Free The Curse of the Pharaoh #1 by Sir Steve Stevenson Page B

small, upturned nose, a Mistery family trait.
    She carried a cup of steaming tea, which she savored in tiny sips. It was top-quality Shui-Hsien, with a scent like honey and a fruity aftertaste. In a word: superb.
    She followed the path to a gazebo, where she sat on a purple swing, resting her teacup next to a pile of letters. Mostly junk mail, bills, and silly postcards from friends on vacation. Agatha didn’t bother to read them.
    Then she noticed a package on the table. It was covered with stamps, postmarks, and labels from several countries.
    What could it be?
    “Chandler?” called Agatha.
    The Mistery Estate’s trusty butler peered out from behind a hydrangea bush, armed with a pair of gardening shears. He was pruning straytwigs, dressed in an extra-large black tuxedo that seemed more suited to a gala event than a garden. An ancient straw hat perched on top of his head.
    “Good morning, Miss Agatha.” Chandler waved his shears and gave her what passed for a smile, a very faint crack in the great slab of his face. A former professional boxer, he was known for his stony expression.

    “What’s this?” asked Agatha, picking up the mysterious package. “Where did it come from?”
    “From the Andes, Miss Agatha.”
    “Then it’s from Mom and Daddy!”
    Agatha crossed her legs and started unwrapping the package, carefully noting the sequence of stamps. “This first one is the postmark of Laguna Negra in Peru,” she said aloud. “They’re there right now, at thirteen thousand feet above sea level!”
    “Just so, Miss.”
    “And then the post office in Ica, the Andean province,” she said, concentrating. “Then Lima, the capital of Peru, then…that’s strange! Do you see that?”
    “Do I see what, Miss Agatha?”
    “This stamp, right under the air-mail sticker.” Agatha chewed her lip. “It says Mexico City.”
    Chandler nodded.
    “And finally the last stage: from Mexico City to London, endorsed at Heathrow Airport!” She took the last sip of her Shui-Hsien, then pulled her trusty notebook from her pocket and opened it to a blank page. She clicked open her favorite pen, but the ink had gone dry. Frowning, she scribbled a bit, leaving dents in the paper. “Have you got a pen?” she asked Chandler.
    Agatha never missed a chance to take notes on an interesting detail. Like every member of the Mistery family, she had her heart set on an eccentric career.
    She wanted to be a mystery writer.
    And not just
any
mystery writer: the best in the world! To train her prodigious memory, she took notes constantly, read encyclopedia entries for fun, and traveled to every corner of the planet whenever she got the chance. She prided herself on her attention to detail.
    “A pen?” she asked again.
    The butler stood looking at her.
    “Is something wrong, Chandler?”
    He pulled a gold pen from his tuxedo jacket and passed it to her with a little cough. “Not to put too fine a point on it,” he said, “but don’t you plan to open your birthday present, Miss Agatha?”
    “Of course, silly me!” She ripped off the tape and opened the cardboard box. Inside was a second box, labeled HANDLE WITH CARE.
EXTREME
CARE !
    Chandler handed over his gardening gloves. He was accustomed to Mistery family surprises. Even so, his eyes nearly popped out of his head when Angela lifted out…

    “A
cactus
?!” he blurted.
    The girl’s cheeks were flushed. “Not just any cactus!” she exclaimed, in seventh heaven. “A very rare specimen!”
    It looked like a squat green gourd bristling with thorns. There was also a small birthday card with a picture of llamas.
    Darling Agatha
,
    Daddy and I are thrilled to have found you the last existing potted Indionigro petrificus in the world. You can plant it in Lot 42. Add a pinch of sand, don’t overwater, and be sure to wear gardening gloves—the spines contain a dangerous, paralyzing toxin that causes apparent death (but just for a few hours!).
    Big hugs and kisses,
    Mom
    “A