Chapter 23
Alexander had no time to warn Saffron of Inspector Polat and his suspicions.
At the conclusion of their interview, he told Alexander he wished to see her next, but before he could excuse himself to find her and tell her what had happened, she was there, walking arm in arm with Mrs. Demirel across the grass from the gate.
“I will speak to Miss Everleigh now,” Polat announced, and he strode to where Hayrettin and Dr. Henry were ignoring each other a few yards away.
Alexander followed him. “Dr. Henry—”
He’d just lifted his arm to wave Saffron over. “What is it, Ashton?”
“I need—”
Saffron had seen them. “Yes, Dr. Henry?” Her eyes darted between Dr. Henry, Alexander, and the inspector, standing with hands clasped behind his back next to Mr. Hayrettin, who cleared his throat loudly.
Dr. Henry huffed. “Well, go on, then,” he growled at Hayrettin.
“This is Inspector Polat, from the Smyrna police,” Hayrettin said to Saffron, clearly trying to maintain some dignity in the face of Henry’s touchy temper. “If you please, he would like to ask you questions.”
Saffron was already nodding. “Of course.”
“Saffron,” Alexander said quietly, “let’s speak a moment—”
“Good,” Polat said, “this way.”
Alexander put a hand on her arm. “One moment—”
Polat rounded on him, drawing himself up to his full height. “Sir! You will not impede my investigation.”
Everyone froze, perhaps as baffled as Alexander was at the strident way Polat had spoken.
Alexander spoke calmly. “Miss Everleigh is my fiancée, Inspector Polat. She is my responsibility.” At his side, Saffron made a noise of annoyance.
“This means nothing,” Polat said, and he waved a hand like he was shooing away a fly. “Miss, this way.”
Still looking at Alexander with annoyed curiosity, Saffron followed Polat in the direction of the tent.
“I will accompany the lady,” Hayrettin said, and Henry stepped forward, saying louder, “I will accompany the lady. She’s under my charge as long as she’s a member of my crew!” He stormed after Polat and Saffron before Hayrettin or Alexander could argue.
It was tense in the tent, and not just because it was quite stuffy among the crates. Dr. Henry attempted to pace but was stymied by the close quarters. The Turkish inspector said nothing as she sat in the wooden chair across from him. “What can I help you with, Inspector Polat?”
She was all too aware Alexander had been uneasy with her speaking to the inspector.
That signaled either he was uncomfortable with the man himself, in which case Dr. Henry’s apt act of a caged animal would do plenty to assist her, or Alexander was hesitant about her answering the inspector’s questions. What, exactly, was all this about?
“Martin Neill’s death was not due to illness,” Inspector Polat said.
Saffron blinked. “What happened, then?” she asked automatically.
“I hope you will tell me.”
Her mouth opened and then closed. Behind the inspector, Dr. Henry gaped, first at her, then at Polat.
“I have heard much about your reputation, Miss Everleigh,” the inspector said evenly. His eyes, eerily bright in his tanned face, did not leave hers.
“I …” Her head spun, trying to wrangle her thoughts. “If Martin did not die from food poisoning, what do you believe he died of?”
Polat’s eyes narrowed minutely, but Saffron didn’t get to hear his response.
Dr. Henry exploded. “You devil!”
Polat was out of his seat and backing away from Dr. Henry in a moment, looking both frightened and furious as Dr. Henry towered over him, shoving a finger into his chest. “You are a damned liar, Polit!”
The inspector batted his hand away. “I am Inspector Polat—”
“You told me you were looking into the missing artifacts. What are you doing, suggesting one of my men was murdered!”
The word crashed into Saffron. “Murdered?”
Polat jabbed his own finger right back into Dr. Henry’s chest, though he had to raise his arm to do it. “I said nothing of the kind. Now leave before I arrest you.”
“For what?” spat Dr. Henry.
“Interrupting questioning the suspect!”
Hayrettin rushed into the tent, hands raised placatingly. “Inspector Polat, Dr. Henry, please …”
Polat broke into rapid Turkish.
“Don’t you go saying things I don’t understand!” Dr. Henry roared. “Hazelwood! Banks! Get in here!”
In the chaos, Saffron edged to the open flap of the tent. Alexander wasn’t far, and Dr. Henry’s shout must have alerted him that things weren’t going well, for he was already coming over.
“He thinks Martin was murdered,” she said the moment he was near enough. “How can that be true? What did he say to you?”
Hazelwood came trotting over, eyebrows nearly risen into his hairline. He ducked into the tent.
Alexander took Saffron by the arm a few steps away. “He actually said he thought Neill had been murdered?” he asked in a low voice.
“Dr. Henry inferred it from the inspector’s questions. That’s what’s causing all this fuss.” She nodded to the tent, from which angry voices were drifting. “Do you think it’s true? Who on earth would have killed Martin?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “He said Neill died of cardiovascular failure, and his liver and kidney had been damaged.”
Dr. Henry roared something from behind them. A dozen or so crew and locals paused in their activities and turned to the tent. Alexander drew her away a few steps further.
“That … that does sound like it might not have been food poisoning,” Saffron said, biting her lip.
Could someone really have slipped Martin something?
A prank was one thing, and actually killing someone was quite another.
Her mind rebelled at any of their party intentionally killing Martin.
“Many diseases cause liver and kidney damage. And he’d been drinking recently, hadn’t he?
The night before Dr. Henry banished the crew to Kadifekale, you said he was quite drunk.
Perhaps he had a condition we didn’t know about, and the drinking exacerbated it. ”
“I’m sure they would have discovered that in the autopsy.”
Voices rose within the tent again, then quickly fell.
“They didn’t discover the disease that killed Demian Petrov during his autopsy,” Saffron countered. “How could we find out?”
“We don’t need to find out anything,” Alexander said, and before she could disagree, he added, “I was his team leader. It’s my responsibility to answer Inspector Polat’s questions and make sure he has all the relevant data.
Everyone had to have a doctor sign off on their health status as a part of their application.
I’ll make sure Polat gets Neill’s paperwork. Templeton should have it somewhere.”
Her teeth worried her lip. It didn’t seem like enough. “I should go back and answer his questions.”
Alexander’s hesitation was momentary, but she noted it before he nodded.
She could sense he was trying not to revert back to his old ways of discouraging her from helping the police.
She might have information that could help, especially since she’d spent a good deal of time with Martin the last few weeks.
She couldn’t imagine anyone would want to kill him; he’d been so eager to please.
But maybe she’d observed something Polat could use to decipher a motive, or at least inform him of the history of pranks among the crew, particularly orchestrated by Clark.
She wasn’t convinced Martin had been killed intentionally, but if he had been, she wanted justice for him. She squeezed Alexander’s arm before returning to the tent, intent on answering any questions Polat might have for her.