The Cairo Brief

by Fiona Veitch Smith

  Next to the glass-fronted cabinet containing the hieroglyphic parchments known as the Book of the Dead, Howard Carter and Dr Giles Mortimer were in conversation with Albert Carnaby. On the other side of the room, near a collection of mummies in colourful coffins, were Jonathan Davies, Jennifer Philpott, and Herr Stein. So, all of the archaeologists who, according to Walter Jensford, had been in the same hotel as the German fellow, Freddie Waltaub, were here tonight. All except Herr Stein’s assistant, Weiner, and Faizal Osman … She still thought the Germans and the Egyptians were the most likely to be involved in it, and now two of them were missing from the auction. Why? Were they trying to make a getaway?

  Ah, no, there’s Faizal getting something to eat. As she spotted the Egyptian man at the buffet, her tummy grumbled. It had been a long time since she’d last eaten. She headed over to join him. He was wearing a tuxedo.

  “Good evening, Miss Denby. Not a bad show, what?”

  “Not at all. But I’m feeling a tad underdressed.”

  Faizal smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I don’t think everyone will have had time to change.” He nodded towards the entrance as his sister, Yasmin, Lady Ursula Maddox, Lionel Saunders, and Rollo arrived. All three of them were wearing day clothes. “I believe some people spent the afternoon at the police station.”

  Poppy craned her neck to see beyond the group, hoping to see Daniel. He wasn’t there. She bit her lip and brought her emotions under control. She pasted a smile on her face and turned back to her companion.

  “Actually, Dr Osman, I’m glad I’ve caught you. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “Please, call me Faizal.”

  “Of course, Faizal. In my background research about the mask I’ve come across the name of a German man called Freddie Waltaub. Have you heard of him?”

  “From the Berlin Museum? Yes. He was Professor Borchardt’s assistant back in 1914 when the mask was first found.”

  “I believe so, yes. I also heard that he died last year in Cairo, sometime in the summer. Did you know about that?”

  Faizal offered Poppy a plate of sandwiches. She took one while waiting for his answer.

  “I did, yes. Very tragic. He killed himself in his room at the Grand Continental.”

  “Yes, I heard that. And I also heard that he had just had dinner with you and some archaeologists beforehand.”

  Faizal lowered his voice. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, it was in a news clipping from The Cairo Post,” she said truthfully.

  “My, my, you have done your research. Yes, I was at the dinner. And I probably don’t have to tell you that a number of people here tonight were also there.”

  “I believe so, yes. I was just wondering why it never came up in conversation at Winterton. In fact, when I asked Kamela she said she couldn’t remember Borchardt’s assistant’s name.”

  Faizal picked up a celery stick and dipped it into some cream cheese. “No, I doubt she would. She had just joined the department and didn’t really know who was who. And he wasn’t at the dinner long. In fact, to say he had dinner with us was not technically correct. He made a brief, drunken appearance, then at the suggestion of Herr Stein, withdrew to his room. Stein accompanied him and returned. He was very apologetic, particularly to Miss El Farouk, and told us that Freddie had received some upsetting news earlier that day and was not quite himself. And that was the last of it. And as for why it never came up at Winterton...” he shrugged “… why would it?”

  Poppy finished chewing then brushed the crumbs away from her lips. “A lot of other things came up – but not that. I find that strange.”

  “Do you? Why? Lots of things weren’t mentioned, including a host of other meetings and associations between the museums. Not to mention conferences...”

  “So Herr Stein was at this particular meeting? The one in Cairo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Strange that he didn’t mention to me that he was there. In fact, I had the impression that Freddie was in Egypt on his own.”

  “Well laying aside, for a moment, the issue of ‘why should he have told you’ what gave you that impression? Did Stein say he was back in Berlin?”

  Poppy thought about it for a moment, recalling her conversation with the German man. “No, actually he didn’t. Sorry, my mistake, it’s been a busy day. He said Freddie was in Cairo at a meeting with the Egyptian Antiquities Service. He didn’t say he was there too. But he didn’t say he wasn’t, either.”

