Free The Abyssinian Proof by Jenny White Page A

Kamil. “Do you want to join us in the raid?”
    “Of course.” So far, he had learned nothing about the thefts here, only about Byzantine architecture. He wondered what it was that Malik had to tell him.
    “Good,” Omar said amiably. “Let’s go fishing and see what lands in our net.”
    They went looking for Malik and found him sitting on a sarcophagus in a long, narrow room with a domed ceiling. More sarcophagi rested in niches along the wall. One side of the room was piled with sacks and chests. In the corner, someone had arranged a circle of cushions around a low tray.
    “The reliquary that was stolen was silver and somewhat damaged. It’s very old,” Malik explained, getting to his feet. “The rug once belonged to Sultan Ahmet I, so I think it must have been valuable.” His face looked drawn and Kamil had the impression that his friend had aged in the few moments since their whispered conversation.
    “What was in the reliquary?”
    Kamil noted a slight hesitation before Malik answered.
    “It was empty.”
    “Where was it?”
    “In here.” Malik went to the back corner and opened a dusty chest.
    “How often was this chest opened?”
    “Never, that I know of.”
    Kamil pointed to numerous finger marks in the dust around the latch and lid. “So these must be the thief’s. Was the lid open or closed when you arrived?”
    “Open. That’s how I knew the reliquary was missing.”
    “How did you know what was in here if the chest was never opened?”
    Malik looked startled. After a moment, he said, “I saw it open once and I remember seeing the reliquary.”
    This seemed unlikely to Kamil. The chest was filled with a jumble of objects. Why would Malik notice an unremarkable reliquary with enough accuracy to be able to tell it was missing? It was also clear to Kamil that Malik was not accustomed to lying and it made him enormously uncomfortable. Malik wanted the reliquary found, yet he also wished it to appear unimportant. Perhaps, thought Kamil, that was why he had asked Omar to send for him, knowing he would investigate the matter out of friendship, despite the trivial value of the stolen object. Perhaps the reliquary had personal meaning for Malik and he could think of no other way to convince the authorities to look for it. Kamil planned to have his officers make the rounds to the other police stations that had reported thefts, but for the moment the reliquary was his only lead. He systematically checked the other chests and bundles in the room. The dust on all of them had recently been disturbed.
    Omar pointed to one of the open chests. “If I wanted to steal something, I would have taken some of these.”
    Kamil looked over and saw dented gold plates, a chalice, and other objects he didn’t recognize, some elaborately decorated with niello work and a few with jewels.
    Omar lifted up a heavy gold chalice studded with rubies. Kamil was flabbergasted. A chalice like this could buy a small villa. “Why are these objects not under lock and key?” He thought of Hamdi Bey’s museum with frustration.
    Malik looked embarrassed. “The imam occasionally likes to do an inventory.”
    It could have been the imam, then, who had drawn his fingers through the dust. Omar flipped open a small carved box, revealing a cache of coins, not a few of them gold liras.
    “Tithes. The thief didn’t take them either.”
    “Was the box open?” Kamil asked.
    “For inventory,” Malik repeated, then paused before pointing to a small, upended medicine bottle on the tray. “The imam has terrible toothaches. Sometimes he’s a bit forgetful after taking his medicine.”
    “Forgetful enough to leave the door unlocked?”
    “I always check the door before I retire,” Malik insisted. “Whoever came in here had the key.” Malik sounded so despondent that Kamil found himself wondering whether Malik had an idea who had taken the reliquary.
    Kamil sniffed the mouth of the bottle. “Laudanum.” The imam had turned his