The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [144]
“Then we finish with KV55?” David asked.
“Er—hmm.” Emerson looked shifty. “Not yet. No, not yet. We will put in a few days at Deir el Medina. I think it’s time we closed down the dig there, as soon as I’ve made certain everything is in order for the French. Isn’t tea ready? Where are the children?”
I had been going through the post basket. I looked up from the letter I was reading. “Dear me, M. Lacau sounds somewhat put out with you, Ramses. Did you break an appointment with him while you were in Cairo?”
“There was no appointment, only a somewhat brusque summons,” Ramses said. “I had more urgent matters on my mind.”
“I will just drop him a little note explaining the situation,” I offered.
“The devil with Lacau,” Emerson said. “Who does he think he is, ordering us about?”
“The director of the Antiquities Service, that is who,” I reminded my husband. “There are a few other loose ends to be tied up as well. We have the statue back and we know who the legal owner is, but we must inform the authorities about what we have discovered. I doubt they are aware of Mrs.—of Magda’s first marriage. I must also get off a telegram to Harriet, giving her the good news. She will be glad of the money; the small inheritance she received from her mother was expended on her trip to Egypt, and Adrian’s care will probably be expensive. And Inspector Ayyid must be told that we know the identity of the murderer.”
“I thought you did that this morning,” Emerson said.
“I dropped a few little hints, but we must make an official report, and give Ayyid a copy of Daffinger’s confession. I promised we would do that today or tomorrow. I had hoped we would be able to report that the statue had been recovered, and as you see, my optimism was justified.”
Sethos’s silence was as provocative as speech. “Thanks to you,” I said, nodding at him.
“We’d have found it sooner or later,” Emerson said.
“Don’t be a dog in the manger, Emerson. Say thank you.”
“Not at all.” Sethos waved a languid hand. “I trust that now you are willing to concede that my reformation is sincere, though I wouldn’t mind an apology for your suspicions. You did suspect me, didn’t you?”
I said, “I fear your past conduct could not help but inspire a certain doubt—not about the murder of Mrs. Petherick but about several of the attempts to steal the statue. Lidman-Daffinger’s suspicious behavior on the occasion of the dog that did not bark in the nighttime rested solely on your word and you had as much opportunity as he to drug Amira.”
“I wasn’t even here when the first attempt at robbery occurred,” Sethos protested. “Or the second.”
“I don’t doubt that we had more than one would-be thief at work,” I said. “However, for what it is worth, I apologize.”
“I too.” Emerson sounded as if the words had been wrenched out of him.
“Good heavens.” Sethos clapped a hand to his heart. “I hope the shock won’t be too much for me.”
Emerson declared we might as well go to Luxor and get the official part of the business over with. Sethos offered to accompany us. I declined the offer.
Our business was expeditiously concluded, as was our interview with Ayyid. I had taken the liberty of adding a few remarks to Daffinger’s confession, praising the work of the police and the dedication of the inspector.
Ayyid read the final sentence aloud. “‘Had he not immediately acted to prevent the suspect’s escape, the man might have been able to leave Luxor and lose himself, with his ill-gotten gains, in the teeming slums of Cairo.’ Very—er—eloquently put, Mrs. Emerson. Thank you.”
“You didn’t tell him about that bastard Anderson,” said Emerson, as we strolled arm in arm toward the riverbank and our waiting boat.
“I am holding it over Anderson’s head,” I replied. “That method is more effective with journalists.”
Emerson helped me into the boat and took his place beside me. “We’re in no hurry,” he informed Sabir. “Take your time, eh?”
Moonlight made a shimmering path across the dark water. Emerson glanced at Sabir, who had tactfully turned his back, and put an arm round me. “Good to be alone at last,