  “Well, he was. Representatives from the Met, Berlin, and British museums were all there. There were reps from Paris as well, but none of them were at that dinner. We were having a series of meetings to thrash out new guidelines for excavation licences. It had nothing to do with the Nefertiti mask.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No. It didn’t even come up. The first I heard that the mask had resurfaced was when Maddox brought it into the British Museum to be valued a few months ago. Dr Mortimer contacted me and asked if I knew about it. I didn’t. But that’s when we put in our first court appeal to have the mask returned to us. As you know, the judgment went against us and then this whole auction malarkey was set up.”

  “Did you know that Maddox contacted Freddie when he was there to tell him he had something the Berlin Museum might be interested in? And that Freddie believed it was the mask?”

  Faizal stopped, celery stick poised. “I did not, no. Who told you that?”

  “Herr Stein.”

  “Well, well. I wonder why he kept quiet about it? Stein, that is.”

  Poppy glanced over at the man in question, who was now at the bar. “I have no idea. Do you? What might his motivation have been?”

  Faizal took a bite of his celery stick as he pondered his answer. Eventually, he said: “I gather you’re aware that the Germans think that Maddox stole the mask from the dig, and as such they did not have a chance at the time to claim it as part of their fifty per cent of proceeds. You may recall, according to their licence, they were able to keep half the artefacts they found, and the other half was to remain in Egypt. How the cache was split was supposed to be negotiated between the two parties. That’s what happened with the Nefertiti bust they already have, although we dispute how legitimately the proceeds of the 1912 dig were declared. Anyway, that’s a different story. But as far as the 1914 mask goes, they did not even have a chance to negotiate that with us, as it did not appear in the original manifest. Freddie Waltaub claimed that James Maddox stole it. Maddox, as you know, denied it, and said that he found it in a shop in Cairo. He says that local thieves took it – which to his credit sometimes happened. He claimed he went to the dig to check that everything was in order, while Professor Borchardt was away. He saw that there were looters inside. He rushed off to call the police. When he and the policeman returned, they found the body of the guard in a sarcophagus and the young thieves nearby. He reckons their accomplices got away with the mask before he and the police officer arrived. And that they’d killed the guard before he got there.”

  “Why didn’t the youngsters get away at the same time then?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You would have thought that would have cast doubt on their guilt in the subsequent trial.”

  “Oh it did,” said Faizal. “The boy was not convicted of murder, just as an accessory. And the girl just got a few months for looting. I don’t think anyone thought either of them was involved to a great degree – perhaps they were just paid to be look-outs, or were simply local guides.”

  “Did the youngsters ever say who their so-called accomplices were?”

  Faizal shook his head. “No, they denied any involvement whatsoever. However, they were from a family of known antiquity thieves. That’s what convicted them. They were guilty by association and for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Did Maddox – or anyone – ever suggest that Freddie Waltaub might have been the thief? And that he had been the one who killed the g
uard?”

  “No, never. You see Waltaub wasn’t there that night, and he had a witness to prove it.”

  “A credible witness?”

  “He was supposedly drinking with another archaeologist in Al Minya – that’s about five miles away, across the river from El-Amarna – where the dig was. The archaeologist – a French fellow, if my memory serves me correctly – said he was there. The court didn’t doubt it.”

  “And you?”

  “I have had no reason not to. Not until now… Is that the theory you’re working on, Poppy?”

  Poppy shrugged. “Someone has suggested it as a possibility.”

  “Someone?”

  Poppy was not about to give away her source. “Yes, someone. So, you were saying, what Herr Stein’s motivation might have been for not mentioning the mask last year...”

  Faizal looked at her curiously and took a sip of mineral water. “Yes, I was. The bottom line is that the Germans think they missed the chance to get the mask back in 1914, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they were in secret discussions with Maddox to arrange a private sale – at a discount, of course.” He gestured to the assembled guests. “But that obviously failed, and hence the auction. Herr Stein has made no secret of the fact that he is not happy to have to bid against other museums. But he’s a pragmatist – as most Germans are – and has bitten the bullet, so to speak.”

