Page 87 of Disturbing the Dead
“Which is admirable. You were reluctant to give away the hand, because it was a gift. You are reluctant to ask Mrs. Ballantyne for her services, because it is not her job. That reflects well on you. But this case is a matter of public good, and you cannot let your personal ethics interfere.”
“I know, but I can still sulk over it.”
We’ve walked a few more steps when something catches my eye. We’ve left the medical section and we’re walking down a row with some seriously interesting stuff—like brass knuckles with tiger claws and a tiny gun worn as a ring—but I don’t do more than glance at it all. I’m pissed off for good reason, and I’m not going to let any cool bric-a-brac spoil that. But then I see a table of objects that are obviously Egyptian in origin, and that yanks me out of my sulk.
As I walk over, Queen Mab murmurs, “If you are hoping to find another source for that information, I would not recommend it. The White Lady is far more reliable than this fellow.”
“Artifacts have been stolen from Sir Alastair’s collection,” I whisper. “I would not expect them to be on the market so soon, but apparently, they aren’t the first thefts.”
“Ah. In that case, let us peruse.”
I’d made a mental note of all the artifacts reported missing. There’s nothing on the man’s table that matches the descriptions. My gaze falls on a necklace that looks like the one Lady Christie wore to the party, but then I pick up subtle differences.
“Do you like that, lass?” the man behind the table says. He’s not much older than me, with a greasy look that has nothing to do with the actual grease slicking back his hair. “Now that particular piece was found in the tomb of…”
I tune out the rest, recognizing sales-pitch bullshit when I hear it.
“It is very pretty,” I say. “But I am more interested in things like paddle dolls.”
At his frown, I say, “I do not know what you would call them but they are paddle-shaped pieces of wood, carved to look like stylized women, with beads for hair. They have been found in tombs and are believed to represent dancers of the god Hathor. Have you seen any of those?”
He blinks. His gaze goes from me to Mrs. Wallace, standing dourly a step away, as if guarding me. Then it moves to Queen Mab, and he gives a slight start, as if he’d been so focused on me that he hadn’t realized who I was with.
“Your Highness,” he says, with a tug on his cap.
Queen Mab regally inclines her chin. “Please answer my friend’s questions regarding these objects, and understand that she is here with me, and also that she knows precisely what interests her and has the wherewithal to purchase it.”
“Y-yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.”
The man turns back to me. “I would be most pleased to assist in whatever you might need, lass—my lady. This represents only a small portion of my collections. I have excellent sources. Straight from the source, in fact.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “An Egyptian chap who works the excavations.”
My brows shoot up. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
I let my enthusiasm dim. “I suppose that would be an excellent source for some of the simpler items, more easily obtained, but what I need is more… singular.”
“Oh, my contact is no common workman, my lady. His sister is wed to one of the gents who runs the digs.”
My heart thumps. Shit.
The man looks again at Queen Mab and fairly licks his lips. She’d said she didn’t trust him, which means she doesn’t deal with him. Here, he sees not only a potential sale from me, but a way to prove himself to a very powerful member of this community.
The man lowers his voice again. “In fact, I have had word that a new shipment is arriving shortly.”
“How shortly?” I ask.
“I cannot say exactly. The objects were delayed between him and me. A bit of a family tragedy, with the police sniffing around and all that. But they are in a safe place, and will be retrieved soon.”
“Do you know what is coming?” I ask.
“There are several objects, and I will likely receive one or two. I cannot say exactly what—I will not know until they arrive—but I can guarantee they will be far rarer than what you see here. Crowning jewels for any collection of Egyptian antiquities. If you tell me how to contact you, I can do that as soon as I have them.”
Queen Mab cuts in. “Excellent. Please let us know where we might find you, and we shall reach out in a few days.”
I barely notice that we’re leaving the market. My brain is spinning. It seems that Selim Awad did take the artifacts, and that we’ve found one of his buyers. The guy said receipt had been delayed by what I presume is the police investigation. I thought the culprit had used the murder to hide the theft, and he probably did, but clearly all the police searches of the premises caused problems. Selim couldn’t get them out. So where would he leave them?
In the tunnels.
