Chapter 8
Eight
“Sir Edward Thompson contacted me straight away when the body was found early this morning by museum staff.”
Body? My thoughts raced as he escorted us through the museum to the now-closed Egyptian exhibit hall.
A police constable had been positioned at the entrance, to prevent anyone entering, as well as signage that stated the exhibit was closed.
“Stand aside,” Mr. Dooley told him as we entered the exhibit. Lights were on inside, obviously from those who had entered earlier.
Mr. Dooley led us through the exhibit to a corner of the hall very near that statue of Ramses.
While I was not squeamish at viewing dead bodies—one did tend to lose that after seeing several over the course of the past three years—it wasn’t the body so much as who it was.
“Oh, dear,” I whispered, as I recognized Mr. Hosni.
He lay sprawled on the floor of the exhibit in a pool of blood before a cabinet with a statue. At least part of him. He had been beheaded, eyes staring in that last moment.
“This body was found by one of the workers who was allowed inside this morning to finish cleaning,” Mr. Dooley explained. “By the condition of the body, it would seem that it happened late last night or in the wee hours of the morning.”
Brodie knelt beside the body, while I chose to look for any clues that might have been left behind. That is what I told myself, as I tried to block out the image of Mr. Hosni’s body.
“The weapon?” Brodie asked.
“None found,” Mr. Dooley replied. “But it would seem to have been a substantial one, considering the wound. Not something one usually sees, even when you were working cases for the MET.”
“Aye,” Brodie replied. “Any other wounds?”
Mr. Dooley shook his head. “Just the one.”
Brodie continued to inspect the body. He checked the pockets of the jacket Mr. Hosni was wearing, along with searching for anything else that might be around the body that could provide some clue as to what Mr. Hosni was doing in the exhibit late at night or early in the morning, as Mr. Dooley had surmised.
Perhaps working on the catalog as he had told me? There did not appear to be a notebook or pen anywhere nearby.
Brodie stood and looked over at me. “Are ye all right?”
Anyone else would probably have run screaming from the exhibit hall at the gruesome sight, or in the very least fainted. I did neither.
I was only recently acquainted with Mr. Hosni through Sir Nelson.
He seemed sincere in his friendship with the man who had brought him to London and provided him not only work, but an education as well.
He had been forthcoming after Sir Nelson’s death in that same room. And ironically, he insisted I have the amulet that might have protected him.
I frowned as I stared at a sandstone bust atop the mahogany pedestal beside where Mr. Hosni lay.
“Wot is it?” Brodie asked.
“Unless I am mistaken that is Sekhmet,” I replied as I studied the features of the bust that appeared, by the broken edge of the bust, to have once been attached to the rest of the statue.
“Most curious. It might mean nothing, of course.”
“Who is Sekhmet?” Brodie asked.
“An Egyptian goddess. I’ve seen something very like this before.”
“Ye believe it might mean something regarding the man’s death?”
“Perhaps. There is someone who might be able to tell me more.”
Mr. Dooley would see that the body was removed and some sort of arrangement made after the police surgeon had made his examination and written a report.
I did not look at the headless body again as we left. There were the dozens of questions, as there always were. The obvious—who had killed Mr. Hosni, and to what purpose?
Was it the same murderer who had killed Sir Nelson? That seemed most likely. Or was it someone else? For what reason? Considering the brutal method by which he had been killed, where was the murder weapon? And was there some meaning to his body being found where it was?
It was very near five o’clock in the afternoon when we returned to the office.
Sir William Flinders Petrie, whom I had met previously when he lectured at University College in London, had recently returned from Jerusalem.
He had done early field work at Stonehenge and established sequence dating as a method for determining the origin of ancient ruins. Afterward, he traveled to Giza and began his explorations there.
Sir William had published countless articles that had raised the awareness as well as interest in that ancient part of the world, and had fueled my passion to travel there. He was presently preparing to return to Egypt within the next few weeks.
I made a telephone call to Sir Edward Thompson’s office at the museum. In spite of the dreadful turn of the day, I hoped to find him there. He might well know where I could reach Sir William.
“ Dreadful! Simply dreadful!” the director exclaimed when I told him the reason for my telephone call.
