Phantoms of the Pharaoh Read online

  "I understand," said Frances. "I imagine dinner will be ready about now."

  Fowler looked at his watch.

  "Actually, we're a bit late," he said. "I make it past six. Shall I have dinner served on the upper deck?"

  "No, I think everyone could probably benefit from a good meal in the dinning room. I think we've made good use of it. Perhaps you could let me send the telegram now?"

  Fowler nodded and stood up. He gathered up the papers in front of him and then put the stolen jewelry and other artifacts into the rucksack.

  Twenty-Four

  Fowler returned from the officers' quarters and found Frances and Florence waiting for him on the upper deck. Everyone was up there, but it was a quiet and somber environment.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," said Fowler, "if I may have your attention."

  He waited as they guests gathered around him.

  "Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for your cooperation in this investigation. We have had the opportunity to interview you all, and we thank you for your patience. I know it has been a trying day. As such, I have instructed the kitchen to provide you all with a memorable five course meal. You make your way down to the dining room at your leisure and dinner service should start at six thirty. That's in about ten minutes."

  "When are the Cairo police going to get here," asked Orpha, "so that we can put this horrid incident behind us?"

  Fowler looked at her and smiled.

  "I haven't heard yet from the captain, but I should imagine that they're unlikely to get here until after midnight. I'll inform you all as soon as I'm able."

  There were no more questions as everyone made their way downstairs towards the dining room. Everyone except for Fowler, Frances and Florence.

  "Come with me Frances," said Fowler, "and let's get that telegram sent."

  Frances and Florence followed Fowler to the stern of the boat and up a flight of stairs to the helm, where the captain greeted them with a broad smile. His black beard was still impeccable.

  "Lady Marmalade would like to send a telegram. Quite urgently, if you don't mind."

  "Of course, my Lady," he said, bowing slightly at Frances.

  "Have you heard from Cairo?" asked Fowler as they moved toward the telegraph machine which was operated by one of Captain Badawi's officers.

  "We just received information earlier. The storm was one of the worst in recent memory. All their mechanical systems, in their boats, and cars have been clogged by the dust and sand. They're working round the clock to fix them, but they don't imagine they'll be here until early in the morning. They're hoping for six," said Badawi.

  Fowler nodded.

  "That's a pity," he said.

  "It is," agreed Lady Marmalade, "we'll have to remain vigilant tonight."

  "Hasani," said Captain Badawi.

  A young and slim Egyptian stood up erect as if someone had just poked him with a sharp pin.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Lady Marmalade needs to send a telegram. It is of the highest importance. Make sure it gets to its destination, and report immediately when the reply comes in."

  "Yes, sir," Hasani answered. "My Lady."

  He looked over at Frances and sat down at his telegraph machine. Fowler brought up a hard wooden chair for Frances to sit on. She thanked him and sat down. He offered one for Florence but she declined. She stood behind her friend. Hasani looked at her. He placed the headphone over his head and readied his finger to tap the code out.

  "Send it to Scotland Yard, care of Chief Inspector Devlin Pearce."

  Hasani started tapping away. When he was finished he looked back at Frances.

  "All information related to individuals below, stop. Samuel Newton, American, New York, Dob 12 January 1885, London, stop. Maurice Gabberdeen, British, London, Dob 7 May 1902, Bristol, stop. Nigel Durmott, British, London, Dob 29 April 1912, Swansea, stop. Simon Gragg, British, London, Dob 9 October 1923, Grimsby, stop. Orpha Bendled, British, London, Dob 15 March 1878, London, stop."

  Frances paused for a moment to allow Hasani's vibrating finger to catch up with her.

  "Specifically, relations, any all, Arthur Vipond et alia, Howard Trenglove et alia, stop. Solving murder, stop. Urgent, stop."

  Frances paused again and looked at her friend. Florence looked down at her.

  "What about Mahulda?" asked Florence.

  "I don't think she did it. In any event I think Pearce will look into her as she's related to Orpha. We'll see."

  Florence shrugged.

