“Nigel spent long hours in meetings and I was left in the care of Lord Hughes. He was also lonely, since his wife was ill and rarely left her bedroom. One thing led to another, and before long, I found myself with child. I’ve never been the . . . smallest of women, so I was able to hide the pregnancy for some months. By the time it became necessary for me to remove myself from society, I begged your uncle for a few months by myself in the country. I told him that I wanted to spend time with your mother’s family. Frankly, he was so distracted with his work he was happy to let me go. The hospital where Lillian was born is near where your mother grew up in the North of England. In fact, your mother helped arrange things for me via telegram. She never told your father, as far as I know, or anyone else. So, I retreated to the countryside where I had Lillian.” Here her eyes welled up once more, and she took another healthy drink and got herself under control.
My heart went out to her. She must have felt so alone.
“Such a beautiful baby, Lillian was. But I couldn’t keep her.”
I didn’t want to interrupt my aunt and risk breaking the spell that had her speaking so candidly, but here I couldn’t help myself. “But why not? Couldn’t you have pretended she was Nigel’s?”
“Your uncle and I couldn’t have children, Jane.” Her mouth twisted. “Obviously, the problem was his and not mine, although everyone assumed it was my fault. For years, society heaped pity and blame on me, and I couldn’t say a thing. There was no way for me to admit that I knew the shortcomings were Nigel’s and not my own.”
She finished her drink as I considered the unfairness of Millie’s situation. I knew firsthand how thoughtless and cruel society could be without even trying—to my knowledge, no one knew of Grant’s particular cruelties, but the speculation and whispers about our constant turnover in female servants was enough to keep me from returning to any parlor rooms. I simply hadn’t found the society worth the trouble. Yet, Millie had faced the gossips down and suffered at their hands for years. In silence.
I waited, but she was quiet, gazing at the few stray drops in her glass. “So, what happened to Lillian?” I finally asked.
“Her father adopted her. We made private arrangements. His wife was too ill to carry a child, and adopting a baby, well, it managed to withdraw her from her rooms. They were able to salvage what was left of their marriage with Lillian’s arrival. And Lillian and her father are quite close. They share a love of sports and the outdoors.”
I nodded and felt unbearably sad on Millie’s behalf. Millie was never able to see Lillian grow and mature. To salvage her own marriage, Millie had to sacrifice her only child.
I was beginning to understand why Millie drank so much and so often.
“Lillian’s father sent me updates over the years. I burned the letters, but I kept the few photos. I was able to pass them off as the child of an old friend. Not that Nigel ever asked, but I had an answer ready, just in case.”
“Does Lillian know she’s adopted?”
“No. She believes that her mother and father are her natural parents.” Millie’s mouth twisted bitterly, and she flagged down a waiter for another whiskey. Once her order was placed, she continued. “I’ll only ever be an ‘aunt’ to her. I suppose I should be grateful to have even that.”
“How did she end up here with you?”
“Once I knew we would be traveling to Egypt, I made arrangements with Lord Hughes to have Lillian meet us here. Her ‘mother’ passed away last year, and we felt it was now safe for us to meet.”
I considered how difficult it must be for Millie to refer to Lady Hughes as Lillian’s mother, and my heart pinched. But another puzzle piece fell into place and spurred my mouth into action.
“Is that why you insisted we stay at the Mena House?”
“Very good, Jane. I knew Lillian would be difficult to convince—unless there was a golf course available. She takes her training quite seriously.”
We were quiet for a time, Millie’s eyes tracing the sea of palms and eucalyptus trees lining the edge of the terrace, lost in her thoughts about the past. I was attempting to digest everything she had just told me. But I did have more questions I needed answered. I waited until Millie had her next whiskey in hand.
“So, how long has Mr. Samara been blackmailing you?”
Millie raised one eyebrow. “I was being blackmailed, but it had nothing to do with Mr. Samara.”
“What?” I was genuinely surprised at her answer.
“The letters started about a year ago. Each one demanded that I wire money to an overseas account. But the letters were in a woman’s hand, Jane.”
“Could it have been a man with a woman’s handwriting? Do you think they were from someone you know?” I asked. “How would they have found out about your daughter in the first place?”
Millie pursed her lips at my barrage of questions. “I’m fairly confident it was a woman, Jane. There was also something in the language that made me think that, although I can’t quite put my finger on what. I remember being surprised that it was a woman.” Millie paused. “And to answer your other question, Lord Hughes is a member of the aristocracy and quite wealthy. I suspect my blackmailer was looking to lighten the lord’s wallet, and stumbled across Lillian’s adoption. His name wasn’t on the birth certificate, so the blackmailer did some research and decided to use it against me, instead.” Millie frowned. “I do think the blackmailer is here at the hotel.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because the last note came on Mena House stationery and demanded that I leave money for them here on the grounds.”
A lot had been happening while I was occupied with Anna’s murder, apparently.
“And did you?”
“No. I have Lillian here, and there is no one to hurt with the truth anymore. Except my social position back home, and I have to say that that is seeming less and less important.”
