Death on Tour (30 page)

Kyla and I had to leave for the airport at three in the morning, so we said good-bye to Anni that night. I handed her an envelope containing the suggested tip amount, my twenty-five-dollar bet, plus every Egyptian pound I had left. It wasn’t as much as she deserved, although I was pretty sure that Kyla’s envelope contained the bonus I couldn’t afford. I also handed her a sheet of paper torn from my purse notepad.

“This is my e-mail and other information. Would you let me know how Alan is doing?”

“Of course,” she said, her dark luminous eyes full of understanding.

Cairo to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Chicago, Chicago to Austin. Almost twenty-four hours later, I was back in Texas and due back in the classroom in less than twelve hours. Exhausted and let down, I crawled into bed and prepared to resume my normal life.

*   *   *

As she promised, Anni e-mailed me two days later to let me know that Alan had been released from the hospital. Her note was friendly, but brief. I’m not sure what I expected. “He has a fever and is calling for you,” would have been nice. I doubted I would ever see him again. I had no way to contact him and wasn’t sure what I’d say anyway. Sorry for hitting you with a rock just seemed so inadequate.

Life quickly returned to the old routine. A couple of weeks later, Kyla and I went to Eeyore’s Birthday Party, an annual festival that draws all the magnificent weirdness for which Austin is famous. You just never know what you’re going to see there—new age hippies smoking half-concealed joints, a transvestite in neon blue hot pants sporting a mountain-man beard, a couple of anorexic-looking women in fairy costumes.

We also ran into my ex, Mike, and his fiancée. I looked at the two of them, taking in the pressed clothes, the flash of diamonds at the wrist and neck, the manicured nails. And that was just him.

I grinned and said hello, then moved on, already looking forward to the catty things I would be able to say to Kyla as soon as they were out of earshot. I had taken ten paces and was already starting in on the fake tans, when I suddenly realized that the sting was gone. I might be vindictive and bitter, but I no longer grieved for what I’d lost. It felt really good. I saw the look of approval in Kyla’s eyes, as she came back strong with an observation about the fake boobs. All four of them.

*   *   *

One Saturday afternoon at the beginning of May, I was sitting on my back porch grading papers and drinking iced tea when the phone rang. I picked it up absently, still concentrating on the pathetic spelling and poor grammar on the page in front of me. My red pen was poised and quivering.

“Jocelyn? Alan Stratton here.”

I absolutely froze. My mouth was open, but no sound was coming out.

“Alan Stratton?” he repeated, sounding uncertain. “From the Egypt tour?”

“Alan,” I managed, voice a little croaky. “Of course I know who you are. I’m just surprised.” I swallowed hard and sat up, scattering papers everywhere. “How are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“All recovered,” he said, a little more confident. “I’m back in the United States.”

“That’s great. No side effects? No headaches?” I asked the last a little gingerly. As far as I knew, no one knew I’d been the cause of his head injury.

“Nope, completely back to normal. And I hear I have you to thank for it.”

“Oh, I … oh, no. I didn’t do anything,” I said weakly.

“Not how I heard it.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was wondering if I could come by sometime to thank you? Maybe we could even, I don’t know, go to dinner?”

“I’d love that,” I said. Was he actually going to come to Austin? Just to see me? I was suddenly very excited.

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“If you’ve already got plans, I completely understand,” he said hastily.

“You’re not in town, are you?”

“Actually, yes. In fact, I was going to just drop by your house, but then I decided that was just a little too much like a stalker.”

I was now pacing back and forth, unable to sit. I briefly wondered how he’d found my address, but it didn’t matter. He was here. In town. And he wanted to see me. I felt like one of my students, and not the brightest one at that.

“Jocelyn?”

“One hour.” I squeaked and hung up on him.

I was halfway to the shower before I realized how idiotic I must have sounded, but it was too late. I started the water, then raced to the phone and punched in Kyla’s number.

“Hey,” she answered lazily. She has caller ID, but I wasn’t positive it would have mattered.

“Alan! It’s Alan. He’s coming to take me out.”

“What?” I could hear her sitting up.

