Eye of the Beholder (10 page)

Special Agent Walker studied her with intense brown eyes. “What is your relationship with Dr. Tehrani?”

“My relationship is with his wife, Mina. I met her a few months ago when I was out jogging. I don’t know them well, but they seem like very nice people. Dr. Tehrani—Ali—has always been gracious when I’ve stopped by the house, and I’ve heard nice things about him from several people at my church who are patients of his.”

“What do you know about his daughter?”

“May I ask why you’re questioning me about the Tehranis?”

“Please answer the question, ma’am.”

Ellen didn’t like the tone of Walker’s voice and suddenly wished Guy was home. “Sanaz is a junior at FSU. I’ve only met her once. Seems like a lovely girl. Smart. Polite.”

“Have you met Bobak Tehrani?” Walker said.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Do you know who he is?”

Ellen nodded. “He’s Ali’s nephew.”

“And how do you know that if you’ve never met him?”

“Mina told me that last month she and Ali had a family get-together, and Bobak was there, spouting off anti-American sentiments. Ali escorted Bobak out of the house and came back alone. He told the others Bobak was no longer welcome. That’s the last she saw of him.”

“Did Mrs. Tehrani tell you this before or
after
our agents took her husband in for questioning?”

Ellen locked gazes with Special Agent Walker. “Mina had no reason to lie to me.”

“Please answer the question, Mrs. Jones.”

“After. But why would she tell me something like that before the FBI took her husband away? It was only afterwards that she was going out of her mind, trying to think of a reason why you would suspect him of having ties to terrorists.”

“So Mrs. Tehrani spoke to you about that?”

“Yes, of course. She’s beside herself with worry about Ali. He’s done nothing wrong. She’s sure that’s the only conclusion you can come to.”

Walker looked at Green and then at Ellen. “Did Mrs. Tehrani ever talk about her husband’s friends?”

“Not to me.”

“So she never gave any indication whether there were antiwar or anti-American sentiments being expressed at the mosque?”

“She’s never repeated to me anything that was discussed at the mosque.”

“Never?”

“Only in vague generalities.”

Walker leaned forward on his elbows. “How about getting
specific
about the vague generalities.”

“Mina mentioned that the Muslim women who stayed with her after Ali was taken away were afraid of who the FBI might pick up next. We didn’t discuss it beyond that.”

“Then what
did
you discuss?”

“You—the FBI. Mina has confidence that you’ll see Ali is not a violent man and is not involved in anything wrong. But she’s scared.”

“If he’s innocent, what’s she scared of?”

Ellen folded her arms and looked into Walker’s eyes. “The
power
you have. She feels helpless. I can appreciate you’re doing your job and are trying to keep us safe. But surely you can understand how frightening it must be for Muslim Americans right now.”

“We can’t worry about it, ma’am. We’re fighting a war. We don’t have time to mollycoddle every Muslim whose feelings get hurt.”

Guy opened the door to his apartment, went in the bedroom, and hung his garment bag in the closet. He spotted the striped shirt Kinsey had used as a nightshirt wadded up on the floor. He reached down and picked it up, aware of the scent of perfume. So much for taking it home with his dirty laundry. He decided to drop it by the cleaners on his way to the office.

He opened the top drawer of the dresser and took out a business card he’d forgotten to put in his briefcase and put it in his shirt pocket.

Suddenly, he was hit with an eerie feeling that someone was in the apartment. He looked over his shoulder, his heart racing, and listened intently. Nothing.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Guy walked softly out to the living room and surveyed it
with his eyes. He went over and stood in the kitchen doorway and didn’t see anyone, then poked his head in the bathroom and saw nothing out of order.

He started to turn around when something propelled him forward, his forehead colliding with the wall above the towel rack.

Guy heard footsteps running behind him and then the front door open. He stood up straight, his hand on the knot that had already started to form on his head. He looked at his hand, relieved to see no blood, then ran out the front door, his eyes darting all over the parking lot. The intruder was gone.

Ellen glanced at her watch and realized that Special Agents Walker and Green had been grilling her for over an hour.

“I think we’re about finished,” Walker said. “We may have more questions later. If you think of anything else we need to know, give us a call.” He handed Ellen a business card. “Being asked to answer questions about your friends must seem cold, but we can’t afford to assume anything when we’re dealing with terrorists. These people have threatened over and over to attack us again. What we found on that boat should send shivers up your spine.”

“It does,” Ellen said. “But so does the fear that innocent people like the Tehranis might be sacrificed in an effort to find out who’s guilty.”

Walker put his pen in his lapel pocket. “We know what we’re doing, ma’am. We appreciate your cooperation.”

Ellen followed the two agents to the front door and watched as they got in their car and drove away.

She went back to the living room and sat on the couch, her mind reeling with questions. Was Mina being naïve about Bobak? Was the mosque being used to harbor terrorists? What would Guy say when he found out the FBI had involved Ellen?

She leaned her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, suddenly aware that her head was throbbing.

Guy put his hand on the antique brass doorknob of the offices of McAllister, Norton, Riley, and Jones and pushed open the door. He spotted Kinsey Abbott at her desk and started walking in her direction.

“There you are,” Kinsey said. “I thought maybe you got swallowed up on the freeway.”