  "Then I can't think of anyone else."

  Hasani stopped his tapping and looked up at Frances.

  "That's it," she said to him smiling.

  He nodded and finished the message. Frances stood up. Fowler came across the room having spent the time talking with Captain Badawi.

  "You must be starved, Frances," he said. "Shall we go to dinner."

  "Nothing would please me more," she answered, looking at Florence.

  "Splendid idea," said Florence.

  Twenty-Five

  Everybody was on the upper deck enjoying the warm late evening. It was about nine, and the stars were twinkling and the inky black Nile was as still as glass. Frances looked off the starboard side and looked over at the ruins of Memphis. Not that she could see them, they were about a mile inland, past the lush vegetation that drank deeply from the river. There weren't many lights on that side of the embankment and they weren't exactly docked. But she felt badly for her friend Florence.

  What should have been a memorable month long holiday for the two of them had turned into a blasted murder investigation. Frances was tiring of investigating murders and other crimes. Looking at the dead, and more specifically the murdered was becoming wearisome. Having to deal with human foibles and atrocities was taking its tolls. And yet it seemed she couldn't travel far before the grim reaper knocked on her door and delivered another murdered body for her perusal and solution.

  "Lovely night, isn't it?" asked Florence.

  "It's wonderful, Flo, just wonderful. I only wish we were still following the itinerary for the holiday."

  Frances kept her gaze out of over the plains of Saqqara. It was still and quiet. By this time the ruins would have been closed to visitors for the day. Florence put her hand on her friend's shoulder.

  "It can't be helped," she said, looking at Frances and smiling at her. "I would have preferred that no one had been murdered frankly, but now that has happened, I'm more interested in finding justice for poor Abigail."

  "Yes, the poor thing. Naïvely trying to do what's right. She shouldn't have been punished for that. You know what I'm going to do?"

  "No," said Florence.

  "I'm going to ask Perry to see if he can't spare a couple of men to watch the cabin hallway during the night to ensure that nothing nefarious takes place once we've all gone to bed."

  "I think that's a good idea."

  "Shall we get a drink?" asked Frances.

  "I could use one," said Florence. "It's been quite the grueling day."

  They walked over to the bar where Jafari was making up drinks for whoever wanted. Even though they had only arrived a half hour or so onto the upper deck, most everyone was making liberal used of the beverages Jafari was happy to offer.

  Samuel had drunk two whiskeys already and Maurice had matched him. They were looking out over the port side towards the city of Helwan. The lights from that city were more enchanting, like the flickering beads of a belly dancer as she danced under the moonlight. The two of them stood close together, speaking in whispers that no one else could hear.

  Towards the bow of the ship, the same band from the night before played. Only this time they played more somberly, more carefully, as if not to wake the dead. Nigel sat on a divan by himself, withdrawn, and with a long face that nursed a brandy. Likely his second. Jafari smiled at Lady Marmalade, and Florence as they approached him.

  "Two sherries please, Jafari," said Frances.

  He poured them and offered th
em to Frances and Florence. They both took a sip.

  "I think this is just what we need," said Frances.

  Florence nodded and they went over to a divan on the starboard side, where they had sat the night before and placed their Sherries on the table in front of them. Albert was sitting at a divan that was ninety degrees to theirs. He moved up to the starboard corner so that he could be closer to Lady Marmalade. He was quickly finishing his second brandy.

  On the same side as them, but towards the bow sat Orpha, Simon and Mahulda. Simon was drinking a beer, his second one, and Orpha and Mahulda nursed Sherries. Their first.

  Towards the stern of the boat, though it was just past the middle, sat Captain Wainscott and Lady Pompress. Lady Pompress was nursing a second crème de menthe as Timothy sipped on his second brandy.

  "Do you mind if I enjoy a cigar, darling?" asked Timothy.

  Lady Pompress nodded her head, and smiled at him. It appeared as though she were trying to be softer and kinder since her interrogation earlier in the day.

  "I'll go and smoke by the band," he offered.

