Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3)

by Robert Colton

  Hazel graced me with a polite smile and said, “Those are some of his earliest works.”

  “They are very beautiful,” I told her, and this was the truth. All four were studies of nature. The sky, flowers, and greenery surrounding water were all depicted in vibrant and soothing colors.

  Hazel reclined slightly and added, “My security.”

  Curious, Lucy asked, “How is that?”

  Smugly, Hazel replied, “Monet died the December before last; their worth is bound to rise. I have already had one handsome offer, but I chose to pass. When, and if, I plan on leaving the Winter Castle, I speculate they will take care of my tab.”

  I recalled Sandy mentioning how Hazel’s first husband had arrived in Egypt with several valuable paintings. These were the ones she had kept, the aces up her sleeve.

  “That one,” she began, pointing at a portrait of her that hung over the desk, “was done by Percy.”

  The oil painting captured her likeness, but lacked emotion. Percy’s fire and passion that Hazel had described were absent from the work.

  Lucy spoke as I studied the portrait, “How very beautiful.”

  Hazel remarked, “Whatever Percy’s eye saw, his hand could paint. He was indeed skilled.”

  The woman’s words echoed in my head. I was curious as to why she was showing the art work off to us. The intelligent woman read my face. “Well, as you know, I didn’t invite you two up here to enjoy the chocolates.”

  She stood from the sofa and gracefully crossed the room. As she opened the drawers of a desk along the wall, she said, “I was hesitant to share this with you at first, but I have decided you are a woman of good character.”

  Hazel returned holding a small man’s toiletry case and satchel. “The maids here are very loyal to me. I am generous with gifts, and they take care of me.”

  The woman placed the objects on the low table beside the tea service. “These belonged to Percy. The day before yesterday, the maid who cleans Dr. and Mrs. Smith’s room found them under the bed.” She gave a little sigh. “It doesn’t take a detective to guess what has happened.”

  I raised my brow and asked, “What does this all suggest, to you?”

  Hazel’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed disappointed that I did not jump to my own conclusion. Slowly, cautiously, she spoke, “The doctor and his wife keep saying that Percy traipsed off to the Netherlands. Would he do so without his shaving kit and his clothing? I think not.”

  I held my tongue, very much wanting to ask Hazel if she had given up on implicating Martha. I thought better of it. Hazel had produced the letter and now Percy’s belongings. I was curious what other treasures she could summon if these items did not cause the desired effect.

  Lucy followed me to my room. With the door firmly closed behind us, I set down Percy’s possessions on the desk and sorted through them.

  Lucy chattered like an excited bird. “Hazel’s confidante plucked Percy’s things from the Smiths’. That’s why the doctor sent that telegram and Wilma bought the flimflam mummy. They have been backed into a corner.”

  “So it would seem,” I mumbled as I went through the satchel.

  Lucy noticed the pained expression on my face and asked, “What is the matter; what have you found?”

  Thank Heavens, Xavier had possessed a loyal valet who had trailed behind him like a shadow. During our brief years together, never had I personally had to tidy up after my beloved husband. Sorting through Percy Huston’s threadbare socks and other … unmentionables, left me quite mortified.

  After making sure of my suppositions, I answered Lucy’s query. “Nothing of importance, nothing of value. No camera, no painting brushes, nothing personal aside from dirty laundry.”

  Lucy watched me as I pushed the items aside and picked up the envelope that Sandy had given me. “That is why Hazel summoned us.”

  “What did Sandy find out?”

  I quickly looked over his notes again and replied, “Hazel’s second husband’s death was ruled an accident, but there was an investigation. Hazel had sacked a maid earlier in the day over some sort of squabble. That night, at dinner, the cook served lamb. Hazel had not had an appetite, after the turmoil of the day.” I stopped to reread the last few lines of Sandy’s small handwriting and shared the rest of the information: “Mr. Keeley took the last chunk of the lamb from her plate. He ate it and choked to death. After the meat was removed from his throat, a butcher’s cord was found, holding two pieces together. His windpipe had been blocked, and he was neither able to swallow the meat nor cough it out.”