  Poppy absorbed this for a moment, watching as Rollo worked the room. He caught her eye and raised his finger. He wants to speak to me. She nodded her acknowledgment. She’d just finish with Faizal first…

  “Was James Maddox at the dinner last year?”

  “He wasn’t invited, no.”

  “But did you know he was in Cairo at the time?”

  “I did, yes. I think everyone at the table knew.”

  “Including Herr Stein?”

  Faizal smirked. “Especially Herr Stein.”

  Poppy nodded. Yes, she was beginning to realize that the German archaeologist was a very shrewd man. “You say he left the table with Freddie?”

  “Yes, Freddie was drunk. Stein helped him to his room.”

  “How long was he gone?”

  Faizal shrugged. “About fifteen minutes.”

  “Long enough to meet with James Maddox?”

  Faizal took another sip of mineral water. “Briefly, yes.”

  “Interesting,” said Poppy, then selected a celery stick from the platter and chomped thoughtfully.

  Just then they were joined by Rollo. “Evening Faizal. Mind if I borrow Miz Denby for a while?”

  Faizal raised his glass to his sister’s beau. “Of course not, Rollo. I need to catch up with Yasmin anyway, to see if she’s made any progress with the court order.” Faizal made his way towards his sister and ushered Kamela El Farouk to join them. Ursula Maddox was in conversation with Albert Carnaby, who produced the Nefertiti mask from a suitcase. Was the auction going to begin?

  “So Poppy, fill me in. What have you found out? Oh, and pass me that platter please.”

  Poppy passed Rollo a plate of sausage rolls. He took four and placed them on a napkin on the side of the table.

  “Where’s Daniel? Couldn’t you get him out?”

  “I could, yes. Martin eventually dropped the charges. He was just flexing his muscles. But he used the time to interview us all again about the Winterton weekend. He was particularly interested in –”

  “So where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Daniel. Where’s Daniel?”

  “Oh, he asked if he could go home. He needed to see the children. He asked me to tell you he’d see you tomorrow. He said he hoped you’d understand.” Rollo popped a sausage roll into his mouth.

  Poppy felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Yes, she understood. Daniel needed to put his children first – and he always would. She blinked a few times to get her emotions under control. “So you were saying, DCI Martin was going over the details of Winterton again...”

  “Yes, in fine detail. Who was where when. Who wasn’t at each event, etcetera. And then, at the end of it, he arrested Grimes for murder.”

  Poppy, who was taking a sip of champagne, spluttered it down the front of her blouse. Rollo grinned and passed her a napkin.

  “Yes, I thought you’d enjoy that little titbit.”

  “On what grounds? Did you find out?”

  “I did. Apparently they searched the house and found some digitalis powder in Grimes’ room. The same grade of digitalis that killed Sir James.”

  “Good Lord!”

  “Quite,” said Rollo and popped another sausage roll into his mouth.

  “And what about Ursula? Ike told me about the insurance policy. And Fox told me she’d been researching poisons. Surely that’s enough to put her under suspicion.”

  “Yes, it is. But DCI Martin didn’t arrest her. Either she’s got some kind of alibi that I’m not aware of – and she’s really innocent – or Martin simply hasn’t managed to get all his ducks in a row yet. If Grimes did do it on her behalf, he’ll be squealing any time now.”

  The lady in question called the room to order. Is she about to announce that the butler did it? Poppy wondered. No, as it turned out, she wasn’t. She just wanted to apologize to everyone for the delay. They were waiting for Herr Weiner, Herr Stein’s assistant, to arrive. He had been inadvertently delayed. It wasn’t clear why, possibly the snow… At Herr Stein’s request they would give him another ten minutes. If he hadn’t arrived then, they would start without him. “Apologies, everyone, the auction will soon begin. Please, enjoy the refreshments.”

