The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [79]
“No, Sitt Hakim, only since yesterday. A donkey kicked me.”
We made our way into the hotel. When I asked for Miss Petherick, I was told she expected me. She and her brother had rooms on the third floor, on the opposite side of the hotel from their stepmother’s suite. My knock on Miss Petherick’s door was answered without delay.
I had not expected the lady to show signs of distress. Only her furrowed brow and slight pallor betrayed concern, and that, I thought, was for her brother, who sat huddled in an armchair with his hands covering his face. Miss Petherick was as well groomed as if she had spent hours at her toilet, high-piled hair held by tortoiseshell combs, shirtwaist and skirt without a crease. I introduced Sethos by his most recent name, explaining that he was a close friend and confidant.
“And anxious to serve you, ma’am, in any way,” said Sethos, bowing.
Miss Petherick acknowledged this courtesy with a slight nod, and gestured us to come in. The room was large enough to contain not only a bed and wardrobe but a small sitting area, with a table and several chairs in front of the fireplace.
“What, Mrs. Emerson, no floral offering?” inquired Miss Petherick, indicating several vases on the mantel and table. “We have already received them from the manager and a few dear friends whose names I did not recognize.”
“I hope I can offer more practical forms of sympathy,” I replied, taking the chair she indicated. “You must realize that the poor lady’s burial should not, cannot be long delayed. Before she is laid to rest we must know the cause of death.”
Adrian Petherick, who had not up till then moved a fingertip, lowered his hands and gave me a wild-eyed look. “I will not have her carved like a piece of beef,” he muttered. “They were all carved and torn, bloody, dismembered…”
I was too shocked and distressed to respond. Not Sethos. He placed a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder and said, in his most syrupy voice, “They are now among the blessed in the mansions of Paradise. As is she.”
“The mansions of Paradise,” Adrian echoed. “Are you—are you a clergyman, sir?”
“Only a humble believer,” said Sethos.
He had not specified what he believed in, but the sheer force of the personality he could exhibit when he chose had a comforting effect. Adrian smiled faintly. Taking advantage of his softened mood, I said, “Would it help you to accept the idea of a postmortem if my daughter-in-law were to perform it? You have met her. You know she would act with due reverence and respect.”
“Good heavens,” said Miss Petherick. “That delicate young woman?”
“She is a qualified surgeon,” I retorted. “And has assisted the local police on several occasions.”
“She has small, pretty hands,” Adrian murmured. “Harriet, what do you think?”
“As I told you, it is in our own interests to cooperate fully with the authorities.” She looked at me. “It was Adrian who objected. If his mind is now at ease, we will proceed as you suggested.”
She accompanied us to the door, where I paused long enough to discuss, out of Adrian’s hearing, certain even more practical arrangements. Miss Petherick accepted my offer to arrange for the burial, which, if matters went as I expected, would take place the following day, but shook her head when I said I would ask the pastor of the local Anglican church to call on her.
“Mrs. Petherick was a Roman Catholic, I have asked Mr. Salt to speak to the priest of that church here.” She glanced over her shoulder at the motionless form of her brother. “Perhaps he will be able to offer further consolation.”
She added a few appropriate words of thanks to both of us. The sanctimonious expression on Sethos’s face was almost too much for me.
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
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For once Ramses was in full agreement with his mother. Like it or not, they had become involved with the Petherick affair, and the sooner