Kat thanked him.
She hadn’t expected Amanda to speak to her in the middle of a Y incision, and Amanda hadn’t. Dr. Randall’s diener was sewing up the incision. Amanda might speak to her in the days to come, but Kat didn’t expect it.
She was worn-out when she left the morgue, and stunned to see that dusk was falling.
Before she left the building, she called Will, who said he’d come and get her.
“No, no, don’t bother. I’ll just grab a cab,” she told him. “There are dozens on the street. I think we should head straight over to see what’s going on with the Egyptian Sand Diggers tonight.”
Will agreed. “That’s what I had in mind, too. Today’s events must be really traumatic for them. I’m sure there’ll be a gathering.”
“See you there.”
“I’ll come—” Will said.
“Will, I’m staring at three cabs!” She hung up before he could protest; she didn’t want to waste time.
Still, she paused before walking out to the street.
The city was moving into nightfall, which brought a beauty of its own. There were lights on in abundance, and the place seemed to sparkle. From somewhere she could hear jazz music, and people meandered along the streets, laughing and chatting.
Kat looked back at the morgue, then hailed a cab, anxious to get on her way.
She gave the driver the address for the Egyptian Sand Diggers. As they moved through the traffic, she gazed out at the city in its evening finery.
Once she’d arrived and paid the cabdriver, she glanced around for Will’s rented Honda. She didn’t see it.
She stared up at the exquisite—and exquisitely maintained—Colonial Greek manor. While she waited for Will, she decided to walk around the building.
Kat could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the parlor. Slipping around the side of the house, she saw that there was a summer room in back and that, for modern Chicago, the yard was large. She immediately noticed a small entrance guarded by two sphinxes—an entrance leading into some kind of maze. A sign in English and hieroglyphics warned Enter If You Dare!
A rustle in the trees startled her and she turned quickly. She wasn’t afraid of the living, not while she was armed and alert. Her service Glock was in the holster beneath her jacket, and she could draw it in a second.
However, she couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t really want to announce herself, since she was wandering around private property, uninvited and unaccompanied.
She was definitely intrigued by the maze, but with darkness descending, taking a stroll there wouldn’t be wise.
Hearing a car door, she walked around to the front. Will had arrived, and she hurried forward to meet him.
“Hey!” he said, greeting her with a hug. There was tension in his muscles; she lowered her head, smiling, because she knew he worried about her when they were apart. It was natural. She did the same thing.
Kat liked the way he treated her, concerned but with respect, and always deferring to her now when he knew that her knowledge of a particular subject was greater than his.
“I’m okay,” she assured him.
“And Amanda?”
“We have to wait for the tox reports.”
He nodded.
“There’s a maze in back,” she told him. “Very cute. High bushes, Egyptian sculptures.”
“You went out in the back alone?”
“I just took a look. It’s private property and I’m well aware that we need imminent danger or a search warrant to prowl.”
He arched a brow, offering her a half smile. “You were prowling around.”
“But not a lot. I was admiring the landscaping.”
“That wouldn’t stand up in court. Anyway, shall we?”
Side by side, they climbed the steps and Will rang the bell. Nothing happened. They knew there were people inside, so he banged on the door. When nothing happened then, either, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.
They entered the grand old mansion off Michigan Avenue.
The hallway itself was empty. Will shrugged and they moved toward the parlor. A few members, two men and a woman, were sitting there, deep in discussion. They were all clad in loose white robes, as if they were acolytes getting ready for a religious ceremony.
The discussion stopped as soon as they noticed Kat and Will.
The woman rose. “May I help you?” she asked coolly.
Kat introduced herself and Will by their names only—not mentioning the FBI. “We were hoping we might see Dirk. Is he here?”
The woman nodded. She glanced at the men and forced a smile to her lips. “I’m Samantha Willard, and these are Bill Bartholomew and David Gleeson. Dirk is up in the study. Are you prospective members?” she asked.
“We’re friends of Dirk’s,” Kat said.
“I’ll bring you upstairs.” Samantha waved at the two men. “Be right back!”
As they headed for the stairs, Will exchanged a quizzical look with Kat. There had to be a number of people in the mansion at the moment; they could hear voices coming from the kitchen and dining areas, as well as the parlor.
