The Falcon at the Portal: An Amelia Peabody Mystery (39 page)

"Unless she loved him."

"Do you believe that?"

"What I believe is immaterial. It's over and done with." The desire to pour out his anger and bewilderment to the one person who knew most of the truth was almost overpowering. He couldn't do that, though. Not even to David could he admit what had happened between Nefret and him. A man who had just had an arm or a leg amputated might feel the same, he supposed, the wound too raw to bear the slightest touch.

"It was clever of Kalaan to approach you instead of Percy," David said thoughtfully. "Trying to blackmail him would have been a waste of time. And of course everyone in Cairo knows you and your parents by sight and by reputation."

"That's the logical explanation," Ramses said. "If one were charitably inclined one would assume Kalaan didn't know the truth either."

"But the woman must know. Aunt Amelia said you've been searching for her."

"Not to force a public confession out of her, if that's what you suppose. No one would believe her anyhow. The damage is done." Indignation furrowed David's broad forehead, but Ramses cut him off before he could protest. "It's done, I said. We have several more pressing problems to deal with. I wish I could leave you and Lia in peace for a while longer, but you know the family too well to hope for that! What else did Mother tell you?"

"Quite a lot." David knew when to stop asking questions. He put his hand on Ramses's shoulder and they started back toward the boat. "What the deuce has been going on? Murder, assault—"

"The usual sort of thing," Ramses murmured.

"Yes, quite. Like the forgeries?"

"She told you about that too?"

David grinned reluctantly. "When she stopped for breath, the Professor started in. I felt like a boxer reeling from a series of hard hits to the jaw!"

"Well, you know Mother." He stopped to greet Reis Hassan, and went on, "When she decides to confide in someone she lets him have it all at once."

"I prefer it to her former habit of never telling us anything."

Ramses had not been on the
Amelia
since they moved. The saloon looked strange without the clutter of books and papers that had always filled it. David hadn't had time to scatter his drawing materials and reference books about; the place was almost too neat for comfort.

Lia was sitting on the wide curving divan under the windows; the setting sun framed her golden hair like a halo. One of the servants must have delivered the messages and letters that had come for them over the past weeks; a stack of envelopes was on the divan beside her and her head was bent over the letter she held in her hand. He noticed, because he had got in the habit of noticing things, that it was several pages in length, and that it absorbed her to such an extent that she failed to observe his presence until he was actually in the room. Thrusting the letter into the pocket of her skirt, she ran to meet him. When she freed herself from his hearty embrace, he saw there were tears in her eyes.

"I'm glad to have you to ourselves for a bit," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the divan. "We are dining with the family this evening, and you know what that will be like—everyone talking at once!"

"I'm afraid you are in for several days of exhausting celebration," Ramses said lightly. "Selim has been organizing a fantasia to which the entire village is invited, and Mother spoke of giving a ball or dinner party in your honor."

"She can just forget that," Lia said emphatically. "I refuse— what's so funny?"

"You look exactly like Aunt Evelyn when she's in a temper. A nice little domestic cat pretending to be a tiger."

"She's not pretending," David said. The look he gave his wife made Ramses wish he were dead.

"I mean," Lia went on, "that we haven't time for balls and dinner parties, and no interest whatever in outfacing Cairo society. I find it hard to forgive you for not telling us, Ramses."

"About what?"

"Anything!" She gestured emphatically. "It was bad enough concealing the business of the forgeries from us, but you might have mentioned it when people started shooting at you."

"Mother," Ramses said meekly. "Not me, Mother."

"Oh, well, that's all right then!"

"I'm sorry."

She turned toward him and took his hand in hers. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be scolding you; you've had enough to worry about. Do people really think you were responsible for that girl's death?"

Ramses blinked. Lia was always taking him by surprise. Like her mother, she looked fluffy and sweet and naive, but she had the same gift for going straight to the heart of the matter regardless of tact.

"I remember her from last year," Lia went on. "I didn't know her well and I didn't like her very much, but she didn't deserve to die that way, at the hands ... Oh, Karima. Yes, thank you, we will have tea now."

It took a while to arrange the trays and dishes to Karima's satisfaction. When she had gone, Lia picked up exactly where she had left off. "At the hands of someone she knew and trusted."

"Did Mother tell you that?" Ramses asked. "We don't know for certain."

"It's obvious! She was a frivolous, overly confident woman, but she wasn't stupid enough to wander around alone at night. She was meeting someone, and that someone was not a lover."

"I'm afraid to ask how you arrived at that conclusion," Ramses murmured.

"She was in love with you," Lia said coolly. "And it wasn't you who was with her that night. Therefore—"

"Lia!" David exclaimed.

"It's true, isn't it? I don't know why men find these things so embarrassing! There are only two things that could have brought Maude out of the house that night: an invitation from a man she loved, or a threat from a man who had some hold over her."

"Good God," Ramses said helplessly. His face was burning. Perhaps it was his mother who had mentioned poor Maude's infatuation, but he feared Lia had got the information, along with a plethora of embarrassing commentary, from Nefret. "I—I don't know what to say."

"Something sensible, I hope," said his cousin. "You didn't do anything to encourage her, did you? I thought not. Then why do you feel guilty? Is my syllogism right or not?"

