Ben hit the gas, speeding out of the alley past the police cars converging on the street in front of the gallery.
When they were safely past, Tarek sat up, ignoring Hamida as he groaned in pain.
Ben looked back at him. “What now?”
“Find someone who can fix Hamida’s arm. Then kill Fargo.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
A close friend can become a close enemy.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
A pity you couldn’t have held them until the police got there,” Remi said to Sam once they were back at their hotel.
“All it would prove is that they were middlemen in selling a stolen artifact. Proving they’re behind the murder’s going to take more effort. One thing’s clear. Amal’s got some serious explaining to do. She’s already lied to us before. When you saw her out at the ruins our first day here.”
/> “I’d forgotten about that,” Remi said.
“Tarek and his men are playing for keeps. We’re past trying to spare anyone’s feelings.”
Lazlo, who was examining the mosaic of Echo’s face, looked up at them. “I daresay, he has a point.”
Remi started pacing the floor. “I know. And we’ve also got Nasha to think of. Her uncle’s flying in tomorrow to take her home. I’ll feel more comfortable once she’s back in her uncle’s care.”
Sam nodded at the open parcel on the table. “Let’s put it in the safe at the front desk.”
“Maybe,” Remi said as she helped Lazlo repack the mosaic, “we could invite Amal to dinner. It won’t seem so intimidating.”
Sam thought Remi was being far too polite, but he learned long ago that her lighter touch often yielded good results.
She put the phone on speaker and placed the call. “Oh, Mrs. Fargo …” Amal was clearly crying. “Dr. LaBelle was arrested. She … For murder.” She started sobbing.
“We know,” Remi said. “Which is why we need to talk.”
They agreed on a location, and Amal was waiting for them when they arrived later that evening. Her eyes were red, her lids heavy, but she smiled at them as they entered. The four sat in awkward silence until the maître d’ seated them at a table. A waiter brought them drinks and took their orders.
Amal waited until he left. “The police can’t possibly believe that Dr. LaBelle killed anyone?”
“Apparently, they do,” Sam said. “The best way to help her is by telling us anything you know about what’s been going on around here.”
“About what?”
“You can start with the day we saw you out at the ruins, and why you lied about being there when we ran into you at the hospital. Was Warren with you?”
She shook her head. “No, I swear. It was a tour to earn money. I only lied about it because Hank had asked me to stop giving them. He didn’t want strangers around our dig site. I … I thought he might get upset and I didn’t want to add to Dr. LaBelle’s problems.”
“What about the shop at the market?” Remi asked. “I saw you knocking on the same door where the stolen mosaic ended up. You were talking to someone.”
“Oh …” She sank back in her chair. “That was Warren. About him, I mean. When Hank told me that he’d gone there to sell stolen artifacts, I had to see for myself. No one answered. But a man in the shop next door came out. I showed him Warren’s photo.”
“And what’d he say?” Sam asked.
“He recognized him.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You have to understand, Warren was like a father to me. I didn’t want to believe Hank, but when that man at the shop said he’d seen Warren there, that’s when I realized … I was such a fool. He was using me to learn what I knew about the secrets of …” Amal covered her mouth and looked up at the ceiling, trying to compose herself.
Remi slid a glass of water closer to her and she grasped it, taking a sip.
“What secrets?” Remi asked.