“Jade, you are frightening them,” scolded Inez. The coterie of damsels huddled behind Inez like ducklings under a mother hen when a hawk looms overhead.
Jade immediately stopped her pantomime and shushed the girl. “I’m sorry, I . . . oh, you deal with them, Mother. Mohan must have taken my dagger, the one I took from the guard.” She sat down to pull on her boots and two girls insisted on helping her. Jade shooed them back to Inez.
“We’re not going to accomplish anything until we get rid of this clutch of chicks,” Jade said. “And the sun will set soon. I don’t want to try to run herd on them in these narrow alleys once it gets dark.”
They followed Bachir south through the rug market and west through the medicine healers’ souk, urging the girls forward when one of them stopped to examine a caged gecko or another succumbed to the scent of rose oil. The girls, while still shy of Sam and Bachir, seemed to have lost all fear of them and looked on the outing as tremendous fun. It grew more difficult to keep them together once Bachir took them south to the Jemaâ el-Fna. The snake charmers and jugglers were in full force, as were assorted sellers of sweets and oranges. Jade found herself more than once wishing she had their border collie with them to nip at their heels now and then.
To keep them halfway content, she used one of her silver bangles and let them each pick out a silken scarf. With such prizes in their hands, they grew less distracted by the other assorted temptations. Jade breathed a sigh of relief. From the square, she could see the tower of Koutoubia mosque, a sure guideline directing them west to the edge of the city and on to the French village of Gueliz, less than a mile beyond.
They exited the Medina from the Bab el Jedid as the sun set and the call to prayer wafted on quivering notes from the red mosque tower. The glow of lamps shining ahead from Gueliz acted as their new beacon until they finally stumbled into the French district. Jade stopped them in front of a café to organize their plan.
“I would prefer that Mother and I do not show our faces just yet in the headquarters in case they feel like arresting us first and asking questions later. I don’t think we should entrust these girls to some rough officers. They need someone motherly to take care of them. So, Sam, would you kindly take these poor creatures and see if you can find some married officer whose wife can figure out what to do with them?”
“Anything else you want me to tell them while I’m there?”
“Tell them everything. Tell them how you just happened to save me and who kidnapped me and Mother. Tell them about Wahab Taboor in the leather workers’ souk and the hashish in the bags and about Bennington and Patrido de Portillo. Just don’t tell them where to find Mother and me.”
“I don’t know where this house is you were kidnapped in. How can I tell them where to go?”
“Bachir knows how to get there. He can draw them a map or something. It’s one of those old riads north of the Bahia Palace.” She repeated the latter in French for Bachir’s benefit, and he agreed.
“And what do you have planned for me?” asked Inez. Despite her tattered and dirty costume and her uncombed hair, she still managed to convey an aura of courtliness with her head held high and carriage erect.
“Well, Mother, you can sit and have dinner at this café, or you can come with me to find out where the Tremaines are staying.”
“I shall go with you, Jade. I don’t think it’s safe to leave you out of my sight. The next thing I’d know, you’d be heading back up the mountain without me.”
“Fine. Shall we all meet back here in an hour?”
The girls were reluctant to go anywhere without Jade or her mother, but after some persuasive smiles and nods from Inez and a gift of the remains of her bracelets from Jade, they went off in company of Sam and Bachir to find a married French officer.
Jade and her mother patrolled the cafés, restaurants, and various inns, asking for the Tremaines or the Kennicots. They finally located a woman at a private house who let rooms for lodging.
“Yes,” she said, “I have an American couple staying here and an English pair. But I have not seen either of them today. I think they went into the Medina earlier. I saw the American girl yesterday following a different man.”
Jade assumed the other couple was the Kennicots. But the man? “Was this lone man a Spaniard?”
The woman shook her head. “No, a small man, very slender. Maybe as tall as you. Very soft-spoken. He did not seem as interested in her as she was in him.”
“Bennington,” said Jade after she thanked the woman for her trouble. “The question is, Is Libby in trouble or in cahoots? ”
“Well, either way, Jade, we cannot do anything since we don’t know where they are.”
