Read Seeing a Large Cat Online
Authors: Elizabeth Peters
Tags: #Suspense, #Mystery, #Detective, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Historical, #Large Type Books, #Mystery & Detective - Women Sleuths, #Fiction - Mystery, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery & Detective - General, #Detective and mystery stories, #Women archaeologists, #Women detectives, #Egypt, #Peabody, #Amelia (Fictitious character), #Historical - General
"I am in complete agreement, Emerson. It remains only to discover that purpose."
"Only?" Emerson laughed and, turning, gathered me into his arms. "One of the things I love about you, Peabody, is the directness of your mind. It will not be as easy as you suggest, but curse it! I suppose we will have to take a hand in this business after all. I will not be used as a cat's-paw by a murderer. Let us leave the children out of it, though. Especially Nefret."
"We can try," I said doubtfully.
"Oh, come, Peabody, it should not be so difficult as all that. They have their own work to do. If you refrain from discussing your eccentric theories with them, they will soon forget all about the Bellingham business."
From Manuscript H:
It seemed to David that he had been arguing for hours, to no avail, but he went on trying. "This is a very bad idea, Ramses. I wish you would not do it."
Ramses went on collecting the things he would need. He tied them into a neat bundle and glanced at the window, where the first stars of evening shone in the darkening sky. "Did you hear something? "
" 'Only the night wind, blowing through the branches'" David had been familiarizing himself with English lyric poetry. "Are you trying to change the subject? Change your mind, rather. Please!"
Ramses rummaged around in a drawer and produced a tin of cigarettes. David groaned feelingly. "If Aunt Amelia finds out you have those, she will-"
Words failed him, but he accepted a cigarette. Ramses lit his and his own. "My mother will not be pleased at any of this," he said, cupping his hands round the cigarette Arab fashion. "David, I am not asking you to come with me, or to lie if she asks you a direct question. Just don't go haring off to the house and unburden your conscience."
"As if I would! It is for your safety I am concerned, my brother," he added in Arabic. "The man carries a knife. He has wounded you once."
"He caught me off guard," Ramses said curtly.
David sat down on the edge of the bed. "No one is better in a knife fight than you, but if he attacks, it will not be a fair fight. It will be from behind, and in darkness. Why should you take such risks for a woman who is a stranger? Do you love her?"
"Do you? " said a voice from the window.
Ramses had both hands round her throat before she finished the brief sentence. She stood perfectly still, smiling up into his horrified face.
"Nicely done, my boy. You have been busy this past summer!"
Ramses removed his hands, finger by finger. "Did I hurt you? "
"A little. I deserved it," she added, rubbing her throat.
"Damn it, Nefret!" For once, emotion robbed him of speech. He pulled her into the room and deposited her on the bed with such force that she and David both bounced.
Nefret laughed. "You didn't hear me until I spoke," she said with satisfaction. "You ought to have practiced woodcraft as well as knife fighting. Really, Ramses! Knife fighting! And smoking! What will Aunt Amelia say? "
She was wearing trousers and a flannel shirt, and her hair hung down her back, the shining waves confined only by a loose scarf. Ramses swallowed. "Are you going to tell her? "
"As if I would! May I have one of those cigarettes? "
David began to laugh. He threw his arm round Nefret. "Give her one. By Sitt Miriam and all the saints, this is a wonderful woman."
"All for one and one for all," Nefret said, hugging him back. "Except that you always try to cheat. Now give me a cigarette and we will have a council of war, as we used to do."
Wordlessly Ramses offered her the tin. She took a cigarette and looked up, waiting for him to light it. "Why, Ramses, you are rather pale. Did I frighten you, poor boy? "
"There are several ways of dealing with an uninvited visitor," Ramses said. "It was by sheer chance that I chose the least lethal. For God's sake, Nefret, promise me you won't do that again."
"Not to you, at any rate." She took his hand and guided the match to the tip of the cigarette.
"How did you get away from Aunt Amelia? " David asked.
Nefret blew out a great cloud of smoke. "It tastes quite nasty," she said. "But I suppose one becomes used to it. How did I get away? I did not tell a lie. I darned two stockings and washed my hair, just as I said I would. Then I climbed out my window and saddled one of the horses the Professor had hired. I must have him back soon, so start talking. Are you in love with that little ninny, Ramses? "
"No."
