Conspiracy to Murder Page 8

  “You are atrocious,” Harley told him, shaking her head.

  “Hey! I just admire people and make them happy. I don’t do anything evil!” Joe protested.

  “We’ll let it slide this time,” Jensen said. “Lay off Harley, eh? She’s seen you with the ladies. She knows your MO.”

  “Harley, do you really mind me telling you that you’re gorgeous and mysterious and desirable in black?” Joe asked, sounding wounded.

  “No, just don’t slobber on my hand, please.”

  “Slobber? That was an elegant kiss!”

  “Ah-ha! A very wet and elegant kiss!” Jensen said. By now, Roger had come in; he listened to the ongoing conversation, rolling his eyes. “And every one of us has a doctorate!” he murmured. “Pathetic. What is this world coming to?”

  “I think the world was a mess long before we came along!” Belinda said, joining them.

  It was then that Harley noticed Micah Fox; she hadn’t seen him come in. He was standing at the bar with her cousin Craig. The oldest Finnegan, Declan, who ran the family establishment, was talking to the two men.

  She had a feeling they were all watching her and her friends.

  A minute later, Micah walked over and joined the group.

  Harley wasn’t the first to greet him; Belinda was. Harley was busy greeting Arlo, who had just arrived, and Ned Richter, who had apparently chosen to join them rather than stay with his wife at the hospital.

  They were seated around two of the big mahogany tables in the corner, Ned Richter, Arlo, Joe, Roger and Belinda crowded in against the wall, and Craig, Micah, Harley and Jensen perched on the chairs across from them. There was ordering of drinks and meals, with casual conversation at first. And then Ned Richter raised his glass and said, “In memory of Henry Tomlinson, the greatest Egyptologist I ever knew and one of the finest men to have ever walked this earth, as well.”

  “Hear, hear!” the others chimed in.

  They all raised a glass to Henry, and then Ned continued with, “And to the bastard who hurt my Vivian—may these agents and cops find him, and may he rot in hell!”

  “Hear, hear!” another cry went up.

  “That’s harsh,” Jensen teased. “At least you’re among friends.”

  “That’s what an Irish pub is all about,” Richter reminded them all, drawing a round of laughter. He went on, saying, “Sorry, I can’t help it. I hope the bastard dies a hideous death.”

  Harley wondered why he wasn’t with his wife, since he was so devastated by what had been done to her.

  But she was wedged between Jensen and Micah, and she was very aware of both men being so close to her. She found herself wondering, too, just what connected people. She was seated between two very fine men. Both exceptionally good-looking and bright—and both engaged with the world…in completely different ways.

  She liked them both.

  And yet, sitting there, she knew why she wasn’t with Jensen, why they hadn’t gone out. Each man’s interest was unmistakable.

  But only one man’s seemed to matter.

  She was attracted to Micah Fox. She barely knew him, and yet when she’d seen him again, just the sound of his voice had aroused her senses.

  “Seriously, who would’ve done such a thing? Harley, what do you remember?”

  Harley realized that her mind had completely—and inappropriately—wandered. Belinda was staring at her, brown eyes wide, and waiting for an answer.

  Harley took a sip of her drink—a Kaliber nonalcoholic beer by Guinness, since she’d decided she couldn’t risk losing an ounce of control tonight. She hoped someone would say something that explained Belinda’s question.

  She felt Micah’s eyes on her. Maybe he knew she’d been distracted. Hopefully, he didn’t know that her mental absence at the table had been due to him.

  “About that night…that night in the Sahara,” he said.

  “We were all so excited,” she began, and around her, Jensen, Joe, Roger and Belinda all nodded.

  “And we were rewarded!” Ned Richter said.

  “A find beyond measure!” Arlo agreed.

