They both laughed, and then she sat on the seat while he went inside to collect his things. As she watched him walk away, Muriel knew she’d found the best man any woman could ever asked for.
* * *
At three-thirty the next afternoon, Muriel and Ewan made their way to a teashop near Trafalgar Square. It wasn’t her favorite place, but she knew they had tasty scones, and had set her mouth for at least one while they waited for the Egyptologist to arrive.
“Tell me his name again,” she said.
“Edward Lewis,” he said.
She adjusted her hat. “And you’ve never met him?”
“Never.” They reached the shop and he opened the door for her. She went inside the crowded shop. Most of the tables were full, except for one, which had chairs for four with only one of them occupied.
“He’s here early,” Ewan said. “I had hoped we would make it here before him.”
They clasped hands and worked through the crowd. When they were at the table, Ewan said, “Mr. Lewis?”
The seated man didn’t answer. Instead he indicated they should take a seat at the table. A waitperson showed up and delivered a pot of tea without being asked. A second one showed up and deposited a tray of sandwiches, cakes and scones.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us,” the man said.
Ewan offered his hand. “Mr. Lewis?”
“No, Mr. McClacken, I am not Mr. Lewis,” he said. “Mr. Lewis is on his way back to Egypt. He was devastated to lose so many of his treasures to thieves.”
Muriel glanced at Ewan before she said, “And who are you?”
“The thief who took all his treasures,” the man said. He picked up the pot of tea. “Shall I pour?”
When neither of them answered, he did just that, setting a cup and saucer before them.
“What is your name?” Ewan asked.
“To make things easier, why don’t you call me Mr. Brown, and I will call you Mr. McClacken, and you Miss Robertson.”
“This is not a game,” Muriel said. “You’ve just admitted to being a thief. I believe I’ll call a Peeler and have them take you into custody.”
“If you wish,” the man calling himself Mr. Brown said. “You have no evidence to back up your claim, though.”
“You admitted it,” Muriel said, her voice raising in anger.
Ewan put his hand on her arm. “There will be no summoning of the authorities. Why are you here in Mr. Lewis’s place? Why should I believe you that he is on his way back to Egypt? For that matter, why should I believe that you are not the real Mr. Lewis?”
Mr. Brown shrugged. “Why indeed.”
Muriel could feel the tension rolling off Ewan. He was angry, but he was still in control. “If you are a thief, did you not get enough trinkets when you broke into Mr. Lewis’ home?” Ewan asked. “You want the relief we have, don’t you?”
The man took a drink from his cup.
It was obvious to Muriel that he was the one who had sent her the blocks. But something told her he hadn’t sent the relief in the box. That meant there was someone else involved.
“What do you know about Ancient Egypt, Mr. McClacken?” Mr. Brown asked.
“Not much,” Ewan answered.
“It’s always amazed me that the people of that time and place spent their whole lives preparing for their deaths,” Mr. Brown said. “I’ve always been fascinated by that concept. But, they also knew how to live. They left great stories, and, a few scrolls that dealt with—if you will excuse me for saying this, Miss Robertson—sex.”
Muriel felt the heat rise in her face, but she refused to look away. She would not allow him to know that he had embarrassed her.
“There are a few scrolls that Egyptologists have found during the years that depict sexual acts,” Mr. Brown said. “But one, in particular, is most prized by Egyptologists. It was made by one of the lesser-known pharaohs. I’m afraid I don’t know his name, but he had it made for his chief wife. It’s a papyrus scroll, and there is a man who wants to buy it and add it to his collection.”
He stopped speaking and Muriel took a sip from her tea and said, “And?”
“Well, I’m sure that Mr. Lewis found it with the cache of things he brought back after his last expedition.”
“Then it would be with the things you stole from his house,” Muriel said.
“Yes, I thought it would, but it wasn’t,” Mr. Brown said.
Ewan clicked his tongue over his teeth and said, “Why the hell are you bothering us?”
“Rumor has it that the two of you are good at finding things,” he said. “I heard about the Fortuna Affair. You figured out the mystery there.”
He paused, as if he expected them to say something. When they didn’t, he said, “I want you to find the papyrus for me. I thought Mr. Lewis had it, but he didn’t. Find it, and I won’t kill the people you love, Connie, Mrs. Haskell, Mr. Holmes.”
Muriel’s blood ran cold. “What are you saying?”
He slowly sipped his tea. Muriel felt as if he were trying to build up tension, make them nervous.
“I believe Miss Robertson asked you a question,” Ewan said.
“Yes, she did,” Mr. Brown said. “You see, Miss Robertson, I have one good skill, and that is getting people to do what I want. I have dreams of being rich, and someone I know asked me to see if I could find the papyrus. If I did, he would buy it from me.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Muriel asked.
“I’m a lazy person, Miss Robertson,” Mr. Brown said. “I asked around to see who could help me, and I heard your name quite a bit, Mr. McClacken. I want your help.”
“But you don’t want to pay me,” Ewan said.
“Lazy and cheap,” Mr. Brown said with a laugh.
“But ruthless,” Ewan said.
