Phantoms of the Pharaoh (A Lady Marmalade Mystery Book 4)

by Jason Blacker

  "That's fair enough," said Florence. "Though I find the whole idea of stealing ancient artifacts ghastly."

  "I understand that, my dear Flo, though we, thankfully, have never been in the depths of desperation that perhaps fuels that sort of activity," said Frances.

  "Very true."

  "He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone," said Albert.

  "John chapter eight verse seven," said Frances, smiling.

  Albert stood up and smiled at everyone.

  "This has been an intriguing conversation," then turning to Abigail, "I'll go and make sure your milk is just how you like it."

  "Thank you, Al," she said, "I'll be right behind you."

  "Good night, Frances, Florence," said Albert, as he walked off.

  They watched him disappear down the stairs. The musicians were just finishing up. It was just after ten according to Frances' watch. Frances took a sip of her sherry. Albert had left a finger of brandy in his snifter on the table in front of where he had just been sitting.

  "I can't believe what a wonderful and warm evening it still is," said Abigail. "I quite like it."

  "Me too," said Florence.

  "This is a pleasant time of the year to be in Egypt," said Frances. "The summers can be too hot. Some might even find the days too hot now even, but not when you compare them to the summer days. I don't know how they do it."

  "And to think they sweated in this heat to build the pyramids," said Abigail. "Taking years and years. That's pure dedication."

  "And without modern technology," offered Florence.

  "Right, just logs and twine and perhaps beasts of burden, but no machines, no engines, just the back breaking labor of men."

  They sat in silence for a while, watching the twinkling stars, each alone to her thoughts.

  "Do you really think that the curse of the pharaohs is something real?" asked Abigail.

  Frances looked at her and smiled.

  "No, I don't think it's real. I'm sure there's a valid scientific explanation to it, but it does make for an interesting story. Why do you ask?"

  "It just seems unfair that someone who didn't do anything wrong should get punished for the wrong of others."

  "Is there something you'd like to talk about, Abigail?" asked Frances, kindly.

  Abigail looked at her lap and smoothed her dress over her thighs, then she looked up at Frances.

  "I just think it would be a shame if, like you said, those who were given the spoils of the burglary should be punished for it if they were just trying to return them."

  "Do you know something about that?" asked Frances, carefully.

  Abigail didn't say anything for a while. Then she shook her head.

  "No, I was just wondering. That's all. It's getting late. I should be off to bed. Good night."

  Abigail stood up and smiled at them. As she walked by, Frances grabbed her hand tenderly. Abigail stopped and looked down at her.

  "I can help if you need me to," she said.

  "Whatever for?"

  "For whatever sort of trouble you might be in," said Frances.

  "Nonsense," said Abigail, trying to laugh it off. "We were just talking in theory. All I'm saying is I can understand their predicament."

  Frances looked at her steadily in the eyes, and let go of Abigail's hand. Abigail walked off.

  "What was that about?" asked Florence, once they were alone again.

  "I'm not sure," said Frances. "But I found the whole conversation quite curious. Why would they care about the secret jewels of Menkaure if they weren't somehow involved."

  "But I thought you said the thieves were long dead?"

  Frances turned and looked at her friend.

  "They are indeed. I believe I read that Arthur Vipond died in 1930, and Trenglove much earlier than that. I think it was 1907. But Albert's resemblance to Vipond is uncanny."

  "What are you suggesting?" asked Florence.

  "I don't know. Perhaps they know where the stolen artifacts are. Perhaps they're related to the late Vipond, and perhaps they've come on a scouting mission to see how they might return what has been bequeathed to them, but isn't theirs."

  "Honestly Fran, that sounds quite fanciful. And what about Abigail, you didn't say she reminds you of anyone, and she's Albert's sister."

  Frances nodded.

  "Very true, and she doesn't remind me of Vipond at all, only Albert."

  Florence laughed softly.

  "Oh Fran, you can't help but see a mystery wherever you go, can you?"