At the upstairs landing, Samantha led them to the first door on the left. She tapped on it lightly, and Dirk Manning called, “Come in.”
He was sitting by the fireplace, also clad in one of the white robes, reading from a journal. He looked sad and drawn, but if he was surprised or dismayed to see them, he didn’t reveal it. He rose, smiling. “Welcome. Welcome back. Sorrowful times, I’m afraid, but of course that’s why you’re here. Can you tell me what happened? Amanda Channel killed herself and a guard shot himself? Is that true?”
“I don’t believe any of it, not for a minute, and that’s not what I said at the press conference,” Will told him.
Dirk Manning studied him for a minute and then smiled. “No, that’s not what you said. Some of the stations actually showed you talking. Most of them only used a few words of what you said and added their own commentary. So…someone is killing off anyone connected to Amun Mopat’s treasure and the salvage of the Jerry McGuen?”
“Frankly, it’s a mess, Mr. Manning,” Kat said. “You threw a party to get people interested. Brady Laurie was the most excited because he believed he had the answer—which he did. But Brady’s dead, and so is Amanda.”
“What did she die of?” Manning asked her.
“We think it was some type of poison,” Kat said, “but we don’t know what. There was nothing obvious, but I’m positive that with the tests we’ve ordered, we’ll find out.”
“Brady Laurie was drowned, Austin Miller was sent into heart failure, a guard’s been shot. And now Amanda is dead, apparently by poisoning,” Will said.
“Maybe there is a curse.” Manning sank back into his chair before the fire. “Maybe there really is a curse.”
“And maybe the curse is greed,” Will muttered.
Manning shook his head. “What kind of greed would cause someone to kill like that? Maybe, when it was just Brady, it could have been greed. Someone who wanted to get the treasures for him- or herself. But the location of the ship is now well-known. However, Amanda died at the Preservation Center.”
“That’s why we need your help.” Will sat in one of the chairs by the fire, facing the old man. “For starters,” he said, “what’s going on here tonight?”
Manning raised his hand absently. “A farewell to our dear friend Austin Miller. A ceremony to say goodbye. The morgue has told us that they don’t know when they’ll release his body. These people, all of us, loved him. We will give him an Egyptian ceremony that is intended for the comfort of those left behind. We offer up food and gifts at the altar in the center of the maze. Nine of us will speak, each to a certain god of the ancient world, asking for Austin’s speedy flight to the heavens above. It’s a memorial,” he said simply.
“That’s fine, Mr. Manning. That’s fine. Will other people, nonmembers, be here tonight?”
Manning nodded. “Everyone who was on our invitation list the night we had the party—the night Brady Laurie told us he thought he’d found the location of the Jerry McGuen.”
Will looked over at Kat. “May we attend, Mr. Manning?”
Manning was silent for a moment. “You want to attend our ceremony?” he asked, astonished. “You didn’t know Austin.”
“We didn’t know him,” Kat said, deciding she shouldn’t tell Manning that, in a way, she had met Austin, just not when he was alive. “But we want justice for him.”
“How involved do you want to be?” he asked.
“As involved as you’ll let us be,” Will replied.
Manning shook his head again, a look of confusion in his eyes. “I…I can’t believe we might have brought this about, that I might be responsible for the death of my best friend. For all these deaths… Is it possible?”
“No, it’s not,” Kat said firmly. “You are not responsible for the depravity of another person, Mr. Manning, not at all. But we’re pretty certain that someone who’s been here is responsible for these deaths.”
Manning straightened his shoulders. “You seem to think I’m acquainted with a killer. But I will not help one! Yes, you must stay and be involved, if you believe I can assist you any way—or if you think you might get a shred of information from being here. Absolutely!” He stood. “Come along,” he commanded. “It’s time to prepare.”
An hour later, the Egyptian Sand Diggers’ clubhouse mansion was filling up.
Will was impressed by the number of Egyptologists, scholars and old friends who arrived for the special tribute to Austin Miller.
He was equally impressed that he and Kat were dressed and ready for the evening. They, too, were clad in long white robes; they had brass torches to resemble the wooden ones that would have been used during the time of the New Kingdom.