Jade grinned. “Yes, we can, Mother. We can search their rooms. Maybe we’ll find something incriminating.”
But the landlady had no intention of letting two such disreputable-looking women sit and wait for her tenants in their rooms, no matter how much Jade pleaded friendship and devotion to the Tremaines. Finally, exasperated by her lack of success, she suggested they go to the café to wait for Sam and Bachir.
No sooner had they arrived than Sam came running out of the café to greet them. His tense posture and down-turned mouth carried the hint of potential bad news. “Jade. Which of those couples had that leather bag you were looking for?”
“The Tremaines.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. You don’t need to look for the missus anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s dead.”
CHAPTER 24
A popular gathering spot within the Medina is the hammam.
This is a public bath and steam room, separate for men and women.
It is a place to socialize, to gossip, as well as to bathe.
—The Traveler
“DEAD? ARE YOU POSITIVE?” Jade heard her mother gasp beside her.
“What happened?” asked Inez.
Sam shrugged. “Not entirely sure. We took those girls to the home of Lieutenant Joubert. Then after his wife took charge of them, I told him about all this other nonsense. He seemed only mildly curious. To be honest, I’m not sure he believed me. Then when I mentioned the Tremaines’ name to him, he sat up straighter than starched socks. He told me Mrs. Tremaine died earlier this afternoon at something called a hammam.”
“What is that?” asked Inez.
“It’s a public bath,” answered Jade. She turned back to Sam. “Did she drown?”
“No. But when I asked him how she did die, he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Where is her body now?”
Sam jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “In what passes for a morgue at the French hospital. I presume you want to go there. I think her husband is there, along with the Kennicots.”
“Then I most certainly think we should go.” She took a few steps and stopped. “Wait a minute. What did Lieutenant Joubert say about us?” She pointed to her mother and herself.
Sam ran his hand through his brown hair, shoving the longer strands on top back from his forehead. “He’s gotten a report about you all right, but I don’t think he’s going to arrest you. I got the impression that he doesn’t believe a proper American lady and her daughter could be behind any sort of drug-smuggling-and-murder scheme.”
Inez raised her head higher and tilted her chin up. “I resent that. How dare he belittle my daughter’s ability to wreak havoc. And,” she added after a very short hesitation, “mine, as well.”
Jade laughed. “He shouldn’t underestimate Western women, right, Mother?”
Sam led the way to the hospital where a Sister of Charity met them and escorted all of them to a small room that served as a resting area for families. There they saw Mr. Tremaine seated in a plain wooden chair, his face in his hands. Mrs. Kennicot sat to his left side. Her right hand rested on Mr. Tremaine’s shoulder while her husband did his best to utter consoling words on the other side. Both of them glanced up then stared openly at Inez and Jade’s bedraggled appe
arances. They paid scant attention to Sam and none to Bachir.
Inez spoke first. “Mr. Tremaine. We just heard about Libby. We’re very sorry. Is there anything we can do?”
Walter Tremaine peered at her through reddened eyes. His nose resembled a ripe strawberry, only his glistened with mucus rather than dew. Sam pulled out a pocket handkerchief and handed it over to him. He blew once and handed the handkerchief back to Sam. Sam refused it with a wave of his hand.
“Keep it,” he said. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Walter blinked at Sam, not recognizing him and not comprehending Sam’s role in his own personal tragedy. Then he looked back at Inez and a shuddering sigh emerged, his upper body shivering. “Oh, Mrs. del Cameron. Thank heaven you’re all right. I can’t tell you how I’ve regretted that nasty trick my Libby played on you. I don’t know where she got the idea, but I’m sure she didn’t think you would be kidnapped.”
“I forgive you both,” said Inez. Her voice, while absolutely sincere, came out with the gravity of a queen forgiving an underling for some misstep. “Enough about that. Tell us what happened to your wife.”
Walter looked at Mr. Kennicot for advice. Kennicot nodded. “Tell her, Walter. Cleanse your soul.”