"Was that a syllogism?" He got a grip on himself. "All right, I see where you're going. You've overlooked something, though. What if she received a message purporting to be from me?"

"Unlikely in the extreme," Lia said, shaking her head so decidedly that her bright curls sparkled in the sunlight. "You saw a good deal of one another during the daytime and evening hours. If you wanted to arrange a rendezvous, you had only to whisper a word in her ear. She'd have to be pretty stupid to respond to a written message. Anyhow," she went on, before either of the men could object to this dubious generalization, "too many other unpleasant incidents have occurred for this to be unrelated. I think she knew something about those incidents and their perpetrator. Maybe she threatened to expose him. Maybe he realized her loyalty to him had been weakened by her love for another man—a man whom he had already attacked."

"Loyalty to whom?" David demanded. "You can't be referring to her brother!"

"Why not?" She turned to Ramses, her eyes narrowed. "You thought of it too, didn't you?"

He put his cup in the saucer and leaned back. "Allow me to commend you for having a mind almost as suspicious as mine. I suspect everybody, including Jack. He wouldn't even have to lure her out of the house. She might have been killed in her own room, or in the courtyard. No one looked for bloodstains. The servants don't sleep in the house and the aunt wouldn't notice a full-scale war. He had all night to dispose of the body and return home."

"That would mean Jack was the one who shot at Aunt Amelia and arranged the other accidents," David said thoughtfully. "Any idea why?"

"Mr. Vandergelt suggested one possible motive," Ramses said, "that the accidents were designed to drive us away from Zawaiet el 'Aryan. It was pure luck that none of them resulted in a serious injury. Had one of us been killed or badly hurt, Father might have canceled the excavation."

"That suggests that there is something at the site this person doesn't want found. A tomb?"

"Zawaiet isn't the Valley of the Kings or even Giza, David. It's one of the most unpromising sites we've ever explored; there's nothing there but an empty collapsing pyramid and cemeteries of poor graves. Evidence of a crime, perhaps? Mother does have a gift for finding corpses. 'Every year, another dead body,' as Abdullah used to say."

Lia's face softened. "Dear Abdullah. Aunt Amelia is even more determined to clear his name than David's."

"We've rather lost sight of that issue recently," Ramses admitted. "I'm still not entirely convinced that the attacks on us are unrelated to the forgeries, but I'll be damned if I can see
how
they are related. We were getting absolutely nowhere with our investigation. The point about Zawaiet is that Jack worked there for several months last year. He is one of the most likely persons to have found something, or buried someone, or—or God knows what!"

"He wasn't the only one," David pointed out. "Mr. Reisner and his crew were there too."

"Mr. Reisner isn't here. Jack is. Only two other members of that crew are presently at Giza, Mr. Fisher and Geoffrey. Nefret's ..." It was the first time he had said it. "Nefret's husband."

"1 am indebted to you and Cyrus for rallying round this evening," I said to Katherine. "I am afraid it may be a bit sticky."

We were alone in the courtyard. Everything was ready; the dining table set, the flowers arranged. Cyrus had gone up to join Emerson in his study. I had no idea where Ramses had got off to. For the past few days he had spent all his spare hours in the filthy
alleyways of Cairo, trying to find the miserable girl whose silence had supported the untruthful accusation against him. He had not even accompanied us to the railroad station to meet David and Lia; a rumor had reached him from one of his sources that Rashida had been seen the previous night and he had gone immediately to investigate. When he returned to the house later that day he said only that his informant had been mistaken. I hadn't seen him since.

"I feel certain you are worrying unnecessarily," Katherine said in her comfortable way. "You said you had seen Nefret this morning and told her about the child?"

"I had already written her. I knew she and Geoffrey were staying at Shepheard's; I ought to have called earlier, but I took the coward's way out by writing first."

"You were still angry with her."

"Yes," I admitted. "And not only on Ramses's account. I had always believed we were close, Katherine; why should she keep her engagement to Geoffrey a secret from me?"

"They were engaged?"

"They must have had an understanding, if not a formal engagement. A woman doesn't turn to a stranger when she is in distress."

"Not unless the foundations of her world have been utterly shattered," Katherine murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't believe I know myself. It was only a passing fancy." She gave herself a little shake and returned to the subject at hand. "The understanding may have been quite recent. She didn't question your explanation, did she?"

"No; she said she ought to have known, and that she hoped he would forgive her, and ... That was odd. She never mentioned his name—Ramses, I mean. She kept saying 'he' and 'him.' Geoffrey wasn't there. I don't know whether that was due to tact or his fear of facing me!"

"You don't dislike the young man, do you?"

"Quite the contrary. He is of good family—not that that sort of thing matters to me!—well-bred, cultured, and a first-rate archaeologist. That does matter, you know, especially to Emerson. No doubt it will work out for the best. But we have a number of things to decide. Geoffrey is committed to Mr. Reisner for the rest of this season, and you may be sure Emerson won't allow Nefret
to shirk her duties on account of something as inconsequential as a honeymoon. And where are they to live? Harvard Camp is a bachelor establishment and I don't like the idea of them staying with Jack Reynolds. They had better come here to us."

"You might wait to see what they have to say on that subject," Katherine said with a smile.

A sharp but abortive yip from Narmer informed me of the identity of an arriving individual. Only Ramses and Nefret could get the confounded dog to hush and it usually took her longer than it did him.