Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [30]
‘So you all came back together?’
‘Yes. If you ask me, Mrs Tregarth was relieved to be rid of him and looking forward to a few days’ peace and quiet. All right, Suzi, you’re in fine shape, if you’ll permit me to say so; use this ointment tonight and cover up for a few days.’
So that was that. Unless one of the hospital staff was a stooge of John’s, he hadn’t had a chance to speak to anyone. I hoped.
I hadn’t left a message in my safe, but I found one there when I opened it. It was short and succinct. ‘Please report soonest.’
I screwed up the paper and tossed it into the waste-basket. If Burckhardt wanted to be so damned mysterious and security conscious he could damn well wait till I was good and ready. Anyhow, I had reported, to Sweet and Bright.
I hadn’t realized how tired I was until I got in the shower and let the nice hot water flow over my aching body. It was tension rather than exercise that had stiffened those muscles; I’d been on edge all day. Considerate of John to reassure me at the earliest possible moment . . . Damn his insolence!
Dress that evening would probably be informal, I decided, slipping into a cotton skirt and sleeveless shirt. Everyone else would be tired too. The schedule was really fierce, and tomorrow would be another full day, with tours to Meydum and the Faiyum. I found myself looking forward to Tuesday, when we were supposed to cruise all day. I hadn’t had time to enjoy my little balcony or explore the amenities of the boat, which included a hairdresser, shop, gym, and pool.
However, when I arrived at the saloon in time for Happy Hour I found the others discussing the change in schedule which had been posted on the bulletin board. Meydum and two other scheduled stops had been postponed till the return trip. We were to sail immediately for Amarna.
Most of the group didn’t seem to care, but a few were complaining bitterly – the elderly couple from San Francisco because they were habitual complainers and Louisa because she wanted to use Meydum as the setting for her new novel. ‘This will disrupt my writing schedule fatally,’ she declaimed. ‘I had promised my impatient publisher to have at least fifty thousand words written by the time we reach Luxor. But now – how can I begin? My imagination cannot take fire until I have seen those magnificent ruins.’
I suspected Louisa was thinking of two other ruins. Meydum had never been a city, just a huge cemetery. How could she set an entire novel in a graveyard? Love among the mummies? That one had already been done. Seeing my colleagues gathered at a table nearby, I started towards them, figuring they would know the reason for the change in plan, but then I saw Larry beckoning me. He was sitting by himself in the smoking section. Whitbread and the secretary, whatever his name might be, were at another table.
We exchanged raves on the activities of the day and then I asked, ‘Do you know why the change in schedule?’
‘It has to do with the water level” was the prompt response. ‘This is one of the largest boats on the river; it can’t get through the locks at Asyut, which were designed for smaller vessels, if the Nile is low. There won’t be a problem going upstream, but I gather there is some concern about the return voyage.’
We had been left strictly alone until then. Tact, consideration for Larry’s obvious desire for privacy – or the presence of that tall formidable figure at a nearby table? Ed was facing us; though he did it unobtrusively, he never took his eyes off his boss. He hadn’t been so visible the night before. Had something happened to increase his concern about Larry’s safety? I was considering this, and not liking the possibilities that occurred to me, when a man approached our table. Tall, fair-haired . . . My heart did not skip a beat. My heart would not have skipped a beat even if I hadn’t recognized Foggington-Smythe.
‘May I join you?’ Without waiting for an answer he pulled out a chair and planted himself in it. ‘I felt I deserved a respite after spending the entire day answering idiotic questions from people