Читать книгу Deadline Istanbul (The Elizabeth Darcy Series) - Peggy Hanson - Страница 25

CHAPTER 21

“Young women should always be properly guarded and attended, according to their situation in life.”

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

The sleek diplomatic car drove down Barbaros Boulevard, named after the famous Turkish pirate known to the West as Barbarossa. Yıldız Park lay up the hill in mist on the left. The shore road led past Dolmabahçe Palace, where rain dripped through the remaining vegetation on plane trees. Big orange and brown leaves that had fallen earlier became a slippery mass on the pavement, made even more gloomy by the dusk. They matched my mood, on which nameless fears and apprehensions had become a slimy mass of their own.

As we drove, we spoke of Peter Franklin, the link between us. I asked Andover what he knew of Peter’s death.

“Not much, I’m afraid. The police called us to say a body they thought was Franklin’s had turned up, and asked for our formal identification.”

“Were you the one who identified the body, then?” Fate had taken me much closer to the scene of the crime than I’d expected.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about it?” I suppressed the desire to take out a notebook.

“Franklin was due at a party. He didn’t show up, but we all assumed that was because he had a deadline to meet or something. You journalists have a penchant for missing social functions, you know!” Andover chuckled deep in his throat. A pleasant chuckle.

“And?” I prompted.

“In the middle of the night, the police commissioner called me to say one more American had succumbed to drug use, and could I identify the body. That’s about it.”

“Were there marks on Peter’s body? Evidence of violence?” It seemed intrusive to Peter to be asking all this, but how else was I to find out?

“No. No marks except for the needle pricks in his arm.” Andover’s face twisted.

“But I don’t understand. If he died of an overdose, how did his body end up in the Bosphorus?”

“The police said he fell off a boat where he had been shooting up. It was just bad luck that the boat was upstream from the restaurant where the party was being held.” Andover stared ahead. “The body caught on pilings under the restaurant verandah. The police could not find the boat’s owner, so no information there.”

The graphic details made me sick to my stomach. Peter was dead. How could Andover speak so calmly? He obviously hadn’t known Peter as I had.

He might have read my thoughts. “Sorry, my dear. Oh, I’m sorry!” He patted my hand. “I forgot you were his friend. Didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m fine.” I looked at his hand resting on mine. Lawrence Andover. Kind, as well as sophisticated.