Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) by Robert Colton

girlfriends. All the same, Percy looked out for Onslow, and he was good company. They made life easier for each other in their own ways.
       “There was a falling out; Percy isn’t just a photographer, he is an artist too. Percy thought Onslow would get his paintings hung in the museum. But it didn’t turn out that way. Percy had the knack, but not the creativity.”
       I asked, “Did Percy take photos for the museum?”
       Sandy rubbed his square chin. “Sounds right, yes; after they mended the fence, Onslow did what he could, sent a bit of cash the way of his friend.”
       “And here, Mr. Farber was doing him a favor by getting him this job under my employ?” I inquired.
       Sandy shrugged as the car came to a stop near the river’s edge. “The way Percy acted, it seemed he was doing old Onslow the favor.”
       We continued our conversation as Sandy led us to the waiting skiff. “Percy went missing after a party at the hotel; were you present?”
       “Me, at the party? Oh, no. I kept to a game of cards that night. Kinkaid was done with Percy; I knew better than to be around that lot.” 
         “How is that?” asked Lucy.
       The good-natured man sighed and responded, as he helped both Lucy and me onto the boat. “This is all gossip, but I guess it is part of your sleuthing; someone else will tell you soon enough.”
       “Tell us what?” I pressed, most intrigued.
       “Mind you, Percy never told me this, just bridge table gossip, but they say he was pitching woo to Martha Kinkaid.”
       “What a scoundrel,” quipped Lucy.
       Sandy laughed. “Well, yes, but if there is a word for a female scoundrel, then you might attribute it to Martha.”
       The current caught the little boat, and I reached atop my head to steady my pith helmet. “Was the professor aware of this gossip?”
       Sandy shook his head up and down. “As I hear it put, the professor had his relics, and Martha had her passing fancies; they manage as best as they can with each other.”
       This was all very interesting. “What else has your friend Mr. Farber neglected to tell me?”
       Sandy gave me a big smile and asked, “Has he warned you about Hazel Keeley?”
       “No, should he have?” I retorted.
       Sandy chuckled and said jovially, “Everyone should be warned about Hazel. I’ll arrange for you all to meet at four.”
       “Who is she?” I asked.
       “What does she have to do with the case?” inquired Lucy.
       Sandy’s smile widened before he answered, “She fancies herself to be an art dealer, but really, she is just a middle man between a shady deal now and then …”
       Nothing more could be said, as the instant the skiff came to a rest, a mob of ragged children appeared and began shrieking, “Baksheesh, Lady!”
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Lucy tapped her sharp pencil against her notebook. “Depending on how the matter is all cleared up, we have quite the makings for a marvelous whodunit. What shall you call it?”
       I looked up from my sketch pad and responded, “ Deception in the Valley of the Kings. ”
        “Oh, how splendid.” Lucy peered over to my sketching. “What are you working on?”
        “Did you notice anything odd about the alabaster lid to the sarcophagus?”   I asked.
        A puzzled look appeared on Lucy’s face, but then her eyes focused past me and she blurted out, “Egads, it is nearly four o’clock.”
       She rushed from my room through the door connecting it to hers, and we both changed into appropriate attire.
       With the sudden change in travel plans, we had enlarged our wardrobe while in the south of France, not yet realizing our ship was not equipped with a ballroom.
       Dressed for tea, I made a quick inspection of myself in the looking glass above the dresser. My eyes landed not on myself, but rather on the two framed photographs of Xavier. I could have sworn the portrait of him kitted out for