Murder at the Mena House

by Erica Ruth Neubauer

  He was quiet for some time, regarding the edge of a teacup. Then, reaching out, Redvers took both my hands in his, and I noticed for the first time how large those hands were. They nearly engulfed my own, and his long, sensitive fingers were warm and strong and comforting. He leaned toward me, and I could feel myself being pulled in, as if he had his own gravitational force.

  “Jane, you can trust me.”

  Such a simple statement—yet, gazing into his eyes, I could feel his sincerity like a brand. I could also feel heat burning its way up from the pit of my stomach as my pulse began to race. His dark eyes probed mine.

  I knew at that moment that Amon Samara had been lying—although about what and how much, I couldn’t say. But there was a stark difference between someone telling the truth, as Redvers was now, and someone telling you what you wanted to hear.

  Although, I did notice that he still hadn’t given me his full name.

  Before the moment went on any longer and I lost all reason, a throat next to us was cleared. Redvers released my hands, both of us reanimating as the spell was broken.

  I turned to the waiter standing beside the table, and my hands nervously readjusted the napkin on my lap. Several times.

  “Can I get you anything?” It was young Hasan. In the past hour, he had seemed desperate to make things up to me, hovering nearby, ready to meet my every whim. Not that I’d had any, but it didn’t stop him from trying to bring me something every time I cleared my throat. I had taken pity on him earlier and ordered another round of tea. I hadn’t wanted anything, but I felt the need to prove to the both of us that I wasn’t too badly rattled.

  Redvers cleared his throat and assured the waiter we had everything we needed. I was glad he had spoken—I wasn’t sure my voice would work just yet. I took a long drink of water, a few deep breaths, and continued our conversation as though nothing had happened.

  “So, would you like to know what Amon said? Or would you prefer to interrogate him yourself?”

  Redvers sighed, and with a glance to the heavens, told me to go ahead. I tried to keep a smile from my face as I recounted my conversation with Amon, including as much detail as I could remember.

  “He’s lying,” Redvers said as soon as I had finished.

  “My thoughts exactly. But about what parts? Or all of it?” I paused, weighing whether or not I should continue filling him in on my chat with the doctor. I decided to have out with it.

  Redvers was silent until I was done. “Well, if it makes you feel better, you appear to be having more success than the police. Someone is threatened enough to try to warn you off.”

  “Then you don’t think the scorpion was an accident?”

  “Given how many people you’ve irritated today, I would say no. Not an accident.”

  I resisted the urge to make a face at him for suggesting I was irritating people, and instead decided to feel flattered that I was doing at least as well as the police, if not better. But another thought gave me pause.

  “I probably need to check my room tonight for more deadly insects.”

  “That is an excellent idea.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Before bed that night, I did exactly that. I spent close to an hour checking every nook and cranny of my room. I looked beneath blankets, pillows, and mattresses, shaking out clothes, all while armed with the cricket bat Redvers had found for me. Its flat surface would be handy for whacking unwanted intruders—but from a comfortable distance, since the bat was fairly long.

  There was nothing to be found.

  Strangely, finding nothing left me feeling more anxious than if I had found some creepy crawly to exterminate with my wooden weapon. I sighed and sat on the bed, propping the bat against the bedside table. I crawled beneath the rumpled covers and wondered if I would be able to sleep.

  Despite everything, I was looking forward to the next day. Redvers had offered to escort me to the pyramids in order to take my mind off things. I wasn’t sure how successful he would be—until they had someone in handcuffs, I didn’t think I could shake the vaguely sick feeling I carried around. But I was ecstatic that I would finally experience firsthand some of the rich Egyptian history I had been looking forward to. Redvers seemed to think the police would have no problem with our excursion, since I would be in his company. I wasn’t convinced, but decided to take a gamble that my absence wouldn’t be noticed—after all, the police now had other suspects to focus their attention on. And I would do my best to enjoy our day.

