The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [41]
‘The body was discovered on the Embankment,’ I murmured. ‘Not in the Museum –’
‘But where on the Embankment?’ Miss Minton demanded, her pencil poised. ‘At the foot of Cleopatra’s Needle!’
‘It is a pity that inaccurate name has taken hold,’ I remarked, continuing to peruse the newspaper. ‘Cleopatra had nothing to do with that monument, which is properly termed an obelisk. It was raised by, and bears the name of, King Thut-mose III. If you continue to scribble in that notebook, Miss Minton, I will be forced to take it from you.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ The young woman closed the book and slipped it into her pocket. ‘Whatever you say, Mrs Emerson. It is an Egyptian monument, though?’
‘Obviously. Pray let me finish . . . This purported scrap of paper found in the hand of the dead man – do you have a copy of the message?’
‘No,’ Miss Minton admitted.
‘Then how do you know what it said? For you have quoted it here, word for word – and in English translation.’
For the first time Miss Minton had no ready reply. Before she could think of a reasonable explanation, Kevin, who had been controlling himself with difficulty, burst out, ‘She bribed the constable! Not only with money – I tried that, and failed – but with her despicable woman’s wiles –’
‘How dare you!’ Miss Minton cried, reddening.
‘Smiles and dimples and sweet words,’ Kevin went on angrily. ‘Touching his muscles with a timid finger and telling him how brave and strong –’
Miss Minton leaped up, ran to Kevin, slapped him across the face, and returned to her chair. I had not the heart to scold her, for I would have done the same.
‘Shame, Mr O’Connell,’ I said severely.
Kevin rubbed his flaming cheek. The blow must have stung; it had certainly made a loud enough noise. ‘Och, well,’ he muttered.
I laid the newspaper on the table. ‘I won’t ask you how you got the message translated, Miss Minton, for I think I know. If there was a message . . .’
‘There was a message,’ Kevin said. ‘The police have admitted as much.’
‘Then one of you probably wrote it. I have never seen an inscription remotely resembling this one. Hmmmm. The facts of the case seem clear enough . . .’
‘To a keen, incisive brain like yours, perhaps,’ said Kevin. ‘I confess that I myself am completely baffled.’
I was about to enlighten him when I saw that Miss Minton had surreptitiously removed her notebook from her pocket, and that Kevin was watching me with a keenness I had good cause to remember. ‘Then you must remain baffled,’ I said shortly. ‘If you have come pelting all the way from London in order to obtain an interview, you are doomed to disappointment. What ghouls you are, snapping and snarling over me like dogs over a mouldy bone!’
They burst into simultaneous protestations. I gathered that I had been quite mistaken; they had not come to interview me, but to offer me fame and fortune as the official consultant of their respective newspapers.
It was a most intriguing offer. Even more intriguing was the rapidity with which the fee rose, from fifty guineas to a hundred and fifty, within the space of a few minutes. Though I was tempted to remain silent, and ascertain precisely how much I was worth to the publishing industry, I feared interruption, from a source I am sure I need not name, if the racket continued.
‘Quite out of the question,’ I said firmly. ‘Not under any circumstances. The discussion is terminated. I am sorry I cannot offer you refreshments before you leave, but after all, I did not invite you to come. Good day to you.’
The refusal was accepted more graciously than I had expected. From the gleam in Kevin’s eye I knew he had not given up, but meant to try again at