Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(53)

“Quite true,” he said.

“Right. So, what if he was set to meet a lover the night he died? And what if the family found out about it?” When Azhar frowned, looking doubtful, she said, “He had three condoms in his pocket, Azhar. What does that suggest to you?”

“A preparation for intercourse.”

“Not a love affair? A love affair significant enough to cause Querashi to want to call off his wedding plans?”

“It might be that Haytham had fallen in love with someone else,” Azhar replied. “But love and duty are often mutually exclusive ideas to my people, Barbara. Westerners think of marriage as the logical consequence of love. Most Asians do not. Thus Haytham may have fallen in love with another woman—and possession of the condoms suggests he went to the Nez for purposes of sex if not for purposes of love, I will agree—but it does not follow that he would wish to abrogate his agreement to marry my cousin.”

“Okay. I'll accept that for the moment.” Barbara dropped a square of toast onto her plate and forked it about in the remaining yolk of her egg. She knifed it up with some bacon and chewed thoughtfully, considering alternative scenarios. When she had one, she spoke, aware of the fact that Azhar was frowning. No doubt he was assessing her table manners, which at breakfast left something to be desired. She was used to eating on the run and had never got out of the habit of bolting down her breakfast as if pursued by Mafia hitmen. “Then what if he'd got some woman pregnant? Condoms don't always work the way one would like. They leak, they break, they're not put on in time.”

“If she was pregnant, why did he have condoms with him that night? They'd've hardly been necessary.”

“Right. Closing the barn door too late,” Barbara agreed. “But he might not have known she was in the club. He went prepared to do the dirty as usual, and she broke the news to him when he got there. So she's pregnant and he's engaged to someone else. What then?”

Azhar stubbed out his cigarette. He lit another before answering. “That would be unfortunate.”

“Okay. Good. So let's imagine it happened. Wouldn't the Maliks—”

“But Haytham would still consider himself contracted to Sahlah,” he said patiently. “And the family would consider the pregnancy to be the responsibility of the woman. Since she'd likely be English—”

“Hang on,” Barbara cut in, her dander up at this blithe assumption. “Why would she likely be anything? How would he know any English women, anyway?”

“This is your conjecture, Barbara, not mine.” It was clear that he read her vexation. It was also clear that he wasn't bothered by it. “She'd likely be English because young Asian women are careful about their virginity in ways that young English women are not. English girls are easy and available, and Asian men seeking sexual experience will seek it from them, not from another Asian.”

“How nice of them,” Barbara commented acidly.

Azhar shrugged. “The community's values predominate when it comes to sex. The community values virginity in women prior to marriage and chastity in women after marriage. A young man seeking to sow wild oats will therefore sow them in an English girl's field, because English girls are seen as not considering virginity important. Thus, they are there for the taking.”

“And what if Querashi happened to run into an English girl who didn't share this charming attitude? What if he ran into an English girl who thought having it off with a bloke—whatever his colour, race, or religion—meant making a bloody commitment to him?”

“You're angry,” Azhar said. “But I meant no offence with this explanation, Barbara. If you ask questions about our culture, you'll doubtless hear answers now and again that are in conflict with your own beliefs.”

Barbara shoved her plate to one side. “And you'd do well to toss round the idea that my beliefs—as you call them—might bloody well reflect the beliefs of my culture. If Querashi put some English girl in the club and then came on like Rodney Righteous about how he had to do his duty to Sahlah Malik and excuse me but it doesn't really matter that you're up the spout because you're flipping English, how do you think her father or brother would react to this news?”

“Perhaps badly,” Azhar said. “Indeed, perhaps with murderous intentions. Wouldn't you agree?”

Barbara wasn't about to let him lead their conversation to an end of his choosing: the guilt of an Englishman. He was quick as a whip, but she was obdurate. “And what if the Maliks discovered all of this: the affair, the pregnancy. What if the woman—whoever she is—informed them in advance of telling Querashi? Wouldn't they be just a little put out?”

“You're asking if they would have murderous intentions as a result,” Azhar clarified. “But killing the bridegroom would hardly serve the purposes of the arranged marriage, would it?”

“Bugger the arranged marriage!” The crockery rattled when Barbara smacked her hand on the table. The remaining diners in the room glanced their way. Azhar had left his packet of cigarettes on the table, and she helped herself to one, saying in a lower voice, “Come on, Azhar. This situation plays both ways, and you know it. Sure, these are Pakistanis we're talking about, but they're also humans with human feelings.”