But the tour was over. The finishing line—Muscat—was in sight. She had arrived with one mystery in her suitcase, those teasing postcards, and would be leaving with quite another. Unless she could get to the core of Gabriel Sherlock, she would be left to wonder forever how it was that he had heard her aunt’s nylons brushing against each other.
Most of the now-familiar faces were at breakfast and new ones too—those parties going counter-clockwise.
Ignoring his group and his friends, Gabriel took a seat beside Kim.
“He looks the worse for wear,” she said, when the hot-headed Omar went past.
Gabriel stirred his coffee. “There was a row last night.”
“About what?”
“The usual thing—details. An alternative route to Dhofar. Abid said he’d gone a particular way, but Omar said that wasn’t possible, you couldn’t get through that way. In fact, you can—I’ve done it myself. It goes to the coast north of Salalah and there’s a spot, miles from anywhere, a deserted bay, which is great for fishing.”
“Fishing in the desert,” said Thea. “What a concept.”
“Stay a bit longer and I’ll take you there.”
“She is staying longer,” Kim said, popping pancake into her mouth. “She doesn’t go back till Tuesday. So did it end badly, this argument?”
“Hmm? Oh, umm, yeah, in stalemate. Bedouin hate to lose face, so no one can back down. Omar categorically insisted that Abid could not possibly have done what he certainly did do.”
When Kim went to get more coffee, Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You’re staying on? That’s great. There are places I’d like to show you.”
“You really think I’d go away with you after what you’ve told me?”
He leaned forward. “Haven’t you ever done something nasty you shouldn’t have done?”
“Not—”
“Something like, I dunno, seducing a married man and father of three in his place of work?”
Kim trotted behind Thea, as she strode past the gardens to their room. “What is wrong?”
“He knows stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“About Sachiv. His kids. Everything. Where would he have heard all that?”
“He knew the guy!”
Thea turned to her at their door. “He mentioned Sachiv before I ever did—yesterday morning in the camp—and just now he accused me of seducing a married man in his place of work.” She shoved the key-card into the slot.
“Guesswork,” said Kim, as they went in. “You asked about a hotel manager from years back—it isn’t a huge leap from there to an affair, in a hotel, but he got it wrong. You didn’t seduce Sachiv, which proves Gabriel’s chancing his arm.”
“One problem with that theory.”
“What’s that?” Kim reached for her nightshirt and started to fold it for packing.
Thea threw her bag onto her bed and turned to Kim, whose expression reflected the contortions of her mind.
“Thea?”
“There were things I didn’t tell you about Sachiv.”
“For instance?”
“He started coming to my room.”
“He what?”
Thea nodded. “After the prank calls.”
“But—”
“Yeah, I know, his family, his sweet wife, now dead.”
“But you said his marriage was saved by your illness. I presumed nothing . . .”
Thea narrowed her lips, raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, Lord. I see.”
“Good.”
“How did I miss that?”
“I made sure you did. And it was only the once.”
“Was he . . .” Kim twisted the nightshirt around her wrist, “. . . was he on duty?”
“On duty?”
“I’m thinking about that suit.”
“Suit?”
“He looked so damned hot in that uniform. The silver tie . . .”
Thea gaped and laughed at the same time. “You! So disapproving and—”
“Judgmental, yeah. Well?”
“Yes! He was on duty.”
By lowering herself onto the bed with minimum movement, Kim asked for more.
Thea gave in. “It was very sudden. I came in from work. He watched me pass. We didn’t speak, but there was a look of, I suppose, desperation. In my room, I sat in the dimness, thinking this would certainly break me. Every day, every week, seeing him first thing in the morning, last thing at night, knowing there was no escape, no release, and then he was there. He’d let himself in—not for the first time. We’d managed to resist once, but the second time we fell to it. Done, before conscience could intervene, before thinking could stop us. Done.”
“My God.” Eyes lowered, Kim said quietly, “No wonder you thought the cards were from him.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, how does Gabriel know about any of it?”
They made their way to the Friday market, through a jumble of pickup trucks, men in dishdashas and Bedouin women selling goats. Outside the old gate, traders were selling dried fish in plastic bags and cobblers waited for dusty shoes, but the real trade was happening to one side, where a circle had formed around a parade of livestock and men hunkered down, resting their camel sticks against their shoulders. Beyond, other merchandise, bleating and fretful, pulled on ropes—two beautifully coiffed kids, rusty-red with fluffy white fringes, were tied to low stumps on short leashes and didn’t like it.
Leaning toward Thea, Kim said, “They might have known one another better than Gabriel’s making out. Sachiv could have told him about you.”
“You think? ‘Hey, I knew an Irish girl once. A guest in my hotel. Slept with her in one of the rooms during my shift. Do bring all your clients to my hotel.’”
“Hmm. Maybe not.”
“Besides, Gabriel’s mentioned other things that don’t add up—or, rather, they do add up, and instead of making me wary, it’s making me more damn curious. It’s turning me into you! I want to know more, Kim, but most of all, I want to see more. Do more.” She turned. “Can’t you extend your stay? Then we could take him up on his offer to do another trip. You’ll get to find out what you want and I’ll get to experience some honest-to-God desert.”
“I’m thinking that’s what Gabriel might call a crowd. And I have to get back. I have deadlines.”
“I’ll go alone, then. I can’t afford to waste a single minute of this trip. Who knows when I’ll get away again?”
Kim stopped