  “We’d started to bring some things from the tomb into the prep tent,” Harley said. “It’s a special tent, temperature-controlled. Everyone’s careful there. Amenmose’s tomb turned out to have more than a dozen mummies and sarcophagi—all in different states of disrepair and decay. We’ve proven that Amenmose was murdered, so after it happened, someone who loved him borrowed—or stole—funerary objects from the dead who’d passed on before him. They also brought together people, dead and alive, who’d served him.”

  “Why would they do that? Why go out and find people who’d already died to bury with him?” Micah asked her. “I studied Egyptology,” he said sheepishly, “but, I don’t understand—taking people who have already died and their things. It’s like robbing the dead. It is robbing the dead.”

  “He would need servants in his next life. Servants, women… He would need people and animals, just as he’d need his bow and shield,” Harley explained.

  “I know about objects needed for the next life. I guess I never heard of them being taken from somewhere else…dead, or still alive.”

  Micah seemed to move even closer to her. She could feel his eyes; she could almost feel his touch. His elbow was on the table and his fingers dangled near her lap.

  She forced herself to concentrate. “We worked really hard that day—for hours and hours. I’m pretty sure it was close to eight o’clock. There was a little village not far from the dig and the people there were incredibly nice. We’d go sometimes to have dinner and maybe sit with coffee at a place there, something like a family-run restaurant or cantina. But we decided in the end that Jensen and I would go by ourselves and bring back food. Jensen came to get me while I was trying to talk Henry into coming with us. We were all tired, of course.” She glanced over at Belinda who was still watching her with wide brown eyes. “Belinda was Skyping with Al. he was in Iraq at the time, I think.”

  “Iraq, yes, just about to leave,” Belinda said.

  “And Roger was working on tech and communications because we were hearing rumors about an upstart hate group, so he didn’t go.” She turned to Joe and couldn’t help grinning. “Joe was still moving some of the artifacts. We had a lovely young Egyptian as our interpreter. Satima Mahmoud. They were…working.”

  “Working, right!” Belinda mocked, then laughed affectionately. “Joe was flirting.”

  “What? I don’t flirt!” Joe protested.

  “You’re a flirt!”

  Harley was sure they all said the words at the same time.

  Joe flushed and shrugged. “She’s really pretty. And smart.”

  “That she is,” Harley agreed.

  “So, Jensen,” Micah said, looking past Harley, “you and Harley went out together that night. How long were you gone?”

  Jensen thought it over, raising a brow at Harley. “Hour and a half maybe?”

  “Somewhere in there. An hour to an hour and a half,” Harley said.

  Micah nodded, then swiveled around to look at Ned Richter and Arlo Hampton. “Neither of you checked on Henry during that time?”

  “There was no need to check on Henry!” Ned Richter said. “We had security on the outskirts of the camp. Henry was completely in his element, like a kid in a candy store. I wouldn’t have interrupted him.”

  “And you?” Micah asked Arlo. “Shouldn’t you have been in there with him?”

  “No, because I—”

  Arlo turned beet red and stopped speaking.

  “You what?”

  “I was working,” Arlo said.

  “On what?” Ned Richter demanded.

  Arlo looked guiltily around. “Well, I had one of the funerary tablets in my tent.”

>   “You took a tablet from the find into your tent?” Ned repeated, his tone grating.

  “Well, you see, I was interpreting, trying to figure out just what had happened at this site and how. It wasn’t usual, having that many dead in a tomb. I was transcribing the tablet.”

  “What did it say?” Harley asked. She’d never heard about the tablet.

  Arlo flushed miserably again. “I don’t know.”

  “No artifacts in private tents,” Ned told him, irritated. “I’m not going to fire your ass or anything over it, but damn it, that’s the last time, Arlo. We follow the rules at Alchemy.”

  “What did the tablet say?” Harley persisted.

  “I don’t know,” Arlo said again, his expression peevish.

  “You didn’t translate?” Harley asked.

  “I didn’t have time. I got through a zillion lines of how wonderful Amenmose had been and then…you started screaming.”

  “I’d just found a friend—dead!”

