“Jane!” Deanna cried when she saw me, sweeping me into a hug. I guessed that she was several drinks into her evening, but I didn’t mind the burst of affection. Charlie grinned at me.
“Are you having fun?” I already knew the answer to my question.
“It’s smashing, isn’t it, Charlie?” Deanna wrapped her arm around Charlie’s waist, and he gazed down happily at his new bride.
“Only because you’re here, my love.” Charlie planted a kiss in her hair, and I smiled at them both.
“And where’s your handsome gentleman?” Deanna asked me with a wink.
“Oh . . . well, he’s not . . . I mean, we’re n-not . . .” I stammered.
“Well, he should be.” Deanna’s grin grew even wider.
I changed the subject. “Will you be disappearing to the tables tonight?”
Charlie grinned. “Because of the party, there aren’t supposed to be any card games. Although, I’m sure a few of the more dedicated among us will find a way later.” I wondered where the colonel was really headed if the tables weren’t open. And then I reminded myself to relax and leave the thinking for later.
We spent nearly an hour chatting over drinks, but when the band started up with “Somebody Loves Me,” Charlie and Deanna excused themselves to take a turn around the dance floor. They gazed into each other’s eyes as Charlie gracefully swept her along, and I found myself turning away with a small twinge. I looked over the crowd. The mood was positively ebullient—it was easy to forget that a tragic murder had happened not even a week before. The guests were outfitted more brightly than any exotic bird, and the happy chatter and riot of color was a relentless crashing of waves against the senses. I began to tire and moved out onto the dark grounds for a breath of fresh air.
“Are you having a good time?” Both the low rumble and the silent approach were becoming familiar to me. Redvers and I continued walking out until the noise of the party was little more than an echo.
“I am. It’s a lovely night. Everyone seems to be having a good time.” I shivered a bit. I had forgotten to bring my wrap with me. Redvers noticed my chill and removed his jacket, draping it across my shoulders. I was grateful for both the gesture and the warmth.
“Thank you.” I pulled the lapels close around me, and the smell of clean soap, pine, and something spicier wrapped around my senses. “And how about you? Are you having a good time?”
“Even better now.” His voice rumbled low and warm. We had stopped far from the crowds and he gazed into my eyes. My body began to tremble again—not from the cold this time—and I knew what was coming. My instincts for self-preservation, honed to a sharp knife’s point since my husband’s death, warred with my desire to let this handsome man take me in his arms and kiss me senseless.
He leaned toward me, and I put a restraining hand on his chest—self-preservation winning out, even as I felt disappointment drop into my stomach.
“I can’t.”
He straightened. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Doesn’t particularly matter which.” I was speaking to the ground, my hand still resting on his firm chest. “It comes to the same conclusion.” I dropped my hand, removed his jacket, and passed it back to him, immediately missing both the heat and the comforting smell. Damn the man.
“Jane,” he started.
“We are friends.” My voice sounded firm, although I felt anything but. I finally raised my eyes to his. “And only friends. You will have to respect that.”
His eyes were clouded with confusion and frustration as he watched me leave, jacket now slung over his shoulder and his hands stuffed into his pockets. I wrapped my arms around myself as I headed back to my rooms, feeling cold and very much alone.
He didn’t try to follow.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I tossed and turned that night. I had made the right decision, I felt fairly certain of that. But the other side of the coin—the possibilities and the pleasure had I not turned Redvers down—well, that kept me from sleep. In fact, the lack of sleep I was getting on my so-called vacation was becoming ludicrous.
When daylight finally broke, I dragged myself down to the breakfast room, taking no notice of the excited buzz on my way. My priority was coffee. Only when I reached the area did I realize there was a large number of policemen milling about, and guests were whispering anxiously all around me. I closed my eyes for a moment while I debated waiting until after breakfast to discover what had happened, but as always, curiosity won out. I headed toward the greatest concentration of officers.
I got as far as the saloon before I was restrained. I craned my neck around the swarthy policeman, but I could see very little besides the backs of other uniformed officers. I eyed the policeman before me, deciding it was unlikely that I would be able to get around him, so I was both relieved and anxious when I heard a familiar voice at my back.
“Trying to sneak a look?” Redvers regarded me warily, hands in pockets.
I turned to face him full-on, and took in the bruised circles under his eyes. It seemed as though I was not the only one who had spent a sleepless night.
“Of course. What’s happening in there?”
He gazed at me for a long moment without answering. “Are you just going to pretend that nothing happened last night?”
“Yes. That is exactly what we are going to do.” I sounded much braver than I felt. Redvers’ mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Excellent.” I kept my voice brisk to hide the tremble I felt. “I’m glad you agree with me. Now, what’s going on back there?”
He muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like “This isn’t over yet,” but I couldn’t swear to it.
“Mr. Samara was killed last night.”
I actually gasped out loud. Although, given what I had learned about Mr. Samara in the short time I had known him, and having learned about his clandestine blackmailing operation, it shouldn’t have been such a shock.
“Where? How?” My caffeine-deprived brain felt foggy and I wasn’t quite capable of forming more intelligent questions yet.
