Phantoms of the Pharaoh Read online

  "Right," said Fowler.

  He looked off towards the stairs as Anton came back into the dining room with Captain Wainscott following. Captain Wainscott smiled nervously at them as he walked up. He was tall and handsome, but looked like he came more from Scandinavian stock than British with his blond hair and mustache. He licked his lips as he sat down and pressed his thin mustache against his lips with the index fingers of each hand. He crossed his legs over each other and folded his arms in his chest.

  "I was rather hoping to be sitting there with you, than on this side," he said, trying to break the ice.

  "I know," said Frances. "Unfortunately, we're the only ones with any alibis. Until we can remove you from the suspect list, I'm afraid you're a suspect."

  "God, this is just awful. I've never been accused of killing anyone before. I even managed to escape that task during the war."

  He smiled. Frances smiled back at him, and Fowler gave him a big grin. He was nervous and trying to calm himself with humor.

  "No one likes to be accused of murder, Timothy, not even the murderer," said Frances.

  "Good Lord, you're actually considering the thought that I did it. I'll tell you right now, I didn't. I swear to you I didn't."

  Frances nodded.

  "But I understand that you're under an enormous amount of debt at the moment with this trip and the impending wedding."

  Captain Wainscott sighed.

  "God, is it that obvious? Yes, you're right that I'm stretched fairly thin. But I'm mad about Abby. I've never met a woman like her. In any event, the wedding has been all but paid for."

  "Except that Abigail has already threatened not to go through with the wedding at least once. And frankly Timothy, we find that understanding your relationship is quite difficult."

  Timothy looked at them each in turn.

  "Yes, I know she can be difficult. But you don't understand her like I do. She's really one of a kind, but she's had a difficult life and recently her husband died. She's still trying to come to terms with that."

  "That may be, but she has threatened not to marry you."

  Frances looked at him carefully, with a raised eyebrow.

  "Oh hell," he said. "Yes, she has, and more than once actually. But I don't believe she's serious. And once we're together, and I know what you're really trying to get at, my situation will be much improved. But I can assure you that my intentions are pure. Anyway, if it really comes to it and we don't get married, I can always rejoin the army, and stay with them until I've earned my pension."

  "That's one way of looking at it," said Frances, "the other way of looking at it, is that when you found out that Abigail Beckles was carrying with her some valuables on this trip, which had originally been stolen from the Menkaure pyramid you decided to pinch them yourself, and at the same time murder her."

  "The horrors!" exclaimed Timothy, "Do you even hear yourself? Yes, I might have noticed those artifacts when they spilled from her case at the hotel, but so did others. I wouldn't stoop so low as to murder someone for money."

  "But you do have access to the murder weapon," said Frances.

  "Nonsense!"

  "Are you denying that Lady Pompress has with her sleeping draughts?"

  Timothy uncrossed his arms, gritted his teeth and put his hands through his hair.

  "God, you aren't being very nice about it are you. Yes, Abby has sleeping draughts, but they're not mine. I don't use them."

  "Then tell me this, Timothy, will Abigail admit that none of her sleeping draughts are missing?"

  Timothy shook his head angrily from side to side and clutched at his head.

  "I see where this is going. You've already convinced yourselves that I'm guilty. Look, somebody took a couple of sleeping draughts from Abby's medicine bag, and we got into quite a row about it last night when I got back to the cabin. But it wasn't me. Like I tried to tell her last night, why would I take them? I've never needed them to sleep in my entire life."

  "The reason you might have taken them, Timothy, was to kill Abigail Beckles."

  "I can't stand this anymore. I'm getting off this boat. I've told you I didn't do it. I swear to you I didn't. I'm leaving."

  Captain Wainscott stood up as did Fowler and Pung.

  "Captain," said Frances, "please sit down. We're not accusing you although you did have access to the sleeping draughts and motive. This emotional outburst is not going to help you. If you really didn't do it, then please entertain our questions a while longer. We're not the police. But when the Cairo police do come, they might not be as understanding."