  "I suppose not," said Frances, looking out over the black sky, as the musicians packed up their instruments and headed down into the bowels of the boat where they would spend the night.

  "Maybe you can tease a little more information from her tomorrow."

  "I think she'll need a lot more sherry than she had tonight," said Frances.

  "That shouldn't be too hard. She didn't have any tonight," said Florence.

  Frances finished the last of her sherry and put her glass down. Ishaq was going around to all the tables and cleaning them up, putting the empty or mostly empty glasses onto his tray.

  "What a wonderful night," said Florence, taking Frances' arm in hers, as they strolled towards the stairs.

  "A perfect start to what I hope will be our most memorable holiday yet," said Frances.

  Eleven

  Lady Marmalade had been up since six in the morning. She had quickly gotten dressed and came up to the top deck to watch the sunrise over the eastern banks of the Nile. The Queen Nefertiti had anchored about three hundred feet off the western banks of Saqqara.

  The day was going to be spent strolling through Saqqara which was the necropolis of the Ancient Egyptian capital city of Memphis. Frances was looking forward to it. It was a part of the country she had not visited for some time. Just about eighteen miles from Cairo it was an underappreciated tourist spot.

  After spending a half hour on the top deck, Frances had gone back down to the cabin at around six thirty or so to get ready for breakfast. Breakfast had been promised to be a fine English and European breakfast. Satisfying and filling. Enough to keep the spirits up for a long day of touring through Saqqara.

  Florence was up and had just come out of her bathroom. She walked into the main common area to grab the paper.

  "Good morning, Fran, I didn't know you were here."

  "Just got back."

  "How is the weather today?"

  "Absolutely marvelous. Warm and sunny, just like it was yesterday."

  "I can't believe we'll be in Saqqara today," she said. "How does it look?"

  "As one would expect, dry, barren and full of monuments."

  Florence smiled and turned to head back into her own room.

  "I'm going to go and get ready," she said to Frances.

  "Me too."

  At eight in the morning, Frances and Florence were seated at their table in the dining are on the second level. Orpha and Mahulda were already seated but hadn't started to eat yet. In fact everyone was just sitting down to breakfast, except for Abigail. Albert had decided to join Anton and Fowler at their table.

  Jafari came by and wished them a good morning.

  "We have orange juice, champagne or mimosa for drinking," he said.

  "Mimosa," said Orpha not waiting for anyone else to order.

  "Let's live a little, Fran," said Florence, "how about mimosas?"

  "Sounds wonderful to me. We'll have mimosas too," said Frances looking at Jafari.

  "Just an orange juice, please," said Mahulda.

  Jafari smiled, bowed and left to collect their drinks.

  "I wonder where Abigail is?" asked Florence, looking over at Albert sitting with Perry and Anton. "I also wonder why he's sitting over there?"

  Frances looked over at them.

  "He and his sister had a bit of a row with Samuel and Maurice last night," said Frances. "Didn't you hear them?"

  Florence shook her head.

  "They w
ere quite rude to her in particular, so I'm not surprised he doesn't want to sit with them."

  Jafari came back around with their drinks and took their breakfast order. Bacon and a hardboiled egg with a croissant for Frances, sausage and fried eggs with a strudel for Florence. Mahulda just wanted a hardboiled egg with a croissant and Orpha asked for scrambled eggs and sausages.

  "How did the two of you sleep?" asked Frances, looking at Mahulda and Orpha.

  "Like a log," said Orpha. "I found yesterday quite strenuous, and I think I shall stay on the boat today. But you can go along, my dear," she said to Mahulda kindly. "How did the two of you sleep last night?"

  "Wonderfully," said Frances, "I find the gentle swaying of the boat to be quite relaxing."

  "Me too," said Florence.

