Tasha Alexander - Tears of Pearl

“And he cannot come into the harem. We’re well aware of that. It’s why he sought—and received—permission for me to—”

She laughed. “Do you think, Emily, that I do not already know everything you do? You are to be set upon us, asking questions. That is not why I have summoned you here.”

“Then why?”

“I have decided to offer you my allegiance. My support. Without which you will flail and accomplish nothing. Did you even know I was here? That this graveyard for the previous sultans’ women existed?”

“No. I confess I did not.”

“And do you know that Murat, the sultan’s cast-aside brother, has a harem of his own at Çırağan Sarayı , the palace that is his prison on the shores of the Bosphorus? And that the dealings of the women in both these locations must be considered if we are to find and punish the person who ended Ceyden’s life?”

“You speak as if you have an idea as to the identity of the guilty party,” I said.

“Ideas, perhaps, but ideas are nothing but ephemeral.”

“I did not expect my purpose to be a welcome one. I accept your assistance most gratefully. I promise I will not fail you.”

“Of course you won’t,” she said. “I read your chart.”

“My chart?”

“Know you nothing of astrology?”

“. . . so she told me that I’m an Aries. Impulsive, bold, ruled by the planet Mars.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Colin said, raising his eyebrows, skepticism radiating from every inch of his face.

“Competitive—but you know that already.” I took a fig from a bowl on the table and popped it in my mouth.

“All too well.”

“I was thinking,” I began, looking over the Bosphorus shining below us. “Perhaps we should have another bet. Bezime says it’s impossible for you to solve this case. That all the keys lie in the harem.”

“That may be. But we’ll be sharing our information. I may put the story together before you. I’ve more experience.”

“What did you learn today?” I asked.

“I spent the bulk of the afternoon at Çırağan Palace—where the sultan’s brother is imprisoned. Nice digs, that,” he said. “Far from a hotbed of political discontent, but there are several individuals who’ve aroused my suspicions.”

“Who? What are they doing?”

“I’ve little to go on yet—primarily instinct. They’re all men who lost power when Murat was deposed.”

“I trust your instincts,” I said. “Bezime suspects trouble is brewing there.”

“I shan’t dismiss her thoughts without further investigation. And you’re quite right to trust my instincts. They will help me reach a solution before you.”

“I don’t think you will,” I said.

“And?” His eyes narrowed.

“And if I’m right, I want you to swim the Bosphorus for me.”

“Swim the Bosphorus? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s romantic.” I picked up another fig. “Think of Hero and Leander. He crossed the sea every night to be with her.”

“And drowned. After which Hero, if I remember correctly, flung herself off a tower to her own painful death.”

“So you don’t think you’re a good enough swimmer?” I asked, a wicked smile creeping onto my face.

“I’m an excellent swimmer.”

“Which is why you should swim the Bosphorus for me. I’ll cheer you on from our balcony and receive you with open arms. Leander himself will never have had such a welcome.”

Now he smiled, his dark eyes full of heat. “If you determine the identity of Ceyden’s murderer before I do.”

“Yes.”

“And if you lose?” he asked.

“I don’t ever lose our bets,” I said.

“I shan’t dignify that with a reply. What do I get if you lose?”

“You don’t have to swim the Bosphorus.”

“Not enough,” he said. “If I win, you shall come to me dressed in Turkish robes and treat me like a sultan. Feed me peeled grapes. That sort of thing.”

I laughed. “The harem is not at all what you think.”

“Then I shall look forward to the disappointment to be found in victory,” he said.

“What sort of robes, exactly?” I asked.

“I’ll have to give the subject proper consideration. Diaphanous would be nice. Perhaps your new friend Bezime can guide you. I’d rather like to see you with a veil, if only so I can remove it.”

“Pity you’re making this a bet,” I said. “I didn’t have any plans for this evening.”

“You are going to have to behave yourself. Do you understand?” Colin asked the next morning as he drained a glass of strong Turkish coffee before we started for the yalı’s dock. “No impulsive decisions, no walking into dangerous situations. The prime minister himself has approved your involvement in this case. You must remember at all times that you are working for the government.”

“You’ve told me a thousand times,” I said. “Am I so weak-minded that you think I’ll require two thousand?”

“Of course not. I do wish...” He sighed, holding open the French doors that led to the terrace. “Eventually we may have to consider a way for you to protect yourself.”

“Perhaps I need a pistol. A sword would be too heavy to drag about and particularly inconvenient when one is wearing evening dress.”

“I’m not joking, Emily. You’re very clever, and up to now have done an astonishing job relying on your wits alone. But there may come a time you need something more.”

“A pistol.” I must confess I rather liked the idea. “Maybe a Derringer?”

“How do you know about Derringers?” he asked.

“I read.”

“It’s not a bad idea.”

“Can we get one here?” I asked.

“Probably, but you’d need to be trained before you could carry it. It would be more of a danger to you than a protection until you’re fully competent using it.”

“I’m sure I could learn.”

“I shall teach you when we get back home,” he said. “I’m something of an expert marksman.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said, feeling my brow crease. “What other fascinating secrets are you hiding from me?”

“None that I can recall at present. For now, though, you’ll have to be doubly diligent. Take no chances.”