"I thought you had better sense, but I am relieved to hear it." Nefret nodded approvingly. "I understand your motives. They do you credit, I suppose, but I cannot believe you can carry on your plan for very long, even with David and me backing you up."
"It should not take long," Ramses said. "Only a day or two."
"I thought so. You won't be content with guarding her. You mean to flush him out and force a confrontation."
Ramses bit his lip in order to hold back an angry response. She could not have overheard that; he had not admitted it even to David. Sometimes she seemed to read his mind.
Only sometimes, he hoped.
"It is the most sensible course of action," he insisted. "As you say, I cannot follow Dolly around Luxor for long, and this fellow is dangerously unpredictable. He may take a notion to attack one of us next, especially if Mother goes on in her customary fashion."
He did not have to elaborate. David looked grave and Nefret, no longer smiling, nodded. "She does have a habit of getting in the way of murderers, bless her. What you intend, in short, is to use Miss Dolly as a decoy. That is rather coldblooded of you, Ramses."
She gave him an approving smile. Ramses decided he would never understand women.
He had some difficulty dissuading her from accompanying them, and it was only after he had promised to keep her abreast of ensuing developments-and had handed over the remainder of the cigarettes-that she consented to go back to the house. He lifted her onto the horse and stood watching until she had disappeared into the darkness.
"If you are going, we should go now," said David at his elbow.
"Oh. Yes, of course."
After they were under way, David said softly, "I did not know there was a woman like her. She has the heart of a man."
"You had better not let her hear you say that."
David laughed. "And you, my friend, had better not let her find out about the other thing. I shudder to think what she would do."
"What other thing? Oh, Tollington's challenge. It was only a bit of boyish braggadocio."
"It would serve him right if you accepted it," David said with a certain relish.
"Pistols at forty paces? " Ramses made the soft sound that was as near as he ever came to a laugh-a sound few others than David had heard. "They don't do that sort of thing anymore, even in the Old Dominion. Or is that Virginia? I can never keep those American counties straight in my mind. He was only trying to impress Dolly."
"Did it impress her? "
"Oh, yes. She would like nothing better than to watch two men fighting over her. She is," said Ramses judicially, "a bloodthirsty little creature. Rather like a kitten-soft and purring and conscienceless and cruel."
When we met at breakfast next morning Nefret pushed one trouser leg up to her knee and proudly exhibited a stocking that had been darned in two places. The darns were very lumpy. I decided not to mention this, nor did I point out that some persons might consider it improper to display a lower limb, even a stockinged limb, to three male persons. None of them appeared particularly interested, except for Emerson, who said approvingly, "Very neat, my dear."
I added my commendation and suggested she put on her boots, which she did. Ramses announced he would have a quick look at the tomb before beginning his own project. The sun had just lifted over the cliffs of the East Bank when we set out; the air was fresh and the long shadows were cool and gray.
A dozen of our men were there before us, removing the rocks Emerson had rolled against the door to hold it in place. "There is no sign of a disturbance," Abdullah reported.
Emerson nodded. "It would take even our ambitious neighbors from Gurneh some time to remove the debris in the passage. If we come across anything interesting today or tomorrow, we will take additional precautions."
We followed him down the steps. Abdullah was looking much more cheerful. Exploring an unknown tomb was his idea of what archaeology should be about. It was a viewpoint shared by most archaeologists, including, I confess, myself.
Emerson's strength and energy were superhuman, but even he had been able to remove only a small part of the rubble. It was enough, however, to show that he had been correct. A narrow section of the original stone floor was now visible beyond the doorway, and it did indeed slope down at the same angle as the ceiling. Little more could be seen; darkness filled the far end of the area where the ceiling met the rubble of the floor.
Candle in hand, head bent, Ramses edged past me. "Hmmm," he said.
Since this was not a particularly informative remark, I went back up the steps. Abdullah had preceded me; one quick look was all he had needed, and he had already given the men their instructions.
"What do you think, Abdullah?" I asked.
"Hmph," said Abdullah.
