The Serpent's Daughter (33 page)

“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 appearances. 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 into 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.

“I made it, Sam,” she whispered. “Your turn. Can you do it with your leg?”

Jade had seen him climb trees well enough with his false leg, but wasn’t certain how well he’d do scaling a wall when he couldn’t feel half the toeholds. “I can look for some rope if you need it.” Her only answer came in the form of some mutterings and the sound of a boot scraping hard clay.

Inez had too much experience of human nature in general, and her daughter in particular, to be fooled by Sam’s story. She knew full well that Jade had no intention of letting go so easily, and with the gates to the old city closed for the night, that meant only one thing: Jade planned to climb over the wall. Inez adjusted her torn sleeves and smoothed the front of her ruined dress.
Let her go, then
. For once she knew someone would be with Jade. The question was, Did her daughter have Mr. Featherstone wrapped around her little finger?

She thought about the meeting between Jade and Sam at the slave market. Not for one moment did she believe his statement about looking for other slaves in the opposite room. She’d seen how he gazed at her daughter. It was the same look her Richard had when they’d first met. Inez smiled. This Sam had other traits in common with her husband: bravery, determination, and a clear head.

Maybe my Jade has finally met her match
. If anyone looked like he could handle her, that young man stood the best chance. Still, Inez had every intention of keeping her own eye on her daughter. She waited only a few seconds after Sam left her. Then she motioned to Bachir and followed the young American pilot.

Bachir held out his hands and made a slight shrug as if to ask what in the world were they doing now.

Inez pointed and whispered one word: “Jade.”

Bachir nodded and fell in step with Inez as they tailed Sam to the
Bab Agnaou
and then to the rampart wall beyond. The pair hunkered low behind a palm and watched as first Jade, then Sam, climbed the rampart. The two stayed at the top for a while, and Inez presumed Jade was taking her bearings. She saw her daughter point to the northeast before disappearing over the wall. Once Sam joined Jade, Inez pointed to herself and Bachir, then to the wall. At first Bachir shook his head vigorously. He pointed to Inez and back to Gueliz, then to himself and the wall, indicating that he would go, but she should wait behind. Inez’s answer was to hurry to the same spot where she’d seen Sam begin, and shove her right foot into one of the framing holes.