"Yes it is."
"I wish I had bought a camera. Nana never told me we would be cruising down the Nile on the Queen Nefertiti boat."
Mahulda's eyes widened and twinkled as she said that. When she wasn't with her grandmother she could become quite animated.
"I'll be sure to take a picture of you in front of the boat when we dock, dear," said Florence.
"Would you really?" asked Mahulda with increased enthusiasm, smiling as broadly as she had ever done so in her life.
Florence nodded, smiling back at her.
"Oh, thank you so much. You have no idea what it means."
"How does Orpha treat you, dear? You seem quite different when she's not around?" asked Frances bringing the topic back to the subject at hand.
"Oh, she treats me well. She's quite strict though, but that's only because she wants the best for me. Things have been difficult for her too. Every since Pops died, we haven't had much money. Well, we haven't had much money ever really, but it got particularly hard when he died."
"When was that Mahulda?"
"1935."
"I see. Do you mind telling me about your mother."
"There's nothing really to tell. Nana has raised me since I was small. My mother was a prostitute, and she died in 1925. I never knew my father."
"I'm sorry."
"No need," said Mahulda, finding her tongue freely now. "Nana has been good to me. Strict, and she expects certain behavior from young ladies, but she's kept me fed and clothed, and for that I'm grateful."
Frances looked at her and smiled.
"I know a lot of people don't like her. She's difficult sometimes. I understand that, but you see, she's had a tough life, but she's got a good heart. For me, at least."
"I'm glad to hear that, dear," said Frances. "Now, I recall that when my good friend Florence, Perry, Simon and me left for the Sphinx, you were still at the canopy with your grandmother. Is that right?"
Mahulda nodded her head, smiling. Her plainness became quite attractive when her face lit up and she smiled. Frances could see how Simon would take notice of her.
"And did you stay there the whole time?"
Mahulda nodded again.
"Did you find anything unusual while you were there waiting?"
Mahulda scrunched her eyebrows together, cocked her head to the left and stuck her tongue into her left cheek. She thought for a moment.
"Not particularly," she said, "though as soon as Albert and his sister left with their rucksacks, everyone else started leaving too."
"Who did?"
"Nigel, the American, and Maurice."
"I see. Did they leave in that order?"
"I don't really remember. Yes, come to think of it, I think it was in that order. It was odd though. I watched Albert and Abigail pause on their way and argue. I couldn't hear what about, but they seemed upset about something before they continued."
"And which way did they go?"
"They went around towards the far side of the Great Pyramid of Giza. I didn't watch them the whole way."
"Did anything else seem unusual to you at that time?"
"No, not really, although Nana said something that was interesting."
"What was that?" asked Florence.
"She noticed that everyone had headed off with rucksacks, except the doctor of course, but he'd taken his doctor's bag with him. Nana said that nothing good could come from everyone carting rucksacks around in this heat. I asked her what she meant, and she asked me why they would be taking rucksacks with them if it weren't for digging up things or hiding something. I said it might just be for carrying a water bottle and she said if they'd wanted to carry a water bottle they'd have just carried a water bottle instead of a whole bag."
"After everyone had left then, that left you and your grandmother and Captain Wainscott and Lady Pompress, correct?"
Mahulda nodded.
"Yes, that's quite correct. Nana got quite upset with having to wait so long and she kept nattering at me while I was reading."
"That was Death Comes as the End," said Frances.
Mahulda nodded a smiled.
"You noticed. A jolly good book too. I haven't finished it yet, but I like the way it's set in ancient Egypt. Have you read it?"
"I have. Tell me about what your grandmother was upset about?"
"Well, I don't wish to speak unkindly of her, but she can be a bit impatient. She was complaining about having to sit and wait in the awful heat. Though I didn't mind it, I thought the weather was quite fine."
"She could have gone off with us and explored the Sphinx, for example," said Frances, "or the two of you could have gone off by yourselves."
"Nana said she was tired and didn't want to do any more walking. She's really quite fit. I've seen her carry a rucksack and complete the Three Peaks Challenge. Not all at once you understand, but she just became the oldest woman to summit Ben Nevis last summer."
"That is quite an accomplishment."
"Though I think she's not quite as happy in the heat."
Frances nodded.
"So there wasn't anything in particular she was upset at during your wait?"
"Not particularly. Like I said she gets impatient sometimes."
"And you didn't want to go off on a hike yourself?"
"Well yes, actually I would have liked to but I couldn't leave Nana alone, and besides, I'd never hear the end of it. This holiday has cost her an absolute fortune, and I want to make sure she has as much fun as I am. Of course when the other men didn't show up at the rendezvous time Nana started feeling quite put out."
"Tell me about that?" asked Frances.
"Simon arrived just on time I believe, but once Maurice waltzed in later than four thirty, Nana started to take it personally. She said she couldn't believe the gall of some people, especially Americans. She said they were always so rude and arrogant, not caring for others. She said she didn't like Samuel and that he was up to no good. She could tell."
"Did she explain that further?"
Mahulda shook her head.
"No, I just don't think she likes him. She doesn't like Americans in general."
