Part 21 (2/2)
The Affair at the Temple of Hathor came next to mind. Had it been the same woman? It is the duty of a good detective to consider all possibilities, but it seemed hardly likely that there were two resentful females in league. At any rate, Maryam could not have been the second Hathor.
The incident had, at least, supplied two physical clues. Nefret had given me the crumpled white garment found at the temple. I took it and the torn sc.r.a.p of linen from the drawer and spread the robe out across the desk, determined to subject it to a closer a.n.a.lysis than I had been able to give it before.
It was of plain white cotton and simple pattern-two rectangles sewed up the sides and across the top, leaving s.p.a.ces for arms and head. It had been sewn by hand, rather clumsily. There were several rents, one of them near the hem, where Nefret's arrow had penetrated the fabric, the others along the seams where the st.i.tches had parted, possibly as the result of a hasty removal of the garment. There was absolutely nothing distinctive about it. I felt certain it had not been purchased in the suk, but had been constructed by the wearer.
The sc.r.a.p of cloth snagged on the wall had not come from the robe. The fabric was completely different-finely woven linen, pleated and sheer. It must have been torn from the garment she wore under the robe, when she scrambled over the wall-a diaphanous, seductive garment like the one Ramses had seen in Cairo.
Agile though she must be, and familiar with the terrain, luck had played a large part in her successful escape. If Justin and his entourage had not thrown her plans into disarray . . . An unpleasant p.r.i.c.kling sensation ran down my spine as a new theory trickled into my mind. She must have known of the children's intention of visiting the temple that night. Yet she had risked capture and exposure, for she had been alone and there had been four of them, all young and quick and just as familiar with the terrain.
Unless she stopped them before they got close enough to seize her . . . Had there been a weapon concealed in the folds of that voluminous garment? A single bullet would have prevented pursuit if it killed or seriously wounded even one of them. She had a.s.sured Ramses she meant him no harm, so he could not have been the intended victim. Which of them, then? David? Lia? Nefret? Or was it Ramses after all? He had managed to free himself. Who could tell what her real intentions toward him had been?
So deeply engrossed was I in ugly speculation that I let out a little shriek and bounded up out of my chair when the door opened.
”Expecting a murderer, were you?” Emerson inquired. ”I am sorry to disappoint you, Peabody.”
”Oh, Emerson, I have just had a horrible idea.”
”Nothing new about that,” said Emerson. His smile faded and he caught me in a hard embrace. ”My darling girl, you are all atremble. Tell me your horrible idea.”
Emerson likes me to tremble and cling to him. In his opinion I do not do it often enough. So I dutifully clung and trembled, while I explained my latest theory. I had hoped he would scoff and tell me my rampageous imagination had run away with me; but when I looked up into his face his brow was furrowed and his lips compressed. Slowly he shook his head.
”d.a.m.nation, Peabody,” he remarked. ”I hate to admit it, but it makes a certain amount of sense.”
”I had hoped you would scoff and tell me my rampageous imagination had run away with me.”
The lines in his forehead smoothed out and he smiled a little. ”It has, my darling, it has. The plot would do nicely for a sensational novel, but it is all based on surmise. Here, give me a kiss.”
”What does that have to do with-”
”Nothing at all,” said Emerson, removing the remaining pins from my hair with a single sweep of his fingers and tilting my head back.
When he had finished kissing me, he drew a long satisfied breath. ”That's better. Now then, sit down and tell me what other brilliant deductions you have made. I presume that is one of your famous charts?”
Meekly I handed him the paper. He perused it in a single glance-admittedly there wasn't much to see. ”Hmmmm. With all due regard for your abilities, my dear, I can't see that this gets us any farther. What's this?” He picked up the other list and ran his eye down it. It was self-explanatory, particularly to a man of Emerson's intellect. When he looked at me his expression was a mixture of admiration and consternation. ”How the devil did you get this? Not from Ramses, surely.”
”Of course not. I would not be ill-bred enough to approach him about such a sensitive subject. I don't suppose you-”
”Good Gad, no!” Emerson's handsome countenance changed from bronze to copper.
”Well, then, can you think of anyone I have omitted?”
”I would not be ill-bred enough to speculate,” said Emerson primly. But his eyes remained fixed on the paper. ”Hmmmm. Yes, I remember the Bellingham girl. Dreadful young woman. Who is Clara?”
”A girl he met in Germany. He mentioned her in his letters.”