  Jafari bought their meals back and they ate mostly in silence. Frances noticed that Samuel and Maurice didn't share a word together the whole breakfast. Anton, Perry and Albert talked softly and intermittently and Nigel and Simon had an animated conversation about the many tombs that could be found in Saqqara. Captain Wainscott and Lady Pompress barely shared a few words.

  It was just after nine when Jafari took away the last plates and refilled coffee cups of those who were drinking coffee which was both Orpha and Mahulda. Perry stood up and walked into the middle of the dining room.

  "It's just after nine," he said, looking at his watch. "We're scheduled to depart at ten for Saqqara. It's not mandatory that you come, but I would highly recommend it. If any of you are staying behind, I'll stay to be of service. If we're all going then I'll be along too, though today's tour will be led by Anton Pung. Any questions?"

  Fowler looked around at the blank faces.

  "Good. We'll meet on the second level at the stern. That's at the back of the boat."

  Fowler walked off and climbed up the stairs to the top deck. Frances stood up, and went over to see Albert who was sipping on a coffee.

  "Do you mind if I sit down?"

  "Please, Frances," he said gesturing at the empty seat across from him. Anton got up, placed his napkin on his setting and walked off, presumably to join Perry. Florence sat down next to Frances.

  "Is Abby not feeling well this morning?" asked Frances.

  "I'm not sure," said Albert. "She's a heavy and a late sleeper. I thought I'd just leave her to get her beauty rest. I'm going to check in on her just after I've finished my coffee. Ishaq said that they can easily get her some toast or pastries if she likes."

  "That's good to hear, I was worried about her."

  "Why is that?"

  "Well, she said something strange to me last night."

  "And what was that?"

  "She said she thought it would be unfortunate that those who were innocent of any wrongdoing would be punished for it. She was referring to the burglary of Menkaure. She said she thought it would be unfair to be punished for doing the right thing, for trying to return the spoils. Do you know anything about that?"

  Albert drained the last of his coffee and shook his head.

  "I'm afraid not. But you must understand, Frances," said Albert, "my sister has always been concerned about justice and she's been especially vocal about righting wrongs. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and wake her. I'm sure she doesn't want to miss today's tour, and she'll need the time to get ready."

  Albert stood and bowed.

  "Of course," said Frances, smiling weakly at him.

  Albert strode away. Florence looked at Frances.

  "You really do think they are involved somehow don't you?"

  Frances turned and smiled at her friend, and nodded.

  "I do, Flo. Not that they're bad people, quite the contrary. But I think they're perhaps hiding the fact that there's more to this vacation than they're letting on."

  "Can we not let them be?" asked Florence. "You're making me nervous."

  "How is that?"

  "Every time you get to thinking there's a mystery underfoot you're often right, and I don't want this perfect holiday to be jinxed by some sort of mystery. If they're not hurting anyone, can you let it be, at least until the end of the trip?"

  Florence smiled at her friend. Frances looked at the place where Albert had sat not minutes before. She was deep in thought. Then she turned around and looked back at her friend, and smiled.

  "All right," said Frances. "You're right, we shouldn't look for trouble when he's not looking for us. Let us enjoy ourselves instead. Shall we go and collect our things for the day's tour."

  Florence smiled and nodded her head. They stood up and made their way to the stairs to carry them to the main deck where their room was.

  Twelve

  Frances and Florence were walking down the hallway towards the end of the boat, when Albert burst out of his room, spilling like a lunatic into the hallway. He looked around, he was obviously panicked. He saw Frances and Florence walking towards him from the bow of the boat.

  Albert and Abigail's cabin was on the starboard side, sandwiched between the cabins of Lady Pompress and Captain Wainscott and Orpha and Mahulda.

  "Help!" he yelled, at Frances and Florence, his eyes as big as bulging eggs.

  Frances and Florence hurried up to him.

  "What is it Albert?" asked Frances.

  "My... it's my sister..."

  The words wouldn't come to him, he pointed into the cabin. Frances and Florence walked in and saw Abigail in one of the single beds. She was closest to the balcony. The balcony curtains had been drawn, and Frances could already tell that she had been dead for a little time by the color of her ashen skin.

