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

“Yes, Maxie “Grip” Beaumont—” I began but was interrupted by Lucy, who quoted one of the papers.
       “Mrs. X pushes Maxie Beaumont off the deep end, causing her to lose her grip!”
       I remained silent as the others produced little chuckles.
       Lucy went on, “Truly, it was a muddle, but she saw the clues that no one else did.”
       We had come to our destination, and Mr. Farber’s interest in small talk was extinguished. In closing, he took the tone of a polite but bored host and said, “What an adventure.”
       Once the casket was set down on a long bench, which reminded me of my father’s examination table, Mr. Farber ran a finger around the lid. Then he nodded to the two men who had carried it, and with skillful grace, they began to open the lid.
       A shadow was cast on the interior; however, something seemed not quite right. We all stared inside the casket, dumbfounded, until Mother Stayton blurted out the words we were all thinking, “Where is King Kamose?” 
      For an instant, Mother Stayton looked as if she were about to faint. As she pointed herself toward the two men who had set down the casket lid, I think she felt the weight of her hat shift, and she thought better of giving in to the throes of emotion.
      Mr. Farber lost his wits for a moment. I think he nearly climbed into the casket, as if to make sure the missing mummy was not somehow hidden in the shallow case.
       Lucy was the one to make the most level-headed statement, “How odd for that to be the place where there isn’t a body.” In true character, she took from her purse a notepad and pen. My dear friend then told me in a perfectly rational tone, “It seems you have the plot of your next whodunit.”
       I tapped a gloved figure to my lips, fully putting my mind to the apparent problem at hand. “This seems more like a plot device, I dare say, to introduce us to the true story.”
       In a state of shock, Mr. Farber turned toward us and asked, “What are you talking about?”
       Lucy and I exchanged glances, and I replied, “We have a mystery, you see? Where is the mummy?”
       Lucy pointed her pen at the man and asked, “ Why would someone take it?”
       With a sharp edge to her voice, Mother Stayton asked the next question, “And who took our King Kamose?”
        Obviously rattled, Mr. Farber readjusted his spectacles, and he replied, “I haven’t a clue.”
     
     
       Mother Stayton would have stormed out of the museum had her attire allowed for rapid movement. As it was, Mr. Farber was able to nervously grovel for forgiveness as he followed us out of the institution.
       Not until she came to our black sedan did she slow her pace. As the chauffeur scrambled to attention and swung open the back door, my mother-in-law turned back on Mr. Farber and said, “You have turned me into Betsy Wilton. All of my friends are coming to see the unveiling of King Kamose—and he isn’t here!”
       Lucy and I climbed into the motorcar as Mr. Farber promised he’d wire Professor Kinkaid in Luxor and find out what happened.
       Mother Stayton shouted to our driver, “Do whatever it is you do to make this thing speed off with an awful sound!”
       The engine revved, and there was a great jolt. Thank the Almighty that somehow, Mother Stayton’s hat remained in place.

Chapter Two
     
    After we arrived home from the museum, Mother Stayton lamented on how she would be mortified once her friends found out that King Kamose was out of pocket.
       My mother-in-law went on to have Clarice, one of our less efficient domestics, ring up each her friends so that she could tell them the horrible news personally. This seemed to greatly raise the woman’s spirits.
       The following day, both Lucy and I avoided Mother Stayton’s preferred parlor as she paced the room, dictating a series of unpleasant letters intended for Mr. Farber.
       When our butler entered my little study and waved a