Anton looked a bit surprised at what Ralph said. It struck Ralph that he had deliberately under-played what must have been a major security breach.
“As I said, nothing of any great value was taken.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. And thanks again; you did a great job. We really enjoyed it.”
“He’s probably been told to avoid any adverse publicity,” whispered Katie as they emerged into the sunlight. Tom had been standing not far away while they were talking to Anton.
“Say, you guys, I’m not eavesdropping or anything, but I read in the paper at the hotel that a rare Egyptian amulet was stolen from the exhibition. I heard our guide Anton say that nothing of value was taken. I guess he doesn’t want anyone to know since it must have been on his watch.”
Once a cop always a cop, Ralph thought.
“It’s just a hunch, but I’ll bet that Meckler knows more than he’s letting on. You don’t work in this business as many years as I did and not get a nose for this sort of thing.”
“That swollen eye doesn’t help either,” said Ralph with a laugh.
After a light lunch in the Castle tearooms, Arthur said that he could do with some exercise and suggested that any of the others who cared to were welcome to join him. Waving a map of the Castle grounds, he stridently strode off, followed by a slightly reluctant group. Katie used jet lag as an excuse to drop out and Ralph decided to stay behind to catch up on things with her. Besides, it was obvious they wouldn’t get too many opportunities for a quiet chat with the American visitors to look after. She had spotted a bench under a large oak by the lake, and once their friends had disappeared over a knoll they headed in that direction.
“This is a great spot,” Ralph said as he settled himself in the shade of the leafy branches. “I guess you must be a bit tired out after all that travelling and then coming straight here from the airport.”
“Don’t be silly, Ralph. I’m fit as a fiddle. But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about and not where the walls, or in this case the grounds have ears.”
“Sounds serious,” Ralph said cautiously. He needed to be on his toes if this really was one of Katie’s serious chats because they usually involved some breach on his part. If he had crossed one of those invisible lines, he couldn’t think what it was, but he was sure she would tell him soon enough. She said that all the talk about Professor Edington’s murder, the break-in at Highclere and the Tutankhamun exhibition and then Liam’s soliloquy about his Grandmother’s pendant at the Carpenter’s Arms the previous night, had fired her imagination.
“So when we got back from the pub last night I telephoned Cynthia to see what she thought about Liam’s pendant. It was when you were still downstairs getting the group sorted out,” she explained when he looked puzzled.
“So did you think that Liam made up that story up about his Grandmother’s pendant?” Ralph asked. “Why would he do that?”
“Hold your horses, Ralph, and let me finish. I just wanted to see if Cynthia knew anything more about it. If it was Egyptian, and if the story he told us was true, and if his Grandmother really was given it from the Earl’s collection, I just wondered if she knew anything about it, that’s all. And now that we know something valuable was stolen from the exhibition, it makes it all the more intriguing.”
“I agree it’s a beautiful piece, but why are you so interested in a good luck charm?”
“Don’t you think we Australians are interested in anything cultural? We do have our own antiquities there, you know. The Australian Aborigines date back a lot further than the Egyptians and some of their relics and cave drawings in the outback show how important that stuff can be.”
“Okay, okay, but what has that got to do with the pendant or your phone call to Cynthia?”
“Well, I described the pendant to her and she phoned a friend at the British Museum to ask about it. Anyhow, Cynthia phoned me back this morning and said that her friend thinks that Liam’s pendant could be the one that was stolen from the exhibition.”
“But it’s impossible for it to be the same one, Katie. Liam only arrived in England last week. I met him at the airport, remember. And if the person who stole it had given it to him, he would hardly be waving it around in a pub less than 10 minutes drive from where it was stolen.”
“I don’t know. But I think there’s a connection between the robbery, Liam’s pendant and that murder in Cairo.”
“Luxor.”
Katie ignored his correction.
“And something else. Cynthia sent me an email. I asked the hotel to print it out for me. We were literally heading out the door to see the Castle so I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. Let’s have a look.” Katie took a sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and they read it together.
Dear Cynthia,
From your description I would say that your friend has an amulet known as the wedjat eye, which is an Egyptian healing symbol. The wedjat eye was mentioned in some scrolls that Chester Beatty bought from a dealer in Cairo in 1931. They describe a mythological story of a fight between Seth, the god of confusion, who tore an eye from Horos, the god of the sky. The goddess Hathor healed the eye and returned it to Horus. Hence the belief that the wedjat eye has healing properties. The amulet is shaped in the form of an eye with its brow, and the beak of an eagle.
They are quite common and found in mummy wrappings in great numbers and made from Faience, a type of ceramic. Tourists have bought loads of these from back street vendors in the Egyptian markets. However, if the one your friend has was made of gold, it would be quite valuable. It sounds similar to the one that the museum loaned to Highclere for their Tutankhamun exhibition.
There was a story surrounding the amulet that we loaned to Highclere. It is said to have a twin but the twin has never been found. Legend has it that if the two are put together they would show where a great treasure is buried in the Valley of the Kings. Prof.Charles Edington, from Reading University had been researching it for us, although he had not completed his research at the time of his death.
