Chapter 26
The sun had nearly disappeared behind the rolling hills by the time they returned to Smyrna.
Rather than go to the agora, Saffron and Banks returned to the hotel.
There, Saffron lurked in the foyer for Templeton.
She planned to request Martin’s papers in the hopes of discovering if he had a previous health condition.
It was Alexander who walked in first, and he made a beeline for her. He was red-cheeked and dirty, a sure sign he’d been doing some heavy lifting on behalf of the other teams at the agora.
“Where’ve you been?” he asked without preamble.
“I am happy to tell you,” she said, peering around him toward the door. “But did Templeton come back with you?”
“Templeton was talking to Dr. Henry when I left the site. Where were you this afternoon?” He took a half step closer, his head tucking in closer to hers. “And why do you smell like you’ve been rolling around in a garden?”
A laugh bubbled out of her at the image. “That’s the first guess you have as to why I smell like lovely roses?”
“You forget, Everleigh, I’ve witnessed your garden-lolling tendencies.”
“Lolling?” she sputtered. His lips twitched, and she pushed softly at his arm. “Honestly, Alexander.” She sighed. “Do you know when Templeton will be back? I wanted to speak to him, just a quick inquiry.”
Alexander’s brow twitched upward. “A quick inquiry. Why do I get the feeling this quick inquiry is into Martin Neill’s papers? Indeed, why do I get the feeling your absence was also related to Neill?”
“Because you are uncommonly insightful. Or perhaps a better word is suspicious.”
“If I were to interpret the Turkish inspector’s tone while questioning me this morning, I would agree I am suspicious,” he said dryly.
“You’re not alone in that, I’m afraid,” Saffron said, frowning. “I’ve been wondering all day who could have harmed Martin, and why. He was so … well, harmless. No one has a bad thing to say about him.”
Alexander looked pained. “You’ve been asking around for opinions?”
“Well, no, but I have been asking some questions. I won’t have access to the autopsy report—” She poked his chest. “There is no need to make that face, Alexander. My friend died. He was possibly murdered, if the inspector’s conjecture is to be believed. You can’t expect I’ll do nothing about it.”
He seemed to think this over for a long time, his eyes distant, jaw clenched. Finally, he gave a short nod. “What have you found out?”
“Nothing of consequence,” she said, relieved there wasn’t to be an argument they’d both rather not repeat.
“Martin found a minor artifact Clark took credit for. He was liked well enough among his peers. The lads say he never went out with them in the evenings, but I think he did go out with them the first night we were here. I looked for him, the night you were sent into the city to retrieve them, and couldn’t find him.
But I suppose that’s too long ago to make a difference.
I’ve a list of places I know he’s visited, and I’ve made a plan for who I need to ask about what.
” She dug into her satchel for her notebook, and showed Alexander the notes she’d written.
“Then it occurred to me”—she screwed up her face in anticipation of her fiancé’s inevitable displeasure—“one of the men we bribed to keep quiet about the graffitied stone’s discovery might have held a grudge against Martin because he was recently sacked, but it turns out he wasn’t sacked but injured and didn’t show signs of animosity toward Martin and therefore unlikely to have tried to hurt him. ”
“You …” Alexander stared at her, then slowly shook his head. “You unraveled all this in the space of, what, six hours?”
She frowned down at the page of messy ideas and questions, made messier by her scribbling during the bumpy carriage ride back to the city.
“Well, I could have accomplished a lot more had Mrs. Henry or Mrs. Demirel been on-site. They doubtless know more about Martin’s illness as they tended him themselves and spoke with Dr. Yenmeck.
Or to his interpreter, rather. Determining Martin’s movements, the suspects, and possible motives is all well and good, but if he was poisoned by some rare toxin, then the question of who did it will be much more easily answered. ”
He smiled at her chagrin. “I understand your point. May I make a suggestion?”
“You may make a suggestion.”
“Let me speak to Templeton. I’ll get the papers, and you can have as much time as you’d like with them. I have a good reason to look at them. Dr. Henry has been putting off writing to the U to inform them of Neill’s death, so I ought to tend to it.”
Saffron’s mouth fell open. “Why on earth hasn’t he done it?”
“I believe he’s putting it off because he doesn’t want to report that something on his all-important expedition has gone wrong.”
“That,” she declared, “is horribly selfish of him.”
They fell silent as the foyer filled with another round of newly returned crew. Templeton straggled in last, walking slowly and looking rather like he’d walked the whole way back to the hotel rather than being driven.
Alexander murmured, “I’ll meet you on the patio with the papers. Give me a few minutes.” He hailed Templeton, then Saffron had nothing to do but slip outside and wait.