Walter sighed again, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Libby and I were married rather hurriedly back in the States. She thought”—he hesitated, and Mrs. Kennicot patted his shoulder for comfort and encouragement—“she thought she was in a family way, you know.” He swiped his nose again with Sam’s kerchief. “But she found out on board ship that she wasn’t. Didn’t matter to me. I was happy to have her for my wife. She . . . she was a swell girl.”
His head drooped. “But I think she only married me to save her reputation. I got the distinct impression her eye was roving for a sugar daddy, if you know the term. She spent far too much time with that de Portillo fellow for my taste. And now it looks like she also fancied that Bennington.” He sniffed, fighting back tears. “I don’t know what she saw in him. Seemed rather sissified to me.”
“You’ve seen Bennington recently?” asked Jade.
Walter shook his head. “I haven’t, but she did, I think. Saw him somewhere in the city two days ago. Took it into her head to wander around trying to find him after that. Then this afternoon she suddenly got all gaga about going into one of those public bathing places. Said she wanted to experience what it was like to be in a harem with someone scrubbing her and sitting around in a steam room in her alltogether drinking mint tea.” He blushed, his cheeks matching his eyes and nose for color.
“Had she talked about that before?” asked Jade.
“No. We were walking around the Medina, and she suddenly just up and decided to go into that bath place. Told us to come back for her in two hours.” He sat up straighter and waggled a finger in the air. “This blasted city is dangerous enough. Someone tried to rob us yesterday. I told her not to go there, but she had to have her way.”
Mrs. Kennicot spoke up for the first time. “I had the distinct impression that she saw Mr. Bennington go inside.”
Jade arched one eyebrow in an expression of inquiry and nodded for Mrs. Kennicot to continue.
“You see, we were a little apart from the men at the time, and suddenly Libby pointed towards the hammam and said, ‘Oh, there goes Mr. B.’ That’s when she went back to Walter and insisted she try the hammam herself.”
Mr. Tremaine jerked his shoulder out from under Mrs. Kennicot’s hand and snarled at her. “And you let her go in there? You didn’t tell me?”
“But, Walter, I knew that the men and women don’t go into the same area. There was no chance of her meeting him inside. If I’d stopped her, she would have just waited outside for him to exit. This seems much more harmless.” She tried to pat him on the arm again.
Walter swatted her away like he would an odious insect. “Well, it wasn’t harmless. Someone killed her.”
Jade leaned in closer now, her face inches from Mr. Tremaine’s. “You don’t think this was an accident? Why do you think someone killed her?”
Mrs. Kennicot answered for him. “Because of what the other women inside reported. Libby was in the hot room waiting for a massage and scrubbing. Of course the other women noticed her, being a foreigner and all. Apparently the locals shave . . .” She remembered the men and blushed. “Anyway, they reported that she sat alone, looking around. Then she suddenly acted as though she saw something that shocked or surprised her. They just put it down to bad manners, staring and all that.” She blushed again. “Shortly after, they said a woman who works at the hammam brought her mint tea to drink. She drank some and immediately fell over.”
“She was poisoned, don’t you see?” said Walter.
“But what works that fast?” asked Sam.
“She didn’t die right away,” said Mr. Kennicot. “The women went to her aid and said her eyes were staring, and she was struggling to breathe. She was sweating more than they thought natural despite the steamy room. They tried to get her to stand but she couldn’t seem to move. She died within a half hour.”
“We just now got her here,” said Mr. Kennicot. “You can imagine how they weren’t about to let any men into the women’s bathing room until everyone was dressed. Even then, some of the women refused to turn over Libby’s body until they felt she was decent.”
“Someone put something in her tea,” shouted Walter. He pounded his right fist on the chair arm repeatedly. Inez wedged herself between Mr. Kennicot and Mr. Tremaine and whispered something soothing in the latter’s ear.
Sam took Jade aside. “What can kill that fast with paralysis? ” he whispered.