  * * *

  We had decided to meet early, well before the sun was up. This worked out well, as I was awake long before I needed to be. I was filled with anxiety and excitement, both of which were enough to keep me awake on their own. Then my subconscious took things a step further, interpreting every small noise as death lurking in the dark—I had eventually turned the light back on and left it burning.

  Rolling from bed, I dressed for a day in the desert sun—long-sleeved white linen blouse and a beige pair of linen trousers. I knew the linen would breathe well, and Redvers had assured me that long sleeves were the way to go. I also donned a large sun hat. It would both keep the sun off my face and give me an excuse not to style my hair.

  Breakfast was a quick affair, and I wolfed mine down, along with several cups of coffee to offset my lack of sleep. My earlier anxiety about Hamadi’s orders was forgotten; I was nearly bouncing in my seat with excitement—and caffeine—waiting for Redvers to finish his tea so we could set off.

  “I’ve never seen anyone so excited to look at a pile of old rocks.”

  “And I’ve seen old women take less time than you this morning. Are you nearly finished?”

  This earned me a chuckle as he downed the rest of his tea and pushed away from the table.

  Redvers was also wearing long sleeves and pants, although his were in the form of a lightweight linen suit, which somehow managed to appear unwrinkled. My outfit, on the other hand, already looked as if I had slept in it. As we left the shade of the hotel entrance, Redvers donned a cream-colored Panama hat, and I kept sneaking glances at him—he cut quite the sharp figure.

  We headed to the edge of the hotel property where Redvers had arranged for a stable hand to meet us with a pair of camels from Mena Village. Most of the camels used for transporting tourists came from the village. I eyed them uneasily, although they seemed quite docile. I had expected spitting, temperamental animals that would take off at a gallop the moment I came near, but they calmly kneeled in the sand, chewing the pile of green leaves they had been given. The larger of the two fixed a placid eye on me and continued chewing as Redvers and the handler exchanged a few words in Arabic. Redvers handed the man a handful of coins, and with a small salute, the brown-robed man headed off.

  “He won’t be accompanying us?” I watched the man disappear beyond a small grove of palms.

  “It won’t be necessary. I’m quite good with a camel.” I swear the camel nearest us stopped chewing and gave him a look.

  “That one seems quite taken with you.” I indicated the camel.

  “It must be my new cologne.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m glad you told me. I thought maybe that was the camel.”

  Redvers’ lips twitched at the corners, and I smiled. I wasn’t concerned about offending him. He smelled like the heavens, as I’m sure he well knew.

  Redvers helped me mount the smaller of the two animals, my leg swinging easily over the side and settling onto the leather saddle draped over a brightly colored woven blanket. The camel’s cloth bridle was similarly woven, vastly different from the leather bridles used on horses. Instead of passing between the animal’s teeth, the rope rested high over the nose, leaving the mouth free. Brightly colored balls hung from the bridle along the camel’s cheeks, matching the bright stripes of the saddle pad. The effect was quite festive and matched my cheerful mood. Not even the camel’s slightly musky smell could dampen it.

  I watched as Redvers mounted his own camel, then gave a
strange double click with his mouth. The animal awkwardly heaved itself to its feet, and I followed suit, struggling to maintain my balance as the camel rocked deeply back and forth with short grunts. I gasped when I realized how far off the ground we now stood. Even seated on the smaller camel, I would have been looking down on Redvers if he had stood next to us. The gangly animal had to be several hands taller than a horse.

  I quickly picked up on how to direct the camel using the reins, one hand gripping the saddle horn, and we fell into an easy pace, loping side by side toward the giant monuments.

  “The pyramids aren’t far—we could easily have walked. Why did we need the camels?”

  “I thought you would enjoy the experience. All visitors to Egypt should find themselves on a camel at some point. Plus, we can ride a little farther out later. There’s a spectacular view from the dunes.”

