The Mummy (11 page)

“What does your note say?” Lana stood beside him, and what she saw shocked her.

Antef jumped with surprise. He stuffed the paper back into his vest pocket and tried to pretend it was nothing. “Nothing, it's nothing. A list of things I meant to do.”

“In block letters signed by Nefra?” She'd been close enough to see the letters. She guessed the rest.

Antef's face paled. His eyes widened. He stepped back again from Lana, as if
she
frightened him.

“Have a cup of coffee with me, Antef.”

“I — I — ” Antef looked confused and even more frightened. Lana felt she was looking at a small child instead of a grown man.

She took his arm. “I think you need strong coffee with all that sugar in it that you like.”

Antef let Lana lead him to the T-Rex cafe. She sat him at the farthest table to the back of the hall and went to get two coffees. When she returned he was slumped in his chair, looking dazed and confused. He hadn't recovered from the shock of the morning, either, she suspected.

“Did you talk to Dr. Walters?” Lana set Antef's coffee before him, and tore and emptied two little packets of sugar into it. She stirred it for him. He didn't seem capable of doing even the simplest act.

“He is coming in by eleven.” Antef did manage to look at his watch. Then he sipped the coffee little by little until it was gone. Color returned to his cheeks, and his skin, once a yellowish-tan, was coming back to mahogany.

Lana gave him time, even though she was anxious to see his note and compare the printing to hers. If the same person wrote both, maybe together they could guess who it was.

“Antef, last night someone dumped three scorpions into my bedroom. A note came with them.” Lana reached in her pocket and took out the three-by-five piece of paper, smoothed it, and handed it to Antef.

He studied it without giving Lana his note. “What does it mean?”

“I have no idea, Antef. But someone has been trying to frighten me. What have you done to make someone knock you out and put you in that coffin? What does your note say?”

Reluctantly, it would seem, Antef spread out his paper and handed it to Lana.

R
ETURN
M
Y
N
ECKLACE
.

I
T
B
ELONGS TO
M
Y
P
RINCESS
.

T
HIS
I
S
Y
OUR
O
NLY
W
ARNING
.

N
EFRA

“Someone thinks you took the jeweled collar, Antef,” Lana said, looking at the note. “
Did you?
” She stared at him.

“I — I know nothing of this.” Antef didn't look at Lana as he spoke. “Why would I steal from my government?”

“I don't know.” Lana kept looking at him. “I ripped the button off your vest that night, someone attacked me, Antef. I smelled your aftershave. I know it was you, Antef. You might as well admit it.”

“I know nothing.” Antef reached out and smoothed the note that had been placed in the coffin with him. “I must meet Dr. Walters. I will tell him there is a crazy person trying to make trouble.” Antef left quickly, without looking at her. He was certainly hiding something. If not the necklace, what?

Lana watched him go, finishing her own cup of coffee, waiting for the caffeine jolt she needed to go back and pretend nothing was out of the ordinary at the museum.

She looked at the list of people she had written down this morning. For lack of a better idea, she had listed everyone at the museum, everyone who had anything to do with the exhibit at all. Even Dr. Walters. Even Blair Vaughn, and Antef, and Rod. She had put Antef at the top of the list, even though it would have been difficult for him to seal himself inside that coffin. But he was feeling terribly guilty about something. And he was hiding something from her.

She got out the stub of pencil she kept in her pocket. She scratched Marge Wilson off the list. Marge was the sanest person she knew. And maybe the only one she could trust. Should she tell her everything she knew? Get Marge to help her figure out who was trying to cause trouble? Before someone got hurt?

She'd wait until she had lunch with Rod to make a decision.

Chapter 15

“Who do you think put Antef in that coffin?” Rod asked as he and Lana headed for lunch at the T-Rex.

“I was thinking maybe you did,” Lana answered, flippant, tossing off the remark like a joke, wanting to see Rod's reaction.