  “How awful!” cried Lucy.

  “The cook swears she had cut away the strings, and a case could not be made against her.”

  Lucy shook her head. “It could have just as easily been Hazel who died.”

  I pressed my lips together, but made no reply.

  Lucy watched as I set the envelope down on the writing table and then asked, “You really think the maid staff showed that to her?”

  I nodded my chin. “Oh, yes.”

  “What would all of that matter? Her husband’s death has nothing to do with Mr. Huston’s disappearance.”

  Feeling rather shrewd, I replied, “Perhaps. All the same, Hazel knows that I am on my own expedition to dig up something …”

  Lucy gave a great laugh, clapped her hands, and said, “Oh, I must get my notebook; that is exactly what Mrs. X would say!”

  Chapter Eleven

  On the morning following the appearance of the questionable telegram and mummy, we set off to Kamose’s tomb. The rickshaws came to a stop, and then Sandy helped Lucy and me to the dangerous summit.

  Lucy commented to Sandy, “Jacob said this way was too treacherous, but it is such a shorter journey.”

  Sandy, always smiling, replied, “This is the way the ancient worker bees trudged on their daily toil. Mind you, there has been an accident or two that I know of on those rock-hewn steps, but if you watch yourself, it’s no more dangerous than the grand marble staircase at the old Finch Hotel in London.”

  Lucy gave a little giggle and agreed, “Yes, one wrongly placed heel and what a tumble.”

  The morning air was still almost cool. As we neared the peak, a breeze came down the narrow valley we climbed, and a chill ran down my back.

  Reaching the summit, I nearly jumped out of my skin to find three of the native laborers standing atop the ledge that overlooked the wadi.

  At first, the workers were as frightened as I was. Sandy carefully stepped past me and looked to where the young men pointed.

  Poking my head over their bent shoulders, I peered down as well. In the middle of a circle of people lay a crumpled body. What had been a very exotic and handsome face now pointed upward, and underneath was a pool of blood.

  Alec stood over the dead man’s body, mumbling to himself. Dr. Smith, kneeling beside Hat Tem, made a clicking sound with his tongue and said, “He must have fallen from some ways up …”

  Jacob gently placed his hand on Lucy’s shoulder and said, “You shouldn’t have to look at this.”

  “I have seen worse,” she said, in a low but respectful tone.

  I was very proud of my dear friend; she would not play the part of so many typical female characters in the whodunits we had read, who screamed and fainted at the sight of a corpse.

  “Who found him?” I asked.

  Jacob and Alec looked to the doctor. William replied with a weak voice, “Wilma.”

  Jacob said, “She went into hysterics.”

  William gave the young man a cold glance and remarked, “I sedated her; it was, after all, quite a shock.”

  Jacob looked to me and explained, “The Smiths and I were headed toward the tomb. I had a rock in my shoe, so I stopped, and William lingered with me. Wilma went on ahead.”

  I nodded my chin. “And Professor Kincaid, you were …”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t far. I had stopped to have a word with Carter’s people about allowing you inside Tutankhamu
n’s tomb.”

  “How very kind,” I said in a pleasant, but flat voice.

  “What about the workers?” asked Lucy.

  Jacob told us, “They hit the spot after Wilma found him. Her screams sent some of them running before they even laid eyes on the body.”

  Alec threw his hands in the air. “They’ll all say it’s some bloody curse.”

  Dr. Smith remarked, “Someone will need to go back to the hotel and tell Mrs. Keeley; perhaps I should—”

  There was a flash of anger in Alec’s voice when he said, “What do you mean by that?”

  From behind me, I heard a gasp and turned to see Arthur. His wide eyes, magnified by his thick glasses, appeared most unreal. Stammering, he asked in a soft whisper, “What’s happened?”

  Jacob pointed toward the cliff face and told him, “Hat Tem fell …”

  I leaned close to Lucy and said, “Or, that is what we are to think has happened.”

  I made it a point to travel back to the East Bank with Dr. Smith. Sandy took my hint, and he remained behind and allowed the man the use of his rickshaw.