We’d reached the edge of the water, and I gripped his hand hard as I stepped into the vessel rocking violently before us, disappointed that my romantic notions of cruising the Bosphorus were being dashed on a daily basis by rough water that, so far as I was concerned, ought not to have troubled my stomach. Once we’d disembarked, it was into a carriage to take us the rest of the way through Pera, the section of Constantinople that housed not only the majority of foreign embassies and consulates, but also the Europeans who worked in them. Despite the preponderance of Western dress and more than one façade that looked straight out of London’s Mayfair, the neighborhood did not lack flourishes of the exotic, from elaborately carved wooden buildings to veiled ladies ducking in and out of alleys.

Sir Richard’s house, with its tall, Empire edifice, was a neoclassical vision, situated on the corner of a street near the British embassy. We were ushered inside by an English butler and served tea almost before we’d taken our seats in a drawing room furnished to showcase the eclectic mix of objects one would expect to find in the home of an international traveler. Serene-looking Isis, queen of the Egyptian gods, her arms outstretched, supported the cherry table on which a silver tea service was laid, and the heads of sphinxes decorated the chairs surrounding it.

“I’m having difficulty finalizing my daughter’s funeral arrangements,” Sir Richard said, his voice rough and tired. “Part of me wants to bring her to England, where, if I’d kept her in the first place, she’d still be alive. Sadly, though, that’s a mistake it’s far too late to correct. My initial—” He stopped speaking as the door swung open and a young man, his clothes encrusted with dried mud and his hair positively wild, staggered into the room, cringing as he put weight on his right foot. “Benjamin!” Sir Richard crossed the room and took him by the shoulders.

“Forgive me, Father,” Benjamin said, his breath ragged. “I came as quickly as I could when I—I heard about Ceyden.”

“What happened to you? You’re a mess. Didn’t you hire a special train?”

“The site’s not far enough from here to require a train, Father. I rode.”

“You shouldn’t—”

Benjamin interrupted his father. “You’re right, this time. I shouldn’t have ridden alone. Bandits set on me. I managed to break away from them but did not escape entirely unscathed.” He sat—collapsed, really—on a chair and motioned to his leg. “My ankle’s giving me more than a little trouble.”

“I’ll send for the doctor at once,” Sir Richard said.

“There’s no need. If I rest—”

“No.” Sir Richard pulled a heavily embroidered bell cord and dispatched the servant who appeared in short order to fetch a physician. “You will be treated by someone who knows the science of his profession.”

The darkness that crossed Benjamin’s face suggested he was far from agreement with his father, but he said nothing further on the topic, instead turning his red-rimmed gray eyes to Colin and me. “Who are your guests?” Sir Richard made speedy introductions that included our credentials as investigators while I poured a cup of tea for his son, who accepted it, dropped in three cubes of sugar, and stirred with a tiny silver spoon.

“Do you really think you can find my sister’s murderer?” he asked, his face three shades paler than the porcelain cup in his hand.

“We’ll do everything possible,” Colin said. “And I have great hopes that we’ll succeed. After all, we’re dealing with a limited number of possible suspects. The killer has to be someone with access to the palace.”

“Or someone wily enough to find his way in,” Sir Richard said.

“No one could do that,” Benjamin said, his words spilling on top of one another. “Yıldız is a veritable fortress. The walls are higher than those of prisons in England. We should not be careening in wild directions. Surely no one can doubt the murderer”—he seemed to choke on the word—“was someone from the harem. It may be that the right man is already in custody.”

“There’s no need for you to be thinking of any of this,” Sir Richard said. “I want you focused only on recovering from this attack. You’re safe now. I shan’t let you come to any harm.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” His father did not answer but pulled Colin towards a window, where they stood, heads bent together in earnest discussion.

I, however, could not help but smile at Benjamin’s response. His words were old friends to my own lips, and I felt an immediate kinship with him. “I’ve no doubt of it,” I said with a soft smile. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

“Thank you,” he said, scooting his chair closer to mine. “My father takes overprotective to new heights.” He kept his voice low.

“It’s natural for a parent to worry about a child. But I understand how stifling it can be.”

“He was bad before—and his friend Mr. Sutcliffe had been making it worse for as long as I can remember. They’re both obsessed with having lost children.”

“It’s easy to sympathize,” I said.

“I suppose so, but you cannot prevent every bad thing. Sutcliffe at least had begun to back off—he finally was accepting me as an adult and even went so far as to speak to my father about supporting my decision to work at the dig.” He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, wincing as he moved his long legs. He’d inherited his father’s height. “But now that Ceyden’s dead, I’m wondering if I should put my father’s mind at ease—go back to England. If only I could convince him to come with me.”

“Would he leave?” I asked.

“Probably not. Especially when he’s bent on getting justice for Ceyden.” Tears hung heavy in his eyes. “There’s no point in it, really. She’s gone. There’s no consolation to be found. I only wish—so desperately—that we’d known she was here.”

“I know how difficult all this is,” I said. “But I’ve no doubt that seeing your sister’s killer in custody will bring more relief than you can imagine.”

“Yes. Justice must be served.” Benjamin looked at the ceiling, blinking to stop his tears. “I suppose there is no other way.”

Colin and Sir Richard stepped back towards us and sat down. “Do you think...” I paused, studying the older man. “Could this in any way be connected to the theft of your papers on the train?”

“I can’t dream up any relation between the two,” Sir Richard said. “Especially as no one in Constantinople would have known Ceyden’s true identity.”