  It was still early, and though the sun had crept above the horizon, it had yet to heat up the day, so the ride was warm, but not unpleasant. A few other tourists were visible both in front and behind us, likely with the same plan of beating the heat with an early-morning tour. Most of the small groups were led by a dragoman, the elegant local guides easily recognizable by their beautiful silken galabiehs and intricately folded turbans.

  “How many languages do you speak, exactly?” I asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

  “I’m passably conversational in a few.” Several beats passed, the camels’ hooves rhythmically sending up little poofs of sand. “Why are you so interested in the pyramids? It seems you have a deeper interest than the average tourist.”

  I took a second to arrange my thoughts so I could explain my interest without revealing too much. I had been raised without the ritual of religion, and I lost my mother at an early age. When I also became a widow at the age of twenty-two, I became interested in both the ceremony surrounding death and the various theories about what comes after.

  “I’m interested in how other cultures view the afterlife. The Egyptians had especially distinct ideas about what happened to them after death, as well as how to treat their dead. I find the ceremonial aspects and the belief systems interesting.”

  Redvers nodded respectfully. “So a bit deeper interest than the baubles they are digging up.”

  I laughed. “Yes, a bit. Although I would like to see the baubles as well.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Well, these pyramids are certainly a testament to the Egyptian belief in the afterlife.” He left it at that, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief that the topic had been dropped.

  The closer we drew to the Great Pyramids, the less I was able to make coherent conversation. It’s impossible to imagine the effect seeing them in person had—and seeing them up close was much more affecting than the postcard views I had glimpsed from the hotel. I was left in awe of their absolute grandeur, the impossibility of their architecture, and the simple fact of their construction some four thousand years earlier. It was almost beyond comprehension that humans created these mammoth structures so many years before—and that the only remaining wonder of the ancient world had managed to withstand the punishing desert winds for thousands of years. The achievement of the thing staggered me.

  Redvers had us pause at a slight distance so that I could simply gape at the sight before me. He had obviously seen them before, but even he seemed awed.

  “As many times as I’ve seen it, words still escape me.”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  Redvers had arranged for another local to meet us on-site, and the man led away our camels to a holding pen while we approached the pyramids on foot. Now that we were on the ground, I could feel sand trickle into my shoes with every step, grit rubbing the soles of my feet. I felt the urge to remove them and dump out the irritants, but I knew it would be a wasted effort.

  At Redvers’ suggestion, the structure we headed for first was Khufu, the oldest and largest of the pyramids, known to the locals as Cheops. Built in 2500 BC, it rose from the dust and heat of the desert to an astonishing height. I had never before felt so small. The limestone casing blocks that originally covered the pyramid had long been destroyed or removed, and all that remained was the original stepped core structure, although that alone was still impressive to behold. In my mind, I had always imagined stepping easily up the side of the pyramid, like up a staircase, but each block used to build the pyramid was enormous—at nearly chest height. I could see there would be no easy skipping up the side.

  We came at the huge structure from the north, where tourists were allowed to enter. The climb was quite steep, smaller steps cut into the larger blocks, and I was forced to accept Redvers’ help several times when the footing became tricky from the sand and rubble coating the path.

  I hadn’t considered what would happen when we arrived at the pyramids—having forgotten that visitors are allowed to enter the large pyramid. Redvers gestured for me to enter the tunnel first, and I went ahead with slow, uncertain steps. The first portion of the tunnel was surprising, with rough-hewn rock creating a passageway. Instead of the smooth stone I expected, it almost looked like the inside of a cave. My chest felt a little tight, but I pressed on.

  We moved through the initial passage and came to a platform. Here I could see that the tunnel we were about to enter was narrow and short, and both of us would be forced to stoop over inside it. The passage was at an incredibly steep angle, and a long board with spaced steps would hold our shoes against slipping back. I stared at the tunnel in horror and began my deep-breathing exercises. Unfortunately, I had assumed it would be cool inside the pyramids, like a cave, but it was a stone structure baking in the relentless sun. The air was hot and stale and was not having the calming effect I needed.