  “Well, yes, you screamed, and then everyone had to come and look at Henry. Then we heard we were about to be attacked, and then we were all helping when it came to loading up what we could, trying to get to the airport in Cairo.”

  “Yes, but where—”

  “Harley, I haven’t the faintest idea where the damned tablet ended up!” Arlo said. “I thought we were getting together tonight to be supportive, and you’re all accusing me of terrible things!”

  “We didn’t accuse you,” Ned pointed out drily. “You admitted you took an artifact.”

  Arlo sighed. “Where were you? What were you doing? Why wasn’t Vivian with Henry? She’s the one who loves it all so, so much!”

  “I had gone to get dinner to bring with Jensen. And, then, of course, when we got back, we were busy making plans to get everyone and everything out of the desert! That was a nightmare. What the hell? We’re going to attack one another now?”

  “Hey, guys, you all came here to honor Henry!” Micah reminded them.

  Jensen laughed. “You’re the one who started this.”

  “Yes, I am,” Micah said seriously. “Henry died out there that night. Now Vivian’s been attacked. I wonder if you realize just how lethal nicotine poisoning can be.”

  “I certainly realize,” Ned Richter said hoarsely.

  “We all do. It’s just that…we wouldn’t have hurt Henry!” Belinda said. “And… I have no idea what went on with Vivian. No idea,” she repeated softly.

  “Nor do I. She was in her office,” Jensen said.

  “And you last saw her when?”

  “I told the police—I told anyone who asked. I saw her about an hour before the celebration started. She was in her office, said hi, then waved me out. She seemed too busy to worry about the opening ceremonies, although she definitely showed up later. She loves the exhibit, you know.”

  “The rest of you? Did anyone see her before the celebration?” Micah asked.

  “I saw her at about four o’clock,” Ned Richter said. “She came to my office. She wanted permission for more expensive testing. I told her we had to hold off for a while.” He paused and then added, “Every once in a while, I have to make her understand my position. I’m a CEO. I can’t give in to her just because she’s my wife. Especially because she’s my wife. She’s a highly qualified Egyptologist, but she didn’t even work for Alchemy at first. She has her position due to me, so…”

  “I waved to her,” Arlo offered. “I was working in the lab. She didn’t wave back. She was concentrating on whatever she was doing. Then again, that’s Vivian’s way.”

  “I didn’t see her at all,” Belinda said. “You know, not until…”

  “Me, neither,” Joe said.

  “Nor me,” Roger chimed in.

  “Thanks.” Micah lifted his glass. “So, to the evening, then, huh? To Henry, our mentor, a man we all loved dearly… I assume?”

  Assent was quickly voiced by everyone in the group.

  “To Henry!”

  Their waitress came by; Harley noted that Micah made a point of dropping any questioning at that point. Instead, he ordered the pub’s very popular shepherd’s pie.

  He clearly had the ability to be very charming when he chose. He got Belinda to speak about her upcoming marriage—she was supposed to have a Christmas wedding—and he got Arlo talking about the way he’d fallen in love with mummies at the Chicago Field Museum as a kid. Joe, in his turn, became enthusiastic and wistful talking about the beautiful Satima Mahmoud and what an excellent interpreter she’d been, helping whenever anyone needed it. They’d come this close to having an affair, he admitted, and then, of course, everything had gone to hell.

  Roger talked about his love for the desert—and his happiness over the fact that they were home. There was no place like New York. He loved being home, he said; he loved his job.

  Ned didn’t stay more than an hour, since he was going back to the hospital to be with his wife.

  No one else seemed to want to break up their get-together, but it was growing late. The fine Irish band playing that night announced their last number.

  The evening inevitably came to an end.

  “So who sees to it that our lovely companions get home okay?” Joe asked, rising and indicating Belinda and Harley.

  “No need to worry about me,” Harley assured them. “Seriously. The tall, dark, handsome and deadly-looking guy at the bar is my cousin.”

  “Oh, Craig’s here! I didn’t realize. He should’ve joined us,” Belinda said.

