Who is Maud Dixon?(61)

Idrissi was planted just next to the entrance to the souk. Had he seen her go in? Had he been waiting for her? “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said.

“Thanks,” she managed. She was still off-kilter from her run-in with Whitney. This was the last thing she needed.

Nick looked back and forth from Florence to the policeman. “Hey man, I’m Nick,” he said to Idrissi, sticking out his hand.

Idrissi glanced at it dismissively before turning back to Florence. “So have you heard from your friend?”

Florence shielded her face from the sun. What was the smart move here? Saying yes was riskier—one more lie to build up and defend—but saying no would only heighten his suspicions about this mysterious, missing woman.

She finally nodded. “Yes. She’s in Marrakesh. As I thought.”

Idrissi stared at her for a beat. “Good,” he said crisply. “You know, it’s interesting: I’ve been having trouble finding the taxi that picked her up at Dar Amal that night.”

“Does it matter?” Florence asked. “She’s back in Marrakesh. She’s fine.”

“Just tying up loose ends. Policework isn’t all car chases and shootouts,” he said with an unpracticed smile. “Do you have her phone number? It would be helpful if I could speak with her.”

“Her phone number? Um, not on me. It was in my phone, which was lost.”

“Perhaps it is at the house, then? If you’ve spoken.”

“Oh, maybe. But actually she called me. On the landline.”

“Well, that makes it easier. I’ll check the phone records.”

Florence paled. “Right.” She felt the sun scorching the top of her head. “I’m actually still not feeling a hundred percent,” she said abruptly. “I was just going home to rest.” She turned away from Idrissi and walked directly into the busy road, forcing a moped to veer around her while the driver shouted something unintelligible.

Nick took her arm and guided her safely across the street. “What was that all about?” he asked when they reached the other side. “Who’s your friend?”

“He’s not my friend!” Florence exclaimed.

“No, the friend he was talking about.”

“Oh. I was traveling with someone for a while but she went back to Marrakesh. Now this policeman investigating the car accident is totally fixated on her. I don’t know why. It was just an accident, but he won’t stop hounding me about it.” Her voice took on a hysterical edge. “I don’t know what else to tell him. I don’t remember anything!”

Nick put his hand on her arm to slow her down. “Hey, hey, relax. Listen, the cops here are all notoriously corrupt. He’s probably just pissed you haven’t tried to bribe him yet.”

Florence stopped walking. “Really? Is that true?”

“Yeah. Liam slipped like forty bucks to the one who caught him with a dime bag and the whole thing went away.”

“Oh.”

She looked back at where Idrissi was standing, watching her. Was this whole thing a misunderstanding? Could she make it go away right now?

Florence checked her purse. She still had close to fifteen hundred dirhams of Helen’s. She took out two bills and crumpled them in her hand. Recrossing the street, she felt Idrissi scrutinizing her and smiled uncomfortably.

“Hi, again,” she said when she reached him.

He nodded at her.

“I just wanted to say that I really appreciate all your help after the accident—driving me home and returning my scarf and everything. And all the work you’ve put into the investigation. Thank you.” She awkwardly held out the money, now crumpled in a soft, soggy ball in her palm. This must be how Helen’s lover felt, she thought, trying to tip the staff at the hotel under her judgmental gaze.

Idrissi’s eyes traveled down to her hand then back up to her face. He didn’t move.

“This is for you,” she said, thrusting her palm forward. “To say thank you.”

“My English is still not as good as I’d like,” he said after a beat. “Is this what is called a bribe?” He smiled mirthlessly. “Is that the right word?”

“No, not at all! It’s just a gift. Or…whatever you want it to be.”

“So you must often give gifts like this to the police in America then?”

“Sure. Sometimes.” Florence felt the blood rushing to her face.

“Do you? I thought it was illegal there. As it is here, of course.”

“Is it? I didn’t realize.” Florence shoved the money back into her bag. “Sorry. I just wanted…”

“To say thank you?” Idrissi finished for her with a smirk.

She nodded.

“Or maybe you want me to stop investigating the accident.”

“No, not at all. I mean, is there really anything else to investigate? It all seems pretty clear to me.” This was patently false. Nothing about that night made any sense to her.

“Does it, Madame Weel-cock? Because it’s not clear to me why you and your friend left the restaurant separately; it’s not clear why I can’t find the taxi that took her back to the villa; it’s not clear why she disappeared the day after the accident; and it’s not clear why you can’t simply put me in touch with her, to clear up all these questions.”