The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [85]
“Which is a strong indication of their innocence, my dear. It is true they had a motive. We know that Petherick’s collection was left to his wife. Were they aware of that? Did they suppose the valuables would go to them if she died?”
“That isn’t a motive, it is a string of conjectures,” Emerson exclaimed. “Curse it, Peabody, make up your mind. First you say they are probably innocent—though your reasoning is as feeble as any I have ever heard—and then you invent reasons for believing in their guilt.”
He had a certain logic on his side, so of course I immediately went on the offensive. “It just goes to show that you were foolish to entrust Gargery with the delicate matter of Petherick’s will. We need to know the precise terms—whether his wife was to inherit unconditionally, or whether his children were secondary legatees.”
“‘Everything to the wife’ certainly implies the former,” said Sethos. “Her husband predeceased her. Did she have a will? And if she did not, who would inherit? Are stepchildren considered next of kin?”
“More damned conjectures,” Emerson shouted. “You don’t know, and I don’t know, and neither does Peabody, though she will probably claim she does.”
“Not at all, my dear. The investigation is in its early stages. For all we know there may be a dozen people who wanted Mrs. Petherick dead. The murderer must have been someone she knew and trusted, or she would not have gone alone to meet him in the garden. She would have had no reason to fear either of her stepchildren. They must have some claim to her property, through her husband’s will or hers, or they would have had no reason to dispose of her.”
“Confound it, Peabody, you are arguing in circles again,” Emerson exclaimed.
The boat bumped gently into the bank and Sabir ran out the gangplank. In a spirit of amity I accepted the hand Emerson offered. “Shall we have one of our little competitions?” I asked.
“What sort of competition is that?” Sethos tried to take my other hand but was foiled by the parasol.
“We each write down the name of the person we believe to be the villain and seal it in an envelope until after the case is solved,” I explained.
“What a charming idea,” said Sethos. “Is there a prize for the winner? May I play too?”
“I am not yet ready to commit myself,” Emerson said, ignoring this provocative remark.
“Nor am I,” I said. “As you pointed out, Emerson, we have not enough suspects.”
The silvery moonlight of Egypt lit our path, but with Sethos beside us making frivolous suggestions I was not tempted to linger along the way. Emerson was of the same mind. “Hurry up,” he grumbled. “We have missed tea and will probably be late for dinner.”
Thanks to Maaman’s new schedule, we were not late for dinner. There was even time for a quick whiskey and soda with Ramses and Nefret, who were anxious to learn how the Pethericks had taken the news. Nefret looked grave when I described Adrian’s reaction.
“I wish dear Dr. Willoughby were still with us. He had some skill in treating nervous disorders. His successor is a pompous fool.”
“Adrian Petherick requires something more than the skill of an amateur,” Sethos said. “However, I believe I was of some assistance in calming his mind.”
“Safe in the arms of Jesus,” Emerson growled. “Good Gad!”
At my insistence the entire family (excepting the children, of course) attended Mrs. Petherick’s funeral next morning. I had assumed there would be a scanty number of mourners, since she knew few people in Luxor, but I had underestimated the morbid curiosity of the public and the persistence of the press. A line of constables, impressive in their white jackets and red fezzes, kept the crowd at bay, and as we walked toward the newly dug grave I couldn’t help thinking that Mrs. Petherick would have taken the display as only what was due a famous author.
The efforts of the Ladies’ Committee for the Beautification of the Resting Place of Our Lost Loved Ones (founded by me, though I must make it clear I am not responsible for the name) had improved the looks of the once desolate cemetery. Flowering shrubs struggled