I thought I knew why he was so gruff with me; it had nothing to do with the difficulty of the task that might lie ahead. No, it was the strange mummy we had found that worried him. I debated as to whether I should tell him what we had discovered and then realized he probably knew at least part of the truth-one way or another-and that it was foolish and unkind not to take him wholly into my confidence.
"You did not know about this tomb," I said, stating it as a fact.
"If I had known, I would have told you, Sitt."
"Na'am-of course. But someone knew, Abdullah. The poor lady whose body we found yesterday was placed here not long ago."
"Within three seasons."
"How do you know?" I asked respectfully.
The old man's stern face relaxed. We had been partners before, Abdullah and I; no man had ever served me better. My reticence and my failure to ask his advice had hurt his feelings.
"There has been water in the tomb," he said. "It left a line along the wall. The last great rain was three years ago. Water had not touched the wrappings or the loose fill on the floor."
"I did not notice that," I admitted. "You are a keen observer and a shrewd man, Abdullah. Can you question the Gurnawis, and find out whether any of them knew about this tomb?"
"You think it was a man of Gurneh who killed the lady and put her here?"
Abdullah had a number of friends and relations in the village. He disapproved, but understood, their inveterate habit of tomb robbing. Murder was something else again-a sin against God and a crime that would bring down the full wrath of the authorities upon men who preferred to avoid such attention.
"I doubt that," I said truthfully. "It seems likely that the murderer was a foreigner. But the men of Gurneh know these cliffs as other men know the rooms of their houses. A foreigner, a stranger in Egypt, could not find this place without help. That help might have been given in all innocence, Abdullah."
"Aywa." Visibly relieved, Abdullah nodded. "I will find out, Sitt. Shall I tell only you, not the Father of Curses?"
I smiled at him. "It might be better not, Abdullah. Of course you must not lie to him if he asks you directly."
"One cannot lie to the Father of Curses," Abdullah said as if he were quoting. His left eyelid quivered, and I realized the dear old fellow was trying to wink. "But I will try, Sitt Hakim."
I winked back at him.
Ramses took himself off shortly thereafter, and work commenced in earnest. I wished that, like Ramses, I had thought of an excuse to absent myself, for progress was slow and very dull. It was sheer brute labor, filling baskets with loosened stone and carrying them up the steps to the dump Emerson had established some feet away from the entrance. There was not much for me to do except watch. The fill the men removed was clean, without so much as a potsherd or a scrap of bone.
However, an active mind like mine can never be bored. Deprived of archaeological activity, it turned to thoughts of crime. The lunatic Scudder must have cleared that section of the passage and then levelled it to provide a platform on which the body would rest. Why had he gone to such enormous effort? The man was undoubtedly mad, but as Emerson had pointed out, madness has its methods. And how had he discovered a tomb that had been unknown before?
I congratulated myself for having had the idea of consulting with Abdullah. It only goes to prove what Scripture tells us- that kindness to others benefits oneself. In pleasing my old friend, I had served my own ends-or rather the ends of justice, for it is the duty of every citizen to investigate crime.
Even Emerson had been forced to admit we were obliged to take a hand in this one.
How better to proceed than along the lines I (and Abdullah) had proposed? The man we sought must have spent some time in Luxor. He could not have discovered the tomb without the passive cooperation at least of one or more Gurnawis. He must be known to them, not as Dutton Scudder, but in another identity, the one he had assumed after abducting and murdering Mrs. Bellingham. Once the authorities in Cairo learned of recent developments they would surely resume the hunt for Scudder, but it was unlikely they would learn anything from the men of Gurneh, who were not in the habit of cooperating with the police.
A fond smile curved my lips as I thought of Abdullah trying to wink. We were co-conspirators again, he and I; why had I not realized how much he enjoyed that role? There was no need to spoil his innocent pleasure by telling him Emerson was fully cognizant of the matter.
At half-past one I extracted Emerson from the interior of the tomb, sat him down on a convenient rock, and handed him a cup of cold tea. "It is time to stop, Emerson. Except for a brief pause at midday the men have been hard at it since seven this morning."
Emerson said, "The fill beyond the first section is packed hard as cement from repeated floods. We will have to use pickaxes and-"