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

insincere when he responded, “Perhaps that was Mr. Farber’s translation, but what I told him was that Percy Huston was gone. Missing and gone are two different things.”
       I nodded my chin and retorted, “How right you are, Professor; missing sounds somewhat temporary, and gone strikes one as rather permanent.” 
       Kinkaid’s smile disintegrated.
       Dr. Smith rapidly interjected, “Percy mentioned to me some matter of pressing business—”
       Wilma interrupted, “With a Dutchman—”
       Dr. Smith’s hand reappeared on his wife’s shoulder, as he cut into her statement. “I’m not so sure he was Dutch, nonetheless, Percy was eager to be on his way. I believe he had another job lined up.”
       “I see,” was my only reply.
       The sound of Jacob Saunders’s voice echoed through the small valley from the direction of the work tent. “Well, is church over?”   
       With that, we all smiled politely at each other. Free of her husband’s grip, poor Wilma rubbed her shoulder for a moment while the professor suggested I inspect the artifacts that had been found.
     
       Lucy fanned herself while I carefully took hold of the ushabti that Jacob was thrusting in my direction. “Here, see where the hieroglyphics have been scraped off?”
       The stone figure resembled a small mummy. While the face was expertly carved, and the body smooth and polished, the chest was rough and scratched.
       “Yes, I see.”
       The flap of the tent opened, and for a moment, the sunlight blinded me.
       “Sorry, it’s a bit bright, isn’t it?” said Arthur Fox, as he timidly stepped inside and joined us.
       Jacob ignored the journalist as if he were a younger sibling, greedy for his parents’ attention, and said, “This is just one of twenty or so of the ushabti that were placed in Kamose’s tomb.”
       Kinkaid said in a whisper, “Each one represents a servant who would help the king in the afterlife. They all had unique duties.”
       I nodded my chin, and Jacob went on, “Kamose was buried in such haste that few of these bear his name. Instead, they scratched out the names of whomever they had been made for …”
       Arthur gave a harrumph as he tucked the notebook he’d retrieved from the table under his arm. Before he made his way back to the entrance of the tent, I said, “The Egyptians made a practice of this, did they not, Mr. Fox?”
       Hesitantly, the journalist turned back toward us. “Well, yes, yes, they did, Mrs. Stayton.”
       “I learned about that in your article on Queen Hatshepsut in The Science and Archeology Chronicle Quarterly, ” I remarked.
       There was just a waver of a smile on the small man’s face. “Yes, virtually everything ever produced in the queen’s name was usurped.”
       I tipped the artifact in my hand upward. “Then perhaps even this ushabti might have been hers.”
       Arthur crossed the small space and looked closely at the figure. He was about to speak when Jacob remarked, “Doubtful. Kamose lived and died a hundred years after the power-hungry queen regent went on her building frenzy.” The young Egyptologist pulled the object from my hands with undue force, and then flashed me a great smile. “No, I suspect this belonged to one of Kamose’s ministers.”
       Kinkaid agreed with his protégé. “Quite. When old Kamose died, everyone had to pitch in and fill his tomb.”
       Lucy gave a little chuckle and said, “Sounds quite the team effort.”
       Watching the two Egyptologists, I suggested, “More of a church jumble sale, would you not say, Mrs. Smith?”
       The pudgy woman let out a surprisingly devilish laugh. 
       I noticed Kinkaid and Jacob exchanged an odd glance in the lengthy moment it took either of them to say something agreeable.
       “Please, do pardon me,” said Arthur before slipping away.
       Kinkaid seemed not to notice the journalist’s departure as he said,