Fields’ Guide to Pharaohs by Julie Mulhern

Author:Julie Mulhern [Mulhern, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The Isis held a costume party. It was part of the scheduled entertainment and a chance for the passengers to dress up in traditional Egyptian robes called galabeyya. A little thing like murder couldn’t disrupt the ship’s schedule.

The passengers gathered in the lounge where Ethan and I had talked with Detective Mohamed. Waiters served drinks and passed Egyptian hors d’oeuvres.

I waved away a silver tray. Surely we could skip ta’ameya for one night?

“You’re scaring people,” said Ethan.

“What?”

“Your scowl is frightening. We’re at a party.”

I directed my scowl his way.

“Your bad mood won’t bring her back.”

“I can’t believe they’re hosting a costume party.” Egyptians looked fine wearing galabeyyas. Tourists looked ridiculous. I’d skipped the flowing robe and wore a simple linen dress.

“The other passengers may have scrimped and saved for this vacation. The cruise line doesn’t want to ruin their trips—not if they can help it.”

Ethan had a point—not that I’d admit it. I wiped the scowl from my face and changed the subject. “Have you talked to Dara?”

“Briefly.”

“How is she?”

“Much as you’d expect.”

“It’s all about her.”

Ethan rubbed his palms over his face. “It’s a tragedy she’s alone in Egypt.”

“And she needs you now?”

He winced. “You know her well.” He jerked his chin. “We’d better head in.”

The other passengers were moving toward the dining room.

Ethan and I followed and found an empty table for four.

“May we join you?” The man who’d asked pulled out a chair for his wife.

She settled in and an excited smile lit her face. “I can’t believe I’m eating dinner with Chariss Carlton’s daughter.”

Their names were Wyatt and Marta. They were well-padded, well-served from the bar, and Marta considered herself Chariss’s biggest fan.

I pushed the fattah (layers of rice and fried Egyptian bread interspersed with lamb chunks and topped with a vinegar and tomato sauce) around my plate and frowned at the laughter coming from a table near the window.

“What’s your mother working on?” Marta regarded me over the edge of her glasses.

“Production for a new movie with James Ballester starts next month.”

Marta sighed and clasped her hands together. “They have such magic together.”

The movie studio agreed.

“How long have you kids been together?” asked Wyatt. “The wife and I have been married for thirty-six years.”

“Thirty-seven,” corrected Marta.

“All of them happy.” Wyatt reached for Marta’s hand, and they smiled at each other. They meant that smile. They glowed with that smile.

Among Chariss’s friends, marriages were measured in months, not decades. Seeing Wyatt and Marta almost renewed my faith in love. “How did you meet?”

“High-school sweethearts. I was the quarterback. Marta was the head cheerleader.”

Ethan stared at them as if they were exotic zoo animals. “What’s your secret?”

Wyatt paused, a forkful of fattah halfway to his mouth. “Secret?”

“How have you stayed happily married?”

“I do what my wife tells me.”

Marta rolled her eyes.

They were adorable.

Marta patted her lips with her napkin and looked at me. “You never answered, dear.”

“Answered what?”

“How long have you and Ethan been together?”

Two days.

“Wow, um, Ethan, how long has it been?”

“A month.”

“And you’re traveling Egypt together?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.

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