If Amon and Anna were truly an item, I doubted that making Amon jealous was the only reason behind her flirtatious behavior. And while I made noises of sympathy for Amon’s loss, I wondered whether there was even a grain of truth in what he was saying.
Probably not.
“Then why did you bump into her in the bar? I saw you knock her purse from her arm.”
Amon stiffened. “You must have been mistaken, Mrs. Wunderly. That was not me you saw.” I made a little noise of feigned agreement. I had doubted myself earlier, but now I was absolutely convinced. Amon was the man in the white linen suit I had seen bump into Anna.
Amon cleared his throat and changed the subject, eyes drifting to the horizon. “Anna could be quite generous, you know.” I’m afraid here my eyebrows disappeared somewhere into my hairline, although he didn’t seem to notice. “She used to work with a Catholic orphanage, even though she herself wasn’t Catholic. She would visit the children, and once a year, she would take them out to her stables to let them ride.”
It was the first time in our entire acquaintance that I felt Amon Samara might be telling the truth—as surprising as the information was.
“But, Mrs. Wunderly, you never answered my question the other day. How can a lovely woman such as yourself remain unmarried? Surely you have many suitors at home.”
The change in conversation was abrupt and unwelcome, but not unexpected. I should have known he wouldn’t let this go. After hearing Redvers’ report on the man’s penchant for wealthy women, I realized that Amon must assume I was one of them, despite evidence to the contrary. Nothing I wore could lead anyone to assume I came from money, but perhaps he thought I was an eccentric. I was staying at a swanky hotel where the king of Egypt himself spent time—Amon could hardly know that my aunt Millie was footing the cost of the entire expedition.
Unfortunately for Amon, while other women might have found his line of inquiry flattering, I was not most women. And the idea of a casual discussion of my personal life with this smarmy playboy set my teeth on edge. Literally.
“Do you know, I don’t like to discuss it, and this is the last time I am going to be polite about it.” I gave him an angry smile. “I am developing a headache.” I did not even try to hide the fact that this was merely grounds for an escape. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I gathered up my things and left, leaving Amon Samara with his mouth hanging slightly open. I didn’t care what he thought about my rude answer and abrupt departure. If he was smart, he would avoid trapping me into conversation in the future. And I would leave any further questioning to Redvers.
Just as I passed the colonnade, I saw Deanna and Charlie coming toward me.
“Leaving already?” Deanna looked genuinely disappointed. “We were hoping to find you here.”
“I’m afraid so. The heat is giving me a headache.”
“Is it the heat or that weasel in a white suit?” Charlie nodded in Amon’s direction.
Amon was already chatting with the older woman who had taken my seat. She was gaily outfitted in a bumblebee-striped bathing costume with matching head wrap.
I gave a genuine laugh. “You caught me. He’s a bit much for my taste.”
“He’s a bit much for anyone’s taste,” Deanna said dryly, and we shared a smile.
“How about if I meet you both for a drink tonight?” I didn’t want to hang around in Amon’s line of sight, but I did want to spend time with the newlyweds.
“That sounds swell,” Charlie said.
On the way back, I made a mental note to ask the Parkses what they thought of Amon. They had obviously formed some opinions. I would be curious to see what their impressions were, and whether they had learned something about him that I had not.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was still early when I got back to my rooms. I ran a cool cloth over my face and neck and went over my conversation with Amon. Unlike my talk with the doctor, I knew that I had gathered at least one or two useful bits of information. Amon had, in fact, known Anna, whether or not that relationship was what he claimed. And I still believed it was Amon who spilled her purse, a move that I felt sure was on purpose. I considered what he had to gain by that.
Perhaps nothing. He might have simply wanted to annoy her. Or make his presence known.
I attempted to go back to my novel, but I struggled to put Amon’s meddling questions behind me. His nosiness about my marital status bothered me more than I cared to admit. Another woman might have found the questions a slight annoyance, but my marriage was a chapter that I had firmly closed. I didn’t like anyone trying to crack the cover. His few questions and the stress of Anna’s murder meant I wasn’t able to keep the dark memories completely locked away. The string of maids who quickly left our employ drifted through my mind, as did the bruises I struggled to cover and the sharp smell of the salve when there was blood.
My memories left me with a sick feeling in my stomach.
When lunch rolled around, I decided to track down Millie, since I was supposed to be her companion for this trip. I hadn’t seen her for more than five minutes strung together in well over a day. I felt mildly guilty about this dereliction of duty, despite the fact that Millie seemed to be avoiding me.
I thought about Millie’s obvious aversion to the police—a mystery I had yet to find an answer to. I wondered if the discovery of the cuff links and Amon’s interrogation meant that I was no longer the prime suspect in Anna’s murder. I could only hope so. And if that was the case, perhaps Millie would find my company tolerable again.
I crossed the hall and knocked on Millie’s door, but there was no answer. I headed to the dining room, at the same time hoping I would avoid running into Amon again. His mere presence was a headache I wanted to avoid right now. I spotted Millie and her two young companions in a corner of the dining room and started over.
Millie looked slightly anxious at my approach.
