The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [88]
“And hoping to cheat them,” Emerson added. “The statuette is worth four or five times that amount, possibly more. Trying to steal a march on Vandergelt and Carnarvon, are you?”
Sir Malcolm gathered the shreds of his dignity around him and rose. “I see no reason to listen to your insults, Professor. Should you change your mind, Miss Petherick, I am staying here at the Winter Palace.”
Emerson called after him. “Don’t hold your breath, Sir Malcolm. The ownership of the statuette has yet to be determined—as you are well aware.”
The door slammed. Emerson chuckled; then, remembering the solemnity of the occasion, he set his face in sober lines.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Petherick.”
“Why should you beg my pardon? It was Sir Malcolm whose behavior was unseemly.”
“We won’t stay,” I assured her. “We only came by to see if we can be of assistance.”
Miss Petherick glanced at the hatbox. “I am packing my stepmother’s clothing and trinkets. Perhaps you know of a charity here in Luxor that would like to have them.”
Needless to say, I leaped at the opportunity to be of service. “I can hardly say until I have seen them. Pray allow me to assist you in what must be a painful task.”
Emerson gave me a baleful look. “At least have the courtesy to chat for a while, Peabody, before you rummage around in other people’s belongings.”
“I appreciate Mrs. Emerson’s offer and accept it,” said Miss Petherick. “But please, Mrs. Emerson, finish your coffee first and have a cucumber sandwich.”
“Are you leaving Luxor soon, then?” Nefret asked, as I bit into the sandwich.
Miss Petherick’s lips curved in a sardonic smile. “I have been informed by Captain Rayburn, the British adviser, that we may not leave Egypt until Mrs. Petherick’s murder has been solved.”
Adrian leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped and his eyes unnaturally bright. “We owe it to Magda and our father to remain, Harriet. He loved her.”
“He enjoyed being married to a celebrity,” said Miss Petherick.
“She made him happy,” Adrian said heatedly. “How could we depart without seeing her killer brought to justice?”
“A very proper attitude,” Sethos said. “Had she enemies?”
“Literary rivals, perhaps?” Miss Petherick’s smile bared a number of teeth. “Or a Devoted Reader who disliked her last book? We have already informed the police that we know of no one who had a motive to harm her.”
“Money, revenge, fear,” said Emerson. “Those are the usual motives for murder. You had not known her long. How can you be sure she was not a threat to someone’s reputation or that she had not done someone a deadly injury in the past?”
“I said we know of no one,” replied Miss Petherick.
She was a worthy adversary, and Emerson’s expressive countenance showed a certain admiration. He much prefers women of character to those who “fall weeping onto their beds,” as he had once put it. She looked almost handsome in her elegant black coat and skirt, her thick black hair coiled into a heavy knot, and color brightening her cheeks. The hand that held her teacup betrayed not a tremor.
“Come now, Professor,” she went on. “Postulating unknown enemies is like chasing will-o’-the wisps when you have a solid, tangible motive staring you in the face. Mrs. Petherick was my father’s sole heir. His collection is worth a great deal of money.”
“Who are her heirs?” Emerson asked.
“I don’t know that either. If she made a will, it would, I presume, be in the hands of her solicitors. I can assure you of one thing, Professor. She didn’t leave her estate to Adrian or me.”
“You told me, on the first occasion we met, that you were both fond of her,” Emerson shot back.
“I didn’t say she was fond of us,” Miss Petherick said, cool and unshaken. “She and I were on civil terms. If there was little affection between us, there was no animosity, and Adrian’s attachment to her was genuine. Have you any more questions, Professor?”
“Not at the present time,” Emerson