  The locals whisked us down the Theban Hills to the spot where the once-gleaming black sedan, now covered in dust, waited for us.

  Once in the automobile, Dr. Smith sat beside me and said, “This is good of you. I appreciate the lift.”

  “Think nothing of it,” I remarked and then turned my head to Lucy.

  A puzzled expression came upon her face as I moved my eyebrows up and down and looked to the doctor. Then she nodded and asked, “I am curious, Dr. Smith, were Mrs. Keeley and Hat Tem acquainted?”

  Smith hesitated for a moment. “Indeed. You have probably heard that Hazel dabbles a bit in the art business. I think she’s helped Hat Tem in the past sell some little … curiosities, that he’s come across. His sister—oh the poor dear—is one of the hotel maids, and I think she is fiercely loyal to Hazel. What a shock this will be.”

  I asked, “Why was the professor so … angered by your suggestion of informing Mrs. Keeley about the accident?”

  The man squirmed a bit. “Well, you see—oh, this is just awful of me to share. I suppose Hazel hasn’t the best reputation in the first place, so … well, the night of the big party, or rather the next morning, I saw Hat Tem leaving Hazel’s room. She caught sight of me and closed the door as quick as she could. And well, the look on his face, well, it told a story. Shame is easily recognized.”

  I nodded my chin. “Dr. Smith, would you tell us about the party? I am most curious.”

  The friendly man bit his lip and tapped his fingertips together. “Well, it was quite a night. Wilma doesn’t drink spirits, so, of course, neither do I. However, as this was quite the celebration, I had a bit of champagne. It went right to my head.

  “Hat Tem was there, which was unusual, but it was such an event. Percy had invited Hazel, which came as a bit of a shocker; we had all thought that tryst had run its course. After all, he and—well, I think you know all about that.

  “I believe Martha was caught off guard, but she and Hazel played nice. People don’t give Martha the credit she deserves. Well, there was a good deal of congratulations, boasting, and the liquor flowed.

  “Martha acts all audacious, but watch her glass of an evening. She sips her drinks and plays up her character. However, on this night, she had her fair share to drink. Percy was always at Hazel’s side, and it was rather an awkward show.

  “Then, poof, he disappeared. Hazel was lost in a bit of a fog, but then she realized Percy was gone. She asked us each if we had seen him, but my Wilma was the only one who still had a sharp mind. Percy had just been out of pocket for a few minutes, yet Hazel seemed very … paranoid.

  “Your guide, Sandy, strolled in, very late in the evening, and Hazel gave him the stink eye, I’ll tell you that …” His voice trailed off and he blushed a bit.

  Lucy remarked, “How odd, Sandy said he was playing cards that night.”

  Dr. Smith said, most agreeably, “Oh yes, he was playing cards, at the hotel. In fact, Major Baxter remarked that Sandy was off his game.”

  This was an interesting detail. I asked, “Tell me, was Percy seen after Sandy arrived?”

  “No, no, he had left ... and I think Hazel’s ego was bruised.” Smith’s mouth twitched, and hesitantly, he concluded, “Wilma saw her grab Hat Tem by the wrist and walk him out of the parlor … then, the next morning, there he was, leaving her room.”

  The sedan was nearing the Nile’s bank. I felt safe that if I irritated the good doctor, we could part ways with him before crossing the river. “And what of your interaction with Percy?”

  Smith let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, that … I have to admit, Percy had gotten under my skin. As I have said, I had a few glasses of the bubbly, and it got the better of my tongue.”

  “How is it he had ‘gotten under your skin’?” I asked as the automobile came to a gentle stop.

  Smith quickly flung the sedan’s door open and bolted out. I watched the man’s eyes dart around a bit, and there was a pained expression on his face, but in an instant, it eased into a childlike smile. “Percy had a sharp tongue and a mean-spirited wit; he had made a number of ugly quips about my Wilma. I took offense and told him so.”

  I realized in that instant that sometimes being lied to is just as helpful as being told the truth. It was clear that Dr. William was capable of deception, although not convincingly.

