“Do you think the statue has something to do with the murders?” I asked after a moment.
Redvers shook his head. “It’s hard to say. But the artifact paperwork was found with the rest, and I think we should explore all avenues.”
* * *
By the time we finished our discussion, the sun was creeping toward the horizon, so Redvers and I headed to dinner. Zaki was back at his post and seated us in a rather isolated area of the dining room, making me wonder if he thought he was encouraging a bit of romance. But I was soon grateful, as my aunt Millie stumbled over to our table and made herself quite at home.
“I’ll have a whiskey.”
Millie’s first words to the waiter left Redvers and me regarding each other with alarm. The last thing my aunt needed was another drink. It was clear that in the time since I left Millie on the terrace, she had continued to drown her memories in neat whiskey. Frankly, I was shocked she was still upright. While Millie’s attention was elsewhere, I motioned to the waiter that she was finished, and he nodded before quickly moving away. Smart man. I knew there would be a scene once Millie realized she wasn’t getting another whiskey, but I hoped to pour water into her in the meantime.
Moments later, Millie’s face twisted into a familiar smirk and I mentally tried to prepare myself for whatever came next.
“Well, Jane, now you know all my secrets.” Her words slurred slightly, but not enough to mask the venom in them. “But I’ll bet your little friend here doesn’t know yours. And maybe he should.” I closed my eyes and willed her to silence, but Millie was on a roll. “Our Jane here married my dear nephew for his money. She never loved him, and she was glad when he died. Weren’t you, Jane? I’ll bet you’ve been celebrating ever since you got that telegram.” Her bitter smile was triumphant, her eyes glassy.
Hot shame and anger rolled through me in equal measures. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears and my vision blurred as my eyes suddenly welled. I stood, managing to push my chair back without knocking it over. Ordinarily, I might be able to brush Millie’s words off, but with everything that had happened in the last week, my nerves were too raw to withstand her attack. I fled the room, moving as quickly as I could without actually running. There were equal parts truth and fiction in what she said, and painful memories churned my stomach.
I headed up several flights of stairs, and off a small common room found an empty terrace overlooking the now-familiar view. I greedily drank in the cool air as I gathered myself together. With my heart pounding, the last thing I wanted was to close myself up in my room. I needed to feel open spaces while I got my emotions under control. I spent some time concentrating on my breathing, and let my thoughts float. That proved to be dangerous as my thoughts floated back to my difficult marriage; instead, I focused my thoughts on my breathing. In and out.
“I thought I might find you out here.” His low voice carried smoothly across the distance between us.
I turned halfway toward him, momentarily giving up my view of the pyramids glowing a soft gold in the moonlight.
“Yes, well.” Articulate as ever.
Redvers moved forward to lean against the railing. He seemed patiently prepared to wait me out, as silent and steady as the grand monuments he appeared to be considering. The sounds of dinner floated up from below, clanking knives against china and glass, and I propped my elbows on the cool marble railing, hunching into myself.
“Millie is in rare form tonight.” I closed my eyes.
“Some of the staff have assisted her back to her rooms.” Redvers was still looking into the distance. “She wasn’t ready to go, but I convinced her.”
“Thank you.” I was relieved. She was my responsibility, but the last thing I wanted was to endure another scene this evening.
“Why do you stay with her?” Redvers’ voice was gentle, and I was grateful that he was skirting around the bomb Millie had dropped in our midst.
“She’s family,” I said simply. “And family is complicated.”
Redvers grunted in assent, and I wondered briefly if he knew that firsthand. He had never spoken of his family, except in passing.
“I want to make excuses for her because of what she’s been through, but that isn’t right, either.” I sighed. “She’s not always so terrible—only when she drinks.”
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
“Yes, well, I see your point,” I conceded with a small smile. “Millie can be kind at times. She’s paying for this trip for me.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “My father . . . Well, he and I look after her. We are all she has left.” I gave a little laugh. “Although, I suppose that isn’t strictly true anymore, now that we know about Lillian.”
I was quiet for a while, trying to decide how much I should tell Redvers, how much of my past I was willing to expose. “Grant was Millie’s nephew on her husband’s side.” I continued gazing out over the view.
“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.” Redvers turned and I could feel him watching me. His voice was a soft rumble.
I blew out a breath of air and gave him a weak smile before turning back to the moonlit scene. “It’s fine. I was very young—not even twenty—when I met Grant and I did think that I loved him. He was very charming. It turns out he had everyone fooled—neither Millie nor her husband ever knew the truth about their beloved nephew.” I could hear my voice sour on the word “beloved.” “Millie still has no idea.”
My stomach rolled again with shame and I took a moment before continuing. “Grant Stanley delighted in inflicting pain. He was sometimes harsh with his horses, but that was the only thing I noticed before we were married. I learned quickly, though, just how much he enjoyed pain. I believe it was the only thing he got any real pleasure from.” I blew out another puff of air and continued quickly, before I could change my mind. “And the more I struggled, the more he enjoyed himself.”
Redvers’ jaw hardened until it could easily cut glass, but I continued.