The Museum would be delighted to have an opportunity to see the amulet that you described, if that is at all possible.
Keep in touch.
Michelle
They both sat back.
“So who’s the clever one now, Professor Chalmers?”
“I’ll admit it’s something to think about. If those two pieces really can show where to find another tomb on the same scale as Tutankhamun, then it could be worth millions, especially with gold the price it is on the market.”
“It would be worth a lot more than that, Ralph. The big collectors would kill to get their hands on that stuff. And they might have started with Charles Edington.”
“You’re being melodramatic, Katie, but I think that Cynthia’s friend is right about going to the police. But we should mull it over for a bit first. After all, we don’t own the pendant or amulet or whatever you want to call it, so how on earth would we explain all of this?”
“I guess you’re right. There is a lot to think about.”
Just then a discrete toot from Jim reminded them that their group had finished their route march and were ready to get back to the hotel.
When they got back to the hotel, Katie wanted to see the spa facilities. They went to their room and changed. The hotel had thoughtfully supplied plush white terrycloth robes and little slip-on shoes to their guests which they donned over their bathing suits before they took the lift down to the spa area. Ralph couldn’t help but notice that Katie attracted admiring glances as she threw off her robe and stepped into the Jacuzzi.
“This isn’t too bad,” she said as they lay back letting the tensions of the day ebb away. Ralph couldn’t agree more.
***
After a splendid meal the group decided that it was time for a bit of R&R. They had letters to write, emails to send and phone calls to make home. Ethan had to complete some changes to a new text on Egyptian culture he aimed to get published for the upc
oming semester. And Angela had to call her office to check progress on one of her cases. Ralph and Katie were on an adrenalin high. Barry joined them and they co-opted Jim to drive them to Burghclere and the Carpenter’s Arms. They decided that an evening of darts or a game of skittles might be the perfect way to wind down. Barry and Jim had just challenged Katie to a game of darts when the sound of car horns and the crunch of gravel from the pub car park disturbed the quiet. The door burst open and in came four burly farmers who were obviously dying for a drink.
“Pints all round?” asked Silas. It was a ritual that they had obviously repeated many times. They were dressed in leather jerkins except for the tallest of the four men who was well dressed with a smart tweed jacket, corduroy slacks and expensive looking handmade leather shoes. Having collected their beers, the group headed for a booth at the side which was obviously their fiefdom.
“That’s Justin Edington,” Silas nodded in the direction of the man in the tweed jacket.
“Edington did you say?” Ralph was a bit thrown by mention of the name.
“That’s right. His brother Charlie was killed recently over in Egypt.”
“I read about a Professor Edington who was killed over there,” Ralph said. Is that the same person?”
“Yes, that was Charlie. Worked up the road at the University at Reading.”
“I didn’t realize he was from the village,” Ralph commented.
“I’m surprised that Justin came in. I thought he’d still be trying to sort things out. He’s having Charlie’s body flown home, and all that. Poor bloke.”
“Does Justin work at the University as well?” Ralph asked.
“No. They were different as chalk and cheese, but they were very close. Justin runs a farm down the road from here. You know, one of those places that caters for all those weekend gentry types.”
“Oh yeah,” said Ralph. “How does that work?”
“Oh, he’s got a clay pigeon shoot, a trout lake, you know, all the bells and whistles. He gets parties down from the City for events he puts on. Not that I’m complaining. It’s good for trade. He also runs a quail farm. Not wild birds. Farmed. You know for the local restaurants and pubs. We generally have it on special at the weekends.”
“Never known a poor farmer yet,” Ralph said, “although they seem to be always complaining about how bad things are. Your Justin Edington looks like he’s doing alright.”
“Mr. Edington makes a few bob from his events all right, but he has a habit of blowing it at Newbury, likes the gee gees. But don’t we all.”
Just then Ralph noticed that Justin, who had been talking to old Josh, was now walking towards the bar.
“Give me a pint for Josh, Silas. It’s great to see he can still sink one with the best of us,” he laughed. “Sorry, I’m Justin Edington,” he said to Ralph and held out his hand. Up close Ralph could see just how weather-beaten and creased his skin was, but his handshake was firm.
“Ralph Chalmers. I’m at Kingston University over in Surrey. I’m down here on a sort of holiday showing some American visitors around your part of the world. We’re staying at the Vineyard over at Stockcross.”
“Josh told me there was a crowd of Americans in here last night. Was it your lot?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“He said they really got going with that sing-a-long. He also mentioned that one of your Americans was telling some story about a gold pendant that he said belonged to some relative of his who came from around here. What was that all about?”
Ralph was taken aback at Justin’s direct approach. Not quite what he would expect from an English gentleman farmer. He told Justin about the pendant and Liam’s story. Of course he left out what Cynthia’s friend at the British Museum had said.
“Have you been to see the Tutankhamun exhibit up at the Castle?” Justin asked.
“Actually we visited the exhibition today,” Ralph said. He wanted to see what Justin had to say before he said too much about what they were doing.
“Your friend should show that pendant to Anton. He’s the guide up there. He’s a good friend of mine. He would know all about that sort of thing.”
