Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [103]
He walked past me then turned to give me a hug. Unfortunately, it was the kind of hug you might give a friend.
“It’s really good to see you,” he said, but at least he really seemed to mean it.
“You too,” I said. “How are you feeling? No lasting effects?”
“None at all. I’m completely fine, thanks to you. You saved my life, you know.”
“I don’t think so,” I protested. “I didn’t really do anything.” I shot a glance at his scar again, feeling even more guilty.
I led the way to my tiny living room, glad the place was relatively neat. It had taken three weeks, but I’d put away the last remnants of my Egypt laundry and souvenirs the weekend before. On the wall near the kitchen hung the papyrus in its unbreakable glass, the one I’d bought after the saleswoman bounced it off the floor. It was actually a nice piece, the Eye of Horus, and here, where it was not surrounded by hundreds of other prints, it did not look so garish. Beside it, on a small shelf, sat the gold pyramid he’d given me on Elephantine Island. With a smile, he paused to look at it.
A thought occurred to me. “You know, I never even asked if you had my address. I’m not in the phone book. I hope you didn’t have trouble finding me.”
“Not for someone with my innate and impressive detective skills,” he said with a grin. “Also, Anni handed me your contact information.”
“She did?” I knew I hadn’t tipped her enough.
“She did. And told me she hoped I was smarter than I looked.”
“She never said that!”
He grinned. “She might as well have. She certainly implied it.”
I went to the refrigerator and returned with two beers. He gave me an approving look. “Shiner Bock. A woman of taste and discernment.”
We clicked the bottles together. He was looking at me in the oddest way, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. I’m not sure how long we would have stood there staring at each other, but I decided to break the spell.
“Come on, let’s sit outside. It’s such a gorgeous day. And then you can tell me what happened after we left.”
He followed me to the back porch where I had two lawn chairs and a small iron table. The roses around the patio were covered with small buds and the tomato plants in the raised bed near the back fence were already spilling over their cages. My fat little poodle, hearing the door, lifted her head and leaped to her feet, yapping obnoxiously. I stomped my foot at her and she subsided, tail wagging.
Alan stared. “What is … I mean, who is that?”
“You had it right the first time. She’s a pest. But a pretty good pest,” I couldn’t help adding. “Her name is Belle.”
He scored points by dropping down on one knee and holding out his hand. Belle waddled forward and licked his fingers, which meant nothing about his character at all. She was not a discriminating dog.
We sat down. Belle leaped into his lap, tried to stick her tongue in his beer bottle, which he jerked away just in time. Then she jumped back down and curled up at his feet. He laughed out loud.
“I told you she’s a pest. An old pest. She was a present for my sixteenth birthday, which seemed very cool at the time. Anyway, tell me what happened with Fiona and Flora. I’ve been trying to find out, but there hasn’t been a thing in the news, and Anni hasn’t written me.”
“Well, it’s not exactly something the Egyptians want to advertise. And the press there doesn’t have the same freedoms that it has here. But I stuck around long enough to give a deposition.”
“So tell.”
“Well, Fiona and Flora are being held in jail in Cairo on charges of murder, diamond smuggling, and antiquities theft. Actually, I’m not even sure the Egyptians bothered to file charges for the assault against me, they had so much else to work with.”
I leaned forward. “I heard them talking with Mohammad about diamonds, and they mentioned that Millie had seen some sort of statue. Poor Millie. I guess that’s why they killed her. You know, that entry in her notebook—where she suspected someone of smuggling? I actually thought she was talking about me and Kyla,” I admitted. “I thought she was crazy, when