Murder at the Mena House

by Erica Ruth Neubauer

  Soon the band started up and the Bright Young Things swarmed the dance floor and started swinging about wildly. I wasn’t the right age to be part of the flapper generation, but I did enjoy jazz, and I took a moment to let the music soak through me. Several numbers into the first set, the band began playing “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate,” a favorite of mine, and I couldn’t stop my feet from tapping along—without any sort of rhythm, of course.

  “Would you like to dance?” Redvers’ tone was unfailingly polite, but he didn’t seem terribly interested in actually heading to the dance floor. Which was just as well.

  “I’m fine here. But thank you for asking.” He looked more than a little relieved, and I found myself hoping that his relief was simply because he didn’t care to dance and not that he didn’t care to dance with me. It was a question I doubted I would ever learn the answer to.

  Before long, it was too loud to carry on a conversation and we moved to the far end of the terrace. We found a small table on the very outskirts of the scene where we could still hear the music quite well, yet far enough away to be able to hear each other speak.

  “Where did all these young people come from?” I asked. “I haven’t seen nearly any of them around the hotel before.”

  “The Mena House advertises with the other high-end places downtown, and they run special transportation on the nights there will be live entertainment,” Redvers said. I imagined that it helped the hotel bring in additional revenue when the rooms weren’t completely filled. The guests were certainly keeping the bar and waiters busy with drink orders.

  It wasn’t long before I saw Anna and a lanky young man in a smart pinstripe suit tumble past, low murmurs and breathy giggles following in their wake. I didn’t get a clear look at the young man’s face, but I was fairly certain that I hadn’t seen him before.

  Redvers noticed the pair also—that scarlet dress was hard to miss. Our eyes followed the pair’s progress across the lawn, until they were swallowed up by the darkness. Redvers raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged delicately. It was not my place to judge.

  Our drinks dwindled, and Redvers offered to head back to the bar in order to refresh them, since the hotel staff was overwhelmed. I requested water this time.

  I watched the crowd for a time and saw the familiar form of the colonel breaking through the crush of dancers. I gave a small wave when he glanced in my direction, and he threaded his way toward my table, using the head of his cane to push aside flailing limbs.

  “Miss Wunderly, I see you have situated yourself away from the melee.” He seemed slightly out of breath as he gave me a brief, distracted smile and continued to glance about.

  “I did indeed.” I turned in my chair to face him more fully. “Are you looking for someone?”

  “My daughter. You haven’t by chance seen her, have you?” His pale blue eyes finally settled on my own.

  “I did actually.” I paused, considering how much to relate to him. It seemed impolitic to tattle on Anna for escaping with a young man. She was of age, after all.

  “I think everyone in the hotel saw her this evening in that getup,” he muttered, staring into the dark distance beyond.

  As I tried to come up with a tactful response, he gave a sigh.

  “She wasn’t always so much trouble, Miss Wunderly. We . . . Well, I might have mentioned that we lost her mother unexpectedly when Anna was young. Things have been difficult since.” I nodded my understanding. “I hope you don’t think me impertinent, my dear. You’re just so easy to talk with.” I smiled, and the colonel continued on. “In fact, I rather wish you were my own daughter.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Colonel.” I sought a new subject before he could continue along those lines. While I found him to be a kindly man and enjoyed his company, I cherished my own father back home.

  “Are you still in the service, Colonel? I have been wondering whether you were simply on leave or . . .” I hoped he could be distracted by talking about his career.

  He bit. “No, Miss Wunderly, I was able to retire after the last campaign.” He chuckled. “My time is my own now.”

  “How wonderful that you can now travel where you please, instead of where you are sent.”

  “It’s true, it’s true. Although,” he said, his voice dropping conspiratorially, “I had been thinking that when I return home, I might try my hand at the stage.”

  My face must have betrayed my surprise, because he straightened to his full height and assumed a pose, hand on chest. I couldn’t help but think that he resembled an overgrown Napoleon.

  “I was born for the theater, my dear girl,” he projected in a camp voice, and I forced a smile through my astonishment. It was truly the last thing I had expected to hear from Colonel Stainton.

  “Well, that’s wonderful, Colonel. I think you should absolutely try your hand on the stage. I’m sure you would . . . cut quite a figure.”

  “Thank you, my dear.” His eyes moved back to the crowd, and his broad smile dimmed. “I see your companion is returning. I shall leave you to it.” He patted my shoulder and trotted out into the darkness.

  I realized that I had never answered his question about Anna, and I was relieved that the choice had been more or less made for me.

  Redvers passed me my water. “Was that the colonel?”

  “It was indeed,” I said.

  “Hmm.” He regained his seat. “Now, what were we discussing?”

  “I think we were discussing whether you knew Colonel Stainton. From your work in banking, perhaps?”

  Redvers’ lips quirked. “And I’m certain that is not what we were discussing.”

  “But it’s an interesting topic anyway.” I waited for his answer, knowing the chances were slim that I would get one.

  Redvers leaned his elbow on the small table. “You ask an awful lot of questions.”

  “It’s a habit of mine.”

