Phantoms of the Pharaoh

by Jason Blacker

  "You mean Mrs. Bendled," said Fowler sternly.

  "Right."

  "What about any of the other cabins? Did you overhear any conversations?" asked Lady Marmalade.

  Simon looked up and gritted his teeth. His hands stayed folded across his chest.

  "Well nothing that I'd find suspicious, though my cabin is right across from Lady Pompress' and Captain Wainscott's. Lady Pompress was in her cabin, the door wasn't closed and I could see in. She was looking in one of her bags for something and muttering."

  "About what?"

  "I don't know. I couldn't hear. She always seems to be muttering about one thing or another. She saw me by my cabin door. I smiled at her, and she came up to her door and slammed it shut. Before she did she said, 'can a woman not get any privacy at all?' That was it. I wasn't even spying on her, I only happened to notice because her door was open. Not my fault my cabin is across the hall from theirs."

  Frances nodded.

  "Your cabin is next to Maurice's. Did you hear anything at all from their cabin?"

  "I heard two men talking and arguing about something intermittently until about midnight when the door opened and closed and then everything was quiet for the rest of the evening."

  "Could you tell who it was or what they were talking about?"

  Simon shook his head.

  "No. I assume one of them was Maurice, but I couldn't swear on it. I don't know who the other man might have been."

  "Do you think it might have been Samuel, the American?"

  "I suppose so. Though like I said, their voices were murmurs. I couldn't identify them other than they were definitely male."

  "Anything else at all during the night?"

  "I heard Captain Wainscott come down to bed. I suppose that might have been around ten or a little before. He tried to enter the cabin as quietly as possible. You can tell, because he turned the key ever so slowly. In any event, it was all for naught. Lady Pompress was up and they had a fight for a few minutes. I couldn't hear any of it, just the ebb and flow of the heated arguments. It finished before Albert or Abigail came down to bed. I don't know which, because I heard their door open and close a couple of times within a few minutes of each other."

  "Are you sure it was only twice that Albert and Abigail's door was opened."

  "I think so. Might have been three times. I'm sorry, I wasn't counting. I just assumed that it was twice because I assumed they came to bed separately. At least that's what it sounded like."

  "They did," said Frances.

  "Then why are you asking whether it was twice or three times?"

  "Three times would indicate the killer entered and would give a much narrower window to the timetable."

  Simon nodded his head and looked down at his feet.

  "Yes, I suppose so. I'm sorry I can't be of more assistance. I really can't say for certain if it was two or three times that the door opened."

  Frances sighed heavily and nodded. That wasn't what she was hoping for. It would have helped to have a clearer time of when the murderer committed their dastardly deed.

  "If you heard Albert and Abigail come to bed, then you must have heard Florence and I come down the hallway."

  Simon shook his head.

  "No, now that I think of it, I didn't hear the two of you. I must have nodded off during that time. I do get snatches of sleep here and there. What time would it have been?"

  "Shortly after Abigail came to bed. Perhaps around ten thirty, though I didn't bother looking."

  "Is there anything else you need?" asked Simon. "They're serving afternoon tea up on the open deck at three thirty." He looked at his watch. "Which is now."

  Frances nodded.

  "You've been helpful, Simon," she said, and then looking at Fowler and Florence. "Perhaps a break for tea would do us all the world of good."

  They all got up, with Lady Marmalade grabbing all the documents they had strewn before them and shuffled them back into the folder.

  "We don't want to leave this behind."

  The five of them walked towards the end of the dining room and climbed up the stairs with Simon leading.

  Twenty

  Frances, Florence, Fowler and Pung all sat together at one table while Jafari served them tea. The spread was vast in its choices.

  "I asked the kitchen to do up a good spread for tea this afternoon," said Fowler, "considering the sad matter at hand."

  "It's very good of you," said Florence. "Nothing quite like a good tea to lift the spirits."