“I know it’s not the type of thing that is talked about in polite society, but there it is. We were married less than a year before he left for the war.” I shivered, Grant’s cruel laughter echoing in my mind. My hand drifted for a moment to my lower back and I wondered if there would ever come a day when his voice was silenced. I screwed my eyes up tight instead, a child avoiding monsters in the dark.
“She’s right about one thing. I was glad he didn’t return. That’s why I refused his family inheritance. I only accepted the pension from the War Department, which gives me enough to live on. I didn’t marry him for his money.”
“I would never have thought you did.” Redvers’ voice was quiet. “And I’m sorry that you were married to a monster.” He reached out and gently turned me to face him.
I opened my eyes, and hesitatingly raised them to meet his. I expected to read disgust or pity on his face, but there was neither. All I found was understanding. I dropped my eyes to address his chest. “I’m sure there are plenty of men who would disagree with you. Even with the war behind us and a new age coming, women aren’t much more than property in a marriage.”
“Any man—or woman—who believes that is a fool.” The hard consonants of his crisp accent had hardened with anger until they were tiny daggers. I was relieved I wasn’t on the cutting end of those blades.
Without another word, Redvers pulled a handkerchief from his jacket. He gently wiped tears from my cheeks—tears that had been rolling free without my knowing. With that done, he gathered me against his broad chest. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his solid warmth, grateful for his presence as he simply held me. For the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.
CHAPTER THRITY-FOUR
The following morning, Redvers and I breakfasted early. There was no mention of the night before, either what transpired on the terrace, or how I retired early without eating. Instead, we finished our meal and hopped onto the electric tram with a few other guests.
The eight-mile ride into Cairo proper passed peacefully, the gently rocking tram car much less harrowing than my trip via convertible with Deanna. The tram even deposited us near our destination.
We walked companionably the few blocks to the Egyptian Museum, located on the tree-lined Maidan Qasr el-Nil Square, a mere stone’s throw from the Nile itself. Redvers had made arrangements to meet the current curator of Egyptian antiquities, Reginald Engelbach—Rex to his friends.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the curator is a Brit, and yet I am.”
Redvers caught the somewhat mournful tone of my voice and raised an eyebrow. He could communicate a lot with an eyebrow.
“I know. What should I expect with the occupation, right?” I sighed again.
We came upon the building, glowing salmon-pink in the morning light. Two symmetrical wings spread out on either side of the large arched entrance, nestled beneath a large dome—also pink. I wondered what type of stone the building was made of to achieve the striking color.
As we passed a large stone fountain, Redvers caught sight of Engelbach waiting for us at the top of the wide steps leading to the main entrance. The man came dashing down to greet us.
“Good morning.” Engelbach enthusiastically pumped Redvers’ hand and then mine. “I’m so glad you could come down.”
I raised my eyebrows in amusement, since it was Engelbach who was actually doing us the favor. The man’s fair hair wisped across his forehead and his snapping blue eyes seemed to take in everything. His tweed suit was fine, but outdated, and I sensed his mind was occupied with more important matters than keeping up with the latest in fashion.
We entered the museum and I paused for a moment to take it in. Large galleries stretched before us and to either side. The ceilings vaulted overhead, a series of large arches stretching across the second floor above us, giving a sense of movement along the marble balconies.
Engelbach led us back to his office, and along the way, I tried to take in as much as I could. We breezed past papyrus artifacts, stone statues, and ancient coins, all with small handwritten signs tucked behind glass. A dozen times or more I felt the overwhelming urge to stop when something caught my interest, but I reminded myself that I would have plenty of time to look once we were finished with Engelbach. Perhaps I could even convince Redvers to give me a proper tour.
We headed down a windowless hallway with a series of doors on either side, which I assumed belonged to Engelbach’s cohorts. At the end of the hall, we stopped before a sturdy wooden door, and Engelbach pushed it open to reveal a tiny office that was nearly buried under stacks of paper. The ancient oak filing cabinet beneath the tiny window appeared unused; I would not have been surprised to learn the drawers were completely empty. But the top of the cabinet and all of Engelbach’s desk space was covered with untidy stacks, each on the verge of toppling and drowning us beneath unrelenting pages.
“So, what brings you to my dusty corner of the world, Mr. Redvers?” Engelbach asked.
I liked the man immediately for getting straight down to business.
“We’re looking for information about a local dig site—one near the Mena House. We’re rather hoping you might have its artifact list.”
“Ah! Yes. I know I have a copy of that somewhere.”
I couldn’t hide the doubt on my face, and he smiled at me.
“I know it seems impossible, but I have a system for this chaos.” He stood and dug through a stack, seemingly at random. “Here we are. Is this what you’re looking for?” Engelbach handed the paper to Redvers, who, without so much as a glance at it, passed it over to me.
I studied the list for a moment. Several of the pieces listed seemed familiar, but I wanted to be sure before I confirmed it for Redvers.
“I’m fairly certain this is it.” I glanced at Redvers before returning my attention to the paper.