"Why is that?"
Mahulda looked around the room. She craned her neck to look behind her. Then she scrunched her mouth to the side and looked down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. After a while she looked back up at Frances.
"You promise you won't tell?" she asked, her eyes pleading.
Frances nodded.
"What is it, dear?"
"Well, at the turn of the century, Nana had an affair with an American. He swept her off her feet. She was married then too, but things weren't going well. She doesn't know I know this. But my mother found out that Pops wasn't actually her father, the American was. I think that's what led her to prostitution and all the other bad choices she made. She felt like her life was just one big lie. I think that Pops found out, but it was shortly after that time when Nana became bitter and sad. I don't think she ever quite recovered from having her heart broken."
"How do you know all of this?"
"Things I heard Pops and Nana argue about over the years, and a letter my mother wrote to me which one of her friends gave to me many years after she died."
"That's a terribly sad story," said Florence, "I'm sorry to hear it."
"It's all right," said Mahulda, "Nana raised me well enough, as did Pops. They tried their best. I'm just telling you so that you can understand Nana a bit better and why she doesn't like Americans much. She's not all that bad."
Frances smiled at Mahulda and rested her hands on the table between them.
"It's very brave of you to be that honest," said Frances. "Thank you."
Mahulda smiled.
"What were Lady Pompress and Captain Wainscott doing during all this time?"
"They were bickering on and off."
"About what?"
"Well, the captain wanted to go off exploring but Lady Pompress wouldn't let him. She was quite upset and adamant that he
stay and take care of her. Though I felt sorry for him, I mean she seemed quite alright to me."
Frances nodded.
"They argued about that for a short while and then they started arguing about money. Lady Pompress was threatening not to marry him if he couldn't be the man she wanted."
"What did she mean by that?"
"Not entirely sure, but she kept telling him how selfish he was. He told her he'd spent his fortune on the engagement and the upcoming wedding, and so she said he was only marrying her for her money. He denied it strenuously and kept saying he wanted to marry her because he loved her, but I'm not terribly sure she was convinced."
"Did they discuss anything else?"
"Not really. If you'll forgive me for saying so, but I find Lady Pompress to be quite full of herself and self-centered. I tried to ignore them, but they weren't exactly being very discreet. But all they were arguing about was each other."
"Did she call the wedding off at all?"
Mahulda shook her head.
"One last thing," said Frances, changing subjects purposefully. "Does your grandmother have difficulty sleeping? Does she take sleeping draughts?"
Mahulda shook her head.
"No, I don't think so. I've never seen her take one or need any. Though last night, when Simon walked me down to my cabin, when I got inside I think I woke Nana up. She was glad I had come in before ten, but she started complaining about the heat. Like I told you before, I don't think she likes the heat terribly. Anyway, she said she was going to the icebox to get some ice for a face cloth."
"Did she come back with ice?" asked Frances.
"Yes, when I climbed into bed she had the damp cloth on her forehead and there was a cup of ice on the bedside table."
"And Simon," said Frances. "Did he go straight to bed last night?"
"I can't say for sure. He waited for me until I got into the cabin. He seems like quite the gentleman that way. I assumed he went straight to his cabin and off to bed, but like I said, he waited until I closed the door so I have no idea where he went."
"Thank you, Mahulda," said Frances. "You've been very helpful."
Mahulda started to leave but then hesitated. She looked at Frances and opened her mouth as if to speak, she stopped herself, then found her voice.
"Do you know who did it?" she asked. "Or why?"
"I have my suspicions," said Frances, "but I'd rather not say just yet."
Mahulda nodded her head quickly and then stood up and left. Fowler turned to Frances.
"She's quite different when she's not with her grandmother," he said.
Frances looked off after Mahulda and nodded her head slowly.
"Yes, she is. Though it isn't all that surprising how a flower might bloom when taken from the shade of a weeping willow."
"I like how you put that. Tell me, Frances, are you any closer to figuring out who did this?" asked Fowler.
Frances smiled at him.
"We're always getting closer, Perry. What about you?"
Perry smiled widely and flattened his mustache with his thumb and finger.
"Well, I can't say I've ever been involved with a homicide investigation. Like Florence here," he said, turning to look at Florence and then back at Frances, "I like the brother for it. Though to be honest, I think that American chap, Samuel, seems a bit dodgy to me."
"Yes, it's never a good sign when one of your suspects starts out by lying to you."
Seventeen
Fowler had wanted to interview Albert next, but Frances wanted to keep him until last. She wanted to get Maurice in to speak with him, knowing full well that he'd have spoken with Samuel. In fact, Fowler had seen them together shortly after lunch.
Anton came in with Maurice walking casually in behind him. Maurice was smiling, which was not something they had seen on him much at all. It seemed to soften his face and the creases carved into it by years of bad living. He sat down and smiled at them. He crossed his left leg over his right and pulled out a packet of American cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He lit one and inhaled deeply. Then he crossed his right hand which held the cigarette over his left, which was resting on his thigh.
"Maurice," said Frances, "I understand that you and Samuel are friends."
"I wouldn't say that, no."
"But people have seen the two of you together."