  Frances walked up to the edge of the bed and looked at Abigail. Her eyes were closed and she looked quite peaceful. She was lying on her back and her arms were folded across her stomach. By the look of the hands and the arms, she was clearly in the intimate clutches of rigor mortis.

  Albert came back into the room. He was rubbing his head and weaving his hands through his hair.

  "How can this be? I don't understand," he said.

  Frances turned to look at him.

  "Did you find her like this?"

  The blankets had been torn off her and she lay at an awkward angle on her back, as if someone had tried to pull her out of bed. She was naked underneath her long white nightie.

  "Yes... I mean no."

  Albert was shaking his head.

  "Take a breath, Albert, and tell me how you found her."

  Albert took a breath and looked over at his sister and he squeezed his eyes shut. A tear rolled down his cheek. Frances took his arm and walked him to the door of his cabin.

  "Tell me how you found her?" she asked.

  "She was lying in her bed."

  "Was she on her back like she is now, or was she on her side?"

  "On her back like I found her. I went and gently shook her shoulder but she wouldn't wake up. I took off the blankets and tried to pull her out and that's when I realized she was dead. Her skin was cold, and I looked at her face, and it was waxen and dead to the touch. That's when I came running out here and saw you."

  "Good, Albert, good," said Frances. "Please go and get Perry Fowler and Captain Chuma Badawi."

  Albert nodded and jogged off down the hallway towards the bow. Simon came out of his room, which was on the port side, and one cabin towards the stern from Albert and Abigail's. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a tan short sleeved shirt.

  "Is everything all right?" he asked, looking at Frances.

  She shook her head.

  "Do me a favor please, Simon. Guard the door here, we've had a murder. Ms. Abigail Beckles has been murdered. Don't let anyone in."

  "Oh my, that's awful," he said, coming up to the cabin and peering in from the door.

  "Just stay here, please, and don't let anyone in except for Fowler and the boat captain."

  Simon nodded, and Frances went back into the room and started to look around. There were no signs of a struggle.

  "Good heavens," said Florence, looking at Fra
nces, "this is not something I was expecting."

  "Me neither."

  "How do you know she was murdered?"

  "She's a healthy woman in her late forties or early fifties, and here she lies dead. Further, I think this might be related to the secret spoils of Menkaure. And if I'm right, then she was murdered for those spoils, or information related to them. I want us to see if there is any sign of foul play, or any hint as to how she was murdered."

  Frances started looking around the room, and Florence went into the bathroom. The dresser was opposite Abigail's bed, next to the door to the cabin. Beyond that was the bathroom and moving starboard was the balcony, and stern of the balcony were two chairs and a table and then Abigail's bed, and beyond that, Albert's.

  The chairs were undisturbed, and the table only held some stationery that didn't look like it had been used. Frances moved to the bed and removed the blankets and sheet, shaking them out as she did so. She put them in a pile on the floor. There was nothing on the bed or in the blankets that offered any clues.

  Frances looked at Abigail's body. She pulled up her sleeves, looking for any injection marks, she did the same at her feet and looked at the back of her knees. There were no marks to indicate she had been injected anywhere. Next to her bed was a small side table that held a clock and a lamp. There was also a glass that held just a skiff of milk on the bottom. Frances picked it up and looked at it. There was something odd about it. There were fine granules, almost silty in texture that clung to the side of the glass from where the milk was sipped. It occurred to Lady Marmalade that she might have been poisoned with her nightly milk, and the person who had prepared that for her, was now the main suspect.

  Florence came out of the bathroom holding the wastebasket. She looked over at Frances who was holding up the glass that had earlier that evening held milk.

  "I think you might find this interesting," she said.

  Frances looked over at her.

  "What do you have there?"

  "I might have the murder weapon. In a manner of speaking."

  Florence walked up to Frances and held out the wastebasket. Frances looked into it.