  The band struck up again and Rollo piled up his napkin with some more food. “Righto, fill me in with what else you’ve learned, Poppy.”

  Rollo was down to his last sausage roll by the time she was finished. “Good job, Miz Denby! I’d say there are a raft of other suspects – on top of Ursula – we could hand to the police.”

  “I think we should,” said Poppy. “What if Grimes and/or Ursula were not acting alone? Or perhaps he, she or both of them are being framed. It would have been easy enough to plant the digitalis on him.”

  Rollo swallowed what he was chewing. “Yes, that’s what I think too. They could all be in cahoots. As I was saying before, DCI Martin was asking us to go over everyone’s coming and goings. And after what you’ve just told me now, it’s quite possible that one of the crowd that was in Cairo last summer might have something to do with it. It’s just too much of a coincidence, otherwise. Perhaps Ursula has been working with one of them all along, and all of the shenanigans with the gullible Fox Flinton have merely been a smokescreen. Besides, if Grimes wanted to off his boss, he had plenty of opportunity to do so quietly. Why do it at such a high-profile event with the press in attendance? It would be like he was asking to be caught. And he doesn’t strike me as a stupid man.”

  “I agree,” said Poppy.

  She scanned the room again, wondering who it could be. Neither of the Americans seemed likely candidates – what motive could they possibly have? Nor Howard Carter and Giles Mortimer. So, she was once again back to the Germans and the Egyptians. Both groups believed James Maddox had ripped them off. Was that enough of a motive for murder, or was there another reason? And what about Freddie Waltaub’s death in Cairo? If it wasn’t suicide, then had one of the archaeologists killed him? If so, which one? She didn’t know enough about the dinner to figure it out – other than that Freddie had arrived briefly and then left, accompanied by Herr Stein. Could Herr Stein have killed him and then returned to the dinner party? Poppy went over in her mind what Jensford and Faizal told her about the dinner – it wasn’t much. But she remembered that Freddie had been killed “an hour after the dinner”. After the dinner. So, Herr Stein could not have popped him off quickly during the meal. She wished she knew what happened after the meal, where everyone had gone. She would try to ask Faizal for some more information if she could. Or any of the others who were there, if she had the chance.

&nb
sp; However, what she did know more about was the weekend at Winterton Hall. As Rollo headed over to chat to Lady Ursula, Poppy went over the comings and goings of the various guests in her mind. Yes, DCI Martin had been particularly interested in that. If she recalled correctly, there were two people who, on more than one occasion, were not with the group: Harry Gibson and Kamela El Farouk. Would that have given either of them an opportunity to switch Sir James’ medication and then plant the evidence on Grimes? Come to think of it, where was Harry Gibson now? If he’d been released with Daniel, surely he would have come here… He didn’t have a family, as far as she was aware… But she no longer believed it mattered. Now that Fox Flinton had confessed to being the stalker, the unpleasant Courier photographer was no longer on her suspect list. So that, Poppy realized, with dawning clarity, only left Kamela El Farouk.

  Just then, Herr Stein’s assistant, Weiner, arrived, and with him was DCI Martin and two uniformed policemen. Were they about to arrest Lady Ursula? Or stop the auction? That must have been what Lady Ursula thought too, as she stormed across the room, demanding to know what the trouble was now.

  DCI Martin crossed his arms across his barrel chest and declared: “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. But do carry on, Lady Ursula, I think it’s about time this mask finally went under the hammer.” He scanned the room, like an eagle selecting his prey. “Righto, Mr Carnaby, over to you.”

  Carnaby nodded and scurried to the lectern that had been set up. Beside it was an object draped in a velvet cloth. He whipped back the cloth to reveal the mask. Every eye in the room turned to appraise the dazzling artefact. But as they did, something caught Poppy’s eye. To her right, behind a six-foot stele, was a doorway leading to the next gallery – and through it, slipping away, was Kamela El Farouk.