Page 122 of Disturbing the Dead
I shrug and gaze out the window.
“You do not believe Lord Muir is the culprit?”
“I believe he kidnapped and framed Selim Awad. I also believe he is behind the theft of the artifacts. And I know, beyond any doubt, that he tried to kill me.”
“What about Sir Alastair? Could Lord Muir have killed him?”
“He has an ironclad alibi.”
“One of Lord Muir’s accomplices then? The men who kidnapped Mr. Awad?”
“How likely is it that Muir would have sent one of them to murder Sir Alastair?”
“Also they are clearly not the person seen by Mr. Awad. Then who killed Sir Alastair?”
I stare out the window.
“You have ideas,” she says.
“My mind keeps circling back to Selim Awad. We presume he was on good terms with his brother-in-law because Sir Alastair enlisted his help.”
“Yet we only have Mr. Awad’s word on that.”
“Plus the letter, which he produced, but it’s exactly what Muir said—an urgent summons to discuss the missing artifacts. It could be interpreted either way.”
“Helping Sir Alastair investigate or confronting Selim with the theft.”
“Yes. I don’t doubt that Selim was kidnapped, by Muir, who also was responsible for the thefts, but the thief isn’t necessarily the killer.”
“The thief—Lord Muir—may have only taken advantage of Sir Alastair’s death and a house in mourning to steal more artifacts. While Mr. Awad was found unconscious in the tunnel, that could have been faked. And he is a hale young man who could easily have overpowered Sir Alastair and could have easily gotten him into that storage room.”
“His alibi also doesn’t clear him.”
She rises. “Let us analyze that blanket Duncan brought back. I might be able to confirm whether Mr. Awad was truly under sedation in—”
A rap at the door. Isla calls in Lorna, who has a letter in her hand.
“My, my,” Isla says. “Endless messages today. Is that also for Miss Mallory?”
“No, ma’am. This one is for you.”
Isla smiles and takes it with thanks. As she goes to open it, she pauses, frowning as she looks down at the envelope. Before I can ask what’s wrong, she opens it and takes out a card.
“Ah,” she says. “It is actually for the both of us, Mallory. It is from Queen Mab, who says your contact for the mummia will meet you in an hour at the Old Calton Burial Ground. My presence has also been requested, as I had questions before agreeing to her terms.”
Isla looks over at the clock. “We have time then to change and be off. It is still daylight, so I presume this will be a safe location to meet?”
The cemetery is on Waterloo, an extension of Princes Street, near Calton Hill, perfectly fine for two women in the late afternoon. I say so and then we head off to change into walking dresses and clean up for the meeting.
I come downstairs just as Isla is telling Lorna and Alice that she wants them to dust the library thoroughly. While the room is dusted daily—a must in the era of coal and wood heating—what she means is the monthly task of a thorough dusting, and the library is the most time-consuming room to do it in, with all the books and knickknacks. I just dusted it two weeks ago, but I presume Mrs. Wallace has talked to Isla about finding tasks to put the two girls in forced proximity, in hopes they will become better acquainted.
Lorna, who hasn’t questioned any chores so far, balks at this one. She has a bit of a headache and hoped for a lie-down. To my surprise, Isla doesn’t grant it, instead only giving her headache powder.
Isla is not the sort of boss to give a bleeding employee a bandage and tell them to keep working. But is it my place to ask what’s up? I might not be a housemaid anymore, but what exactly is my position in the house?
That brings thoughts of the future, which sends me into silence with its uncertainty. We leave the house and start to walk, and I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t even notice whether it’s sunny or overcast, snowing or not. As we near Princes Street, I spot a mail carrier and give a start.
“Oh, I need to speak to you later,” I say.