I raised my eyebrows. That was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the socially conscious Millie.
“Nigel passed, and Lord Hughes’s wife is gone as well. The only one who might be upset is Lillian. And I decided before we arrived that I would no longer make payments to someone who would stoop to blackmail for their financial gain.”
My mind was spinning, trying to churn out the appropriate questions to fit the remaining pieces together.
“So, if Mr. Samara isn’t the blackmailer, why were you glaring at him? I asked if you knew him, and you never answered me.”
Millie speared me with a look. “Jane, I simply don’t care for his type. Mr. Samara is the slippery type of man who preys on women my age and bleeds them of their money. Every time I saw that vile man, he was cozied up to some middle-aged woman who was swooning over him. Remember Ethel Brennan?”
I nodded. There had been a hushed-up scandal back home in Boston, and Ethel had fled the city to live with relatives in upstate New York.
“What do you think happened to her? A man just like that—young, handsome, and after her money. He drained her bank account, and she left the city in absolute disgrace.”
You had to hand it to Millie. She certainly had Samara pegged.
But that didn’t answer the question of who the blackmailer was. Millie seemed quite certain that Samara wasn’t responsible, yet I found the pages in his room. But I also recalled how poorly those papers were hidden and how easy it was to break in. Perhaps they weren’t his papers, after all. Could someone have been setting him up?
The pieces weren’t fitting together.
I needed to find out what the police had found in Amon’s room after his death. But I had one more thing to discuss with Millie.
“I took the birth certificate from Mr. Samara’s room, but there was a list of payments with it.”
“You took it? Since when are you prowling around strange men’s rooms taking things?”
I sighed. She was missing the point. “I took it so that you wouldn’t be implicated in his murder. I was trying to pro
tect you.” I puffed another breath out. I had only done half a job there—I should have taken the payment list as well. “Your initials were on that list of payments. The police may have reason to believe that both you and I wanted Mr. Samara dead.”
Millie’s eyes closed tightly, as though she could squeeze out the information I was giving her. We sat in silence for several minutes.
I would have more questions once I had a chance to process everything, but I decided to let things alone for the time being. This had obviously been difficult enough for her. I wanted to offer Millie my sympathy, but I wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap that stood between my aunt and everyone else.
“Millie, I’m very—”
She stopped me with a raised hand before I could manage anything more. “Thank you, Jane. I appreciate that. But if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to be alone for a bit.”
I nodded and stood, resting my hand on her shoulder for a moment as I passed by. Millie was a hard woman to get close to under the best of circumstances, and I didn’t have the slightest idea how to extend myself to her now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
As soon as my feet crossed from the terrace into the hotel, Redvers appeared at my side.
“That was fast. Were you lurking in a potted palm?”
“What did your aunt have to say?”
I wasn’t sure how much of the story I was prepared to give him at the moment. I still needed to process it for myself, and I told him as much.
“Can I just give you the highlights and fill you in later? It’s a lot to take in.”
He nodded, and I gave him the basics of Lillian’s origin.
“But Millie doesn’t think Samara was the blackmailer. She believes it was a woman—she seemed quite certain of it.”
“Well, that definitely casts a different light on things.” Redvers looked thoughtful.
“It certainly does. Do you think we might have underestimated Anna? Or misjudged why she was killed? I can’t think of many other women here at the hotel that would have been involved in a blackmailing scheme.”
Redvers opened his mouth, but I was on a roll with new theories.
“Is it possible Anna and Samara were in on the blackmail together? That would explain why he had the papers, but they were in her handwriting.” I recalled how Amon had said they were in love—perhaps they were partners in more than simply a romantic sense. I liked this new theory and excitement bubbled in my veins. “What we really need is a sample of her handwriting.”
Anna’s room had most likely been emptied by now, so it was another request I would have to make of the colonel. I hated to bother him again—he had been so upset at the mere mention of her name. I wondered if there was a more discreet way for me to get what we needed. One that didn’t involve either the colonel or the police.
“We still don’t know what she wanted with Amon’s cuff links. Or what the gambling connection might be—although I don’t think Charlie is involved.” My thoughts were flicking back and forth faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “We also need to figure out who was being blackmailed for the smuggling. I’m afraid I haven’t even thought about who that might be—they would have motive as well. For both murders, possibly?”
Redvers didn’t say anything, his attention directed toward inspecting something on the ceiling, letting me run myself out. I barely paused to notice.
“I wouldn’t have thought Anna capable of such a grand scheme. I guess it’s my lesson in not judging a book by its cover—or a flapper by her clothing.” I remembered we didn’t have the original documents for comparison—I had left them behind. “Do you know what the police found in Samara’s room?”
“I didn’t ask what they found during their search, no.”
“Could you find out? We need to know if they have those papers that I found.” I knew Redvers would have to take care of that bit. There was no way Inspector Hamadi would tell me anything, even if I was inclined to strike up a conversation with the man.
“I almost forgot to tell you,” Redvers said. “The police found the gun in one of the pool changing rooms. It looks as though it was wiped clean and left under a seat cushion. Almost impossible to trace who might have left it there.”
