Death in Damascus: A 1920s Murder Mystery with Heathcliff Lennox by Karen Baugh Menuhin

Author:Karen Baugh Menuhin [Menuhin, Karen Baugh]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Little Dog Publishing
Published: 2020-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

A small metal grill opened in the door, barely visible in the darkness, and a voice rapped out something incomprehensible.

We stood back to let Jamal answer, guttural debate resulted before he moved out of the line of the door-keeper’s sight and waved a hand in our direction. The reaction was immediate, locks were thrown back, chains rattled and the door opened to reveal a long dark corridor with bright lights in the distance. Music, singing and shouting greeted us – it sounded like a lot of people having a jolly good time.

We filed in wearing grins, except Swift of course, who was determined to remain a wet blanket. We tried to persuade Jamal to join us, but he refused and went off into the darkness.

A happy hour later, one of the ladies was shimmying her navel before our boggle-eyed gaze as we sat on low couches, sipping some sort of paint-stripper. Actually not all of us were drinking, Bing had been threatened, on pain of being booted out, if he took so much as a sniff. He had a glass of honeyed camel milk, or some such concoction.

Dimly lit alcoves, like private booths, were arrayed around the dance floor. Ours, and all the others I could see, were furnished with couches, cushions and low tables. To one side of the smoke-filled room were musicians playing lutes, zithers, tambourines and a drum. They belted out frenzied notes while, in the centre, dancers quivered under sparkling chandeliers. The ladies dazzled in sequinned tops above bare midriff’s and hip-hugging skirts of gaudy silk, which flared and flashed as they swayed to the rhythm of the beat.

We’d been mesmerised from the minute we sat down.

‘What are we supposed to do now?’ I hissed to Swift, whose bad temper had mostly melted in the intoxicating mix of belly dancers and strong liquor.

‘Keep your eyes open, someone’s bound to spot us.’ He hissed back, under cover of the rowdy music.

I looked around at the various alcoves where the clientele lounged in robes of many hues. Most of them were imbibing merrily or smoking jars of bubbling liquid, with their eyes fixed firmly on the entertainment.

‘Swift, we couldn’t be more spottable if we were wearing flaming beacons.’

His reply was lost as another lady sprang into the centre of the dancing floor and started swaying faster and faster. Clapping began and we slapped our palms to the tempo as she shimmied across the floor. Then more ladies swirled out until there were over a dozen, jiggling their hips as everyone stamped and yelled.

‘Is this the ‘seven veils’?’ Bing said loudly.

‘The what? ‘I shouted back.

Dreadnaught laughed. ‘Innocents abroad! I told you, Major, you are in need of broadening your education.’

‘Yeah, you should come to Hollywood,’ Vincent laughed. ‘Now that’s an education!’

The dancing reached a sizzling climax, then the ladies suddenly ran off through a doorway as waiters emerged with trays of delicacies. The music fell to a light melody, as a feast of small dishes was set before us.

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