  Jafari brought by a cake stand that had three levels on it. There were plates of freshly cut strawberries, clotted cream, crumpets, scones, jams, sponge cake, lemon bars and shortbread. Jafari placed two pots of tea in the middle of the table as well as four cups and saucers, a bowl of sugar and jugs of cream and milk. There was no lemon. Frances thought about asking for some but then decided against it. What she really needed under these circumstances was creamy, sweet tea, not tart lemony tea.

  At a table close to them, Simon sat with Mahulda across from Orpha and Nigel. None of them spoke to each other. At the third table sat Lady Pompress, Captain Wainscott and Albert. The fourth and last table sat Maurice and Samuel. Nobody was talking to anybody else, except at the Lady Marmalade table. The tables were far enough spaced so that if you spoke in a lowered voice the other tables would be unlikely to hear you unless they craned their necks to hear it.

  Fowler put a scone on his plate, which he broke in half and topped both sides with clotted cream and strawberry jam. He also put a lemon bar next to it. Pung took a warm crumpet and warm scone. On the crumpet he put a thick pat of butter with a dollop of marmalade and on the scone he put clotted cream and strawberry jam. Frances took a single piece of shortbread. Her appetite wasn't what it should have been. She was more concerned with clearing the fog regarding this murder which still hung like thick cobwebs around her. Florence took a piece of sponge cake and a lemon bar and two strawberries. Next to the strawberries she placed a pyramid of cream.

  "The more we hear from everyone," said Florence, "the more it appears like Samuel and Maurice are hiding something."

  "What do you mean?" asked Pung, cutting a piece of crumpet and stuffing it in his mouth.

  "Well, look at what Simon said. He said he heard two men talking and arguing in Maurice's room when he went to bed. That must have been Maurice and Samuel."

  "It could have also been Maurice with Nigel, Tim or Albert. They're the other two men onboard," said Perry, taking a bit out of his scone.

  "No, it couldn't have been Albert, he went to bed just before Abigail, earlier than Simon," said Frances. "Same with Timothy."

  "Do you remember the order in which everyone left the deck last night?" asked Pung.

  "I do. It started with Maurice, then shortly after him Samuel left. A little while later it was Orpha and then Nigel. Lady Pompress left in a bit of huff some time after Nigel, followed by Simon and Mahulda. Then Timothy left, followed by Albert and then Abigail."

  "Maurice could have had Nigel in his room then, I suppose," offered Fowler as he took the teapot and brought it to Lady Marmalade's cup. "Tea?"

  Frances nodded her head, and Perry poured her a cup of tea, and then Florence, Pung and lastly filled his own teacup. That was the first pot finished.

  "It certainly is an option, but I'm not quite convinced."

  "Why not?" asked Pung, as Fowler sipped his plain black tea. Both he and Fowler had theirs black. Frances and Florence doctored theirs with cream and sugar.

  "I haven't seen Maurice and Nigel share many words together since we've been on this trip. Samuel and Maurice, however, have. What's more, they both seem to be trying to hide something."

  "Hide what?" asked Florence, taking a sip of her tea.

  "That remains to be seen, but I believe that by the end of the day it is likely to be some artifact that was stolen from the Pyramid of Menkaure over fifty years ago."

  "You really think Albert and Abigail brought stolen artifac
ts with them to Egypt, to return them?" asked Fowler.

  "It has to be something like that. Most likely Abigail's doing. We'll find out, I'm sure. If I'm right, then I bet that Maurice and Samuel, working either together or alone, were after the same artifact. We just have to know how they heard of it and if they're working together or alone. And why Nigel is looking for it seems to be yet another piece of the puzzle I haven't quite figured out yet."

  "Why bring it here though?" asked Pung. "Surely it would have been wiser if you did in fact want to return the stolen property to return it to the British Museum."

  Frances took a sip of her tea, and nodded at Anton.

  "Very true. The only reason I can think of, is that there are others who know the whereabouts or perhaps the general location of these stolen artifacts and if they'd have returned them in Britain, perhaps they felt their lives would have been in danger."

  "And so what they thought was safer turns out to be just as dangerous."