“That area sees a lot of people at all hours of the day.” I sighed. “You’re right. It would be tough to pinpoint who might have placed it there and when.”
Redvers nodded again and placed a gentle hand on my arm. “Are you all right? This has been a lot for you to take in, I’m sure.”
“Thank you. That’s kind of you. But it’s Millie I’m concerned about.”
He hesitated, then withdrew his hand, and we went our separate ways. Redvers planned to track down Inspector Hamadi. He was hopeful that the inspector was still on the grounds so he could avoid another trip into town. I wished him luck and silently hoped I wouldn’t find the inspector myself.
I thought about where I might find a bit of Anna’s handwriting. I was quite taken with the idea that she was the original blackmailer, but I needed a way to prove it without disturbing the colonel. If Anna was the blackmailer, and Amon was involved, it could give us an entirely new pool of suspects that didn’t include Millie or myself. And perhaps we could smoke out a killer that much sooner.
I decided to talk to Zaki. Perhaps there was a request for the kitchen or a gambling slip or a hotel register—anything she might have written for the staff that might still be lying around. I hunted around the saloon and dining room, finally locating Zaki in the kitchen. His back was to me and I loitered awkwardly outside the door, waiting for someone to notice me. A member of the kitchen staff finally saw me, and muttered something guttural to Zaki. He turned and, with a smile, joined me in the hallway.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt you, Zaki.”
“It is no problem, Mrs. Wunderly. You come to find me, so it must be important. What can I help you with?”
“Well, I was wondering if there were any hotel records that might have Miss Stainton’s handwriting on them. I know it seems like an odd request, but . . .”
“If it is something you need, then it is not odd, miss.” He stopped to think. “But sadly, I cannot think of anything that she might have written. You have asked the police for her things?”
“I would rather avoid speaking with the police if I can. And I don’t want to bother her father.” I bit my lip as he nodded sympathetically. “Is there a hotel register? Or perhaps she sent down a request to the kitchen that is filed away?”
Zaki nodded again. “You are a kind woman. I do not think we have any of these things, but I will ask some of my fellow workers and see if I can find an answer for you.”
I smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much, Zaki. I truly appreciate it.”
If Zaki came up empty, I would have to get some piece of writing—a letter or postcard, maybe—from the colonel. And when it came down to it, I would rather break into his room than mention Anna to him again. I also didn’t want to explain why I needed something with his daughter’s handwriting. If she was indeed a blackmailer, the colonel didn’t need to know—he should be allowed to keep his fond memories of his child intact.
I walked slowly out to the terrace, going over the information in my mind. I took a seat in the shade, removed my wilting hat, and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. When a waiter came by, I absently ordered a drink of cold hibiscus juice with a side of water. A pitcher of it.
By the time Redvers returned from his information gathering, I had yet to come up with a better plan for retrieving Anna’s handwriting sample, despite the several hours I spent looking for an alternative. Breaking into yet another room seemed excessive, but it was looking more and more like the best course of action.
“The police did not find any suspicious papers in Samara’s room,” Redvers reported. “Unless you count a British passport as suspicious. One with the name Duke Herring right next to Samara’s picture.”
I gave a bark of laughter. “Duke Herring.” My g
rin faded as I thought about the implications. “Was there an Egyptian passport as well?”
Redvers shook his head. “There was only the one.”
“He was lying about both his name and his heritage. Well, that’s no surprise, I suppose. It also explains why Anna hid those cuff links. She probably discovered his real name and was planning to use them as blackmail. Which means it’s unlikely they were ever romantically involved.”
I tapped my lip in thought, then stopped when I saw Redvers watching the movement.
“It looks more and more like Anna is our blackmailer.”
Redvers nodded, his eyes still on my lips.
I covered my mouth for a moment and his eyes snapped up to mine.
“Someone must have removed the papers between the time I found them and when the police went through Samara’s room.”
“It stands to reason,” he agreed.
Which meant that while we didn’t know where they were, neither did the police. Without the blackmail link, the police had no reason to connect Millie and me with Samara’s death. “So Millie and I aren’t currently suspects.” I couldn’t figure out why someone would plant the papers on Amon and then remove them, but at least my aunt and I were in the clear. For the time being.
“Not at this point.” A twinkle lit Redvers’ eyes. “Although knowing you, I’m sure you can find a way to make their list again.”
I made a face at him.
“Well, that should make Millie feel a bit better at least,” I said.
“Do you remember what you saw on that inventory list for the dig? Would you be able to tell which piece was missing?”
I thought back to the list I had seen. “I’m fairly confident that I remember. Why?”
“I think we should pay a visit to the Museum of Cairo tomorrow. There’s someone we should talk to about the missing piece.”
I wanted to squeal with excitement, but managed to restrain myself. “Excellent.”
Redvers’ mouth curled into a small smile, and I knew I hadn’t fooled him. The famous museum was high on my list of places to visit. I was beyond excited to view their exhibits—regardless of the reason for our visit. I promised myself time after our interview to look around.
Murder at the Mena House Page 18