“That's what I like about you, Lana. You have a great sense of humor. Now why would I lock up Antef like a mummy?”

“I don't know. I was going to ask you why. He was there early. You were there early.”

“I wasn't there that early. You think it has something to do with the necklace disappearing, that the two are connected?”

“Maybe. Someone might be trying to frighten him into returning it.”

“Why not just tell the police he took it?”

“Because I'm not sure. I only suspect Antef.” Lana got in line and ordered a tuna sandwich and a Coke.

Rod insisted on buying her lunch. “This is a business lunch. I want your opinion on my sketches, Lana. I value your judgment. Several people have encouraged me to go to art school, but I really want to combine art and archaeology.”

Lana didn't know why Rod valued her opinion so much. And she felt a little guilty. Here she was meeting with Rod to try to decide if he was behind the mysteries at the museum, and he was flattering her, asking for her opinion on what to do with the rest of his life. She relaxed a little, but she didn't cross him off her list. He might just be a good actor.

They found a table and sat down. He smiled at her, his brown eyes warm, also flattering her.
Please don't be guilty, please don't be causing all this trouble, Rod
. She could like this guy. She could like him a lot. He gave her shivers that she had never experienced with Josh. And she and Rod had so many interests in common.

“Where are you going to school?” That was a safe thing to ask. “I guess I'll go to CU Boulder. I've applied there.”

“I haven't decided. Dad wants me to go to Cambridge.”

“In England?” Lana could forget seeing Rod at college. “Your real father or your stepfather?”

Rod stared at her. Finally he looked away. “My birth father was an archaeologist. He died in an excavation in Egypt when I was two. My mother remarried when I was still very young. My stepfather is the only father I know. We're close. He may go back to Cairo, so it won't matter where I live. I'm feeling kind of mixedup about college right now.”

Lana kept quiet for a few minutes and nibbled her sandwich. If Rod wanted to talk, she'd listen. But he started to eat, too, and flipped through the pages of his sketchbook.

“Here's one of my better sketches.” He pushed the open book toward her.

She swung it around and studied the pencil sketch. Not only was it accurate and well drawn, but something about it made it leap right off the page. She wanted to touch the funeral jar, smooth her hands over the figures on the lid.

“Rod.” She realized her voice was full of awe. “This is better than good. This is wonderful! The jar is so real, but better than a photograph.”

“You're not just saying that?” Rod's lack of confidence made Lana see him in a different light. She'd thought he was a bit conceited and hard to approach. Had he been covering a lack of faith in himself despite his experience and talent?

“My father says there's no money in art or archaeology. He wants me to go into business administration. My mother says my real father was a dreamer and never would have made enough money to send me through college. So I'd better be grateful that there's money and I'd better take advantage of it.” Rod's voice took on some anger and bitterness. Lana reached out and took his hand.

“He's probably right, Rod, but I've always thought a person should follow his heart. I'm going to do what I want to do. I always have.” She smiled, remembering. “I had an eighth-grade English teacher who tried to convince me I was too obsessed by one subject — Egypt. I wrote all my papers about Egypt. All my essays, all my stories, were set in Egypt. She said it wasn't healthy for someone my age to have only one interest. She even tried to assign me different subject matter.”

Rod smiled. “So what did you do then?”

“I wrote what I wanted to anyway and dared her to flunk me. She knew she couldn't. Finally she gave up and started pestering another student. I'm going to be an archaeologist, no matter what anyone says. After I graduate from college, I'll try to have faith that I'll get a job — in Egypt, of course.” She smiled back at him and made a decision. “Rod, can I ask you what you think about something else? I think it's related to my obsession. I've been having the strangest dreams.”

“Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

She paged through his sketchbook for a minute before she spoke. Rod's drawings were special. He had incredible talent. She could feel him watching her, waiting.

“You have to do something with your art, Rod. You'll let yourself down if you don't.”

“What kind of dreams?” he insisted, ready to pay attention to her. To focus attention away from his own problems.