“Alan Stratton. He’s here.” I dropped the phone as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“Alan? From Egypt? Are you kidding me?” she was saying as I picked it back up.

“No, really, he just called.” I kicked off my shoes. One of them flew across the room and left a mark on my white wall. I didn’t care.

“When you say here…”

“Here! In Austin. He’s coming over.”

“What the hell are you doing talking to me, you idiot?”

“I’m doing what we swore we’d never do to each other. I’m canceling with you for a man.”

She laughed. “Hell, I’d do it to you in a heartbeat. Just remember, you’ll owe me details later. Specific, sweaty, bodice-ripping details.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t think he’ll be wearing a bodice.”

She ignored this. “And wear that new sundress. If I find out you met him in those pathetic fat-ass jeans, I’ll slap you into the middle of next week.”

I laughed and hung up, then paused. What was wrong with my jeans? Nevertheless, the sundress it was.

Alan arrived at my door exactly one hour later, looking different somehow. And it wasn’t just the small scar above his right eyebrow. He seemed taller or something. Maybe his eyes were more green than ever. Maybe he just seemed more remote now that he was on my turf and out of the tour setting where I’d come to know him. He seemed to be searching my face, looking for something. I felt suddenly shy.

“Come on in,” I said, remembering my manners. I stepped back and held the door wide.

He walked past me then turned to give me a hug. Unfortunately, it was the kind of hug you might give a friend.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said, but at least he really seemed to mean it.

“You too,” I said. “How are you feeling? No lasting effects?”

“None at all. I’m completely fine, thanks to you. You saved my life, you know.”

“I don’t think so,” I protested. “I didn’t really do anything.” I shot a glance at his scar again, feeling even more guilty.

I led the way to my tiny living room, glad the place was relatively neat. It had taken three weeks, but I’d put away the last remnants of my Egypt laundry and souvenirs the weekend before. On the wall near the kitchen hung the papyrus in its unbreakable glass, the one I’d bought after the saleswoman bounced it off the floor. It was actually a nice piece, the Eye of Horus, and here, where it was not surrounded by hundreds of other prints, it did not look so garish. Beside it, on a small shelf, sat the gold pyramid he’d given me on Elephantine Island. With a smile, he paused to look at it.

A thought occurred to me. “You know, I never even asked if you had my address. I’m not in the phone book. I hope you didn’t have trouble finding me.”

“Not for someone with my innate and impressive detective skills,” he said with a grin. “Also, Anni handed me your contact information.”

“She did?” I knew I hadn’t tipped her enough.

“She did. And told me she hoped I was smarter than I looked.”

“She never said that!”

He grinned. “She might as well have. She certainly implied it.”

I went to the refrigerator and returned with two beers. He gave me an approving look. “Shiner Bock. A woman of taste and discernment.”

We clicked the bottles together. He was looking at me in the oddest way, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. I’m not sure how long we would have stood there staring at each other, but I decided to break the spell.

“Come on, let’s sit outside. It’s such a gorgeous day. And then you can tell me what happened after we left.”

He followed me to the back porch where I had two lawn chairs and a small iron table. The roses around the patio were covered with small buds and the tomato plants in the raised bed near the back fence were already spilling over their cages. My fat little poodle, hearing the door, lifted her head and leaped to her feet, yapping obnoxiously. I stomped my foot at her and she subsided, tail wagging.

Alan stared. “What is … I mean, who is that?”

“You had it right the first time. She’s a pest. But a pretty good pest,” I couldn’t help adding. “Her name is Belle.”

He scored points by dropping down on one knee and holding out his hand. Belle waddled forward and licked his fingers, which meant nothing about his character at all. She was not a discriminating dog.

We sat down. Belle leaped into his lap, tried to stick her tongue in his beer bottle, which he jerked away just in time. Then she jumped back down and curled up at his feet. He laughed out loud.

“I told you she’s a pest. An old pest. She was a present for my sixteenth birthday, which seemed very cool at the time. Anyway, tell me what happened with Fiona and Flora. I’ve been trying to find out, but there hasn’t been a thing in the news, and Anni hasn’t written me.”