  Lady Pompress nodded at him. He stood up and went over to the bar where he asked Jafari for a cigar and a refill of his brandy. With his lit cigar and freshened brandy he walked outside the canopy and leaned against the starboard railing and watched the band play with less eagerness than they had just the night before. He was opposite where Maurice and Samuel stood with their backs to him.

  Albert leaned in towards Lady Marmalade and took the last sip from his brandy. It warmed him from the inside, and he felt less frightened and bolder.

  "Do you know when the authorities are going to make it here?"

  He looked around nervously at the other guests, and they all ignored him.

  "I'm sure Perry will make an announcement shortly, but they'll be here first thing in the morning at the latest."

  "Good," said Albert, nodding his nervously. He brought his snifter up to his mouth and took another sip, forgetting that he had already finished.

  "I think I'll have just one more before bed," he said, as he got up and walked over to the bar.

  "Everyone is certainly imbibing quite liberally," said Florence.

  "Can't necessarily blame them," said Frances, "after all, it has been a very trying day, and I'm sure they all just want to have this behind them already."

  Maurice and Samuel walked up to the bar behind him. They gave him quite a fright as he turned around. He jumped ever so slightly, gave them a stern look up and down and then came back and sat down next to Lady Marmalade. Frances watched Jafari refill Samuel and Maurice's whiskey. Jafari gave them two fingers worth, and as he brought bottle away from the glasses, Samuel took it from him, and poured himself and Maurice another two fingers' worth. He gave the bottle back to Jafari without saying anything and the two of them walked back to the port side railing. Maurice grinning and licking his lips, before he took a good sip.

  "I don't like those two," said Albert, looking at Maurice and Samuel walk to the far railing. "Do you think they did it?"

  France looked over at Albert and patted him gently on the knee.

  "It is possible," she said. "Though I am reserving my judgment until the evidence comes in."

  Albert turned to her.

  "Bloody hell," he said, louder than needed. "When will that be? What if they murder again."

  Frances looked away, but didn't speak.

  "Sorry," said Albert. "I'm nervous. I can't stand the thought that the murderer still walks freely amongst us."

  "I understand," she said. "We'll have everything we need by the time the police are here tomorrow morning. Just a little more patience."

  "But what if they try to murder me while I sleep?" he asked, and he felt his question was a legitimate one.

  "Don't worry about that," said Frances. "I'm going to ask Perry to station guards at the end of the hall all night so that we may sleep secure that nobody will be able to leave their cabin without being noticed."

  "Oh good, jolly good," said Albert. "That does give me great comfort. Thank you."

  Frances smiled at him. Fowler came down from the helm and came over to Frances. He stood behind the table that was in front of her and faced her.

  "I've just received confirmation that the Cairo authorities will be here by six tomorrow morning."

  "Good," said Frances. "Any word yet from Scotland Yard?"

  Fowler nodded, and handed Frances a faded yellow slip of paper. She looked at it, and this is what it read.

  WORKING ALL NIGHT STOP REQUIRED INFORMATION ARRIVING SHORTLY STOP HAVE ALERTED CAIRO AUTHORITIES STOP WILL SEND INFORMATION ASAP STOP REMAIN VIGILANT STOP.

  It was signed Chief Inspector Pearce. She was comforted that he was personally taking on her request. She nodded at the paper in her hand and then tucked it into her purse. She looked up at Fowler and smiled at him.

  "Thank you," she said. "I was hoping you might be willing to do one more favor for me."

  "Of course," he said.

  "I think it might be prudent if we have guards posted at the end of the hallway once we've all gone to bed. Just as a precaution so that the killer doesn't think they have free reign to terrorize anyone else."

  Fowler nodded thoughtfully.

  "I'll do it myself. I'll speak to Anton and we'll conduct the shifts ourselves."

  "That's very kind. I'm sure it will put to rest any residual fears of the other guests."

  Fowler nodded.

  "I'll tell them."