“Two deaths in as many days. And now rumors that the exhibit is cursed. I have no way of knowing when we may open the exhibit.”
I did understand his concerns; however, solving the murders might well go a very long way to dispelling rumors of a curse. He was most helpful in that regard.
Sir William lived in Hampstead when he was in residence; however, with a short stay before departing once more, Sir Edward informed me that Sir William was staying at the Midland Grand hotel while presenting a lecture series before his return to Jerusalem.
Due to the weekend, he was not making his final lecture at the Egyptian Hall until the following Monday, then departing for the Continent. With the urgency of our investigation, I immediately placed a telephone call to the Grand and asked the clerk at the front desk to have a message delivered to him.
And we waited.
“You know the man?” Brodie asked.
“I met him once at University College. Aunt Antonia is a patron of his Egyptian Exploration Fund, which sponsors his travels there. He rarely returns to London.”
In spite of what obviously had to be an extremely full schedule for him, I could only hope that he would return my telephone call.
It was very nearly seven o’clock of the evening when the telephone rang. He remembered our encounter and inquired about my great aunt. When pleasantries had been exchanged, I explained the reason I had contacted him.
“Yes, I had heard of the situation at the museum. Such a dreadful tragedy.”
I briefly explained that Brodie and I had been called in as consultants to the case, and I would like very much to speak with him regarding questions I had.
In spite of what I could only assume was an extremely crowded schedule in such a short time, he agreed to meet with us at the hotel. He was having supper that evening with a donor to his Egyptian fund, but would be pleased to meet with us afterward.
Brodie and I returned to Mayfair where we both changed into something more appropriate for our meeting. There was just enough time to call for a cab for our meeting with Sir William Flinders Petrie at the Grand.
It was after ten o’clock in the evening when we arrived; however, with the hotel’s location near the rail station, there were a good many people about, late arrivals, or those staying in London for other purposes.
At the front desk Brodie announced our arrival and that Sir William was expecting us. He was still in the dining room with his guest, and asked us to join him there, in a message returned by a hotel clerk.
He was as I remembered him, quite handsome, with a full beard and that inquisitive gaze, a man who had accomplished a great deal in the field of archeology.
He stood as we arrived. His guest was just departing; however, a young woman remained. From everything I knew about Sir William, he was ‘unattached,’ as the saying goes. He had once commented in an article for the Times newspaper that his schedule and travel hardly allowed for marriage and family.
The young woman was pretty, with red hair and a soft blue gaze, and had a notebook and pen on the table before her. A kindred spirit!
He introduced her as his assistant, Hilda Urlin, who was a geologist with a strong interest in Egypt.
“She is most accomplished and I needed someone to catalogue all the information I have brought back with me. She makes sense of it all, while my efforts are hardly legible.”
She was most pleasant and engaging. “I understand that you have traveled widely as well, Lady Forsythe,” she commented. “I am hoping to make the trip to Egypt in the coming year, although my work here for Sir Wiliam and the fund keeps me chained to a desk and a typewriter.”
A kindred spirit indeed. She was also working on a book she hoped to have published. I gave her my publisher’s name for when it was completed, and encouraged her to contact him.
I introduced Brodie and explained the work we did, as well as our current assignment as consultants to the MET.
“I’ve read the cases you and Mr. Brodie have worked on,” Hilda commented. “It must be exciting.”
I agreed that it was at times, and often challenging as well, and now we were immersed in this latest case.
“Dreadful tragedy,” Sir William commented as we sat at the table. “I was to meet with Sir Nelson before leaving London regarding his latest endeavor. I heard the news of his death, of course. Word travels quickly about such things.”
Brodie explained that there was now a second murder along with a brief mention of the manner of death. If I expected Sir William or his assistant to be shocked or horrified at the particular circumstances, I was surprised.
“I had met his assistant, Mr. Hosni, previously,” Sir William commented. “He seemed very devoted to Sir Nelson.” He turned to me.
“You said in our earlier conversation that you needed my assistance with something. How may I help you?”
In addition to the manner of death, I explained the location that Mr. Hosni’s body was found, in front of the pedestal stand with that sandstone bust. I had made a sketch of it once we returned to the office and showed it to him now.
“Ah, yes. Sekhmet, a very powerful Egyptian goddess.”
