Page 116 of Disturbing the Dead
Across the room, Emmett King has stopped making tea. He’s gone very still. Huh. I glance at Gray, who has noticed the same thing.
McCreadie continues, “We are not concerned about the study notes. It is the key that has become an object of interest, as it belongs to a specific door. That of Sir Alastair’s office at the university.”
“What? Why would I—?”
“He was leading the opposition against the admission of female students. We believe you were in his office for that. You may have been searching for details on his plan. Or information on his supporters. Perhaps even information that could discredit him.”
“That… That is…” She shakes her head. “I should say it is preposterous, but I cannot help wishing I had thought of it myself, at least insofar as discovering his plans and allies. There are days when I am sorely tempted to explore more underhanded methods than Sophia espouses. However, I did not search Sir Alastair’s office. Nor did I have that key.”
“It was found—”
“I did it.” Emmett practically throws himself in front of his wife. “I am sorry. I understand how this will look, but please know that my wife played no role in my scheme.”
“Your scheme?” McCreadie says.
“I only wanted to help her cause. The cipher… Well, that is rather embarrassing. It was practice work.” He turns to Florence. “Remember the time we discussed ciphers? We were playing with a simple one, and I said perhaps there was a use for such a thing. You said such a simple code would be too easily deciphered. I was learning a more difficult one. I thought perhaps you ladies could use it for communication.” He hangs his head. “Yes, I was being foolish, and perhaps a little childish.”
“And the key?” McCreadie asks.
Emmett straightens, still planted between his young wife and the detective. “Sir Alastair left it behind in the lecture hall, after I spoke to him. I took it to return it… and then I had another idea. I thought perhaps I could find something to help Florence and the others in their fight against Sir Alastair.” He glances at McCreadie, half sheepish and half cunning. “Is it still considered illegally entering his office if I had the key?”
McCreadie ignores the question. I highly doubt he’s going to charge Emmett with anything, but it’s in his best interests to give the impression that the outcome will depend on Emmett’s cooperation.
“Did you find anything?” McCreadie asks. “Being a murder investigation, anything you might have uncovered could be useful.”
“I fear I am a very poor detective,” Emmett says. “That is why I had not mentioned it to Florence before Sir Alastair’s death. And then after his death, well, I dared not mention it then and cause her to worry, particularly after she herself had been questioned in his death. It was a foolish thing for me to do, sir, and I deeply regret my recklessness.”
Florence lays a hand on his arm. “I appreciate the thought, my dear, but you need to be more careful. Imagine if you’d been caught? You could have been expelled. As it seems unlikely that I will be able to practice medicine, one of us really needs that license.”
“I know, and I had not even considered the consequences. I acted rashly, and for what? I found nothing helpful and have brought the police to our door.”
“I believe I brought them first,” his wife murmurs. “Behaving rashly myself outside Sir Alastair’s party.” She sighs and turns to us. “We have both acted like impulsive children, and I do apologize.”
I speak up. “Was there anything that caught your eye in that office, Mr. King? Anything at all?”
“I cannot say there was.” He pauses, as if he just thought of something. Then he says, “No, that was odd, but not useful.”
“What is it?” I press.
“I found a letter in the trash, from a fellow who wanted to buy a mummy. I knew Sir Alastair was also an Egyptologist, and I am certain he hears from many wealthy people wishing mummies for their collections. Yet the letter did not look like it came from such a person. It was poorly written and ink-stained. So I continued reading, and it turned out the fellow didn’t want that sort of mummy at all.”
“That sort of mummy?” I repeat.
“He was asking Sir Alastair if he could buy any that were not found fully intact. I suppose he hoped to sell pieces to those who could never afford a full mummy, as a curiosity of sorts. The odd part was that he referenced Sir Alastair as a doctor and said he would understand.”
“That, being a doctor, Sir Alastair would understand why the letter writer wished to purchase mummified body parts?”
“Yes. Is that not strange?”
Florence shakes her head. “He wanted them for mummia.”
“For what?”
The young woman smiles. “Did you sleep through your course in medical history, Em? Mummies were once used in medicine.”
“They were?”
She sighs. “The fellow wanted mummia for some medical purpose, and Sir Alastair wisely disposed of the letter rather than pursuing it. I cannot see that it bears any connection to his murder, though. I can hardly imagine anyone coming to Sir Alastair’s house demanding bits of mummified bodies and killing him for refusing. The servants would never admit such a person.”
