FlOURCENT light shone over us as we hurried toward the investigation room. Policemen moved in a constant flow—back and forth between cells and offices. A couple of officers led us to our destination.
The first suspect was already seated.
I was instructed to stand behind the glass while Mr. Adel got to work.
The room itself was nerve-wracking.
One harsh lamp was pointed directly at the suspect, the rest swallowed in darkness.
But even that didn't compare to Adel.
He sat there—calm, composed—his legs crossed, a sleek pen in hand that matched his notebook. He looked completely at ease.
As if he had all the time in the world.
And the suspect?
He wasn't.
I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall, watching what was about to unfold.
Mr. Adel initiated the conversation first, not making eye contact—his attention fixed on the notebook in his hand, that same annoying smirk playing on his lips.
"We've been friends for as long as I can remember… Sameh."
He glanced up at him, the smirk still there, then continued,
"I'll start by offering my condolences for your loss. But setting that aside… where were you before the accident?"
Sameh looked nervous.
I couldn't quite tell if it was grief or guilt.
Sweat formed on his forehead. His hands were clasped tightly on the metal table, his eyes fixed on the ground instead of Adel.
"I was having dinner with my wife… by the Nile."
"I would appreciate it if you looked me in the eyes. It's been ages since we last met, after all."
His tone turned cold—calculated.
It made the suspect visibly shiver as Adel calmly wrote something in his leather notebook.
"So, you were near where the incident took place. And you have a witness, I assume. Can you confirm that?"
"Yes, I can… my wife was with me. I had a reservation at a restaurant, Adel. I can show you—"
Adel cut him off with a sharp look.
"Here, my name is Detective Adel," he said calmly. "I would appreciate it if you used that."
A pause.
"And it would be best if you gave us the restaurant's name… so we can verify it after this session."
Sameh swallowed hard with shaky voice he answered yea …sure I can do this
"So… pray tell," Adel said smoothly, "how was your relationship with the victim?"
Sameh avoided eye contact, his gaze drifting toward the corners of the room—as if the dark walls were far more interesting than the answer he was meant to give.
I tilted my head slightly, a quiet unease settling in my chest. Maybe this world wasn't meant for me after all… just like my family had always insisted.
The suspect rubbed his sweaty hands together. The movement, oddly enough, seemed to amuse Mr. Adel.
"Well…" Sameh hesitated. "It wasn't great. I'm sure you're aware of what happened to Naged."
Adel gave a small nod.
Sameh swallowed.
"Our relationship was… tense. There were breakdowns. Fights here and there. Visits to hospitals every now and then…"
His voice began to shake.
"I tried to suggest therapy," he continued, his eyes starting to glisten, "but he lashed out at me. Said I was calling him crazy… said I was probably the one who did that to Naged… just to take all his wealth for myself."
His words broke apart.
He lowered his head onto the metal table, arms folded beneath him as his body trembled with quiet sobs.
"I swear… I didn't do any of that," he whispered. "I swear."
I tightened my grip around myself, a wave of discomfort settling deep in my chest.
This was really… devastating.
Adel frowned slightly and leaned closer, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper.
"Toughen up," he advised. "You still have a long way to go—whether it's interrogation… or a funeral."
Sameh leaned back against the cold, uncomfortable metal chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, nodding absently.
"You're right… Adel."
He covered his face with his palms.
"I just can't… it's too much."
"I know," Adel replied, his tone shifting back to its usual professional calm.
A pause.
"Now," he continued, "who was responsible for the renovation process in the company?"
Sameh straightened slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
"It was mainly me… and the renovation company."
"And who handled the glass installation?"
"I think… it was either Mansour or Haitham."
"Very well," Adel said, closing his notebook with quiet finality. "You will be kept under surveillance until further notice."
A brief pause.
"And thank you for your cooperation. Once again… my condolences."
Before Sameh stood up, he lifted his head slightly, still avoiding direct eye contact with Adel.
"Why did you ask about the glass… specifically?"
Adel paused for a brief moment.
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Bad material, buddy," he said casually. "I suggest you never deal with it."
He patted Sameh's shoulder—firm, almost rough—before turning and walking out of the room.
Leaving him stunned.
Adel walked out of the room, speaking quietly with Charles. He seemed serious—yet strangely casual in an intriguing way.
In the meantime, Sameh was escorted out and replaced with another suspect.
This one was different.
Broad shoulders. Nearly as tall as Adel. His presence alone felt heavy—the kind of man you'd avoid in the street without a second thought.
He sat down slowly, his eyes scanning the room with quiet intensity.
Adel passed by me, his shoulder brushing slightly against mine. Without stopping, he leaned in just enough to whisper—
"Keep your eyes on that one, rascal."
Adel entered, his charisma almost tangible.
It radiated off him as he took his seat across from the suspect—far too casually for the tension in the room.
His gaze moved over him slowly, deliberately.
The pen rolled smoothly between his fingers, effortless… controlled.
As if he owned the place.
As if he were the mastermind—
and everyone else were nothing more than marionettes in his play.
A faint smirk appeared.
"The foster son of the victim… his right hand… and bodyguard."
A pause.
"Isn't that right, Haitham?"