  Timothy stood there for a moment and then sat back down. So did Pung and Fowler.

  "Let's get back to the row you had with your fiancée," said Frances. "Did Abigail say when she found the sleeping draughts missing."

  "Well, she takes a draught every evening before bed. She took one on Wednesday night at the hotel, then she went to take her last one last night. That's when she found it missing. Why she has to accuse me is beyond comprehension. Besides, why would I take two, if indeed I did need some help sleeping, which I don't?"

  "You would take two in order to murder Abigail Beckles," said Frances.

  "Right," said Timothy, nodding his head, "I know that now. But last night I just thought the whole thing was preposterous. I asked her why would I take two, when one was all that was needed. I told her that perhaps she was mistaken. She went berserk at the thought that she might have miscounted. But she did recount them."

  "And that only confirmed that they were missing?"

  Timothy nodded his head.

  "Yes, that's right. I don't recall how many she said she had, I was a bit drunk frankly, but she told me she was missing two, and I believed her. Abby is quite particular about those sorts of things."

  "Does she take one every night?" asked Frances.

  Timothy nodded.

  "She does, as long as I've known her she does. As I told you, she's been going through a difficult time lately and this is the only way she can get any sleep."

  "Then it would be fair to say that she likely had close to thirty sleeping draughts on her when she left England," said Frances.

  "I couldn't say."

  "Well, if she needs one every night and this holiday is four weeks long that's at least twenty-eight sleeping draughts."

  Frances looked at Timothy for confirmation. He nodded his head.

  "Yes, that would make sense. But as I said, I don't have any involvement in her prescription medications. I do give her an insulin injection twice a day though. She doesn't like to do that her self."

  "I see," said Frances. "And her insulin isn't missing?"

  "Not that I know of," said Timothy, "at least she didn't complain about that."

  "And do you know how many vials of insulin she has with her?"

  "No I don't, but it must be a few. If I recall correctly we get almost a week's worth out of a vial."

  Frances nodded thoughtfully.

  "You didn't go anywhere yesterday afternoon after we took Abigail back to canopy after she fainted, did you?"

  "No, you'll recall I wanted to go with you three to see the Sphinx, fascinating sculpture, but alas, Abby wouldn't hear of it."

  "Yes, I remember that. And you didn't sneak away after we left, did you?"

  "Not at all, that would only have made things worse. Besides, were would I be sneaking off to?"

  "The Pyramid of Menkaure," said Frances.

  "What for? I had already seen it with Perry," said Captain Wainscott, looking at Perry.

  "Perhaps you wanted to explore the secret chambers and find out if the artifacts had been returned."

  Timothy grinned and then looked from Frances to Perry and then to Florence, grinning all the while.

  "You don't say. You think that poor woman was going to return what was stolen right back to where it was stolen from."

  Frances didn't say anything.

  "That's the daftest idea I've ever heard. All the passagewa
ys and all the chambers we've seen in all of the pyramids are empty. There's no place to hide anything."

  "Perhaps she thought there would be," said Frances.

  "Poor dear," said Timothy, "I don't imagine Albert would have liked that idea."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, come to think of it," said Timothy. "They left after you three had, and took their rucksacks and headed off towards the Great Pyramid of Giza. Their rucksacks weren't empty. In fact, they looked quite full. And they stopped to argue for a bit. Couldn't hear what about, but you could tell they were arguing. Then I lost them when they disappeared round the pyramid. So you think they were heading back to Menkaure's pyramid, eh?"

  Timothy was smiling.

  "I do think that her murder is related to these stolen artifacts that might not have been placed back in the pyramid."

  "So you think they might still be onboard the boat then?" asked Timothy.

  "Quite possibly."

  "You don't say. This is turning out to be quite the intrigue. But it seems obvious to me then who did it."

  "And who would that be?" asked Frances.