  “Well, I think it’s my turn to do the asking.”

  And he did, peppering me with questions about my interests and my life back home, until the colonel and his daughter were completely forgotten.

  After a time, I was no longer able to hide my yawns, and I had begun to shiver. I didn’t account for how cool the evenings would become after the sun went down, and I noted that I would need a wrap for nights on the terrace. Redvers escorted me back to my rooms, where we bid each other a polite good night. It was so proper and reserved that we may as well have been two chaps shaking hands over a business deal. Closing the door, I felt an unreasonable amount of disappointment.

  But as I prepared for bed, my disappointment soon melted into anger at myself for being disappointed at all. Feelings toward a man were precisely what I was looking to avoid—and disappointment was definitely a feeling. One I couldn’t afford.

  I fell into bed, but sleep was still a long time in coming.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The next morning dawned brightly as my eyes squinted against the light pouring through the cracks in the louvered wooden blinds. I could have easily slept for several more hours, but I didn’t want to waste the entire morning. I forced myself to roll out of bed and wash up, deciding that a splash of cold water to the face followed by a pot of coffee would have to prop me up. I snagged my book on the way out in case I decided to move out onto the terrace after breakfast.

  As I meandered down the hall, I heard steps coming up quickly from behind and turned to see the colonel and a member of the staff hurrying up the corridor. The colonel saw me and stopped, slightly flushed and fidgeting with his cane.

  “Miss Wunderly. Excellent. Would you be so kind as to accompany us? I’ve been trying to raise my daughter with little success. And, frankly, it might be better if . . . well, if a woman was to enter her room first.”

  “Have you looked for her on the terrace? Or the stables?” It was possible that Anna was up—although I doubted it—but she may have decided to take an early morning ride.

  The colonel fidgeted with the
head of his cane. “We’ve looked everywhere. Frankly, I’ve had the staff combing the place. Everywhere except her room. As I said, I think it would be best if a woman went in first.” His voice dropped. “Someone we know.” He glanced at the staff member and I interpreted his meaning. He didn’t want to enter her room and see his own daughter in an embarrassing state of undress or in a compromising position with an overnight guest. But he also didn’t want a member of the staff to enter, thus risking the possibility of gossip about whatever they might find in there.

  “I’m glad to help. You knocked already?” I increased my stride to match their hurried pace. He grunted his assent and I tried to reassure him. “Well, she must have been out late last night. The band was still playing when I turned in. Perhaps she’s just having a lie-in.” I sincerely hoped that I would find her alone in her bed, regardless of whatever kind of lie-in she was having.

  I remembered his search for Anna the previous evening and wondered if this was somehow related. “Did you ever find her last night?”

  The colonel stumbled slightly, cane missing a beat, before continuing on. “Ah, yes. We arranged to meet for breakfast. She always manages to bounce back quickly from her late evenings, but she failed to join me this morning.”

  I remembered those days, myself, but they were more than a few years behind me. Even still, it was hard to imagine Anna as an early riser; I couldn’t remember seeing her at breakfast with her father the previous morning, either.

  We came to Anna’s door, and the young man produced a master key from somewhere in his robes. I made a mental note to find out if those robes had pockets—merely for curiosity’s sake.

  The colonel raised a hand. “Let me try one more time.” He banged on the door—loudly—leaving no doubt that if Anna was inside, she would have heard the noise.

  I was certain that none of her neighbors were sleeping anymore, either, and I wasn’t surprised when the door to our right opened a crack. A man’s sleep-rumpled face peered out, but one murderous look from the colonel sent the door closing quickly.

  Yet there was not so much as a peep or a rustle from behind Anna’s door. The colonel waved a hand at the lock, and the young man with the key moved forward. He fumbled for a moment before finally unlocking it, pushing the door open slightly and then taking a large step back. I was tempted to do the same.

  Instead, I passed my book to the colonel for safekeeping as I slipped through, leaving the men shuffling their feet outside.

  The room was absolutely still. I paused for a moment inside the door, holding my breath and listening, my eyes closed tightly as though it would help me hear.

  Nothing. No sounds but those from outside.

  It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the cracked door. The warm rays illuminated the sparkling litter of dresses and accessories scattered at my feet. I had to kick more than a few discarded garments aside on my way through her sitting area. In fact, I was practically wading through sequins, little flashes erupting around my feet as the light caught them in motion. It was an astonishing amount of clothing, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine the cost, based on what I had seen her wearing already. An unpleasant aroma reached my nose, and I thought to suggest that the colonel have the room aired out.

  When I reached her bedroom, it was even darker. Tiny shafts of light stole around the closed blinds and I could only just make out shadowy lumps on the bed. I assumed one of the motionless mounds was Anna. I fervently hoped none of the other lumps would reveal themselves to be a young man in some state of undress. I hadn’t yet had my morning coffee, and it would take several cups to deal with that sort of thing.

  I wrinkled my nose. The unpleasant smell was stronger here—a sharp smell of iron and a whiff of something unfamiliar.

