough for me to turn back after we were already in the room. And this isn’t my city. I had intended to get out of here early, before you all showed up. But, well, look how things turned out.”
Hanash took out his cell phone and ordered the officers not to take the young man to the station. If they did, they would have to take her as well. She nodded at him in appreciation.
He watched her carefully as she took out her purse, ready to pay.
“What’s the amount?” she asked, as if she were at the cash register in a grocery store.
“Who told you I take bribes?” he asked. “I could add a bribery charge in addition to debauchery.”
She nodded and looked at him. “You can do whatever you want with me, sir. Send me to prison, or ruin my reputation in front of my son, daughter, family, colleagues. But I’m telling you I wouldn’t be able to carry on like that—scandalized. I’d rather die. I’d kill myself.”
“Didn’t you think about that before you took off your clothes?”
She sighed and wiped her hands on her dress. “I can’t even explain to myself how this happened,” she said. “I battled with these feelings and then they took control. Our souls are dark caves, unknown even to us.”
“Many criminals would say the same thing,” he said. “In our line of work, we don’t care about someone’s motivations. We don’t accept someone justifying their actions with emotions that they claim clouded their judgment. The law only acknowledges what someone has done, but the reasons and motivations are outside the frame. Right now, you’re in it deep. Knowing how you fell so deep won’t help you at all.”
She felt her body temperature rising suddenly, and she went back to the drawing board, trying to think of another way out of this predicament.
“I have a lot of money in the bank,” she said confidently, as she took her bank card out. “I’ll let you have my password,” she said, offering him the card. “I’ll write it down. You can take whatever you want and keep me here until you get back.”