“In the gambling room. He was found lying facedown on the table by a member of the staff early this morning when they arrived for work. He’d been shot.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“Why on earth would you want to see him?” Redvers’ mouth was agape, and I felt a small thrill of pleasure that I had surprised him. “And this coming from the woman who nearly fainted at the sight of a scorpion?”
“Really,” I huffed. “I did no such thing. And it was an enormous poisonous insect I had trouble with, not a dead body.” I might have been exaggerating the actual size of that insect. Somewhat.
He shook his head and looked at me, brows drawn together. “I’m not sure I can convince them to let you near, especially since you are still technically a suspect in the last murder.”
I just looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he gave another shake of his head, this time in defeat. I fought back a smile as Redvers glanced around. Seeing that no one was paying us any mind, he took my elbow and led me deeper into the room past the numerous officers as he attempted to shield me from view. It was unnecessary. The police had ignored the both of us, once Redvers took charge of my attention.
We got as far as the doorway without being molested, and I poked my head in. It was just as Redvers had said. Samara’s cheek and left arm rested in a dark pool of blood on the mahogany table. His eyes were closed, and I was grateful that I couldn’t clearly see the damage that had been done to his chest. A discarded cushion from a chair at the table had been tossed on the floor, feathers sprouting from the gaping holes. Matching feathers were sprinkled across the scene—the killer had obviously used the cushion to silence the sound of the gunshots. In the same way as Anna’s killer had used a bed pillow.
I took in as much of the scene as I could in a matter of moments. I didn’t want the milling officers to wonder why I was gawking at the body, and I certainly was
n’t keen to run into Inspector Hamadi, who was doubtless nearby.
Once I had seen enough, I backed away from the doorway and headed purposefully back to the breakfast room, Redvers trailing in my wake.
“That was quick.”
“I just wanted to take a look, and I certainly don’t feel like having a tête-à-tête with Inspector Hamadi before my morning coffee.” Just the thought of that hot, caffeinated beverage nearly made me drool with desire.
A fresh-faced young waiter greeted us at the door and led us to a table.
“Where’s Zaki?” I asked the young man. I was accustomed to seeing Zaki’s smiling face before every meal.
“He has the day off, ma’am.”
I nodded. Zaki had been busy with the party the night before and I imagined it had been a late night for him.
Once we were settled into our seats, and I requested an entire pot of dark coffee, I turned to Redvers. “I noticed the feathers—they used a cushion again to silence the shots. Do you think it’s the same killer?”
Redvers grunted. “It’s too soon to tell. Although, so far, it appears that way, and I’m sure the police will be considering it as a possibility. It would seem that the same caliber gun was also used.”
“Is there any way to know for certain?”
“Not without finding the gun first. That’s why the hotel is inundated with police. With a second killing, Hamadi can’t afford to let this go unsolved. Or he will be the one coming under fire.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” I muttered.
“Yes, well. Hamadi is a bit . . . rough about the edges.” I rolled my eyes. Rough didn’t even begin to cover it, in my opinion.
“Do they have any new suspects?”
“From what I can tell, they’re looking at the gamblers first.”
I pondered that for a moment. “I wonder if Charlie is going to become a suspect. He’s a regular at those tables. I certainly hope not.”
“It’s a possibility. Although they would also look for a connection between him and Anna.” Redvers’ face was neutral.
At the mention of Anna, my mind suddenly spat out a thought that had been nagging at me, but had been dancing out of reach.
“Do you remember the night she was killed? The man we saw with her?” My words tumbled ever faster as I went. “Doesn’t Charlie remind you of him?”
Redvers thought for a moment. “It did occur to me that he had the same build as that young man. And they never did find anyone fitting his description at any of the other hotels.” He sighed. “For that matter, they never found the two men responsible for Samara’s alibi that night, either.”
Three missing suspects that the police couldn’t find. Of course, two of them might never have existed in the first place. I shook my head to clear it and took a long drink of coffee.
“Well, I hope it wasn’t Charlie. He and Deanna are so happy. She would be devastated.” I fervently hoped that Anna’s beau that night was some other young man, and not an unfaithful Charlie Parks. Deanna had provided his alibi for the evening; so if she was lying for him, I felt sure that lie would be straining their relationship, and their relationship seemed anything but strained. If I suspected my new husband was cheating on me, there was no way I would be able to carry on with him as happily as Deanna did with Charlie.
A new thought occurred to me. If Deanna had lied for Charlie’s alibi, it meant she didn’t have one, either.
As I worried about the Parkses’ possible involvement, another confusing memory reared its head. “Is there any way you may have been wrong about the doctor and his issue with drugs?”
Redvers raised his eyebrows. “What brings that up?”
“I heard some interesting things about him last night, and I wanted to check them against what you told me.” I shared with him what both the colonel and Aunt Millie had said about the doctor, and Redvers mulled that over.
“A number of places confirmed that he was a regular.”
“But not necessarily that he had been using the drugs?”
“Well, no. Outing their best clients seems bad for business.”
“So, why did they even confirm that he had been there?”