  “Miss Stainton,” I called out. No answer and still not so much as a flutter. Hesitantly I put my hands out and shuffled to the windows through the darkness, hoping my shins would make the trip unscathed. I pulled the shutters aside, allowing the morning light to stream in. I turned and saw that she was alone after all.

  She was also very dead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Merciful heavens,” I gasped aloud.

  Anna’s body was splayed across the beautiful fourposter bed with one pale leg hanging limply off the end. A thick puddle of blackest red spread across her chest and spilled more brightly onto the white linens beneath her. She was still wearing her scarlet gown from the evening before, the sparkle of the silver beading dulled and matted with blood. It didn’t take a trained member of the medical field to know that she was long past help.

  There was a sudden watering in my mouth and I felt my gorge begin to rise. I clutched one hand to my gut and clenched my eyes tightly, willing my body not to be sick, swallowing rapidly and repeatedly. My deep-breathing exercises wouldn’t work here, since every breath I sucked in brought the fresh smell of spilled blood deeper into my sinuses. I moved the crook of my left arm to my nose, breathing in the faint smell of jasmine soap, and stayed like that. After a few moments, the feelings of nausea passed.

  When I was sure I was not going to be sick, I glanced again at her lifeless body, and found myself absently wondering about the feathers spread about the room, brushing at one that had become attached to my skirt. I kept my other arm where it was, lifted to my nose.

  I closed my eyes again. I would have to break this to the colonel. Anger and resentment that I had been put in this position warred with pity for the man and sadness for Anna. She was not the most likable person, but she certainly didn’t deserve to die like this.

  I briefly considered using the room’s balcony as an escape route, but dismissed the plan. That kind of cowardice had never suited me. Instead, I stiffened my resolve and took a moment to sort out what words I would use to tell a father that his daughter had been murdered. Then, back straight, I slowly retraced my steps. I didn’t lower my arm from its position until I had passed well into Anna’s sitting room, as though the safety of my own elbow could protect me from what I had just seen.

  As I lowered my arm, my eyes fell on Anna’s room key lying near her handbag on the writing desk. I thought the colonel might need the key later to retrieve her effects, so I palmed it, intending to give it to him. It would occur to me later that the plan didn’t make much sense, and that the police would have preferred if I hadn’t taken anything from the scene, but my brain was moving in a thousand directions at once. The body on the bed didn’t make sense to me, either.

  I hesitated again at the door before slipping back out into the sunshine, my eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. The colonel looked at me expectantly, and he must have read something in my face because his eyes registered panic.

  I paused, and the colonel’s ragged voice filled the silence.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s been an accident.” I moved in front of the men to block the door with my body, knowing full well what I had seen was no accident. “She’s been shot.”

  “Can we . . .” He moved toward me.

  “There’s nothing that can be done for her,” I said, reaching out and placing a restraining hand on his arm.

  He nodded, accepting my verdict. His back stiffened, and I marveled at the famous British resolve to maintain a “stiff upper lip.” He blinked back tears and nodded again.

  “I would like to see her just the same.”

  I paused, but finally stepped aside as he quietly pushed past me into the room. I then looked to the hotel employee, who had watched our entire exchange with wide eyes. I whispered to him that he should fetch the hotel doctor, as well as the police. He nodded and nearly ran down the hall.

  Once he was gone, I realized that I had been clutching Anna’s room key so tightly in my palm that it had left deep grooves in the skin, so I absently slipped the key into my pocket and rubbed feeling back into the area. My book had been discarded next to the railing, and I picked it up, awkwardly waitin
g for reinforcements to arrive. I didn’t want to stay there, but I also didn’t think it would be proper for me to leave. I shifted from foot to foot. After a few minutes, the colonel rejoined me.

  “I hope they find who did this,” he whispered hoarsely.

  I patted his shoulder and watched as the hotel doctor came sprinting down the hall. We both knew it was a wasted effort, but the colonel seemed to appreciate the attempt. The doctor passed into the room, and the colonel retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes.

  It wasn’t long before the police descended in large numbers to the scene. The colonel and I were separated, and I was secretly relieved—I wasn’t entirely sure what to say to the man. There were few words that could give him comfort, as I had learned during the war, and we had waited for the police in uncomfortable silence.

  Then I was kept busy retelling my story and answering the same handful of questions asked repeatedly by a revolving door of officers. I was annoyed that they couldn’t elect one officer to take my statement once—it looked like a problem of disorganization rather than an interrogating technique.

  Over and over, the same questions, the same story.

  I was shamelessly eavesdropping while waiting for yet another round of repetitive questions, and overheard the house doctor—in his obviously Australian accent—giving his final verdict on the cause of Anna’s death to the head officer, an Inspector Hamadi.

  Gunshots.

  It came as little surprise to me after having seen the wounds. I also learned that Anna’s body would be removed to the local morgue in Cairo for an official autopsy as soon as the police were finished looking over the scene.

  Finally, weak from hunger, I begged the nearest officer for release. There was a brief conference between several of the men milling about, and I was told I could go, but not far. The inspector himself would want to interview me soon. I almost shook my head at the idea of answering more questions, but instead I told them that the inspector could find me at breakfast downstairs.