The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [75]
His excessive courtesy made no impression on Ayyid. “I regret that I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before this, sir. Have you just arrived in Luxor?”
I could tell by the glint in Sethos’s eyes that he was tempted to spin the inspector a preposterous story; knowing I would instantly contradict it, he restrained himself. “I arrived day before yesterday with Professor Emerson. I trust that constitutes a sufficient alibi?”
“Don’t be a tease,” I said, giving my brother-in-law a sharp look.
“You had no connection with the dead lady?” Ayyid inquired.
“None whatsoever,” I said. “Where was she found and how did she die?”
The body had been found early that morning by one of the workmen who tended the flower beds in the Winter Palace’s famous gardens. It had been laid out neatly and reverently, the hands folded across the breast, under a flowering shrub. So much we had already heard from Daoud, who had hurried to inform us as soon as he got the news from his network of informants in Luxor. He had added a poetic touch: the petals of the flowers lay scattered like snowflakes upon the poor lady’s quiet form.
Inspector Ayyid did not mention the petals. “We do not yet know how she died. There were no marks of violence upon the body. An autopsy will be necessary.” He added, with a flash of quickly controlled temper, “I am awaiting permission from the British authorities.”
Like most Egyptians, Ayyid fiercely resented the refusal of Britain to give Egypt complete independence. That it must come no one except the extreme imperialists in the British government doubted, but the latter group was stridently opposed to seeing Britain yield authority. Even the moderates, led by Allenby, envisaged British troops remaining in Egypt, and England retaining control over Egypt’s “national security.” As the partisans of independence pointed out, so long as foreign troops remain in a country, it cannot be said to be fully sovereign.
“Would they be more likely to agree if I were to perform the autopsy?” Nefret asked.
It was a bitter pill for Ayyid to swallow; only his respectful admiration for Nefret enabled him to do so. “I do not like to ask a lady to take on such a disagreeable task, madam.”
“I’ve done it before,” Nefret said, smiling at him.
Ayyid nodded. “I took the liberty of mentioning that possibility to the high commissioner, subject, of course, to your decision. If the lady’s children agree—”
“I don’t see why their permission is required in a case of suspected murder,” I said. “But if it proves necessary, I will speak to them. I have no doubt my arguments will prevail. You have no suspects at the present time?”
Ayyid rose. He was obviously unwilling to discuss the progress of the case—or the lack of progress. “Until the cause of death is determined, we have no reason to search for suspects. She may have died of natural causes.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “After vanishing for a week she returned to the hotel, lay down under a bougainvillea or rosebush, folded her hands, and passed away?”
Ayyid could think of no reply to this—nor could anyone have done so. He bowed himself out, after telling Nefret he would let her know whether her services would be required.
Emerson fixed me with a terrible look. “If you say ‘I told you so,’ Peabody—”
“As you know, Emerson, I deplore the use of that phrase, especially between married persons.”
“Ha,” said Emerson. “I have lost count of the number of times you—”
“An unjust and unjustified accusation, Emerson. Anyhow, I did not contradict your—as it has proved—incorrect assumption in so many words. I only—”
“Looked contradictory,” Emerson shouted.
“Now, now,” said Sethos, trying to control the quiver of his lips. “Do not allow disharmony to mar the spectacle of marital accord, I beg. You wouldn’t want to set me a bad example.”
“Are you and Margaret about to be married at long last, then?” I asked interestedly. I had thoroughly disliked Margaret Minton when I first met her, in her