”How do you know he . . . Never mind, don't tell me. Violet? Oh, Lord, yes, she was in hot pursuit, wasn't she? But I'm sure he never . . . Good Gad. Not Mrs. Fraser! Though I did wonder at the time . . .” His voice rose from a mumble to a shout. ”Layla? See here, Peabody, you cannot possibly be sure they . . .”
”I am not sure of any of them,” I retorted. My composure had returned; it was delightful to engage in detectival speculation with my dear spouse, and even more delightful to see him enjoy the sort of rude gossip he pretends to deplore. ”She saved his life, at some risk to herself, and I a.s.sume she expected something in return. She was a-er-hot-blooded woman. She had her eye on you at one time, I believe.”
”She had her eye on a good many men,” Emerson retorted. ”That was her profession. She couldn't have been the veiled Hathor, Peabody. Ramses said she was young. Layla was a mature woman ten years ago.”
”She does have one of the qualifications the latest apparition must have possessed, however. She knows every foot of the West Bank.”
”And all the men who live there,” Emerson agreed, with the sort of smile I make it a habit to take no notice of. ”What's become of her?”
”I don't know. But Selim will. Emerson, there are a number of other perplexing issues facing us, but in light of my latest theory we must consider the unmasking of Hathor of primary importance.”
As if drawn by a magnet, Emerson's eyes returned to the list of names. ”Mrs. Pankhurst?!”
I HAD BEEN OF TWO minds as to whether to tell the children about my unpleasant new theory. A good night's sleep, a bright morning, and (particularly) the affectionate attentions of my spouse restored my natural optimism and reminded me that they were not children but responsible adults, and that it was my duty to warn them of a potential danger. I waited until Sennia had finished breakfast and gone off to gather her books before I told them.
The only one who took it seriously was Gargery. Like the romantic he was, he had been vastly intrigued by the veiled lady. The others expressed the same reservations Emerson had hinted at the night before, namely and to wit, that the whole thing was a figment of my imagination.
”What made you think she might have had a weapon?” Ramses asked, the tilt of his brows expressing his skepticism. ”I feel sure one of us would have noticed if she had pointed a pistol at us.”
”I am not at all sure you would have,” I retorted. ”With all respect to you, my dear, n.o.body seems to have noticed very much.”
”There was quite a lot going on,” David said. He reached for the marmalade. ”I'm beginning to feel rather sorry for the poor woman. It must have been disconcerting in the extreme to have her performance interrupted by that screaming mob-and can you picture her scrambling over the wall, tearing her elegant robe?”
”Nevertheless,” said Emerson, who had finished eating and was glancing pointedly at his watch, ”we must take every possibility into account. Peabody's wild-er-unorthodox theories have often-er-sometimes proved true. Keep a sharp eye out, all of you.”
As soon as we arrived at the site I found Selim and informed him I wanted to talk to him. He had been a bit shy of me since the arrival of the motorcar, but this morning he had a new grievance.
”When may we give a fantasia of welcome, Sitt Hakim? It should have been done before this. Ramses said he would talk to you, and we have been waiting for you to say when it will be.”
”I am sorry, Selim,” I said, acknowledging the justice of his complaint. ”Ramses did speak to me, and the matter slipped my mind. You know how difficult it is to get Emerson to agree to attend a social event.”
”This is not a social event,” said Selim. Now that he had me on the defensive, he folded his arms and gave me a severe look. ”It is an obligation and an honored custom as well as a pleasure. The Father of Curses will obey your slightest wish.”
”He ignored my wishes about the motorcar.”
”You did not forbid him to get one, Sitt.”
His beard twitched, just as his father's had done when he was trying to repress a smile. I could not help laughing.
”You are in the right, Selim. I have been remiss about entertaining the family. Mrs. Vandergelt wants to give a party for them too, and several old friends in Luxor have sent invitations. But your fantasia must come first. Would this coming Friday suit you?”
Selim no longer repressed his smile. ”I will tell Daoud and Kadija.”
”Now that that most important matter is settled, I want to go over a few things with you.” I unfolded a piece of paper. I had found time to make another list. It was headed ”Outstanding Questions.”
”Ah,” said Selim. ”A list.”
Several of the items were of long standing and Selim had nothing new to add. The purported madman who had attacked Maryam had not been identified, nor had the individual responsible for the sinking of Daoud's boat. There had been no sign of the jewelry stolen from Cyrus, or of Martinelli. Selim's face grew longer and longer as I read on. He prided himself on his connections and he hated admitting he had drawn a blank. The last question took him by surprise.
”Layla? Yes, Sitt, of course I remember her. The third wife of Abd el Hamed. Why do you ask about her?”
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