“Yes, I do have an evil streak.” He shrugged. “Crime has been good to me, Mr. McClacken. I intend to keep profiting from it for a very long, long time.”
Muriel watched as he took a few sandwiches from the tray and ate them.
“You’ll kill them if we don’t find it, won’t you?” Muriel asked.
“Yes, I will,” he said.
“What if we can’t find it?” Ewan asked.
“You’ll just have to try very, very hard, Mr. McClacken,” Mr. Brown said. “I’ll give you a good start. I asked Mr. Lewis if he had recovered the scroll. He said no, but there were two other Egyptologists on his expedition. One of them remained in Egypt. The other is Mr. Seeps. He lives in Oxford, although Mr. Lewis didn’t know exactly where. I’m sure you can find it. Shall I give you two weeks?”
“You’re crazy,” Muriel said.
“I’ve been accused of being afflicted with that condition a few times,” Mr. Brown said. “But it really doesn’t matter, does it? You’ll do as I ask because I can assure you, although I am lazy, and cheap, the one thing I am not, is afraid to take another life. Keep that in mind, and look very, very hard for what I want. Meet me back here in two weeks, at this exact time.”
He left, and when the waitperson came back with a bill, Muriel couldn’t help but laugh. “He couldn’t even pay for the tea.”
“Oh, he’ll pay before it’s all over,” Ewan said. “Something tells me that Mr. Lewis is not on his way back to Egypt. I’m sure he’s dead because he didn’t have what Mr. Brown wanted. I’m going to make sure he pays for Mr. Lewis’ death. And I’ll be damned if he gets his hand on that papyrus, I can tell you that.”
Chapter 10
“How are we going to find this man?” Muriel sat back in her bed and stared out the window.
“Well, he’s an academic and he lives in Oxford,” Ewan said. “A little more than an hour on the train and we can make inquiries at the University. Of course, there is no reason why Mr. Seeps might take us into his confidence. We may go on a wild goose chase.”
Muriel continued to stare out the window. “There is also the fact that if we go in and bombard Mr. Seeps with questions he w
ill, well, question our motives. But, if we go in and say we want to interview him about a find he made, he might be willing to toot his own horn.”
“We pretend to be newspaper people?”
Muriel laughed. “You are the newspaper person. I am the assistant who will be taking notes. He would never believe there would be a female newspaper employee.”
“True,” Ewan said. “But I’m not sure if he would believe I would have an assistant, either. Do reporters have assistants?”
“I doubt it,” Muriel said. “What do you think we should do?”
“Well, I think we should kiss goodnight, sleep on it and then come up with a plan on the train tomorrow afternoon,” he said, “I’m going by the museum before we leave to see if anyone can tell me more about Mr. Seeps. I don’t want to go in there looking like I don’t know anything about him.”
“That would make him rather suspicious,” she said.
The words were barely out of her mouth when Ewan tackled her and started to kiss her, his lips roaming around her face, neck and shoulders. Muriel giggled as he continued his sweet assault.
She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his lips. “I wish you could stay tonight,” she said.
“Me, too,” he replied. “But I’ll be just next door.”
She was happy about that. After they’d had tea with Mr. Brown, they’d finished packing up all of his belongings, which wasn’t very much, and transferred it all to what would be their new home when they were married.
“We need a good night’s sleep,” he said. “We’ll stay overnight in Oxford. I’m sure we can convince an innkeeper that we’re married. I’ll stop by a pawnshop and buy a ring.”
Muriel laughed. “How very romantic. Thank you so much for that.”
He joined in her laughter. “I promise I’ll use the ruse to ravish you tomorrow night. And when we do get married, I promise the ring will sparkle like the stars in the night.”
Muriel sighed. “Now that, my love, is romantic.”
He kept his hands to himself, continuing to ravish her with his lips.
“I can lift my skirts if you like,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No, I’m going to leave you wanting,” he said. “Tomorrow night, however, will be a different matter.”
He jumped off the bed. Muriel reached for him, but he sidestepped her grasp.
“Be ready around eleven,” he said. “That will give us time to get to the station and make the afternoon train.”
“Tease,” she said, and then she pouted.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said. “Good night, my love.”
“Good night, my love,” she repeated.
When he was gone she settled down into the pillow and worried about Mr. Brown. What might happen if Mr. Brown attacked one of their loved ones while they were in Oxford? He said they had two weeks, but the man was holding them hostage, and he was not to be trusted.
She knew her thoughts were out of sync with events, but she still worried. Tomorrow morning, before they left, she would visit John-John and ask him to keep an eye out for any spot of trouble. That would make her feel better while they were in Oxford.
* * *
The sprawling campus of Oxford stretched out before them.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” she asked.
He named off a building and pointed to the west. “Now, let’s go over the plan again.”
“You’re going to go into Mr. Anthony Seeps office and ask him about interviewing him about his recent finds,” she said. “One of the things you’re going to mention is the erotic scroll that Mr. Brown is interested in, without mentioning Mr. Brown, of course.”
“Of course,” he said. “And?”