  “Maybe he didn’t want this to look like an inquisition,” Jensen said, staring at Micah.

  “Maybe,” Micah said casually. The two men were almost the same height, both about six-three. Micah was smiling, not about to get into it—and not about to back down.

  “If you’re tired, I can take you to your place,” Jensen told Harley.

  “I’m fine, really,” she said. “My cousin, remember? Craig is my cousin.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Jensen said. For a moment, his eyes fell on her, and she thought he might be feeling something like jealousy over her preference for Craig’s company rather than his. But although they’d teased and flirted, they’d never dated; they’d never been more than friends. She liked that he was protective. However, he didn’t have any grounds to be jealous. At least not of Craig…

  “Fine. Belinda?” Jensen said.

  She laughed. “I’m a native New Yorker. I’ve been taking the latest subway most of my life. But sure.”

  “Your fiancé is a man serving his nation, Belinda. It’s my privilege to see you safely home. And,” he added, “I’m damned good with the subways myself.”

  “Okay, thanks. Come on. I’ll make tea when we get to my place—so you can get yourself safely home after that!” Belinda left with Jensen’s arm around her.

  Harley realized that, as the others trailed out, she was still standing near the exit with Micah.

  “Strange,” he muttered.

  “What is?”

  “He’s the one person who can’t be guilty.”

  “Who? You mean Jensen?”

  Micah turned to look at her, studying her eyes thoughtfully, his own pensive. “Yes. He was with you in the desert. The two of you saw Henry alive together, and then you left together, and when you came back, Henry was dead.”

  “Yes. Why do you find Jensen suspicious?”

  “Something about him.”

  “They teach you that at the academy?” Harley asked.

  “Actually, yes. But never mind.” He took her elbow. She was startled by the way she reacted to his simple touch.

  “Shall we join Craig?” he asked.

  They did. Craig stood politely to offer Harley his bar stool, but almost on cue, the cuddling couple who’d been takin
g up the seats next to him rose, hand in hand, seeing nothing but each other. They began to wander from the bar and toward the exit. Craig gestured at the three stools conveniently left for them and they all sat down.

  Micah went over the conversations at the bar and Harley knew that Jensen had been right; Micah really had been grilling all of them.

  If Craig had joined them, it wouldn’t have been a get-together.

  It would’ve been an inquisition, just as he’d said.

  Kieran came from the back office, sliding in comfortably with her back to Craig’s chest, leaning against him on his bar stool.

  “Make any headway?” she asked.

  “Ah, yes, Special Agent Fox has had a gut feeling,” Harley replied.

  “I don’t trust the guy,” Micah said mildly. “Jensen.”

  “Hmm,” Kieran murmured.

  “The psychologist’s deep, dark ‘hmm’!” Craig said. “There must be a Freudian meaning there!”

  “No, I don’t think there’s a rational explanation for a gut feeling.” Kieran shook her head. “But perhaps if there’s dislike involved…”

  “Don’t dislike the guy. He seems okay. But I sense that he’s not quite trustworthy,” Micah said.

  “Ah.” Harley shrugged. “I have a hard time seeing Jensen as a criminal. And in our group, Joe’s the one who tends to go off on tangents, not that it means he’s guilty of anything. But he’s easily distracted.”

  “By the beautiful Egyptian girl,” Micah said. “Satima Mahmoud.”

  “Yes, and she’s still in Egypt, so I doubt she had anything to do with last night,” Harley said.

  “You know for sure that she’s still in Egypt?” Micah asked.

  “I, um…”

  Harley was forced to pause. “No. Of course I don’t know for sure that she’s in Egypt. I assume she is. It’s where she lives and works.”

  “Worth checking on,” Micah said. He was, however, aiming the remark at Craig, who nodded in agreement.

  “I think I need to go home.” Harley stood up, yawning.

  “I’ve got a car today. We’ll get you home,” Craig said. “Kieran? You ready?”