Guy picked up her hand and put it on the knot just above his hairline. “Feel that?”

“Ouch. What happened?”

“I went by my apartment on the way here and surprised a burglar. The guy shoved me into the bathroom wall and took off.”

“How awful! Did you call the police?”

“Yeah, I filed a report, but nothing’s missing. I must’ve walked in right after he did because the place wasn’t ransacked.”

Kinsey’s eyes grew wide and she spoke softly. “I’m sure I pulled the door shut when I left.”

“You did. He busted the dining room window.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

“Not even a glimpse. I ran outside right afterwards, but I didn’t see anyone. The police are going to talk to the neighbors so everyone’s on the lookout.”

“Surely you’re not going back there?”

“Why not? The window should be fixed before the day’s over, and there’s nothing in my apartment worth his risking a repeat visit. So is Brent in this morning?”

Kinsey nodded toward a closed door. “He’s meeting with a client. Kyle and Frank are in court.”

“Well, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to catch up on. I think I’ll hole up in my office and see if I can’t knock it out.”

Kinsey hugged herself, her eyes fixed on her desk.

“You okay?” Guy said.

“Not really. It gives me the creeps that someone was in your apartment. What if I had been there instead of you?”

“Well, you weren’t. Don’t waste your time thinking about what might have happened. It’s over.”

Kinsey looked as if she were going to say something and then didn’t.

“Let it go,” Guy said.

“I don’t have a good feeling about you going back there.”

“Well, I’m not spending the night at Holiday Inn Express; that’s why I have an apartment. Look, the guy’d have to be an idiot to come back again. He’s probably moved on to a different neighborhood.”

Kinsey reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, and he noticed black-and-blue marks on her wrist.

“How’d you get the bruises?”

“Oh, those? I was emptying the bookshelf to clean it, and a stack of books toppled over and fell on it. Don’t fuss over my little mishap. You’re the wounded one.”

He half smiled. “I’m too busy to be wounded. Hold my calls till after lunch and let me get a head start.”

Guy studied her for a moment, then walked into his office with the strangest feeling that Kinsey knew something she wasn’t telling him.

 9
 

G
uy Jones pulled his Mercedes into the assigned parking space outside his apartment. He paused for a moment, then got out of the car and went inside. He flipped on the lights and checked the dining room window, glad to see it had been repaired and a new lock put on.

He got a broom and dustpan and cleaned up the glass fragments, then vacuumed the carpet. He thought about calling Ellen but didn’t feel like talking to her yet.

He glanced at his watch, then turned on the TV and surfed until he found news.

“… Also, a spokesperson for the FBI told reporters at a news conference in Seaport today that all five Arab men arrested last Thursday have been linked to the al-Qaeda network, and at least one of the men is believed to have been involved in planning the 9/11 attacks.

“The spokesperson also said that the FBI has reason to believe these five men had been operating as part of a terrorist cell but would not give any details about the intensive investigation currently underway.

“However, an unnamed source at the Seaport Cancer Clinic told a reporter from WRGL-News in that city that one of the clinic’s oncologists, Dr. Ali Tehrani, has been questioned by the FBI in connection with the incident. Dr. Tehrani is Iranian born and came to the U.S. fifteen years ago. He has worked at the clinic for the past ten years. The FBI would not comment on whether or not Dr. Tehrani is a suspect, citing security interests
and not wanting to compromise the current investigation.

“The Muslim communities in Seaport and Port Smyth are surprisingly quiet, but sources tell us that a joint meeting of Muslim leaders in both cities will take place this evening at an undisclosed location to discuss what their response should be to the new wave of fear and animosity spurred by last Thursday’s terrorist threat.

“In local news tonight …”

Guy put the TV on mute and walked out to the kitchen. “Boy, Ellen, you really know how to pick them!”

He popped open a Diet Coke, then went back to the living room and started to sit on the couch when he noticed something stuck behind the cushion. He reached down and pulled out a Baggie filled with white powder.

How did that get there?

He sat on the couch and tossed the Baggie on the end table, thinking the cleaning lady must have dropped it. Then again, since when did she bring her own soap?

He grabbed the Baggie and held it under the light and examined the powder closely. His pulse began to race as he was hit with a sinking feeling that what he held in his hand might be cocaine. But how could cocaine have gotten into his apartment?

He opened the bag and took a whiff—odorless. He’d always heard that cocaine on the tongue leaves a cold, numbing sensation. He touched the powder with his pinkie and dabbed it on his tongue.
Oh, boy
.

Guy’s mind began to race in reverse. Who had been in his apartment? The cleaning lady. Brent. Two executives from Brinkmont Labs. The apartment complex maintenance man. A pizza delivery boy. And Kinsey.

Guy sealed the Baggie, his eyes fixated on it. The cleaning lady couldn’t afford it. Brent wasn’t that stupid. The two execs from Brinkmont had worked only at the dining room table. The maintenance man had walked around marking his checklist, but
had never sat. The pizza delivery guy never left the doorway.

Kinsey slept on the couch
.

Guy got up and paced, his pulse racing faster than his thoughts. Is this what the intruder was looking for? Was it he who had put those bruises on Kinsey’s wrist? What other explanation could there be? She didn’t strike him as a user. Was she dealing?