Chapter 41
Alexander left Clark in Nick’s care soon after, unable to look at the man without wanting to finish what he’d started with his fists.
On foot, he made his way toward the kemeralti, where he paused at the fountain outside a mosque to scrub the crust of blood and dirt from his hands.
He got more than a few sidelong glances from another man performing his ablutions in the cool, mineral-scented water, but he said nothing.
After ensuring he didn’t look as wild as he felt, he went to the British consulate.
Saffron was shocked by Clark’s subterfuge with the boots and Dr. Henry’s willingness to frame Neill, but didn’t appear surprised it connected to Nick’s investigation of Bey, and though she did smile when he explained why Clark had been targeting her, it was only a shadow of her true one.
“And you’ve hurt yourself,” she murmured, stroking a finger over his purpling knuckles.
He drew them gently away, unaccountably unnerved by her noticing them. “I’ll be better tomorrow, when Clark confesses all to Polat. I think it’ll be enough to force him to rescind your arrest.”
“Then we can discover who actually killed Martin,” she said, brightening only for a moment before worry clouded her eyes again. “It wasn’t Clark, was it?”
“I don’t think it was Clark. He was too shocked by the knowledge that Martin was actually murdered, and that you could have hanged for it. He’s just a thief.”
“A very rude one,” she added, lips pursing. “Is that what Nick’s business is all about? He was interested in Bey because of the artifacts?”
“It must be. I’ve seen only one other man involved in his surveillance, and it was a trainee. A small operation suggests a less dangerous crime, perhaps.”
She worried her lip. “But why wait to do something about it? It seems he knew Bey was getting artifacts illegally. What’s he been waiting for?
” She shook her head before he could answer.
“Nick wanted to know who he was working with. And now he has Clark.” With a sigh, she rushed on.
“But why is Nick the one to discover who is responsible for smuggling Turkish artifacts? Surely Mr. Hayrettin or Mr. Assam’s departments would be responsible for that.
” She threw her hands in the air. “And if it wasn’t Clark who killed Martin, who was it?
Does it have anything to do with this business with Nick and Bey, or is it just coincidence? ”
“Knowledge of the smuggling is a good motive. Clark is involved, but it’s possible some of the other crew are, too. Hell, even the assistants that went to Bey’s han. Any of Clark’s friends, or anyone with access to the artifacts.”
“But that’s dozens of people. It could be Wakefield, or even Mr. Hayrettin or Mr. Assam! Anyone could have slipped the colchicine into Martin’s drink at the dig site or during a meal at the hotel.” She blew out a breath. “It looks like we’re back to where we started.”
“We’re not,” he said firmly, putting his hand over hers.
He glanced at the consul general’s secretary, who sat in his habitual seat.
He wasn’t sure the man was awake, but he lowered his voice further.
“Nick’s people have pulled some strings to slow down the release of the police lab’s full findings in the interest of giving us more time before you are taken to trial.
As soon as you’re released, the report should be, too.
We’ll be able to find out more about which container held the toxin and trace it from there. ”
Fragile hope whispered to him that her release would mean a good many things, including taking their marriage out of this nightmare and bringing it into full reality. He smiled at her. “Get some rest, Mrs. Ashton. Tomorrow will be a big day.”
Her returning smile was a little shy, and it did things to his heart. “I look forward to it.”
It was nearly the dinner hour when Alexander finally returned to the hotel.
He had walked from the consulate to the hotel after speaking to Saffron to give himself the chance to process all that had happened, and sort through all the things he needed to do for the next day.
He admittedly got a little lost in a daydream about welcoming Saffron back to the hotel.
He wondered if it would cause a scandal to request a suite of rooms. They certainly couldn’t stay in Alexander’s room; it was on a floor entirely occupied by the crew.
Alexander didn’t relish the idea of spending his delayed wedding night on the same floor as a dozen nosy bachelors.
But would Saffron want to cohabitate right away?
He wasn’t sure how she would feel once she was released.
She had been through so much. She would want to find Martin Neill’s killer, not explore new dimensions of their relationship.
If the killer was as perceptive as Clark, they would be right to be wary of her once she was released.
They’d want her out of the way. He wouldn’t repeat his mistakes and ignore his instincts. He would be at hand to protect her.
He’d just decided he would insist on sharing a room, even if he had to strong-arm Saffron into it and sleep on the floor, when he stepped up into the warm glow of the hotel’s entry and found Inspector Polat was waiting for him.
“Mr. Ashton,” he said coolly. “I want to speak with you. Now.”
They exchanged no niceties once they were ensconced in the small dining room down the hall from the reception desk.
“You had much interesting business today,” Polat began, standing on the opposite side of the small polished table from Alexander.
“You came to the police station but did not enter. Then you spent time in the kemeralti. You visited a mosque, then a tea house.” Polat’s weighted pause invited Alexander to confront him about being under surveillance, but Alexander held his tongue.
“The tea house is owned by a known criminal, Ali Fethi Bey. How do you know him?”
“He introduced himself when I visited the han some weeks ago.”
Some of Polat’s cool demeanor slipped away. “You admit to meeting this man many times?”
“Twice is hardly many. I did not see him today. In fact, you will need to school your spies better, for I did not actually enter the han, nor did I speak with Mr. Bey.”
“This is true. You were seen on the street with Mr. Clark.” His eyes gleamed, looking for all purposes like he relished each word. “The same man you blame for your wife’s troubles. You were beating him.”
Alexander didn’t reply, but shifted his hands to be sure his bruised knuckles were out of view.
“And now that man is not here, at the hotel. No one of your party has seen him.”
That wasn’t entirely unexpected. It was possible Clark had needed medical attention and Nick took him to a physician. Or it was possible Nick had decided to detain Clark until he agreed to meet with the police.
Polat was looking at him expectantly. “I don’t know where Clark is now,” he told him. “I suspect he is spending the evening in the city, as many of our party do.”
“I have an idea of where Mr. Clark is,” Polat said, advancing around the table. “You are working with Ali Fethi Bey to sell the artifacts from the agora. Mr. Clark discovered it. You have done something to him to hide your crimes, as you did with Mr. Neill.”
Despite the inspector now being only inches from him, Alexander held his ground. “I had nothing to do with Mr. Neill’s death, nor have I done anything to put Mr. Clark in danger.”
“Your people are all the same. I have seen your papers, Alexander Theodoros Ashton.” He spat the Greek name like it was bitter on his tongue.
“And then I knew the sort of man you are. Greedy. You came to my city to rob it, just like your people. But this time, there will be punishment.” He rapped on the table suddenly, trying to make Alexander flinch.
“I will find out! I will learn all you have done and when I do, the judge will move this case forward, without your wife’s counsel.
” His lips curled into a cutting smile. “No special treatment when they learn you conspired with that—” He said a Turkish word with such guttural distaste that Alexander took as a nasty insult to Bey. “You and your wife can sit in my jail.”
He swept out of the room, leaving Alexander with his swiftly crystalizing thoughts.
He couldn’t telephone or send a message of some kind to Nick.
He had to go to the ramshackle headquarters in the kemeralti to tell him to get Clark in front of Polat to confess what they knew about his dealings with Bey now.
Polat had arrested Saffron based on nothing more than a rumor; Alexander feared Polat would do precisely the same to him.
If Clark admitting his involvement in the smuggling wasn’t enough to save Alexander from going behind bars where he’d be of no help to Saffron, he’d tell Neck to reveal his involvement and give them the full support of the British government. He would beg Nick if he had to.