Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(38)

“Yeah. One of those take-away marriages, all boxed up pretty by Mummy and Dad. You know what I mean.”

“So perhaps there were problems with that. She didn't ring his chimes. He didn't ring hers. She wanted out, but he wanted to immigrate, and she was his ticket. The whole situation ended up getting settled permanently.”

“Neck breaking's an extreme measure for ending an engagement,” Emily noted. “Anyway, Akram Malik's been part of this community for years, and from everything I know about him, he treasures his daughter. If she hadn't wanted to marry Querashi, I can't think her father would have forced her.”

Barbara mulled this over and went in a new direction. “They still use dowries, don't they? What was the daughter's? Could Querashi have been a little too ungrateful for what the family saw as generosity?”

“So they eliminated him?” Emily stretched out her long legs and cradled the brandy between her palms. “I suppose that's a possibility. It's completely out of character for Akram Malik, but for Muhannad …? I wouldn't put violence past that bloke. But that doesn't address the problem of the car.”

“Was there an indication that something had been taken?”

“It was completely torn apart.”

“And had the body been searched?”

“Definitely. We found the keys to the car in a patch of samphire growing on the cliff. I doubt Querashi would have tossed them there.”

“Was anything left on the body when he was found?”

“Ten pounds and three condoms.”

“No identification?” And when Emily shook her head, “Then how did you know who the victim was?”

Emily sighed and closed her eyes. Barbara had the impression that they'd finally come to the meaty part, the part she'd so far managed to withhold from everyone outside of the investigation.

“He was found yesterday morning by a bloke called Ian Armstrong,” Emily said. “And Ian Armstrong knew who he was by sight.”

“An Englishman,” Barbara said.

“The Englishman,” Emily said grimly.

Barbara immediately saw the direction in which Emily was heading. “Armstrong has a motive?”

“Oh yes.” Emily opened her eyes and turned her head to Barbara. “Ian Armstrong worked for Malik's Mustards. He lost his job six weeks ago.”

“Did Haytham Querashi sack him, or something?”

“It's worse than that, although it's vastly better from Muhannad's point of view, considering what he'll probably do with the information if it leaks out to him that Armstrong found the body.”

“Why? What's the story?”

“Revenge. Manipulation. Necessity. Desperation. Whatever you like. Haytham Querashi replaced Ian Armstrong at the factory, Barb. And the minute Haytham Querashi died, Ian Armstrong got his old job back. How's that for a motive from heaven?”



HAT COULD BE DICEY,” BARBARA ADMITTED. “But wouldn't Armstrong have had an even stronger motive to kill whoever gave him the sack?”

“In some circumstances, yes. If he was after revenge.”

“But in these circumstances?”

“Armstrong had apparently been doing a spot-on job. The only reason he was let go was to make room for Querashi in the family business.”

“Bloody hell,” Barbara said with devotion. “Has Armstrong an alibi?”

“Claims he was home with the wife and a five-year-old. With a flaming ear ache—that's the kid, not Armstrong.”

“And the wife would corroborate that, right?”

“He's the main breadwinner and she knows what side her slice is buttered on.” Emily restlessly played her fingers along the curve of a peach in the fruit bowl. “Armstrong said he'd gone to the Nez for an early morning walk. He said he'd been taking early morning walks on both days at the weekend for some time now, getting away from the missus for a few quiet hours. He doesn't know if anyone's seen him on these walks, but even if they have done, he could have used a normal weekend activity as a form of alibi.”

Barbara knew what she was thinking: It wasn't that rare an occurrence that a killer made a pretence of stumbling onto a corpse after the fact, the better to direct the spotlight of guilt onto someone else. Yet something Emily had earlier noted prodded Barbara to take a different tack. “Forget the car for a moment. You said Querashi had three condoms and ten pounds on him. Could he have gone to the Nez to meet someone for sex? To meet a prostitute, perhaps? If he was about to marry, perhaps he wouldn't have wanted to risk being seen by someone who'd report his liaison back to his future father-in-law.”

“What prostitute do you know who'd give it a go for ten pounds, Barb?”

“A young one. A desperate one. Perhaps a beginner.” When Emily shook her head, Barbara said, “Then perhaps he was meeting a woman who'd otherwise be unavailable to him, a married woman. The husband caught on and did him in. Is there any indication that Querashi knew Armstrong's wife?”

“We're looking for connections,” Emily said, “with everyone's wife.”

“This Muhannad bloke,” Barbara said. “Is he married, Em?”

“Oh yes,” Emily said quietly. “Oh yes indeed. He had his own boxed-up marriage some three years ago.”