  "Why the brother, of course. He seemed upset as I said before, and obviously he didn't want to return the spoils, so he stole them from his sister and then killed her before she could find out."

  "And how did he get a hold of the sleeping draughts then, my dear Mr. Holmes," asked Frances smiling at him.

  "That's elementary, my dear Frances. He stole them from my wife."

  "Perhaps," said Frances. "He certainly does have the means and the motive. We'll be speaking with him later."

  "But why? It's plain to see he did it. Why don't you just go and arrest him now, that miserable little fat man."

  "In due time, Timothy, if you'll indulge me while I conduct this investigation," said Frances.

  "Yes, of course. I'm just trying to be helpful."

  "Did you hear anything at all last night before you fell asleep?”

  "Well," said Timothy. "I did hear the door to the cabin next to us open and close a couple of times."

  "That would have been Albert and Abigail's cabin then. Are you sure it was just twice?"

  Timothy bunched his mouth up to one side and thought for a moment.

  "Well, I wouldn't bet my life on it, but it could only have been twice couldn't it? Once for Albert and once for Abigail."

  "Or thrice if you heard the killer enter before Albert and Abigail came in."

  "Yes, I suppose so. To be honest, I'd wager it was only twice, but it could have been more. I had a bit more to drink than I should have," said Timothy, smiling.

  "You or Abigail didn't see anything odd since you got onboard the Queen Nefertiti yesterday evening, did you? Did you see anyone trying to get into your room, or anything of that sort?"

  Timothy shook his head.

  "Not really. Though Abby came down yesterday just before dinner and she noticed Simon by our door. She thinks he was trying to get in, and he looked startled when she came up to him. But sometimes, if you don't mind me saying so, Abby exaggerates these sorts of things."

  "Did he say anything to her?"

  "He apologized profusely of course, said he forgot which side of the boat he was on for a minute."

  "Did she notice her missing sleeping draughts at that time?"

  "I don't think so, she wouldn't have been counting them at that time anyway, only in the evening when she was preparing for bed."

  "Did anything look out of place in the room when she got in?"

  "I asked her that and she didn't think so, but she was quite upset by it. I told her it was an honest mistake, and easy to make so early on in the trip. You see, Simon's cabin is opposite ours and I can quite easily see how you could get turned around and forget which side was yours. I almost did it myself when I came to bed last night."

  Timothy chuckled at the thought.

  "Poor lad with his scar. How awful. That must be quite embarrassing with the ladies, I imagine."

  "Mahulda doesn't seem to mind," said Florence.

  Timothy nodded his head slowly. He placed his hands together in his lap and crossed his legs over each other the other way.

  "Yes, they are becoming quite friendly together. Good for them. Oh, but to be young and in love again."

  "Is there anything else you might wish to share with us that could help?" asked Frances.

  Timothy looked away for a moment, thinking if there was anything else he could think of.

  "I can't really think of anything. There was some arguing last night though, coming from Maurice's or Samuel's room. Two men arguing about something. I couldn't tell what, and I just happened to notice as I walked by."

  "Which room was it? Maurice's or Samuel's?"

  "I can't say for certain. It was definitely one of the first couple on the port side."

  Timothy closed his eyes, deep in thought.

  "I'm just trying to think," he said. "I was walking towards the back of the boat, and the noise came from my right. The first couple of cabins are empty." Timothy still had his eyes closed. "It wasn't the next one, it was the one after. That's right, just before Simon's cabin. The room directly opposite Albert and Abigail's room. That would be Maurice's, I believe."

  Timothy opened his eyes and looked at Lady Marmalade who was writing some notes down.

  "Is that helpful?" he asked.

  "It might be," said Frances, looking up.

  "Well, that's all that comes to mind," he said.

  "Thank you, Captain," said Frances. "I don't have any other questions for you. Do any of you?"

  Frances looked at her colleagues, and they both shook their heads.

  "Would you mind asking your wife to join us?" asked Frances.

