Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) by Robert Colton Read Free Book Online Page A

I married Will; the village mocked us for being related, but we aren’t.” Her face then rested into a sort of paranoid smile, and her small, dark eyes went some time without blinking.
       It was my turn to introduce them to Lucy. “My dearest friend, Ms. Lucy Wallace.”
       Once more, a round of handshakes and pleasant greetings were said; Mrs. Kinkaid was just as aloof with Lucy as with me, and Mrs. Smith was just as awkward.
       Afterward, I asked, “What of the foreman, Hat Tem?”
      The group all looked to each other in surprise of my question before Sandy stepped in and said, “Other than the few locals who work as maids, in the laundry, or the grounds, you won’t see any people here who aren’t … well-to-do.”
       “Of course, he was here for the party,” remarked Wilma, her beady eyes twinkling, until her husband’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.
       The professor quickly said, “The locals are welcome; it is just a matter of …” He let his voice trail off.
       This seemed rather elitist, but I kept my response to myself. Instead, I took the seat offered to me, removed my hat, and said, “It is my fault that Lucy and I look rather foolish, I had thought we would be meeting you at Kamose’s tomb.”
       A polite chuckle was shared by the group. Professor Kinkaid spoke for the collective. “Oh, we didn’t want to subject you to that on your first day.”
       Sandy sat down, and as he poured me a cup of tea, he remarked, “Entirely my fault. I should have explained the situation better.”
       Arthur ran a finger along the brim of my helmet, which was now sitting on the table, and said, “What a fine pith helmet, Mrs. Stayton.”
        After a sip of my tea, I responded, “Thank you; it belonged to my husband.”
       There was a moment of silence. I had asked Mr. Jack to wire a message to Professor Kinkaid, requesting that he let it be known that questions regarding my husband’s death were unwelcome. I had vacillated about sending such a high-handed message, yet it seemed better to do so than spinning lie after lie when asked. Truth be told, I had run out of believable stories, and each fictional version was becoming more preposterous.
       Lucy, accustomed to redirecting conversation when need be, said, “This must be nice for you all, a break here at this lovely hotel, rather than spending all your time in the desert.”
       Several eyebrows knitted together, and a frown or two appeared before Professor Kinkaid said, “Actually, we all reside here.”
       Mrs. Smith added, “Not every night. Professor, there was many a night you spent in the tomb when the sarcophagus was found.”
       I noticed that as Mrs. Smith spoke, her eyes fell on Martha, who glared back at her.
       “I see,” was the only response I could muster as my eyes looked about the opulence of the sitting room.
       Professor Kinkaid gave me an awkward smile and said, “We take the boats moored just across the street from the hotel over to the West Bank every morning. We chose this hotel because it is the closest to the Valley of Kings. Mr. Farber saw to all the arrangements.”
       I replied, “Yes, I see.” After a sip of tea, I decided it was time to pounce. “And was Percy Huston also residing in this hotel?”
       Martha’s eyes dropped to her china cup, Jacob and Arthur looked to each other, and the professor, the doctor, and the doctor’s wife all spoke at once, “He was.”
       Yielding to the professor, the Smiths fell silent.
       “It’s the damnedest thing. Huston’s room was right next door to Arthur’s. The morning after the party, he was gone.”
       Mrs. Smith blurted out, “Well, he really wasn’t gone. His belongings were in the room until that evening, so he must have come back to get them.”
       “Did he?” I asked, dryly, like an unconvinced sleuth.
       Mrs. Smith stole a quick glance at her husband and said, “Well, who else would