Page 90 of Silver Angel

“He was not a strong boy. It would not have been at all difficult for a man to hold something over his face until he expired. There was an emergency that drew his servants away. When they returned, they found the table in a shambles and Murad lying beside it, dead.”

“And if it was murder,” Omar told Jamil at this point, “it was arranged specifically to lure you outside the palace. There is no other reason to kill the boy.”

“Omar—”

“But, Jamil, he’s right,” Chantelle insisted.

“No one can know that for certain—”

“Will you just listen?” she said in exasperation. “After the woman was interrupted, she asked Ali, ‘What about the boy?’ and when he answered her, she said, ‘Go ahead and arrange it. Nothing else has been able to draw him out of the palace, so maybe that will. But if it does, there had better be results. No more bungles or I will take it out of your hide.’ Ali must have told her to lower her voice then, for she got even angrier at him, but they moved on and I couldn’t hear any more.”

Jamil exchanged a long glance with Omar. The old man was smiling now. Jamil wore a half-amused, half-chagrined expression that bemused Chantelle.

“It seems ‘our friend’ has made a useless trip to Istanbul,” Omar remarked.

“It does look that way, does it not?” Jamil agreed, before his emerald eyes fell on Chantelle again. “Who was the woman, Shahar?”

She grimaced, having to admit, “I don’t know.”

“But you saw her?”

“No, the door was closed.”

“Damn—”

“But I think I would recognize her voice if I heard it again.”

“That is something anyway, and how many eunuchs can bear the name Ali?”

“Dozens, unfortunately,” Omar supplied.

“Then I leave it in your capable hands to narrow the number down to our culprit. And I think that is enough on the subject for now.”

Omar nodded in agreement but had to add, “You will not go to the funeral?”

“No. Arrange it so I can pay my respects here.”

That this was Omar’s original suggestion made his expression quite smug as he left. Jamil wasted no time in drawing Chantelle into his arms.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Without your help, we would have continued to flounder, suspecting the wrong man. Will you help again and listen for the voice?”

“Of course, but, Jamil, why would one of your women wish you harm?”

“Who can guess what is in a woman’s mind?” he said with a shrug.

Chantelle snorted. “I could say the same thing of a man’s mind.”

“But women are so much more contrary and unpredictable. And speaking of women…” He pulled her closer, meshing their hips together. “I have missed you.”

She gave in gracefully to the change of subject. “It was only one night—”

“And two days. We will have to make up for it.”

“Is that so?”

“Unless you are too weak.”

“Do I look weak?”