“Got it in one!” Engelbach smiled widely, and I wondered how a man buried beneath a mountain of paperwork in an airless office could maintain such cheerfulness. I envied him.
I returned to my perusal of the list and found the item that was highlighted on the paper I found in Samara’s room. “It was this one.” I leaned toward Redvers, pointing at the item. He studied the description before passing it back to Engelbach, indicating the piece.
“I was going to say it’s curious you should mention this particular piece, but then, knowing you, Redvers, I suppose nothing should come as a surprise.”
Redvers cocked an inquisitive eyebrow and Engelbach continued.
“Someone was in here last week with that very piece in hand, asking what I knew about it,” he said.
I could feel excitement igniting in my blood. The idea that we might have yet another piece of the puzzle was intoxicating—a feeling I could easily become addicted to.
“Who might that have been?” Redvers asked.
“Miss Anna Stainton,” Engelbach answered without hesitation. “She actually had the piece with her. I recognized it immediately from that dig.” He looked at me. “All local archeologists have to register with my office and check in periodically with their findings.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“I tried to recover it from her. Unfortunately, I was unsuccessful. She claimed she wanted to learn what the person originally in possession of the statue wanted with it. Then she promised to return with it. For a price, of course.” He sighed wistfully. “I should have had security tackle her on the way out, but it seemed improper. I should never have let her leave with it.”
I couldn’t see Engelbach giving the order to have Anna bodily stopped from leaving, but I felt certain he had done his best to reason with her on behalf of the piece.
“So she took it from someone?” I perched on the edge of the hard wooden chair I had taken a seat in.
“That’s certainly what it sounded like. It seems she discovered it in the possession of someone she knew, and was trying to get a read on what that they planned to do with it.” Engelbach shook his head. “This is how we lose so many valuable pieces.”
I gave him a sympathetic look. As a curator, it must be difficult to watch so much history disappear into the hands of international collectors and museums. Just a few years before the war, archeologists from Germany made off with an incredibly valuable limestone bust of Nefertiti. The current administration was now reluctant to let any German archeologists back into the country because of the loss.
“She didn’t mention who that was, by any chance, did she?” A note of hopefulness crept into Redvers’ voice.
“I’m afraid not. I wish I knew myself. It was only a small statuary, but even still. Every piece is valuable, and if we can’t keep them in Egypt or England, we would at least like to know where they are being carted off to. I’m afraid quite a few pieces have gone missing lately, but it’s impossible for my assistant and me to be everywhere at once. There are twenty crooks out there for each one of us working against smuggling. Probably more.”
How disheartening. It was like throwing a pebble into the waves, only to have it washed back against your feet.
“As I said, though, it seemed to be someone she knew. That might help narrow the field a bit.” Engelbach was quiet for a moment. “I’m afraid Miss Stainton didn’t seem to appreciate the piece itself. Only what it might be worth.”
“Well, that isn’t a surprise,” Redvers said.
“And where one piece goes, many more tend to follow.” Engelbach’s face was pinched. “I’m afraid whoever had the piece is in possession of more than just one. Please keep me posted on what you find out, will you, Redvers?”
Redvers nodded and Engelbach relaxed back in his seat. The two men chatted for a few moments longer, and then we rose to take our leave.
“Have you seen the museum yet, Mrs. Wunderly?” Engelbach asked.
“I have not, but I certainly planned to have Mr. Redvers take me through before we leave.”
Engelbach clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I
can give you a quick tour myself, although you will probably want to spend some time wandering as well. Just this year, we were able to put Tutankhamun’s funerary mask and tomb on display. You must see them!”
Engelbach led us back out to the exhibit area where he proudly pointed out the most important artifacts, many of which he had personally ensured found a home in the national museum. It was staggering to think of the immense wealth before me, and to know that what we saw was a mere fraction of what Howard Carter had found in the young king’s tomb. I stood soaking in the display: numerous statues in gold, stone, and ivory; a golden throne with lion’s feet; numerous pieces of jewelry, the intricate work in gold and precious stones stunning. And so much more.
We made our way to the most guarded display room. Engelbach was correct, Tutankhamun’s funerary mask was stunning. Bright gold alternated with black stripes around the youthful features of the young king, his large eyes dramatically outlined.
“It’s twenty-four pounds of solid gold,” Engelbach told me in a low voice. I shook my head in wonder.
We finally left Tutankhamun and moved on to other exhibits, where Engelbach expounded on the intense background examinations archeologists underwent to dig any of Egypt’s ancient sites. Unfortunately, he explained, even the most honest of men felt their native homes—or their own pockets—deserved at least a few items for their trouble. Egypt was utterly leaking antiquities.
Engelbach left us after the first hour, and it was many hours before I even began to have my fill of the treasures housed there. Redvers seemed content to trail along beside me, discussing the history and the artifacts as we went. He was quite knowledgeable and I could have happily whiled away many more hours in his company there. But when a glance at my watch showed it to be early afternoon, I knew we needed to be heading back. If for no other reason than I was suddenly ravenous.
Murder at the Mena House Page 19