The Mummy Case - Elizabeth Peters [89]
“So long as you are going, Mama,” he said, “will you bring me back a Coptic dictionary?”
“I don’t know that there is such a thing, Ramses.”
“Herr Steindorff has just published a Koptische Grammatik mit Chrestomathie, Wörterverzeichnis und Literatur. Should that work be unobtainable, dere is de elementary Coptic grammar and glossary in Arabic of Al-Bakurah alshakiyyah, or de Vocabularium Coptico-Latinum of Gustav Parthey—”
“I will see what I can do,” I said, unable to bear any more multilingual titles.
“T’ank you, Mama.”
“What do you want with a Coptic dictionary?” Emerson asked.
“Dere are a few words on de fragment of papyrus Mama found dat continue to elude me.”
“Good heavens, the Coptic papyrus,” I exclaimed. “I keep forgetting about it. Mr. Sayce was asking about it only last night—”
“He shan’t have it,” Emerson declared.
“Don’t be spiteful, Emerson. I wonder what I did with the other scrap I found the night Abd el Atti was killed.”
“Anodder fragment, Mama?” Ramses asked.
“It appeared to be from the same manuscript, but it was much smaller.”
Ramses’ face became taut with excitement. “I would like to have it, Mama.”
“I don’t remember where I put it, Ramses.”
“But, Mama—”
“If you are a good little boy and do everything your Papa tells you, Mama will give you your treat when she returns.”
iii
I regretted my promise to Ramses, for I had a great deal to do, and finding a given book in the shops devoted to that trade is a time-consuming process. Instead of being neatly arranged on shelves, the merchandise is piled in stacks; and since the book-dealers are scholarly gentlemen whose shops are frequently by the learned world of Cairo, I was tempted to linger and talk. I managed to find one of the volumes Ramses had requested. Then I left the Sharia ’el Halwagi and went to the bazaar of the shoemakers, where I purchased a dozen pair of slippers, two each for myself, Ramses and Emerson, and six for the lion. I hoped, by the time he had finished these, he would have done cutting his teeth.
Then, and only then, did I go to the Khan el Khaleel.
Abd el Atti’s shop was closed and shuttered. No one answered, even when I went to the back door and hammered on it. Somewhat disheartened, I turned away. I had the address of Mr. Aslimi’s shop on the Muski and I was about to go in that direction when another idea occurred to me. I went on past the fountain and under an ancient arch, farther into the bazaar.
Kriticas was the best-known antiquities dealer in Cairo, a rival of Abd el Atti’s and an old friend. He greeted me with mingled pleasure and reproach. “I understand you are looking for demotic papyri, Mrs. Emerson. Why did you not come to me?”
“I would have done, Mr. Kriticas, had I not been distracted by the death of Abd el Atti, of which I am sure you have heard.”
“Ah, yes.” Kriticas’ noble Greek brow furrowed. “A sad tragedy, to be sure. Now I happen to have an excellent specimen of a Twenty-Sixth Dynasty papyrus….”
I examined the merchandise, drank the coffee he pressed upon me, and inquired after his family before saying casually, “I see that Abd el Atti’s shop is closed. Who is the new owner—his son, or that charming old lady his wife?”
Kriticas had a characteristic silent laugh; his whole body shook, but not a sound came from his bearded lips. “You have met the lady?”
“Yes. She appears to be a very determined woman.”
“Yes, one might say that. She has no legal claim, of course. She has been acting on behalf of her son, Hassan. He is a bad hat, as you English say; a user of drugs, often in trouble with the police. But you know how these mothers are; the worse a son, the more they dote on him.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“Her cause was hopeless from the start,” Kriticas went on. “Abd el Atti disinherited Hassan several years ago. No doubt he is in fresh trouble of some kind; he has not been seen for several weeks.”
The idea that popped into my mind was so obvious I wondered I had not thought of it before. “I think I may have seen him,” I said. “Is he of medium height, with scanty eyebrows