Page 15 of Disturbing the Dead
Before they can answer, a man carrying a tray of glasses hurries in, those empty glasses clinking. “Lady Christie? We have been looking everywhere for you. There is a situation.” He leans down to whisper something, and Lady Christie’s eyes half close, telling me the “situation” is less cause for alarm than annoyance.
“Thank you,” she says. “I will find him.”
She turns to us. “Children, we must take our leave of Dr. Gray and Miss Mitchell. The demonstration is to begin soon, and there is no sign of your father.”
“He will be trapped speaking to some bore who will not release him,” Phoebe says.
“Likely yes, and so we must intervene.”
“You must. I’m staying with them.” Phoebe gestures at us.
“Phoebe, you cannot—”
“Miss Mitchell hasn’t finished her story.”
“But the demonstration will soon begin—”
“I’ll watch it with them. Or, if you would prefer, I could wander about on my own, telling other guests what I think of unwrapping mummies…”
“She is fine with us,” I say quickly. “That will free you to look for Sir Alastair.”
Lady Christie hesitates. We both assure her it’s fine, and she finally departs. Phoebe waits for her to be gone and then whispers, “You can tell me the curse story later. First, let us show you the ushabtis.”
“Ushabtis?” I say.
Phoebe grins and points at a display of figurines. “Servants. For the afterlife.”
“Well, that’s better than taking the actual servants like the Vikings did,” I say.
“We did that, too,” Michael says. “The Egyptians, that is. During the First Dynasty.”
“Tell them the story about these ushabtis,” she says to Michael. Then she looks at us. “It has the most gruesome story attached.”
“Now you are commanding me to tell stories?” Michael says.
“What else are little brothers for?”
“I am two weeks younger. Two weeks.”
“And, having been tardy as always, you now find yourself forever cursed… with being my younger brother. Come now. Tell them the story.”
FIVE
We’re still in the treasure room, having moved on to discuss the death mask, when Annis’s voice erupts behind us.
“Dear Lord,” she says. “Leave them alone for an hour and look what happens. They have children already.”
“Even Duncan cannot work that bit of scientific magic,” McCreadie says. “They merely borrowed these two, testing the idea on for size.”
“May I introduce our guests,” I say. “Or our hosts, as the case may be. This is Phoebe, and this is Michael. They are Sir Alastair’s children.” I turn to the children. “These are Dr. Gray’s sisters, Mrs. Ballantyne and Lady Leslie, and our dear friend, Detective McCreadie.”
“Detective McCreadie?” This time it’s Michael piping up, voice tinged with admiration. “The police detective? From the stories?”
“Stories?” McCreadie says, but before anyone can answer, Phoebe walks up to Annis and says, “Lady Annis Leslie? The one accused of murdering her husband with poison?”
“Yes, though that is not usually how I introduce myself.”
Isla shoots her a look. “It is exactly how you introduce yourself.”