“I dream I'm back in ancient Egypt. Most of the time the dream is about everyday life. The other night I found myself in a funeral procession, but that was probably influenced by our field trip and Marge telling us about funerals.”

“Who are you in the dream?”

“This is going to sound silly.”

“Sometimes dreams
are
silly.”

“In the funeral, I think I was Princess Urbena. I was in the funeral procession for Nefra. Rod, it was so real. I felt the terrible sadness, the loss.”

“Have you always dreamed a lot, vividly?”

“Not like this. These dreams are so real. I've steeped myself in Egyptology for months, so the subject matter is inevitable, but not the feelings. I've never had dreams with these kinds of feelings, and I wake up retaining the sorrow, the joy, or once, the fear.”

“The fear?”

She took a deep breath. She might as well tell Rod about her nightmare.

“I think I was the princess in that dream. I was knocked out, placed in a coffin, and buried alive. I woke up feeling suffocated, and really scared. The dream made me wonder if the princess did commit suicide or if she was murdered.”

“You know, Lana, because I spent so much time in Egypt I believe in some things I wouldn't otherwise, like the supernatural. I think you can tap into the consciousness of someone in another time, another place. I think the brain has powers we haven't even begun to realize.”

“You think because I've been thinking about Urbena a lot, I could have — have made contact with her? That in a dream she could show me what happened to her?”

“I also believe in reincarnation. You could have been Urbena in another life.”

Lana was overwhelmed … frightened. “I can't believe that. Anyway, wouldn't she have come back in Egypt?”

“I don't think souls have any geographical boundaries. I know a woman here in Denver who says she shares a soul with a man in India.”

“But in order to share a soul, you have to be on earth at the same time.” Lana thought about that a little. She tried to stay open to any idea. “But back to my being Urbena. You think I might be remembering what happened to me in another life?”

“Sounds spooky, doesn't it?” Rod took her hand. “There's no way you could ever prove it, but I find it fascinating to think about. The entire history of the rulers of Egypt is full of murder, jealousy, people claiming the throne. So Urbena, even though she held no claim to the crown, could have been murdered for some other reason.”

“Well, what a cozy little lunchtime.” A voice, a hard, angry voice, interrupted their conversation. It was Darrah. Her dark eyes shot daggers at Lana.

Rod let go of Lana's hand and grasped his sandwich tightly. “Hi, Darrah. I didn't know you were coming over.”

“Obviously you didn't.” Darrah glared at Lana. Lana had never seen such open hatred and jealousy. “I thought I'd surprise you and we could go to lunch together. I made a mistake. I'm sorry.” She spun around on one foot, marched around the corner, and out of the museum.

Rod stared after her. Finally he said, “I met her in Cairo. We've been friends for a long time. She's always been jealous.”

“I guess so. Sorry if I ruined your love life.” Lana was only halfway teasing.

“Not your fault. Not your problem. I guess I'd better talk to Darrah. I think she came to Denver because of me, and — but — ”

“You don't have to explain.” Lana ate the last of her sandwich. “I'd better get back to work.”

“Lana, thanks for saying my work was good. That means a lot to me. I haven't shown it to many people.”

“Then I'm flattered. Thank you.”

“Would you go out with me some time?” Rod studied her, totally serious.

“I don't know. I'm going with Josh Benson and you — ”

“Yeah, I have some fences to mend, and an understanding to reach, but after that?”

“I might consider it. Ask me again. After the exhibit is over I'll have more time.”

“That won't be long.” Rod got up to follow Darrah, if he could find her. Maybe she did this a lot, blowing up. Maybe it was a game and she'd be waiting for him outside. Their relationship was none of Lana's business, but she was curious. It would seem that Darrah thought Rod was her property, but Rod had a different opinion.

“I never thought I'd say it, but I think I'll be glad when the exhibit is over. A lot of strange things have been happening in the last two weeks. Good luck with Darrah.” She smiled at Rod.