A Dead Man in Tangier by Michael Pearce

Author:Michael Pearce [Pearce, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781569476116
Google: vYIzKgSQUWsC
Amazon: 156947611X
Goodreads: 1829013
Publisher: Carroll & Graf
Published: 2007-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sitting at the receptionist’s desk when they returned to the hotel was a middle-aged Moroccan lady.

‘My mother,’ said Chantale.

She smiled at Seymour and there was something in her smile that reminded him of her daughter. She was still a beautiful woman but the face was thin and drawn, as if it had seen harsh times, and the large, dark eyes were wary. They appraised Seymour in much the same way, he thought, as his own mother’s eyes appraised any woman he brought home for the evening. He thought he would say this to Chantale later. It might comfort her.

‘One of the pleasures of Tangier, Madame,’ he said, ‘has been meeting your daughter.’

‘Tangier has many pleasures,’ she said neutrally.

Just at that moment the front door of the hotel opened and Mustapha came in.

He stopped when he saw Chantale’s mother.

‘Madame!’ he said.

‘Why, Mustapha!’ said Chantale’s mother, with unaffected pleasure. ‘How are you keeping? And your wife?’

‘Well, Madame.’

‘And the child?’

‘Well, too, Madame. He has had chickenpox.’

‘But better now, I hope?’

‘Oh, yes, he has put it behind him. Another one is on the way.’

‘Another child? Oh, how nice for you both! Congratulations, Mustapha! And to your wife as well.’

She suddenly looked anxious.

‘Mustapha…’

‘Madame?’

‘Which midwife are you going to use?’

‘Maryam, we thought.’

Chantale’s mother pursed her lips.

‘Maryam is getting old now, Mustapha. And your wife had difficulties the last time.’

‘I know, but—’

‘Why not try Aisha?’

‘Well…’

‘If it’s money, Mustapha, we can help.’

‘It’s not money, Madame. Though thank you very much. It’s…’ He twisted awkwardly. ‘Well, the fact is, we had a little to-do with her husband a few weeks ago and he got hurt. Not badly, not badly,’ he hastened to add. ‘But things have not been the same between the families since, and I don’t like to ask her.’

‘But this is ridiculous! She’s very fond of you all, and, you know, these days, Mustapha, she would be a much better bet. You want the child to be all right, don’t you?’

‘Oh, Madame!’

‘Of course, you do. And you want your wife to be all right, too. You mustn’t let these foolish quarrels get in your way. Aisha would be much the safest choice.’

‘Yes, Madame. I know. But…’

‘But what, Mustapha?’

Mustapha hesitated.

‘I — I don’t like to go, Madame.’

‘Mustapha!’

‘Madame?’

‘Mustapha, you’re not scared, are you?’

‘Scared? Me?’

‘No, no, of course you’re not scared. I didn’t mean that. I meant that — it’s not easy for you to climb down, is it?’

‘Well, no, Madame. Not with Hussein.’

‘Would you like me to have a word with Aisha?’

Mustapha crossed the foyer and then, with unexpected grace, kissed her hand.

‘I will speak to her tomorrow.’

‘Mustapha,’ said Chantale, ‘did you come in for something?’

‘Well, yes, Chantale, as a matter of fact I did. It’s like this. We’ve heard that Ali Khadr and some of his boys are coming over tomorrow night and, knowing how you feel about these things, we wanted to tell you ahead. Knowing how you feel about these things.’

‘There is to be no fighting,’ said Chantale peremptorily.

‘No, no, there won’t be. It’s just a case of getting a few of our lads together to defend ourselves.

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