“Offhand, if I was back home, I’d guess dogbane. Out here?” She shrugged, then raised an index finger to wait, and thought for a minute. “I saw a flowering shrub on my way through the mountains. It grew all over. Bachir called it something in French that basically translated to ‘laurel rose.’ I think it’s actually oleander. That has similar effects to dogbane. Very fast.”
“I don’t suppose it matters how she was killed as much as why or by whom,” added Sam.
“She saw something or someone,” said Jade in a near whisper, as though thinking aloud. “And they didn’t want to be recognized.” She balled her right hand into a fist and smacked it into her left. “But her death may mean Bennington and de Portillo will move out before anyone else discovers them. I need to get back inside that riad before they take away the bags. Tonight.”
“Whoa there, Simba Jike. How are you going to do that?” asked Sam. “It’s after sundown. The city gates are closed till sunrise tomorrow.”
“So? I’ll go over the wall.” She hesitated a moment then added, “Just don’t tell Mother.”
Sam took hold of her arm. “Wait a minute. I know I can’t stop you, and you know I’m not letting you go in there alone. But just how are we going to keep this from your mother?”
“Tell her we’re going to ask around for more information. ”
“You’re going to lie to your mother?”
“No. I don’t lie to my mother. I just don’t plan on telling her where we’re going to ask around. In fact, I don’t even plan on telling her anything. That’s your job.” She poked him in the chest with a finger. “Tell her we’ll meet her back at the boarding house where the Tremaines have rooms. But do it fast and meet me over by the Bab Agnaou. Bachir can direct you. Tell him I’m going to get his amulet.”
“Where are you going now?”
“To find my mule. Unless Mohan stole everything, my flashlight and some other supplies are in that saddlebag.”
The great horseshoe-shaped gate into Marrakech’s Kasbah loomed overhead. Build from slate-blue stone, its massive height grew out of layer upon layer of arches, each one nesting atop the other in concentric horseshoes. Elegantly simple rather than opulent, the architecture said “I am not frivolous. I am powerful.”
Like the other gates, it stood closed, admitting no one. Jade never planned to get int
o the city there, but it made a conveniently recognizable rallying point, and just around the corner stood scalable, unguarded ramparts. She found her mule still hobbled among the palms, happily dozing. She extracted her light, tested it, then rummaged around some more and pulled out an old compass before she slipped back to the gate. On seeing it again, she recalled Zoulikha’s reported vision of the amulet. She’d seen a great gate made of many arches—perhaps this one.
“Just how do you plan to get over the wall, Jade?” whispered Sam when they joined forces.
“See those indentations in the clay?” she asked, pointing with her flashlight to the regularly spaced, squared-off holes high above her. A pigeon roosting inside one squinted against the glare. “Those are left over from the framework used to build this wall. We use them for hand- and footholds.” She turned off the light and shoved it into her side pocket.
“Those are a good twelve feet off the ground, and I don’t see a ladder around.”
“Come with me.” Jade crooked her index finger and wiggled it. Then she led the way to the west along the ramparts until they turned a corner and headed north. At this point the indentations went down to about a foot above ground level. “We scale here.”
Sam eyed the spacing and nodded. “You’re right. This spot provides the easiest access.” He locked the fingers of both hands together and held them low in front of him. “Step up.”
Jade stepped into his hands and pushed herself up, until her right foot found a secure toehold about four feet off the ground. Then she grabbed for some handholds, tested them to see that the clay held, and slipped her left foot out of Sam’s hands.
“Be careful, Jade,” Sam cautioned. “I’ll try to catch you if you fall, but I don’t think it will do either of us any good.”
Jade didn’t reply. For one, the wall stood a fraction of an inch from her face. For another, she had no intention of falling, and Sam knew it. But climbing in the dark required all her concentration. The indentations looked deceptively deep and wide from below, but many of them still held chunks of timber inside and barely accommodated her boot tips. Several times the brittle and broken clay crumbled under pressure, causing her to scoot sideways along the wall until she found a better hold above her. Finally she scrambled up onto a shelf that ran along the outer edges just below the top. The summit was only a few feet above her, close enough to swing a leg over.
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