  “Ready?”

  “O-of course,” I stuttered, and pushed forward into the tunnel, Redvers just behind me.

  I didn’t make it more than a few feet inside before claws inside my chest began to constrict my breathing. I stopped, one shaking hand on the wall, and took long, slow breaths. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead—not due to the heat. My brain screamed for me to go back, and I fought the urge to flee.

  Body and mind were at war. My entire being was in flight mode, but I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see inside the famous pyramid simply because my deceased husband had ruined enclosed spaces for me. His pleasure in exploiting others’ weaknesses—especially mine—and inflicting pain had left indelible marks in more ways than one. I had only been mildly afraid of enclosed dark spaces until my husband ensured I was locked inside one. Those long, dark hours in a forgotten wardrobe with no one to rescue me had been among some of the worst in my life.

  A cruel laugh echoed in my mind.

  “Are you all right?” Redvers placed one large, comforting hand on my back.

  “Unfortunately, I’m a bit claustrophobic,” I managed to gasp out. It was something of an understatement.

  “Do you want to turn back?” His voice was genuinely concerned. I shook my head, feeling deeply embarrassed that Redvers was witnessing this display.

  “No.” I closed my eyes and wished that I were back outside. I did some more deep breathing, and Redvers had the grace to back up and give me some space. I took another few moments to pull myself under control.

  “I want to see this,” I said, and he returned, leaving enough space between us that I wouldn’t feel crowded. “But I think it would be better if you went ahead of me.”

  If he was ahead of me, I could concentrate on the fact that he was fine, and I would be as well. We backed out and reversed order so he could take the lead. Outside, my body nearly rebelled at reentering the small space. Redvers, however, reached out a hand behind him, seeming to understand exactly what I needed to continue. I grasped his hand, and I was able to force myself back inside. It was an awkward climb for him, with one arm stretched behind, but he didn’t let go until we reached the top.

  The next tunnel was open, and we were able to ascend while fully
standing. The crush in my chest was less serious here, and I didn’t need Redvers’ assistance this time. Instead, I continued my deep breathing, sucking in the heavy air that smelled musty and dank, the faint smell of urine tickling my nose. I decided not to contemplate why that might be. Instead, I concentrated on Redvers’ strong back ahead of me and keeping my breath slow and steady.

  Redvers moved slowly, checking frequently to make sure I hadn’t passed out behind him. I appreciated that he wasn’t asking questions, but simply giving me quiet support. I would take time later to panic about what he thought of my little episode, and whether he would think poorly of me now, but those worries would have to wait for later.

  The passage finally let off at the top, and we ducked through a doorway cut in the smooth granite. The room we entered was large, and here my breathing eased considerably, the panic that had hovered around the edges of my consciousness finally subsiding. Although the treasures from inside the pyramid had been removed and stored in various museums, I could still imagine the grandeur the vault once held, and it was enough to momentarily distract me from my body. I traced the cool granite with my fingers and walked over to the only remaining item, a large stone tomb.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A small group of hapless tourists led by their long-suffering dragoman trailed far behind us, still making their way through the first tunnel, their peppered questions carrying up toward us. We were alone in the large chamber for the moment.

  “There aren’t carvings here.” I had anticipated hieroglyphics, such as the ones found in many of the other tombs.

  “I think this room was largely ceremonial.” Redvers’ deep voice echoed and bounced off the walls, humming in my chest.

  Regardless of the lack of ornamentation, it was still amazing to stand within the dark granite walls. And I was grateful to have a moment of peace there before other tourists arrived.

  By the time the next tour group finished the ascent, I had drunk my fill and was ready to leave. The return trip was much easier—my subconscious realizing that escape was imminent, although I had to force my feet to slow down. It would have been deadly to move quickly down that steep path.