  "I haven't told you two this," said Frances, looking at Pung and Fowler, "but yesterday evening I told Albert that he looked like Arthur Vipond..."

  "Who's that?" asked Fowler, finishing one half of his scone.

  "He was believed to be one of the thieves who stole the treasures from the Pyramid of Menkaure."

  Fowler nodded his head.

  "Albert nearly choked when he heard that. It was a sure tell that he knew who Vipond was. At least to me he did."

  "He certainly did react strangely," agreed Florence, eating her last strawberry peaked with white cream.

  "He and Abigail went on to ask me about someone theoretically trying to return stolen jewels, and how unjust it would seem if that person was punished for trying to do right by it. I had the impression then, and I believe it still, that they were not talking in theory."

  "I see," said Fowler, "then why haven't we interviewed him already?"

  "I want to save him for last. I want him to sweat a bit so that he is more inclined to be forthcoming and tell us the truth. He knows that he's likely to be the prime suspect. Additionally, I want to get the liars telling their lies early so that come tomorrow they might not remember them as well."

  "But Albert may very well have killed his sister. You said he was the prime suspect, and I, quite frankly, like him as the murderer," said Fowler.

  "Me too," offered Pung, as he ate the last piece of his crumpet.

  "I'm not dismissing him at all," said Frances, "and this whole affair is quite confusing still as everyone, it seems, continues to lie to us to some degree or another."

  "Even Simon?" asked Florence, looking at Frances and sipping on her tea.

  Overhead a colony of gulls flew quietly, staring down at the morsels and crumbs on the tables of the upper deck. The relatively flat, though rippled glass of the Nile's face rocked the Queen Nefertiti ever so slightly, and if you listened closely enough you could hear the water splash against the bow like playful mermaids.

  "Now that you've mentioned it," said Frances. "Simon might be the only one telling the whole truth. At least that portion of truth that he's telling. I can't be certain he's told us everything he knows."

  Frances took a small bite of her shortbread. Her first bite. It was crumbly and full in her mouth as it melted like flavored butter on her tongue. She turned to Fowler.

  "Does this boat have a telegraph?"

  Fowler nodded.

  "It does. Would you like to make use of it?"

  "Not just yet. But this evening, after we've interviewed everyone I'd like to send a telegram or two. There's one way to get the truth by morning, and that's from my friends in Scotland Yard."

  "What are you trying to find out, and about whom?" asked Anton.

  "I want to find the truth about some of the guests on this boat. Those that have lied to us so far."

  Frances looked at her friend.

  "I am so sorry, Flo, that this has happened on our holiday. We'll have to make sure to come out again sometime when nobody's killing anybody else."

  Frances smiled at her and Florence nodded and smiled back.

  "Jolly unfortunate," agreed Fowler.

  "It is, but it can't be helped. I just hope we get to the bottom of this so we can determine who the bugger is that murdered poor Abigail."

  "I'm certain we shall," said Frances.

  "Speaking of which," said Fowler. "I have an announcement to make, if you'll excuse me."

  Fowler got up from the table, dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, and straightened his mustache. He put the white napkin on the side of his place setting and walked into the middle of the upper deck so that he could speak more easily to all of those gathered.

  "Ladies and gentleman," said Fowler. "If I can have your attention for just a moment. This morning, after we found dear Ms. Abigail Beckles murdered, I sent a telegram to the main office of Thoth Tours in London. From what we know currently, it appears as if we might all get off the Queen Nefertiti tomorrow at the latest. Unfortunately due to these unforeseen circumstances that were beyond our control, you are all eligible for refunds or if you'd prefer, future vouchers for this very same tour. The choice is yours. Please let me know when we disembark. Are there any questions?"

  Fowler looked around at everyone gathered at their tables.

  "When will we get off this boat? I'm getting quite claustrophobic, you know," asked Lady Pompress.