  Timothy stood up. He was ready to leave.

  "Not at all, but go easy on her, she can be a bit temperamental."

  Frances nodded and smiled at him. Timothy walked towards the stairs where he disappeared. Perry turned to Frances.

  "What do you make of that?" he asked.

  "Of what?"

  "Simon hanging around the wrong cabin. Sounds quite suspicious to me," said Fowler.

  "Me too," said Florence.

  "It certainly does require an explanation. But as Timothy said, it could easily have been an honest mistake."

  "But he failed to mention that to us," said Fowler.

  "Or he forgot, or he didn't think it was important," said Frances. "Could you give me a motive."

  She looked at both Fowler and Florence.

  "The classic motive," said Fowler. "Greed. He wants the stolen jewels and other objects so that he might become rich."

  "But how would he know that there would be such things on this trip?"

  "He probably didn't, unless there is some hidden relationship between him and Abigail that we don't know about."

  "That's an interesting idea worth exploring further."

  "In any event, why does he have to know in advance. Couldn't this just be a crime of opportunity. He sees the spilled spoils from the bus when Abigail's bag opens and he fancies trying to get them for himself. He notices that Albert and Abigail have just come from the Pyramid of Menkaure and he goes into the secret chambers to find out if they had left the stolen goods there. They haven't, so he decides he'll take them from Abigail on the boat. He sneaks into their room and decides to poison Abigail and retrieve the artifacts."

  "So you think he has them now?"

  "I do."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  "Then he'll continue to look for them."

  "Then tell me this. Why doesn't he just poison both Albert and Abigail to make it easier on himself? Murdering only the one of them could make it more difficult to access the artifacts if he hasn't got them yet."

  "Not necessarily," said Fowler. "He only killed Abigail because that puts Albert as the prime suspect. He doesn't want to draw any attention to himself."

  Frances nodded her head.

  "I think you might ha
ve a great theory there, Fowler. I'm just not sure it applies to Simon."

  Twenty-Two

  Lady Pompress descended the stairs with elegance and walked towards them as if she were gliding upon cotton clouds. She wore a pale yellow dress, and in her right hand she carried a yellow fan. From a certain distance she was quite a vision. Frances had no doubt that she had entertained many suitors in her youth. But the more intimately you got to know her, the less attractive she became.

  And now, being in her mid-forties, her beauty was starting to sallow, which only gave her unpleasant personality more opportunity to shine brightly. Captain Wainscott was both a handsome and patient man. Additionally, he was a good decade younger than her and still within the warm embrace of youthful vigor. Frances wondered if, in quiet moments, Lady Pompress realized that this was her last chance at love, or was she so self-involved to be oblivious to anything beyond her own navel.

  Frances smiled at her as Lady Pompress sat down. Lady Pompress didn't offer a smile back. She was stingy with both happiness, which one realized she didn't have much of, and social etiquette which, for a woman in her position she would hold much, she nevertheless doled out stingily.

  "Thank you for joining us, Abigail," said Frances.

  Lady Pompress rolled her eyes.

  "I would like it so much better if you would use my title."

  "And I would like it so much better if the likes of you never received courtesy titles at all," said Frances. "Unfortunately, neither of those situations is going to change."

  Lady Pompress flicked her short curly brown hair in disgust as she glanced upwards.

  "Timmy has told me everything," she said, "so you shan't be able to pull the wool over my eyes."

  Frances felt bold. She didn't want to waste time beating about the bush. Rather than a warning shot across the bows, she decided a pointed blow right into the bowels was more appropriate. If she could rattle Lady Pompress' cage, she might have a chance of getting to the truth a little big quicker.

  "Why did you kill Abigail Beckles?" asked Frances with a straight face.

  Lady Pompress' eyes widened and her jaw slackened causing her mouth to open.

  "Why I... I... I didn't," she said.

  She fumbled around for the words for a moment, and the affect that Lady Marmalade had been hoping for had been achieved.