“Don’t worry, Aunt Millie. They have a brand-new prime suspect. You can rest easy—the police are looking elsewhere.”
“Well.” She seemed to consider for a moment, and I felt a small stab that she had to even think about whether I should join them. “Please join us for lunch. We haven’t ordered yet.”
I managed to smile graciously, settled into the empty seat, and surveyed my dining options. I had just decided on something when the waiter arrived to take our orders. That done, Millie and Lillian resumed their conversation about the quality of the various golf courses Lillian had played on in comparison with the hotel’s. Millie listened attentively, but I tuned out and took the opportunity to get a better look at the girls.
Marie was the darker of the two: darker hair, darker complexion, a touch shorter, and much rounder. It seemed she had not quite lost her baby fat, whereas Lillian was long and athletic—well suited to sports. Lillian’s short auburn hair was not the fashionable bob that Marie wore—Lillian’s cut seemed more for convenience than anything else. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that she did it herself with a pair of dull scissors. But Lillian had the kind of self-confidence that often comes with natural talent, and she was able to pull off the look. Marie took more care with her appearance, but she had less naturally to work with.
I wondered if either of the girls had any hobbies outside golf. Lillian seemed entirely occupied with the sport, to the exclusion of anything else, especially if the current conversation was anything to go on. And Marie appeared entirely occupied with Lillian—she spent most of her time gazing at her with a look of complete adoration. They were an interesting pair.
At long last, there was a brief lull in the conversation, and I asked Lillian how she became so interested in golf.
Millie interrupted, surprising me. “Oh, Jane, it’s a lovely story. She’s such a remarkable athlete.” It was a struggle to conceal my shock at the obvious pride in Millie’s voice. Over a girl Millie had only just met.
Or so she claimed.
“It’s not that exciting, Aunt Millie
,” Lillian said.
My eyebrows shot up at her use of the term “aunt.”
“My father introduced me to it at a very young age. He is a passionate golfer, and you know Scotland has beautiful courses. We often vacation there to take advantage.” On Lillian’s other side, Marie beamed as widely as Millie did.
“And where do you and Marie know each other from?” I was genuinely curious about the answer.
Lillian shrugged in an offhand way, and I looked to Marie, who was slightly crestfallen at Lillian’s lack of enthusiasm.
“We met at school several years ago,” Marie finally said. I hadn’t even realized that Marie was American until just then. “My parents sent me to England to live with some cousins, and I convinced them to let me stay.” Her gaze returned to Lillian.
In the meantime, our meals arrived, and Lillian nodded and applied herself to her plate of fish, rice, and vegetables. She was methodical, finishing all of one item before attacking the next. She continued in this way until she finished her meal, never once mixing her foods or allowing them to touch one another on the plate. I tried not to watch, but it was difficult.
“So, Mrs. Wunderly.” I started at the sound of Marie’s voice. It was so rare to hear her speak, it caught me off guard. “I hear you’re the one who found the body. It’s like something out of Town Topics.” Her eyes had a strange gleam in them that I found distasteful.
“Yes, I did. Her father was quite devastated.” I gave Marie a pointed look, and she cast her eyes down to her plate. “In fact, has anyone seen him recently? I feel as though I should check in on him.”
Everyone shook their heads vaguely, and though I could feel her disappointment from across the table, Marie let the topic go.
As soon as our forks hit our empty plates, Lillian excused herself. She headed to the greens with Marie close behind her. I was a little surprised that Millie stayed behind, but it looked as though her newfound enthusiasm for golf didn’t extend to putting practice—or whatever sports-related thing Lillian was headed off to do.
“Does Marie golf as well?” I asked.
“No, she supports Lillian and carries supplies for her.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Like a caddie?”
“Well, yes. But you see, Marie is quite devoted to Lillian. And she is quite an expert at choosing the clubs.”
“I see.” I didn’t actually, but I didn’t want to know anything more about golf clubs.
I expected Millie to find another excuse to leave, but she seemed content with my company for the moment, so I suggested moving out to the terrace for a round of tea. Or a drink, if she preferred.
“I think some tea sounds lovely.” It almost defied belief that Millie would forgo an alcoholic drink, and I struggled to keep the surprise from my face. I wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to the heat, which seemed unlikely, or if it was just the novelty of its ready availability wearing off.
Or perhaps there was another influence altogether.
As we made our way to the terrace, I asked one of the young waiters to bring us a tea service, and Millie and I found a table in the shade and settled in. Bearing a tray on his shoulder, the young man soon brought a steaming teapot and placed it in front of us, as well as our cups and saucers. The cups were turned upside down, and I had a fleeting thought that the placement was strange, since they usually arrived right side up and ready for a pour. But I shrugged it off.
Millie asked me to serve, and I reached over and tipped her cup right side up, filling it with the fragrant tea. I set the pot back down and gave her cup milk and sugar before turning to my own setting. I ignored her grumbling as she added an extra two sugar cubes to her tea, stirring vigorously.
I flipped my cup right side up, and a shiny black insect, tail in the air, scrabbled over the side.