  "My dear Lady," said Fowler, "just as soon as we can. Lady Marmalade needs to interview all of you, and we thank those who have already provided that information. Once that part of this investigation has finished, then it's just a matter of waiting for the Cairo police to come aboard and conduct their investigation. I'm sure that won't take long, as Lady Marmalade is doing much of their work for them. Once they've given us the green light, we'll be able to get you off and on your way back to Cairo."

  "And when might that be, Perry? How come the police aren't here already. We're only nineteen miles out of Cairo. Surely they could have made it here already?" asked Captain Wainscott.

  "There has been a terrible dust storm, called a simoom, blow into Cairo this afternoon. From what we know at this stage, they're hoping to get to us this evening. I'll keep you all posted. Please rest assured that we have enough water and food to last us several more days if needs be."

  Fowler looked around at the faces at the tables and smiled at them all in turn. He was competent and inspiring at his job, and that eased everyone's nervousness. His warm and authoritative voice gave them all reassurance. After a few moments, when no new questions were asked, he sat back down with Lady Marmalade and made quick work of the second half of his scone.

  Twenty-One

  After a satisfying tea, Frances and the rest of them settled back down in the dining room.

  "I think what I'd like to do," said Frances, "is interview Lady Pompress and Captain Wainscott separately."

  "Who would you like to interview first?" asked Pung.

  "Let's bring the captain in first."

  Pung nodded and stood up and walked towards the stairs. The remaining guests were still on the top deck.

  "I was thinking of bringing them in together, but then I thought better of it," said Frances.

  "Why together?" asked Fowler.

  "Those two have an interesting relationship and I thought it might be fun to see how they play off each other."

  "If you ask me, I don't see their marriage lasting, even if they get that far," said Fowler.

  "Yes, Captain Wainscott seems to have his work cut out for him," agreed Florence.

  "Do you think they could have done it?" asked Fowler.

  "No, not together anyway. I don't think they could agree on one thing long enough to commit a murder. But separately, perhaps."

  "What would their motive be?" asked Florence.

  "That's a bit of a pickle," said Frances.

  "Lady Pompress has means, so I can't quite see why she would murder Abigail for what she would likely deem a trinket."

 
"Perhaps she has burnt through her wealth already," offered Florence.

  "I don't believe so, Flo. Sir Stanley had a good sum, and from what I know of her and from what I've heard, she isn't a big spender. Additionally, Timothy said he paid for this trip and he's paying for the wedding, so her expenses here are hardly anything at all."

  "Hmm," said Fowler, "I suppose there isn't a good reason for her to have done it then."

  "Perhaps not, but you'd be surprised at the petty reasons that brings some amongst us to commit murder," said Frances.

  "Such as?"

  "Well, in Lady Pompress' case, it could be something as mean spirited as jealousy. But that would only work if Abigail were an attractive woman, but she's not. She quite plain really, and Timothy has shown no interest in her. You're right, I'm finding it hard to determine a motive for Lady Pompress."

  "What about Timothy?" asked Fowler.

  "That's rather straightforward I should think. As mentioned earlier, he is using up what small means he has to marry her. I think he's being a bit foolish about it, but perhaps he loves her and he likes the idea of living in relative luxury once they've tied the knot. However, finding out that Abigail and Albert had some artifacts here that they were carrying around, might have given him an idea. He might have thought it was better to hedge his bets and grab the spoils in case Lady Pompress decides to turn him down."

  "But why would he do that if he's looking forward to marrying her and gaining access to her money?" asked Florence.

  "Because on at least one occasion that I can recall, Lady Pompress has threatened to call off the wedding if he strays from behaving how she wants him to."

  Florence nodded.

  "Yes, I remember that now."

  "He also has means," said Florence.

  "Really?" asked Fowler, looking quite surprised. "How so?"

  "We all overheard him tell us that she takes sleeping draughts to help sleep."

  "Oh yes, I remember that now," said Fowler, "when she fainted."

  Frances nodded.

  "And now we know, at least to the best of our knowledge that there are only two people amongst us that have such drugs at their disposal. Dr. Samuel Newton and Lady Pompress."