Yet none of this surprised Dial. He was an American in a hostile land. An outsider with a badge. No reason for them to welcome him. He was surprised, though, when he realized that Ahmad wasn’t allowed inside. That meant Dial would have to face the cops without a translator.
‘You will be good,’ Ahmad assured him.
Dial nodded but didn’t say a thing, quickly turning his focus to the interior of the garden. It was thirty feet by seventy-five feet and filled with a variety of flowers that added color to an otherwise bleak landscape. But in Dial’s mind, that was the reason that the arch was so striking. Its pure white surface looked like it had come from another world. Like an iceberg sitting in the middle of hell.
‘Pardon me, Mr Dial?’
Dial turned and saw an elderly man resting against one of the walls, just leaning there in the hot sun like a lizard on a rock. He wore an olive suit and vest, even though the temperature was in the mid-nineties. Oddly, he seemed to be recharging in the sunlight, for his eyes were closed, and his head was tilted back at a forty-five-degree angle. ‘I understand there was a similar scene in Denmark.’
Intrigued, Dial took a few steps forward. ‘That’s correct. And you are?’
‘Pardon my manners.’ The man opened his eyes and shook Dial’s hand. ‘My name is Omar Tamher, and I am in charge of this investigation. Normally I would’ve been reluctant to contact Interpol for a single murder, but due to the circumstances I felt it would be wise for both of us.’
‘Thank you for thinking of me.’
Tamher nodded, sizing up Dial before he revealed any details. Dial returned the favor by doing the same with Tamher. Both men were impressed by what they saw.
‘At five thirty this morning, a vendor noticed the stains and stopped for a closer look. He was expecting to find paint. He found blood instead.’ Tamher took out his pen and pointed to the bottom left-hand corner of the monument. ‘The killers started their painting here and finished over there. You can actually see the brush marks on the marble.’
Dial leaned in for a closer look. ‘What kind of brush?’
Tamher shrugged. ‘It had a wide tip. Wider than the one they used on the sign.’
‘Let’s talk about the sign later. If I get sidetracked, I tend to get confused.’
Tamher smiled. ‘As you wish.’
‘Were the stains made with the victim’s blood? Or someone else’s?’
‘No, that’s his blood. He had a deep gash in his side, caused by the tip of a sword or a very thin spear. I could be wrong, but I think they used the wound as their paint source, dipping their brush inside his rib cage on more than one occasion.’
Dial didn’t blink. ‘Why do you think that?’
Tamher crouched, pointing at the dirt. ‘We found a thin trail of blood that started under the victim’s chest. The path fanned out in several different directions. I’m assuming they kept going back for more, dripping blood as they walked.’
Dial nodded, pleased with Tamher’s conclusion. ‘Time of death?’
‘Approximately five a.m., give or take thirty minutes.’
‘Really? That’s kind of ballsy, don’t you think? Leaving someone to die right before sunrise. Why take a chance like that? Why not slit his throat?’
‘I have no idea. Then again, I am not a killer.’
‘And why paint the monument? How tall is it, anyway? Fourteen, fifteen feet? That means the killer climbed on someone’s shoulders to finish the job. Either that, or this guy’s a giant.’
‘No ladder marks or signs of giants.’
‘What about handprints? Maybe the killer leaned against the arch for balance.’
‘No such luck. The monument was clean. The cross was clean. Everything came back clean.’
Dial nodded, expecting as much. The killers had been efficient in Denmark, too. ‘Where’s the cross now? I can’t help but notice that it’s missing.’
‘Very observant of you, Mr Dial. We wanted to protect it so we moved the entire cross, body and all, to the coroner’s office. Forensic specialists are examining it now.’
‘What about pictures? Please tell me you took pictures.’
He nodded. ‘We documented the entire scene. If you’d like, we can go to my office and look at them. They should be developed by now.’
‘In a minute,’ Dial said. ‘First tell me about the sign.’
Tamher smiled. ‘Are you certain you’re ready? I don’t want to confuse you.’
Dial laughed, glad to see the old guy had a personality. ‘I’ll try to keep up.’
‘It was written in red paint in very neat Arabic script. Four simple words. Very distinct. If you’d like, I’d be happy to translate it for you.’