The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [52]
After the constable had left, Cuff leaned back in his chair. ‘As to the murder, I fear we know little more than is known to the public. The severity of the injury and the fact that no weapon was found eliminate the possibility of suicide. The dead man’s watch, purse, and other valuables were missing –’
‘But surely robbery was not the motive for the killing,’ I interrupted.
‘That is correct, Mrs Emerson. A wandering vagabond, of the sort that prowls our streets by night, came upon the body and stripped it of the said valuables. We have the fellow in custody, in fact; he is well known to us, but we don’t believe he killed Mr Oldacre.’
‘So far you have told me nothing but what is public knowledge,’ I said. ‘And not even all of that. What of the strange message clutched in the stiffened fingers of the corpse?’
‘How well you put it,’ said Inspector Cuff admiringly. ‘Yes, the message. I have a copy of it here.’
His desk was exceeded in messiness only by that of my estimable husband; and, like Emerson, Cuff was able to put his hand instantly on the paper he wanted. Drawing it from under a heap of other such documents, he handed it to me.
‘They are genuine hieroglyphs,’ I said. ‘But there is no such text in Egyptian literature. The message appears to read, “Death shall come on swift wings to him who invades my tomb.”’
‘So I have been told by other authorities, ma’am.’
‘Then why ask me?’ I demanded, tossing the paper onto the desk.
‘I thought you asked to see it,’ Cuff said meekly. ‘Besides, it never hurts to ask another expert – especially one as gifted as yourself. Perhaps you would like to take this copy and show it to the professor.’
‘Thank you, I believe I will. Though I must warn you, Inspector, that if I can persuade Emerson to assist you, you will have to deal tactfully with him. He has these little prejudices against my assisting the police.’
‘So I have been informed,’ said Inspector Cuff.
I persisted in my questions, but was forced to believe that the police were – as usual – baffled. The story of the priest having been seen near the body was dismissed by the Inspector with his peculiar version of a smile. ‘The witness was intoxicated, Mrs Emerson. He has a habit of seeing visions – snakes, dragons, and – er – scantily clad females.’
‘I see. Inspector, has it occurred to you that we may have another Jack the Ripper on our hands?’
‘No,’ said the Inspector slowly. ‘No, Mrs Emerson, I can’t say that it has.’
He was clearly impressed by my theory and promised he would re-examine the evidence in the light of that suggestion. ‘However,’ he added, ‘unless – which God forbid – there should be another killing, I don’t believe we can insist on that theory . . . just yet. Wait and see, Mrs Emerson; that will be our motto, eh? Wait and see.’
Laying his finger aside of his nose like Saint Nicholas – whom he did not in any other way resemble – he winked at me.
We parted on the most agreeable terms. I could not help liking the man, he expressed himself so pleasantly; but as I left the building I permitted myself a small ironic smile. If Inspector Cuff thought he had deceived me with his compliments and his vile cup of tea, he was sadly mistaken. He knew more than he had told me. He was just like all the other aggravating policemen I had met, unwilling to admit that a woman could equal (modesty prevents me from saying ‘surpass’) his skill in detection. Well, as the Inspector had said – we would see!
Since time was getting short – not because I was tired, for I was not – I hailed a cab and was borne, with the swiftness for which these vehicles are justly famous, to Great Russell Street. I wish I could say that the sight of the Museum filled my breast with respectful admiration for this centre of learning and archaeological treasure, but in fact I cannot. The original design, imitating that of a Greek temple, was handsome enough; but in the thirty-odd years since it was completed, the filthy air of London had turned it a deep, depressing greyish-black. As for the condition of the exhibits . . . Well, to