The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [35]
“Greed is a motive strong enough to overcome cowardice,” I remarked. “Curse it, look at all those people. I wish…”
“That you could find out what is going on? So do I,” Nefret admitted. “But we daren’t risk leaving the house. We would be surrounded.”
“I had thought of borrowing a robe and headcloth from Fatima and going just as far as the guardhouse.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. Please don’t, Mother. I have a feeling that before long we will hear from either Miss Petherick or Cyrus.”
It was neither of the above who came first. I was a trifle surprised when I saw Hassan stand back and try to hide the rifle behind his back. Then I recognized the man who came walking up the road—taller than most Egyptians, his white uniform crisp, his close-cropped black beard framing a keen dark face. A wise man does not argue with the chief of the Luxor police, especially this one. Ibrahim Ayyid was still young, but in the past few years he had acquired a reputation for strict discipline and fair dealing.
With an exclamation of pleasure, Nefret went to the door to admit him and offered her hand. He bowed over it and greeted me in military fashion, clicking his heels and inclining his head.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” he began.
“Not at all,” Nefret replied. “In fact, you have saved our lives, Mr. Ayyid. We were both dying of curiosity.”
I asked Fatima to bring fresh coffee and Ayyid eyed us quizzically. “As I understand it, you have been involved in the case from the beginning. You were at the hotel last night. That is the reason for my visit, to request information from you.”
“Not until after you have given us the latest news,” I said, smiling to indicate it was just one of my little jokes. “Has Mrs. Petherick returned?”
“No. Mrs. Petherick’s children insist that she has been abducted, and the police, as well as the British authorities, have been asked to assist in the search for her.”
He took out a notebook and pencil, and opened the former.
“This is an official visit, then?” I inquired.
“Yes, madam.”
“You can count on our full cooperation, of course,” I declared. “The Professor is in Cairo, but my son is here. Nefret, will you go and tell Ramses he is wanted?”
I noticed that Mr. Ayyid’s black eyes followed Nefret’s slim form as she left the room. They had a look of wistfulness quite alien to his normal keen gaze. The two had not often met socially, for Mr. Ayyid had consistently if courteously refused our invitations, but he had called upon her on several occasions to assist in identification of remains. Meeting under such circumstances would not seem conducive to the development of tender feelings, but it was obvious to me, for I am sensitive to such things, that he had conceived a great admiration for her. Being a gentleman and devoutly religious, he would never tell her so. What he needed was a wife. Daoud had a granddaughter, a pretty girl of seventeen, who had attended Miss Whiteside’s school in Luxor…
Ayyid shifted position, and I realized I had been staring rudely as my thoughts wandered. “I may as well give you the background,” I said. “It will save time in the end. This business began when Mrs. Petherick called upon us two days ago.”
I had not got far before Ramses and Nefret came in. Fatima brought more coffee and a plate of buns. She hadn’t been asked to do so, but she was looking for an excuse to listen in on the conversation. I continued my account, up to and including our search of Mrs. Petherick’s rooms the previous night, and then invited Mr. Ayyid’s comments.
“It is a strange story,” he said slowly.
“Not so strange, if one considers Mrs. Petherick’s probable motive,” said Ramses. “The whole thing is a hoax, designed to bring her publicity and promote the sale of her books.”
“Then you are not of the opinion that she was abducted?” Ayyid asked. He looked at Nefret, but it was Ramses who answered.
“I believe she stole out of her room, unseen by Abdul, and in disguise. You know the arrangement of her suite, sir. There is an outer door, leading to a small vestibule;