The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [89]
‘Park Lane?’ I repeated sceptically. ‘That is one of the best neighbourhoods in London, my friend. A woman like that – the proprietress of an opium den – would not be rubbing shoulders with the aristocracy.’
Ahmet produced a meaningful leer. ‘Rub shoulders, Sitt? That is not all she does.’
Men can never resist the opportunity to make a vulgar joke. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, a look of terror transformed his features and betrayed the fact that he had said more than he meant to say. He refused to elaborate, however, and I could not bring myself to insist. There are limits of common decency beyond which a lady cannot go, even when she is in pursuit of a murderer.
I was about to leave when I remembered I had not asked him about Mr Oldacre. On this subject he was even less informative, insisting he did not know the man, had never heard of him, had never seen him, and had no opinion whatever about anything. I quoted the remark I had overheard in the paddy wagon. Ahmet rolled his eyes.
‘They come,’ he murmured. ‘True believers and heretics, men and women, princes and beggars. Hashish and opium are the great levellers, Sitt, they give of their bounty to all Allah’s creatures. Even a low, crawling insect like Ahmet . . . It has been so long – too long – since I dreamed . . . Find me opium, Sitt – and a pipe – only one . . . We will talk, and dream together . . .’
Whether he was wandering in his wits or only pretending to, he had found a good way of ending the discussion. I summoned the constable and left Ahmet to his conscience, such as it was; but not, of course, before I had offered him my protection and urged him to summon me at any hour of the day or night.
Cuff was waiting for me in the corridor. ‘Well?’ he said.
‘Why ask?’ I retorted. ‘I observed the opening in the left wall, Inspector. Who was listening outside? Mr Jones?’
The Inspector shook his head admiringly. ‘You are too sharp for me, Mrs Emerson. Not Jones; I told you, he is on holiday. We have several officers who speak Arabic, though none as fluently as you. Why were you so interested in the woman Ayesha?’
I countered with another question. ‘What do you know about her, Inspector?’
‘Nothing that would justify an official inquiry,’ Cuff replied. ‘I do beg, ma’am, that you will not approach that person. She is not a fit associate for a lady like yourself.’
‘I do not intend to invite her to dinner, Inspector,’ I said ironically. ‘However, she is obviously a person of influence in the Egyptian community, including the criminal part of it – for persons who own and operate opium dens can hardly be called pillars of society. I cannot understand why you are being so evasive. You should interrogate the woman immediately. And furthermore . . .’
We had descended the stairs to the lower floor. Here Cuff stopped, and, turning to face me, said earnestly, ‘Mrs Emerson, I have the greatest respect for your character and your abilities. But insofar as the Department is concerned, you are a civilian and a lady – both of them attributes that make it impossible for me to take you into my confidence. Were I to do so without the explicit permission of my superiors I would risk reprimand, demotion, possibly even the loss of my position. I have spent thirty years in the police force. I hope shortly to retire, with my well-earned pension, to my little house in Dorking, where, following the example of my respected father and eminent grandfather, I will spend a peaceful old age cultivating my roses. It is truly beyond my powers –’
‘Spare me the rest of the speech, Inspector,’ I cut in. ‘I have heard it before – the same tired old excuses based on masculine arrogance and contempt for women. I don’t blame you; you are no better and no worse than the rest of the men, and I have no doubt that your superiors are as blind and bigoted as you.’
Cuff’s sallow face took on a look of deep distress.