Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) Read Free

Antiquities had only approved the inner-most casket to travel abroad with King Kamose.
       The moment the crowbars were placed on the ground, the workmen magically transformed into gentle creatures, and with surprising reverence, they lifted the mummy case from the open crate.
       Mother Stayton gave a curtsy to the rising king. The moment would have been quite beautiful had her feathered hat not flown from her head.
       The casket was truly magnificent. I say this not because of my personal investment, or the fact that it was to be donated to the museum in my beloved husband’s name, but because it was truly a sight to behold.
       The lid was carved to represent a reclining body. While the arms, crossed over the chest, were painted onto the wood, it was with such detail that they looked ever so real. The king’s face was carved from the wood and painted in with luscious color. The full lips and almond eyes were exotic, almost sensual. Surrounding the face was the nemes headdress, striped with faded but beautiful dark blue lacquer and thin gold foil. Atop this the heads of a cobra and vulture were carved. Semi-precious stones were inlaid about the casket, and they reflected the harsh lights from the exposed bulbs dangling from the garage roof. 
       I realized that I was holding my breath after a long moment of gazing into the likeness of Kind Kamose’s face.
       After Lucy helped pin Mother Stayton’s hat back in place, the two stepped beside me and gazed at the object as I did.
       The awe-inspired silence was broken when the timid Mr. Farber cleared his throat and said, “Now, let’s have it brought to the examination room where we will carefully reveal the mummy.”
       Spellbound, Mother Stayton followed without a word. I was quite impressed with King Kamose’s power over the woman; only one thought to be a God-King in his life might have the power to silence her so.
       Mr. Farber, nervous by nature, gave rambling orders to empty the rest of the van’s contents, and then he doubled his step to catch up with us.
       The curator was proficient at small talk. He had a good memory, or kept a dossier on his patrons, and was always able to bring up the last thread of shared conversation. “I believe the last time we spoke, you were taking painting lessons; are you still?” 
       “Oh no, she gave up on that a year ago,” said Lucy.
       “Such a shame. I had hoped we’d see your work on display here,” Mr. Farber remarked with well-practiced flattery before asking, “How do you occupy your time, Mrs. Xavier?”
       Well-meaning people are often quite concerned with how a young widow occupies her time. I had taken up many hobbies that did not suit me: piano lessons, painting lessons, horseback riding, even origami. Still, my time was not fully occupied, until a tome Lucy had her nose stuck in had inspired me.
       “I have recently penned two novels—well, manuscripts I suppose, as neither is published,” I told the man, modestly.
       “You don’t say—” Mr. Farber began to reply.
      “She’s a sleuth, that’s what she is,” said Mother Stayton with surprising pride, momentarily distracted from Kamose. “Do you ever pick up a newspaper? She’s Mrs. X!”
      I felt my cheeks blush as Mr. Farber’s narrow face twisted. “Great Scott, that sordid business at Pearce Manor, the butler did it! Yes, Mrs. X has been in the papers quite a bit.” He gave a queer, nervous laugh.
       Lucy chimed in, “Had it not been for Mrs. Xavier, that detective would never have solved Ms. Masterson’s murder.”
       Mr. Farber’s grin dissipated as he recalled my more recent exploits, and I spoke before he might.
      “The press praised me for my deduction at Pearce Manor, but they were not as kind when I discovered the murderer of a woman impersonating a Russian countess.”
       “That survivor of the RMS Tatiana , she was a sort of hero in the States, wasn’t she?”