The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [17]
“What about the statuette?” Ramses asked. “Isn’t it part of the estate?”
Mrs. Petherick’s crimsoned lips stretched in a smile. “I took it away. It was my duty to my dear dead husband, to make certain its malevolent influence was ended.”
I looked at Emerson, whose shrug expressed my sentiments exactly. What she had done was probably illegal, but it was not our affair.
Mrs. Petherick made an excellent lunch. She was tucking into a rich strawberry tart, topped with cream, when a lady of a certain age, gray-haired and tightly corseted, sidled up to her. “Countess? I don’t want to intrude, but I am such a devoted admirer of your books…”
“You do want to intrude,” said Emerson loudly. “You have just done so.”
Mrs. Petherick—now in the role of Countess Magda—raised a bejeweled hand. “I am always delighted to meet my faithful readers. Would you like me to autograph a book?”
The lady hadn’t brought one to Egypt, but she eagerly accepted the countess’s signature on a piece of hotel stationery. Emboldened by her example, several other “devoted readers” followed suit. The author made quite a performance of it, scrawling her name in bold script, the gems on her fingers sparkling. I decided they were paste.
The trickle of admirers ended. Mrs. Petherick shoved the last bite of tart into her mouth and rose to go. When Emerson rose in response, she caught hold of his hand and squeezed it. “There will be a ceremony?” she asked. “An exorcism? I must be present.”
You and every journalist you can collect, I thought. The idea of the Countess Magda throwing herself about, black veils flapping, and possibly falling into a fit while Emerson stood helplessly by, was too awful to contemplate.
“I cannot permit any such thing,” I said firmly.
She paid me no heed. Clinging to Emerson’s hand, she demanded, “When?”
“Cursed if I know,” said Emerson, his patience at an end. He wrenched his fingers from the lady’s grasp. “Let it be clearly understood that I accept this object in the role of a custodian. Good afternoon, madam.”
At my suggestion, we took a brisk walk along the corniche so that Emerson could work off some of his temper. He was extremely put out and did not scruple to express his feelings.
“Now you see, Peabody, what comes of your ideas. We played right into the cursed woman’s hands. She made a spectacle of herself and of us, and if anyone in Luxor did not know about the statue and the curse, they know now.”
“I expect the story was already known,” Ramses said, in a vain attempt to pacify his father. “And we did obtain some useful information.”
“Oh, bah,” snarled Emerson. “You didn’t believe the woman, did you? She’ll say anything that comes into her head. It is possible that she is unaware of the name of the dealer from whom Petherick purchased the statue; she wouldn’t have taken any interest in that sort of thing. But until I learn the terms of his will from an independent source, I won’t trust her word.”
“How do you propose to do that?” I asked.
“I have my methods,” said Emerson. “Hurry up, Peabody, you have wasted half the afternoon.”
Ramses and Nefret went straight to their house, for they had a standing appointment with Selim and his family every Friday, and they were already a little late. When Emerson and I reached the veranda, we found that Jumana and Cyrus had dropped in and had been invited by Fatima to stay for tea. She loved feeding people, the more the better. Jumana embraced me and gravely shook hands with Emerson. She was a pretty little person—I almost wrote “unfortunately,” for as women learn, being pretty and/or little leads many men to treat them like toys instead of reasoning beings. Slim and fit as a boy, her big dark eyes sparkling, she burst into an emphatic apology. One could almost hear the exclamation points.
“It was very rude of me not to come last night, very rude not to tell you beforehand! I am so sorry! I was working, and I forgot, until Bertie came to fetch me, and I was not clean or dressed.” She went on, without drawing breath, “So I am punished because I missed the excitement! Can I