Ralph thought it would be impolite to say anything about Justin’s brother or that he had already met Anton. He needn’t have worried.
“If Charlie was here he could tell you anything you wanted to know about Egyptian relics. Sadly he’s no longer with us.”
“I was just telling our friend here about that,” said Silas.
“Speak of the devil,” Justin said as Anton Meckler walked in and came straight over to where they were standing.
“Anton. Just in time,” said Justin. “Get him a whisky, Silas. I’m about to propose a toast. Quiet lads,” he shouted as he looked around. “I invite you all to charge your glasses. To Charlie! The best brother a man could ever wish for. May he rest in peace.”
Spirited cries of “To Charlie” rang around the old pub. Then the hub-hub started up again.
“You see, Ralph. Charlie, me and Anton here all grew up together. Charlie was the clever one, the older brother and all that. You know how it is. Anton and me got into a few scrapes as kids and finished up having to work for a living.” He gave Anton a friendly slap on the back. “But you were telling me about that pendant, Ralph. Now Anton’s here, ask him what he thinks.”
“What pendant?” Anton asked.
Ralph went over his story again. As Anton listened Ralph recognized the disinterested but not quite impolite expression. It reminded him of his students when they wanted to avoid getting dragged into learning something, polite, but distant.
“It sounds like your friend has a good reason for wanting to come to Highclere. But the pendant could be anything, of course. But I’m afraid that without seeing it I can’t really help you. Sorry.”
“I’m sure Ralph could have his friend bring it over there for you to take a look at it. You never know, it might be like the one that was stolen the other month.”
Ralph wondered why Anton did not reply. He also wondered why he hadn’t mentioned anything about the pendant that had been stolen from the exhibition. The sound of Justin’s deep voice broke his train of thought.
“But I guess there are hundreds of stories about the 5th Earl and the valuable collection that he and his pal Carter amassed over the years. I reckon those two were quite some characters. I remember hearing one story when we were kids that there was another tomb besides the Tutankhamun one, but that they had run out of money so they just left it. I think it was hearing those stories that fired up Charlie to be an archaeologist so he could find the lost tomb.” There was another awkward silence and Ralph was relieved when Katie and Barry walked over.
“I managed to thrash those young bucks over there,” Katie said as she smiled and held up a dart. I taught you a thing or two, huh Barry?” Barry just smiled and held his palms out in gracious defeat as Ralph made the introductions.
Katie turned to look at Anton.
“That’s a nasty looking eye you have there,” she observed. “I hope you’ve got something for it.” She peered up at a now somewhat embarrassed Anton who was obviously not used to having someone making such direct and personal remarks.
“Oh, thanks. It’s nothing really. Just where a horsefly got me when I was fishing over at Justin’s lake last weekend. The doctor gave me some antibiotics to get rid of the infection.”
“I’d be careful. You won’t want to mix whisky with antibiotics,” Katie advised when Silas set a shot glass down in front of Anton. Anton gingerly touched his swollen eye.
“Well, I do feel a bit odd now you mention it,” he said as he looked over at Justin.
“Look, why don’t I drive you home? It’s only 5 minutes. I’ll send one of the lads over with your car later,” said Justin. He put his arm around a now distinctly groggy Anton and helped him to the door which he kicked open with his foot. Just as the door was about to close behind them he stuck his head back in and shouted, “One of you lads
, get Anton’s car home for him, will you?” A few seconds later there was a toot as he headed off on his mission of mercy. Ralph thought that Anton was fortunate to have a good friend like Justin.
_____________________
Chapter 6
Over dinner the talk was all about what to do on their last day before going back to London and then home. Barry, through his contacts in the music business, had managed to get them an invitation to the Music Festival at Sydmonton Court, the home of Andrew Lloyd Webber. It was a private event used to showcase musicals that were being revived and to preview new productions. Betty was especially delighted.
“You’ll love it,” she beamed. I read all about it on the internet. He invites all his friends and the top people from the world of entertainment.”
“Do you know what’s on this year?” asked Debbie. “I hope it’s not one of those awful modern interpretations they keep bringing out. Or some jumped up Jazz atrocity. I hate it when they pretend it’s something special when we know the musicians are just making it up as they go along.”
“You’ll be just fine, Deb. He produced most of the big shows. You know, like Evita, Cats, Phantom of the Opera and practically every other musical we’ve ever heard of.”
“What happens if it rains?” Angela wanted to know.
“On the internet they said there was a chapel on the estate and they hold the concerts in there in there if it rains.”
“I’m not sure I’m crazy about that,” Angela said. “Isn’t that a little bit sacrilegious?”
“It’s been deconsecrated, Angela. So you don’t need to worry about getting struck by lightning, or whatever was worrying you.”
Ralph thought he could diffuse the little stand-off by slightly changing the subject.
“If anyone’s interested, we could combine the Festival with a visit to another interesting chapel close by. Sandham Memorial Chapel is just down the road in Burghclere, you know, where we went to the pub.”
“What’s special about it?” Betty asked. “Do you think it’s really worth a visit?”
Murder at Downton (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 6) Page 5