"We've shared a few words and a cigarette, but I wouldn't say we're close."
"I see you smoke the same brand of cigarettes," said Frances, nodding at the cigarette in his hand.
"Yes, fancy that."
"I imagine they might be hard to come by in England, if not impossible."
"Not if you know where to look."
"So you've never met Samuel before this holiday."
"Yes, that's correct."
Maurice took a puff on his cigarette and blew smoke off to the left.
"Listen," he said, "I want to help. This is a terrible thing that happened to that poor woman."
"That's very kind, Maurice. You can help us best when you tell us the truth."
"Of course," said Maurice, smiling and smoking his cigarette.
"What were you looking for when you headed off towards the Pyramid of Menkaure yesterday afternoon with your rucksack."
"It's more of a bag than an actual rucksack," he said. "I was going looking to see if there were any other spoils left inside. Perry's story about the jewels and riches in that pyramid fascinated me."
Maurice looked over at Fowler and nodded at him.
"Then why did you tell Simon you were at the western cemetery?" asked Frances.
"Just on a lark I suppose. I didn't feel like I had to explain myself."
"I see," said Frances. "And did you see anyone else at the Pyramid of Menkaure?"
"No, should I have?"
"I think so. Simon, Samuel and Nigel all went there too."
"You don't say."
Maurice puffed on his cigarette and looked at Frances for a while, straining to keep a smile on his face.
"I'm curious, Maurice. You all went to the Pyramid of Menkaure with bags and rucksacks, looking as if you were expecting to find something. Why is that?"
"Like I said before, I was hopeful after Perry's story."
"But you also knew that there was nothing left in the secret passages and the king's burial. What were you really looking for?"
"You can't rid of a man of his hopes and dreams, my Lady," said Maurice, "I thought I might find something that had been left behind, or overlooked."
"I would much prefer you spoke plainly and truly."
"My dear Lady, I do take offense to that remark. I am trying to help."
"Then stop lying."
"I'm not lying. If you're convinced I am, then why don't you tell me what I was looking for."
"I think you were looking for the artifacts that Abigail had taken back into the pyramid, perhaps to leave behind."
Frances watched Maurice carefully. She knew it was a gamble. She had no evidence that Abigail and Albert had actually gone in there to return stolen property, but she had her hunches. Maurice inhaled on his cigarette and looked back at Frances just as carefully as she looked at him.
"Now who's telling preposterous tales," he said. "Where are these artifacts then? Would you like to inspect my cabin? You're welcome to, and you won't find any such artifacts of the likes you speak of."
"We might yet do that."
"Feel free. If there's nothing else."
Maurice was about to stand up, when Frances spoke.
"There is actually. We have a witness who overheard you and Samuel talking in your cabin last night."
"And who was that?"
"Orpha Bendled."
"And what were we talking about?"
"About not finding it, and that Samuel's life depended on it."
"Fascinating."
"Is it true, Maurice? Would you like to confess?"
"Well I would, I certainly would like to confess that I had the radio on las
t night. That must have been what she heard. Ask Samuel himself, I'm sure he'll tell you he wasn't in my cabin last night."
"Yes, I imagine he would. Though the two of you have had a chance to get your stories straight, haven't you."
"You offend me again, my Lady."
"You can stop the pretense, Maurice, and Frances will do nicely thank you."
"As you wish."
"You were the first one to leave last night at right around nine thirty. Isn't that so?"
"I don't recall the time. If you say so. I'd had too much to drink."
"This gave you ample opportunity to get to the main deck and adulterate Ms. Abigail Beckles' milk. Isn't that so?"
"No, that is patently false," said Maurice, who as much as Frances tried, was failing to get angry. "I went to my cabin and I wasn't feeling very sober so I turned on the radio for a bit to listen to the music. The BBC news was being broadcast at that time, and that must have been what Orpha heard. I mean come on, Frances, Orpha is an old woman, and I don't mean any disrespect, but how good can her hearing be. In any event, where would I get the sleeping draught?"
Frances was getting infuriated by Maurice. He had an answer for everything and she couldn't get him riled up.
"You'd get the draught from your friend Samuel, the good doctor."
"As I've said before, we're not friends, and I doubt he'd give me any."
"How do you know he has sleeping draught."
"I don't, you just told me that's where I'd get it from."
Frances sighed and looked away for a moment. She didn't have anything to hang him by, but she could smell the reek of his lies. She looked at him with very stern eyes.
"I promise you, Maurice," she said, in a cold and calculated tone. "I will find the evidence and make sure you pay for your crimes."
"But I haven't committed any crimes, unless that's boundless naïveté for believing in dreams and possibilities."
He chuckled, took the last puff from his cigarette and put it out next to Samuel's. His laugh made Frances' blood boil.
"All right, Maurice. Did you hear any other sounds coming from the hallway or any of the other cabins?" asked Frances.
"Not much, I had the radio on like I told you. I heard a couple of people walk along the hallway. They walked past. A little while later someone entered the cabin across from me."
Phantoms of the Pharaoh (A Lady Marmalade Mystery Book 4) Page 17