“Well, a few of the . . . establishment owners . . . indicated that they knew him, but not how or why. I assumed they didn’t want to confirm his patronage for obvious reasons. It appears I need to revisit some places and ask some different questions.”
We were both quiet for a moment. I trusted that he was telling the truth and hadn’t been feeding me bad information—he seemed genuinely surprised by what I told him. Once again, my gut told me I could trust Redvers. He played close to the vest, and skirted the truth occasionally, but when it came down to the big questions, I didn’t think he would lie to me.
I tried to stop thinking about what his lips would have felt like on mine.
I shook myself. It occurred to me that now would be a good time to share what I had learned when I searched Amon’s room. I thanked the fates that I had had the good sense to wear gloves for my break-in, since the police would certainly be going over the room with a fine-tooth comb today.
“It might be a good time to tell you what I found in Amon’s room.”
Redvers went very still. “When did you go through his room?”
“A couple days ago.”
He exploded. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” He practically spat the words out, eyes flashing dangerously.
“I think you might be overreacting.” I watched as his eyes grew round and he sputtered. His burst of anger caused my body to stiffen, poised for flight, the response instinctive. But after observing him for a few moments, I took a deep breath and forced my body to relax. He was upset, but he wouldn’t harm me.
A refill on my coffee had arrived in the meantime, and I took some time to enjoy the fresh rush of caffeine as Redvers’ fingers thumped the wicker armrests of his chair. I gazed around the terrace and enjoyed the warm sunlight while I studiously ignored him. It was a bit of role reversal, and I had to admit that I was enjoying having the upper hand this time. My exhaustion had been temporarily chased away.
When his fingers stopped tapping, I raised my eyebrows at him, and he stared up into the sky. “Go ahead.”
“Excellent.” I proceeded to describe for him the papers that I had found.
“I don’t suppose you kept these papers, did you?” Redvers looked hopeful.
“No, I put them back where I found them. Well, all but one.” He furrowed his brow and I explained about the birth certificate with Millie’s name listed as the mother.
“The payments? I assume they were some sort of blackmail.” I said.
He nodded.
“Millie’s initials were on that list.”
“You realize that . . . this makes your aunt a suspect.” The words were drawn out, and I could tell he regretted what he had to tell me. “She has a motive just as compelling as anyone else they may consider.”
I had considered that fact at length. It would never have occurred to me before to consider my aunt a suspect, but it was clear there was plenty I didn’t know about the woman. Was she capable of murder? I simply wasn’t sure anymore. In fact, the entire scenario made me more than a little uneasy, especially since I had stolen the most damning evidence of my aunt’s motive. Evidence that was currently hidden in my room, and not all that ingeniously.
“I realize that.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “But I’d like to see what we can find out before I go turning anything in to the police.”
He looked as though he was thinking about arguing with me, but then decided against it.
“Would you at least give me the paperwork to hide? It will look terrible for you if it’s found in your room.”
I considered that for a moment, but then shook my head. He had absconded with evidence before and then turned it over to the police—I wouldn’t entrust Millie’s fate to him just yet.
He looked at me for a few beats, then sighed. “You
realize that paper gives you motive for this murder as well.”
Now that was a thought that hadn’t crossed my mind. My eyes widened in horror. “Just what I need. Another reason for Hamadi to harass me.” I closed my eyes. It was hard to imagine who had motive to kill both a partygoing socialite and a blackmailer. Except for me, apparently. Or, perhaps, Charlie Parks, if it was true that he was both a gambler and a ladies’ man.
I didn’t like either of the options.
Redvers had moved on to other concerns. “Did you leave fingerprints in Samara’s room? I know the Cairo police aren’t the most efficient, but even here—”
I cut him off and gave him a dirty look. “Give me a little more credit than that, Redvers. Of course, I wore gloves.”
His shoulders sagged in relief.
I turned my mind to the other papers that had been hidden with the birth certificate. “What do you think that list of artifacts means?”
It was Redvers’ turn to look uncomfortable. “I think there’s a good possibility that someone is illegally smuggling antiquities out of the country.”
My initial reaction was one of absolute rage. Valuable artifacts should be held in museums where everyone from tourists to scholars could learn from their history. The idea that they would instead be sold to shady collectors with deep pockets did nothing but fill me with disgust and anger. History should be preserved for those who want to learn from the past—not own it.
Although, I had once felt like nothing more than a possession to my husband—a precious trophy to be purchased and used in any way he saw fit. It doubtless influenced my feelings on the topic of ownership.
Once the initial wave of anger passed, I thought about Redvers’ discomfort, and why the mention of antiquities smuggling would make him squirm in his seat. I came to the only conclusion I could, given what I knew about him—or, rather, what I didn’t know about him.
“Is that what you’re here for?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you looking for stolen antiquities?” Without giving him a chance to answer, I continued shooting rapid-fire questions. “Who are you working for?” Disgust crossed my face as something else occurred to me. “You’re not working for some kind of collector, are you?” I would have broken off even a friendly acquaintance if that was the case. My feelings on the matter went quite deep.
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