Chapter 28 #2
As if the universe were conspiring to kick her when she was down, heavy pain gathered low in Saffron’s abdomen throughout the afternoon.
By the time she’d climbed into the motorcar to return to the hotel, she’d have liked nothing better than to retreat into a scalding hot bath and then into bed to wait out the first few days of her courses.
A working woman didn’t wait it out, of course, but with how many suspicious or outright hostile looks she was getting around the dig site now, she could admit to herself that she would like to hide right about now.
The voice of Elizabeth in her head didn’t even harass her for wanting to avoid the attention and the consequences of her biology; Elizabeth always treated menstruation as a dire illness that required tending.
She would have been the one to tuck Saffron into her bed with a hot water bottle and a book of poetry written by one of her angry poetess friends.
Of course, there was no Elizabeth here, and as she stepped into the hotel foyer and queued for her room key, she remembered that there was to be no bath or bed, either. Polat had barred her entry to her bedroom.
“A thousand apologies, Miss Everleigh,” Mr. Koray said in a hushed voice when she reached the counter, “but Inspector Polat was so insistent—”
“I understand, Mr. Koray. Did the inspector give any indication how long it would take to settle whether or not he would carry out his search today?”
Mr. Koray glanced at the clock on the desk.
It was nearly six in the evening. “I do apologize, miss, but he did not. I believe his intention was to search as soon as possible, but …” He shrugged helplessly, and Saffron believed it truly did give him distress to have to tell her she could not access her room.
Ordinarily, she would not have pushed, but given how it felt her organs were being wrung out like a dishtowel, it was only a matter of time before she was in true, urgent need of the supplies in her room. “Are Mrs. Henry or Mrs. Demirel here?”
“No, miss,” he said regretfully. “They dine with the consul general this evening.”
“Is there—” She shifted on her feet, and at the sensation of a warm rush of pure disaster, she froze. “Is there a maid, or cook, or—” She bit her lip, utterly mortified.
Mr. Koray was looking at her with wide, uncertain eyes. “Miss Everleigh? What is the matter?”
“I am in need of some of the things in my room,” she whispered. “I would not ask, Mr. Koray, but it is quite urgent. You could stand at the door, and ensure I don’t take anything other than—than what I need. You could search what I take yourself.”
He studied her face, and his obvious anxiety fell away. “You are in great need, I think.” He straightened up, tugging down the bottom of his waistcoat, and nodded once. “I will accompany you.”
As she had all day, she wondered what would be the harm in Polat searching her room.
She hadn’t had a problem when Dr. Henry had searched her room and everyone else’s for the missing artifacts.
Despite Elizabeth’s best efforts to convince her otherwise, Saffron’s camiknickers were nicely boring white art silk, nothing that a reformed Lothario like Dr. Henry wouldn’t have seen a hundred times over, nor would the products Elizabeth had stashed in her cases have given him pause; Saffron had to think that Dr. Henry was familiar with Mrs. Stopes’s contraceptive wares.
Mr. Koray unlocked the door to her room and stood back for her to slip inside.
She went to the dressing table, opened the drawer containing her box of Kotex, and hesitated before turning to Mr. Koray.
She held up the prewrapped, rectangular gauze and slim belt it would be pinned to. “This is for, er, lady’s business.”
It took only one look to confirm what Saffron had guessed; from the cursory glance and the color heating his cheeks, the man must have a wife.
With a look of pained politeness, he nodded and turned slightly toward the hall.
Perhaps he understood she would need underthings as well, bless him.
Since she was in the room, she might as well gather a few more harmless things as she had no idea when Inspector Polat would allow her back inside.
She opened another drawer for a rack of pins, and her finger pricked on something sharp.
She drew her hand back with a swallowed hiss. She pulled the drawer back to find a shard of glass. Several, in fact, sitting just inside, as if a vial had been sitting there and been shattered by the drawer catching on it.
The telltale lip on one of the smooth curves told her it was just that, a vial. She lifted it and a faint chemical smell drifted from it.
How on earth had one of her chemical vials slipped into this drawer for her to break?
Her heartbeat sped up as a horrible understanding began to simmer in her mind.
She hadn’t broken a vial. She hadn’t removed the vials of chemicals from their case when she’d looked it over when Alexander had delivered it to her, and she was sure this drawer had been shut when Inspector Polat had examined the chemical case that morning.
Someone had put this here. Someone who knew her room would be searched.
She stared down at the shards in horror. What if the person who’d actually harmed Martin—if they existed—had planted this here? What if she’d just pricked her finger on the vial that had held the poison that killed him?
She stepped back, heart now thudding painfully against her chest. She was afraid, that was why her heart was beating like that. She was alarmed, that was why her head was spinning. She was not poisoned. She was not.
“Miss?”
She flinched at Mr. Koray’s gentle voice. “I beg your pardon,” she said quickly, “just a moment more.”
With as much care as she could manage with hands shaking and watchful eyes on her back, she used tweezers to pick the shards into a handkerchief, then used another to wipe the drawer of the tiniest pieces.
She bundled both into her pocket, then hurried to the wardrobe to retrieve the clothing she needed.
These she shook out in front of Mr. Koray, guilt eating at her as she took full advantage of his kindness to do the very thing Polat feared she would do, hide evidence.
She managed her hygiene problem in the lavatory downstairs.
When she was dressed, with the handkerchief containing the broken glass carefully tucked in her soiled clothing, she stood in the center of the small room and forced her lungs to fill and empty several times. Then she went to find Alexander.