“Well, it’s not exactly something the Egyptians want to advertise. And the press there doesn’t have the same freedoms that it has here. But I stuck around long enough to give a deposition.”

“So tell.”

“Well, Fiona and Flora are being held in jail in Cairo on charges of murder, diamond smuggling, and antiquities theft. Actually, I’m not even sure the Egyptians bothered to file charges for the assault against me, they had so much else to work with.”

I leaned forward. “I heard them talking with Mohammad about diamonds, and they mentioned that Millie had seen some sort of statue. Poor Millie. I guess that’s why they killed her. You know, that entry in her notebook—where she suspected someone of smuggling? I actually thought she was talking about me and Kyla,” I admitted. “I thought she was crazy, when she was really smarter than all of us.”

He nodded. “I think she figured out Fiona and Flora right away. She may not have known the extent of their plans. In fact, I don’t see how she could have, but having found the statue, she knew enough to ruin their trip and possibly get them arrested. They couldn’t take that risk. She was a dead woman the instant she opened their bag.”

“And what about Mohammad? Did they ever catch him?”

“Almost immediately. He might have escaped if he’d left Karnak and never looked back, but he wasn’t prepared to do that. He wasn’t even carrying his passport, much less any money. He decided to sneak back onto the ship to get his things, and of course the police were waiting for him.”

I digested this. “You know, he might have been involved in the smuggling, but he never wanted anyone hurt. He really seemed appalled by Fiona and Flora’s activities.”

“Yes, murder was never supposed to be part of the plan. And from his point of view, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. He wasn’t in the same league with them in terms of ruthlessness, not that it will matter much when it comes to prison time over there.”

I thought back to the conversation at Karnak. “Fiona and Flora seemed to know him pretty well.”

Alan smiled his attractive smile. I thought he looked exceptionally good on my back porch. “This wasn’t the first time they’d worked for him.”

“They worked for him? After hearing them talk to him at Karnak, I thought it was the other way around.”

“Oh no. This was Mohammad’s deal all along. He came up with the plan, he made the contacts, he arranged the transfers. Then all he needed was someone who could play the part of a tourist and collect the items. It was very clever, deciding to use tour groups for smuggling purposes. Very low risk.”

“Low risk? You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all. You’ve seen how tour groups are treated. One big happy family. Luggage scooped up all together, identities vouched for by the tour guide. If the luggage is inspected at all, it’s very cursory. And everyone expects to see all kinds of fake Egyptian crap in tourist luggage. How easy would it be to throw in one or two real pieces? It would take an expert eye to notice one authentic item in a load of fakes.”

I blushed a little. “I suspected DJ, as a matter of fact. He was buying so much worthless stuff. And once I read Millie’s journal and started thinking about smuggling, he moved to the top of my list. I feel bad about it.”

“Well, you had company. I thought the same thing for a while.” He reached down to pet Belle. “It was an easy mistake to make, or at least I hope it was. Anyway, Mohammad was WorldPal’s chief director in Egypt, and he was ideally placed to set up exchanges and contacts. We were even paying him to scout out locations and make local contacts. In fact, if he hadn’t gotten greedy, he could have done it for years.”

“Greedy?”

“He thought he found the ultimate smugglers in Fiona and Flora. Looking over our records, they’ve been on at least two other WorldPal Egyptian tours. And from what has come out in the investigation, they were apparently quite good at fencing stolen items. With their abilities, I think Mohammad was planning to repeat his little scam indefinitely. Everyone was getting rich, and it was seemingly foolproof. He had no idea Anni had become suspicious and had contacted me.”

“It just seemed so elaborate. All those people involved. I don’t see how he could have kept it going without getting caught.”

“To be honest, I think the previous trips were on a much smaller scale—I suspect they just took out one or two small items. But Fiona and Flora had decided to retire and apparently they told him this would be their last trip. He decided that he would arrange as many exchanges as he could. If the statue that got Millie killed was the only goal, they would have gotten away with it. But Mohammad had something set up in nearly every place we stopped, and they couldn’t handle it. I’m sure you noticed that Flora was getting a little … confused at times.”