  “I see. Thank you, Doctor,” I replied with an approving nod.

  Lucy watched with astonishment as Hazel entered the Indigo Court and proceeded to her regular table.

  “By George, you were right, she appears completely unfazed by Hat Tem’s death. It is just teatime as usual.”

  “Yes. I suspect that Hazel is quite unfazed by death in general,” I murmured.

  Knowing that the woman would stroll straight through the center of the room, I had asked for a little table that was tucked in a corner. After Hazel sat and arranged herself as if preparing for a portrait, she slowly gazed across the room.

  Before we were in her sights, I looked to Lucy and said, “Talk. We have to act natural; I don’t want her think we were waiting for her.”

  Lucy’s brow arched. “But we were—oh, yes. You want to have a chance encounter, take her off her guard as they say.”

  “I suspect she is always on her guard, but yes.” I fell silent as, from the corner of my eye, I saw a waiter coming toward our table.

  The fellow gave a slight bow and told us that Mrs. Keeley had invited us to join her. We did so, promptly.

  Hazel spoke a quick greeting and then asked, “Isn’t it awful, such a tragic accident.”

  I nodded and replied, “But can we be sure that it was an accident?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you have the mind of a sleuth. I suppose, to you, most accidents appear to be foul play?” said Hazel with poorly masked condescension.

  Ignoring the insult, I said, “Perhaps you could put my mind to rest on the matter.”

  Hazel seemed momentarily surprised by my remark. “Me? How so?”

  “The night of the party, can you tell me, in what order did the guests leave? From what I have gathered, Percy gave no indication that he was turning in; he was just gone, but in what order did the rest retire?”

  Hazel’s large grey eyes narrowed. “How will that convince you that Hat Tem’s death was a simple accident?”

  “Percy seems to have vanished that night. What if Hat Tem had seen him leave with someone, or witnessed some clue he had not yet realized the significance of?”

  I tapped Lucy’s foot from across the table, and she blurted out, as planned, “But that’s impossible, Hat Tem spent the night here with—” Lucy looked to Hazel and covered her mouth with her hand.

  Hazel’s teacup nearly slammed to the table. “I beg your pardon?”

  I lowered my voice and told her a slight exaggeration, “The entire expedition party told me that Hat Tem could not have had anything to do with Percy’s
absence. I was just told why, only this morning.”

  “By Dr. Smith … that gossiping fool—” her words broke off quickly. The wheels in her mind were spinning.

  “So you see, knowing who left when, and with whom, helps me to establish innocence.” I explained.

  Hazel nodded. “Yes, I see.” She took a deep breath and said, “As to the rumor that Hat Tem spent the night in my room, I make no comment.” She paused for a long moment. “The departures of the guests, I think, is of little concern. However, the arrival of a guest should be examined.”

  I smiled. “Do tell.”

  Hazel ran a finger over the rim of her china cup. “It wasn’t until Sandy appeared, quite late in the evening, that Percy vanished.”

  I asked, “Are you suggesting that Sandy has something to do with Percy’s disappearance?”

  Hazel replied, “Sandy was an old friend of my first husband’s. I hate to speak ill of him, but really Mrs. Stayton, just was is the man up to? Sometimes I ask myself, what’s behind that ever-charming expression?”

  Only a few days before, Hazel had told us that Sandy was one of the few people we need not bother being suspicious of. How quickly she changed her tune.

  I put my cup down and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Keeley. You have been most helpful.”

  While many thoughts raced through my mind, Lucy made polite small talk with Hazel. After the appropriate amount of time had passed, my friend and I excused ourselves from our hostess.

  Slowly walking toward the hotel lobby, Lucy remarked, “It is odd that Sandy never mentioned that he did play some part in the party, at least at the end.”

  “Yes; obviously, he is hiding something,” I replied, and then my own words echoed in my ears. “That is it: something was being hidden.”

  I took Lucy by the hand, and we rushed to the front desk. I asked for stationery and pen and wrote a hasty letter to our dragoman.