“The idea is that he will take you out of his office, to whatever store room has his treasures,” Muriel said. “While you’re there, I’m going to sneak inside and do a little search, to see if I can find anything that might pertain to the scroll.”
“Very good,” he said. He took her hand as they started to walk across the University.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “So green, and the buildings are so old and stately. It’s so different from London, with all its fog and all the people crowding onto the streets.”
“Take a deep breath,” Ewan said.
Muriel did as he asked.
“What do you smell?” he asked.
“Grass, and flowers,” she said.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” She squeezed his hand. “This makes me want to live somewhere like this.”
“Or vacation someplace like this,” he said. “One of the gentlemen I spoke with at the museum this morning offered me his house here for the next few nights,” Ewan said. “We don’t have to worry about landlords or people in the next room hearing us. We have a place all to ourselves.”
She jerked to a stop and pulled on his hand. “Someone you just met offered you a house?”
“I worked with him on another case,” he said. “He wasn’t there when I went in the day before, but he was there yesterday. When he heard where I was going, he said there was no sense in me paying for an overnight stay.”
“How fortuitous,” Muriel said. She leaned into him. “That means you can spank me and I can be loud.”
“Yes, that’s what it means,” he said. “At least that’s what it means after we’re done here at the university.”
“Then by all means, let’s hurry through things here so we can get to our accommodations,” Muriel said.
They passed several large buildings and went through two large arches before they stopped someone and asked for directions. Once they were inside the building, Ewan pulled her off to the side.
“Stay down here until you see us come down, and then go upstairs, room 203,” he said. “I hope he doesn’t lock the door. In fact, I’ll try to distract him enough that he won’t. If the door is locked, though don’t force your way in. That might attract attention that we don’t want. If that happens sit downstairs and wait for me.”
“How fun,” she said. “I always love to sit and watch someone else do all the work, or should I say all the fun stuff.”
He laughed and then kissed her gently. “Don’t put yourself in peril,” he said.
“I won’t,” she said. Muriel smiled at him, and made sure to keep the word promise out of her words. She watched as he climbed the stairs. She glanced around and found a chair sitting near an office door. She sat down and smoothed down her skirts.
This was such a strange situation, and it had all started with blocks that spelled out papyrus. It was definitely out of the ordinary. Mr. Brown had not really admitted he’d sent the blocks. Was there someone else involved in this? Muriel hated not knowing exactly what was happening.
But that was the nature of a mystery, right? You sifted through the clues and the facts and figured out the solution. She just prayed they would get to the bottom of things before someone was hurt.
She heard Ewan’s voice echo in the stairwell. Another man’s voice sounded right after his. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she could tell they were getting closer and closer. She wished she had a book so she could concentrate on it, and not look at the men as they walked in front of her. So far no one had approached her and asked why she was sitting in the hallway. If they did, if Mr. Seeps came up to her, what would she say?
“I’m just waiting for someone,” sounded good, but when he asked whom she was waiting on, what would she say? Maybe she should get up and study the names on the doors, so she had something to say when someone asked.
Just as she stood up from the chair they made the landing. She sat back down and held her breath, working scenarios and names through her mind as to what she would say. But she didn’t have to worry about anything, because they turned and went the other direction, toward the door where she and Ewan had entered.
Ewan waved his hand behind him and she got the mes
sage immediately. She climbed the stairs as quickly as possible. She was out of breath by the time she came to room 203. She put her hand on the knob, and was a little surprised when it turned. She pushed her way inside and closed it after her.
The office was piled high with books and boxes. There was no way she would be able to go through them all, and she wasn’t exactly sure how to start. She went to the desk and glanced down. There were lots of papers, but there were no scrolls, or no reliefs like the one she’d received of the pharaoh with the elongated phallus.
The books, she thought, wouldn’t do much good, so she decided to go through the boxes. She felt a bit like a thief as she moved aside rocks and figurines, all of them fully clothed.
At the middle of the third box she found a scroll, or at least that’s what she thought it was. It was wrapped in a velvet pouch closed with a drawstring. It seemed out of place amongst the figurines and other things.
Still feeling somewhat bad about what she was doing, Muriel opened the pouch and looked inside. It was definitely a scroll. She took it out and gently unrolled it. It was blank inside. There were no hieroglyphs, or any other sort of writing. The surface was coarse.
The fact that it was blank seemed odd to her. Why would someone take such care of this piece of papyrus when it contained no words?
She didn’t have time to think about it now. There was no telling how long Ewan would keep Mr. Seeps away from his office. She put the scroll back in the pouch, and then put it back in the box.
One more turn around the bookcases, one more look in the boxes, didn’t turn up anything of interest. She turned toward the door, and then looked back to make sure nothing seemed out of place to her. It looked the same to her, but would it look the same to Mr. Seeps? She hoped so.
Muriel eased out the door. There was no one in the hallway, or on the stairs. She took up a spot on the same seat where she’d been before. She wasn’t sure how long it would take Ewan to come back, but at least she’d taken a look upstairs, found nothing, and would be waiting on him when he returned.
Muriel’s Adventures Page 12