“What can you tell us about her?”
According to Sir William, she was a goddess first discovered from writings discovered in explorations of the Old Kingdom. She was supposedly the daughter of the sun god Ra, and drawings as well as papyrus referred to her as the goddess of war and destruction. Others showed her in the appearance of a cat as the goddess of healing.
“What might the significance be that his body was found at the foot of the pedestal?” I asked.
“Revenge, if one believes in such things.”
“Revenge against whom? For what?”
“There are those who believe it is revenge for removing artifacts from Egypt,” he went on to explain. “I have encountered such things before, yet I am well and planning my next trip there.”
“And the manner of death?” Brodie inquired.
“It was very important to Egyptians for the body to be protected and cared for before the journey into the afterlife. What you have described would appear to be an execution—the head severed from the body. To the Egyptians and their priests, it was a way to punish a person and prevent him from making the journey.”
“And now, in the Nineteenth Century?” I asked.
“Egypt is a very ancient land, and many hold to the old beliefs. That is what makes it fascinating, and at times dangerous.”
“And what would their belief be when it came to protection against the goddess?” Brodie inquired.
“For those who believe in such things, the eye of Horus is a protective image, found on burial chambers, in ancient writings and carvings.”
“An amulet?” I suggested.
Sir William nodded. “It is often worn for protection. I have seen it among those I work with when I’m there. Many still hold with the old beliefs.”
I explained about the amulet that Mr. Hosni had given me that first day. He was surprised.
“It would seem the reason he gave it to you after Sir Nelson’s death would be for protection against something he feared might happen. It doesn’t matter whether you believe it. It matters only that he believed it.”
And with good reason it would seem. But what did all of it tell us?
“What would be the symbolism of the gold knife?” I asked.
“A warning perhaps for those who believe in curses, death by a weapon that Sir Nelson had taken from Egypt,” he replied.
“Revenge?” I suggested, which was the belief attached to the goddess Sekhmet.
Sir William nodded. “With what you’ve told me of Mr. Hosni’s murder, it would seem that it might have been revenge against both of them.
If one believed in curses, I thought.
“What about the gold dagger?” I asked. “Is there some hidden meaning?”
“Gold was highly prized by the Egyptians,” he replied. “It has been found on several sarcophagi, items found in tombs, even on walls. It symbolized one’s status. What of the other weapon?” he asked.
“It wasn’t found with Mr. Hosni’s body, nor any other place in the exhibit,” Brodie replied.
“What was Mr. Hosni doing there after the exhibit had been closed?” Sir William asked.
“He has been working on a catalogue of the exhibit for the museum. When I last spoke with him, he wanted to complete it.”
He nodded. “So very sad. As I said, he was a good man. He understood the importance of these exhibits where others might come to understand the people. And most certainly it wasn’t for plunder.
“Sir Nelson lived quite simply, and I’m told invested his own money when he traveled there. It is a sad and tragic loss.”
It had grown quite late in the evening. I thanked Sir William for taking the time to meet with us and wished him success on his return to Cairo. And it was a pleasure to meet Hilda Urlin. As I said, a kindred spirit. I hoped that we might meet again.
I kept turning everything we had learned over and over in my mind on the return to the office, as did Brodie.
“It might be useful to check the inventory in the exhibit against the catalogue Mr. Hosni was working on to determine if anything is missing,” Brodie suggested.
“Something the murderer might have stolen?” I replied.
“We need to find a motive.”
“A simple robbery?”
“Perhaps.” Brodie was thoughtful as we arrived at the townhouse.
“Two murders, the symbolism of the dagger and that funerary mask, and the way Mr. Hosni was killed as if it was an execution.”
The question was, for what, though? Revenge, according to the belief in Sekhmet–a very angry goddess according to Sir William.
Or a robbery of valuable artifacts as Brodie seemed to suspect? All of that gold could be very tempting.
Yet, if not for robbery, then for what other reason?
The clues we now had, few as they were, might possibly lead in two directions as to motive.
I did wonder if Sekhmet’s anger and the curse could be considered a motive. For someone who believed in such things and was carrying out acts of revenge ...?
We returned to the office on the Strand, even though it was late in the evening, so that I could update the board with what we had learned.