  He walked over to the band and spoke with the singer. They stopped their music. Everyone glanced over at the band and saw Fowler looking at them. He put up his hand.

  "Ladies and gentleman, if I can have your attention please."

  He looked at the each in turn to be sure they were paying attention to him.

  "I have good news. Tonight will be your last night on the Queen Nefertiti. The Cairo authorities have assured me that they will be here by six tomorrow morning. As such, I urge you all to try and have an early night. Additionally, Anton and I will be setting up shifts to stand guard all night once you've all gone to bed. None of you will be able to leave your cabin this evening without Anton or I seeing you. So please rest assured that you will not be harmed overnight and that you'll be able to get a good night's rest. As an additional precaution I recommend that you lock your cabin door once you're safe inside. Lastly, we have received word that Chief Inspector Devlin Pearce of Scotland Yard is looking into this murder at Lady Marmalade's request. I am certain," said Fowler, looking over at Frances, "that we will have the murderer exposed as soon as we hear back from Scotland Yard."

  There were murmurs of appreciation, and Fowler stood for a moment in front of them all for any questions. There were none, so he walked back to Lady Marmalade.

  "I'll go and speak with Anton, and let him know we'll be standing guard all night."

  He smiled at her, nodded his head and left. Albert looked back at her and took a big sip of his brandy.

  "That makes me feel a lot better," he said.

  "Additionally, you have a new room I imagine," said Frances.

  "That's quite right," he said. "The second one on the left as you enter onto the main deck."

  "That would be starboard side then," added Lady Marmalade.

  "If you say so."

  "That's right next to me," said Florence.

  Albert nodded and smiled at her.

  "You haven't told anyone, have you?" asked Frances.

  Albert nodded and Frances smiled at him.

  "Good," she said. "Don't tell anyone either. That way no one will know where you're sleeping, and it will ensure your safety."

  "Ah," said Albert, nodding his head slowly. "I hadn't thought of that, but it's a very good point."

  He smiled. With that knowledge and his third brandy starting to give him courage, he was feeling much better about the whole situation. He only had to make it through one more night, and surely the killer wouldn't dare try anything toni
ght, what with the guards. It would be utter madness.

  Orpha finished up her small glass of sherry and went over and had words with Mahulda. Then she came towards Frances, Florence and Albert. She paused briefly.

  "I'm off to bed. It's been a very strenuous day. Good night," she said.

  They all responded in kind, and Orpha walked away down the stairs. Nigel finished his brandy and sat morosely with his hands folded in his chest, his feet thrust out straight in front of him and his head bowed down. His chin was almost resting on his chest. He looked quite upset and removed from the very environment he was in. Lady Pompress finished her crème de menthe and got up and walked over to Captain Wainscott. They chatted for a few minutes, then she kissed him on the cheek and walked back past Frances.

  "I'm off for the evening too. It's been absolutely ghastly," she said. "Good night."

  "It has been exhausting," replied Florence. "Good night."

  They all wished her a good evening and she left too. Frances was not surprised to see the ladies off to bed early. She too was drained, but she was trying to stay vigilant and sort through all the lies and the interviews that she had conducted during the day with Fowler and Florence. There would be time for rest when she had confronted the murderer and gotten a confession out of him, or her.

  Captain Wainscott came by and ordered another brandy from Jafari. By this time, Jafari was being more liberal with his pouring. This was Timothy's fourth. He walked back towards Frances, Florence and Albert, with the springy step of a man walking along the plank of drunkenness, before he falls completely off. His arm swayed left and right in front of him as the brandy danced seductively up at the rim but never actually spilling off. The cigar, now a stub, was still lit and tucked into one corner of his mouth. He pulled it out with his free hand, and grinned at them.

  "I don't know what you did, Frances," he said to her, swaying ever so slightly on his feet, "but ever since her interview she's been absolutely marvelous."

  "You're talking about your fiancée," asked Frances.

  Timothy grinned and nodded. He was a man teetering on the edge of drunkenness, where he fumbled with the words in his mouth, but managed not to spill any.