Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [92]
Anni and Mohammad climbed on the bus, the door closed, and we started.
“Where’s Alan?” I asked Kyla, keeping my voice low.
She raised up in her seat a little, looking over the headrests. “He must have told Anni he wasn’t coming. You know she wouldn’t have left without him otherwise.”
“Where is he, though? Why wouldn’t he have come with us?” I asked. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t explain. Alan should be here.
“How would I know?” asked Kyla. “Besides, I thought you trusted him now.”
“Yes, that’s true. Mostly.” I looked out the window without really seeing. “It just doesn’t seem right for him to miss Karnak.”
“Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe he had something else to do.”
“Like what?” I asked. He was investigating something. Something he had thought of when I showed him Millie’s notebook. But what could it be?
“Okay, maybe he didn’t have anything to do.”
“No, that’s just it. I’m worried about him. Why wouldn’t he be here?”
Kyla looked at me and shook her head. “You’ve got it so bad.”
I refused to be distracted. “Maybe I do. But that’s not the point. I don’t think any of us should be alone with all this going on. We’ve already had two murders.”
“Uh huh. Well there’s nothing you can do about it now. Too bad. You’ll just have to concentrate on your actual vacation.”
I ignored the sarcasm. “No,” I said slowly, coming to a decision. “I’m going to follow Mohammad. I’m pretty sure he’s up to something too. You can stick close to the Carpenters.”
She stared at me, appalled. “Tell me you’re joking.”
I didn’t answer.
“Look,” she went on. “Even if you’re right, it’s none of our business. The Carpenters are nice people. So they hang close to their niece, so what? She hasn’t been well—of course they are going to stay with her. And Mohammad.” She snorted. “For God’s sakes. Even if he is running some kind of illegal operation, what is it to you?”
“He might be the one who hit me and stole my necklace,” I answered. “That makes it my business. Besides, what if he is smuggling out ancient artifacts?”
“I thought that was DJ. Besides, I’m pretty sure the Egyptians are capable of protecting themselves. And you don’t have any reason to believe Mohammad hit you. You suspected Alan of the same thing. They can’t both have done it.”
That was true. I knew now it wasn’t Alan, but I didn’t want to go into details on the bus. “Look, just keep the Carpenters in sight,” I whispered. “You’re right, it’s ridiculous, but just humor me.”
“I don’t want you following Mohammad,” she said. “In the unlikely event that you’re right, it could be dangerous.”
“I just want to know if he meets up with anybody. We’ll be in a public place. What could happen?”
About ten minutes later, we were walking toward Karnak from the bus parking lot. I could see the enormous walls of the temple. From here, they seemed very plain and disappointing.
Then we rounded a row of buses and found ourselves on the Avenue of the Sphinxes.
What can I say? For a few magnificent moments, I forgot all about Mohammad, all about smuggling, all about murder. I was at Karnak. Ram-headed sphinxes, sitting in regal silence on low plinths, flanked both sides of the wide promenade approaching the temple complex. They guarded the entryway against all comers, ancient sentries carved of gray stone. Time, it seemed, was the only enemy they could not hold at bay. A few were only mildly worn, regal faces still watching with sightless eyes, but the heads of others had crumbled back into the sand, leaving only the long lion bodies intact. The voices of tourists, the endless camera clicks that filled the air had no meaning or power here. I stood mesmerized, but Kyla gave an exasperated sigh and tugged at my sleeve. We followed the others.
As always, Anni gave us an educated, thorough tour