Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [9]
“Please don’t feel it would be an imposition. These things are better caught early. DJ could come to see her when we get back to the hotel.”
Ben shot Lydia a questioning look, and she gave a quick negative shake of the head. I’m not sure Nimmi even noticed, but I did. Personally, I would have taken Nimmi up on the offer if I were sick so far from home, but maybe this young woman was a private person.
They hurried on, and we dropped back. Kyla gave me a puzzled glance. “What was that about? Did you really see them in the airport?”
“Yes. I only noticed them because their niece looks just like a student I had last year.”
“Hmph. Well, it’s too bad she’s missing all this today. She must have been sick when she landed, since she missed dinner last night, too. At least that means the rest of us are probably all right. Nothing wrong with the food.” Kyla seemed satisfied.
“No, the food’s great,” I agreed.
“Well, I’m still not going to eat the salad, no matter what they say.”
“You wouldn’t have eaten that anyway,” I pointed out. Although you couldn’t tell by her perfect figure, Kyla was strictly a meat, dessert, potatoes, dessert, and dessert kind of girl.
She just grinned at me. “Yes, but now I have an excuse.”
We reached the bottom of the hill and rounded the corner. To our left, a row of makeshift stalls full of brightly colored scarves, shirts, and assorted knickknacks were manned by dozens of Egyptian men, all clad in the traditional long tunics. Tourists who approached too closely were quickly swarmed, sort of like one of those Animal Planet specials where the foolish cricket ventures too close to the ant mound. Kyla and I veered away before they could spot us.
As we started walking back toward the Sphinx, we realized Anni was right about the angles. We had been closer and higher where the bus let us off beside the road. It didn’t matter though. I heard zoom lenses whirring into action. My own tiny Canon only had a 3x zoom, which was better than nothing, but I admit to a strong feeling of lens envy when Tom Peterson pulled out his big Nikon again. That baby could capture the crow’s-feet around the Sphinx’s eyes.
Nimmi caught up with DJ, and both of them handed their camera to Keith Kim, who obligingly snapped their photo, then handed his camera over for them to return the favor. The small electronic click was still hanging in the air as DJ made a beeline for the row of shops that lined the street, Nimmi trailing reluctantly in his wake. I watched him a little incredulously, but within seconds he was haggling for all he was worth, appearing to enjoy the shouting and commotion. I don’t know how he could even see what he was attempting to buy.
Not that I was watching, but Alan Stratton was the last one down the hill. He’d been the last off the bus, lingering a moment to talk to Achmed, our driver, and hadn’t hurried on his way down. Now, he strolled up behind Kyla and me.
“Picture, ladies?” he offered, holding up his camera.
Kyla gave him a blinding smile, and he blinked a little in the professionally whitened glare.
Have I mentioned that I’m just a little jealous of Kyla? People say we look alike, and we do, to an extent, because both of us resemble our fathers, who are identical twins. My eyes are brown, hers are blue, but they have the same shape, and we both have dark wavy hair and the Shore nose, thank goodness, small and straight. My own mother’s nose looks like a little potato in the middle of her face. Kyla and I are often mistaken for sisters, although no one would seriously take us for twins, regardless of Nimmi’s comment. Like me, Kyla was slender, but she was also fine-boned, whereas I had the sturdier build of some distant farm-working peasant ancestor. I could open my own peanut butter jars, but that was cold comfort compared to being asked to the prom. Not that I was all that bad. On most days, I could even admit that I probably wouldn’t shatter mirrors, but Kyla transcended basic prettiness into real beauty. Going to the same high school with her