It was a scorpion.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I screamed loudly and dropped the cup on the table. It bounced once and fell to the ground, the delicate porcelain immediately shattering into several pieces. The scorpion had narrowly missed my hand when it made its escape. I pushed away from the table as quickly as possible, chair legs scraping loudly over the stone floor, trying to put space—a lot of space—between myself and the poisonous creature.
Drawn by the commotion, the waiters and fellow diners alike came rushing to our table.
“Where did it go?” My shaking hands were pressed to my chest as I stood on weak legs. At a distance.
Aunt Millie calmly took the lid from the teapot, deftly lifted my saucer with a butter knife, and in one swift move trapped the scorpion beneath the domed lid.
“Really, Jane. Such hysterics” was her only response as she went back to stirring her tea.
“I’m not hysterical.” My voice came out as a gasp. “I was. . . startled. Just startled.”
Millie rolled her eyes.
Our own waiter was among those who came rushing over, and his face filled with horror when he learned what we had found. He chattered in rapid Arabic to Zaki, who had arrived on his heels and was now gently directing diners back to their tables. Zaki served as translator between our young waiter and myself—the young man’s grasp of English, which was excellent, appeared to have fled in his distress.
“Madame, Hasan promises he did not know there was a scorpion under your teacup.” Zaki indicated the flustered young man. “He says when he picked up the tray in the kitchen, it was already set and the teacups were turned that way.” He paused as Hasan kept up the rapid-fire speech, then laid his hand gently on Hasan’s arm to quiet him.
“We store the cups that way, madame,” Zaki explained. “But he is not sure who set the tray. Our kitchen is a very busy area during mealtimes. He says he did not see anyone, he just brought the tray out.”
I sighed. The kitchen was probably a madhouse during meals, and it was unlikely anyone would recall seeing a specific tea tray. I felt for the young man. He had tears in his eyes, and I realized he was probably concerned for his job.
“Please tell him not to worry. No one was hurt. And I’m sure things like this happen all the time.”
“Not really, madame.” Zaki shook his head slowly. “A scorpion is quite unusual. But I will tell him what you have said.” Zaki issued orders to a small army of waiters, then led Hasan away with an arm wrapped around his thin shoulders. The army stayed behind to deal with the trapped scorpion. Watching them, I shuddered.
“I think I’ll head back to my room, dear, if you are fine.” Millie patted my arm absently. I noticed that she had blithely finished her tea while the excitement carried on around her.
“Yes. I’m . . . fine. Thanks for your quick thinking.” I watched as she traipsed off through the small crowd, which had refused to quietly disperse.
My heart had ceased pounding, but the adrenaline surge had left me shaky. I moved to a seat at a table nearby, and sitting there, I wondered how a creature drawn to dark, quiet spaces could wind up in a well-lit hotel kitchen.
Beneath a teacup.
* * *
An hour later, Redvers found me still sitting at the table, deep in thought. I was pondering whether it was an act of nature that had put me in the scorpion’s path or some type of message. And despite my craving for solitude and a feeling of normalcy, I was relieved to see him.
“I heard what happened. Are you all right?” His brows pulled low in concern.
“It gave me quite a shock. I think I handled finding Anna better than I did a live scorpion.” A fresh shudder ran through me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Redvers took a seat and pulled it near me. His hand moved toward my own, then stopped abruptly, instead resettling in his lap.
“I’m not sure what you could have done, but I appreciate the thought. And I must say Millie handled it quite well.” I paused and wondered whether to share with him what I had been mulling over. “I’ve been thinking, and I have a hard time believing this was an accident. How does a scorpion find its way under a teacup? In a busy, we
ll-lit kitchen? Millie and I are lucky neither of us was stung.” I filled him in on what Zaki had told me about the kitchen and tea service.
“What did the scorpion look like?” Redvers leaned forward. I described the small black creature as best I could, sheepishly admitting that I hadn’t gotten a close look at it since I had been somewhat . . . less than calm.
“Well, here’s the good news. If this wasn’t an accident, it was only a warning. That type of scorpion isn’t deadly, although its sting would have been very painful.” Redvers leaned back again. “It might have put you out of commission for several days—possibly even weeks.” At my horrified look, he added helpfully, “At least it wasn’t a deathstalker scorpion. They’re especially deadly. I knew a chap once—”
This was a story I did not need any details about, and I cut him off with an upraised palm and a violent shake of the head. “How appalling. Thank you for that.”
We both sat in silence for a moment.
“I almost forgot to tell you. I had a little chat with Mr. Samara,” I said.
All signs of Redvers’ earlier concern vanished in a flood of frustration. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Jane, we were supposed to talk with him together.”
Flustered by his use of my Christian name, I stammered a bit. “He . . . he pulled himself up next to me at the pool. I could hardly ignore him, could I?”
Redvers grunted in frustration. I decided it was best to wait to mention my visit to Dr. Williams.
“Besides, how do I know I can trust you? We only just met,” I muttered. I ran a hand through my hair and pressed the heel to my temple, before sliding it down my face. “I keep forgetting, but I barely know you. I don’t even know your full name.”
Murder at the Mena House Page 9