Mummy Dearest Read Online Free Page A

to do, Mother?” demanded Caron.
    Gazing solemnly at them, I said, “I’m going to pop in that bookstore and see if they carry books in English. If they do, I may browse for an hour and perhaps buy some postcards. After that, I’m going to go back to the hotel and have a light lunch on the patio. Would you two care to join me?”
    “What if he’s stalking us?” demanded Caron.
    “That’s a strong word,” I said, shaking my head. “Is he Egyptian?”
    Inez shrugged. “Arab, anyway, with a droopy mustache and a scar across his cheek. He has on sunglasses, a plaid sport jacket, and wrinkled trousers. He looks like the villain in an old movie like
Casablanca.”
    I glanced out the shop window. “I don’t see anybody who looks remotely like that.” The shopkeeper was moving in on us, his eyes bright and his smile painfully broad. I nudgedthe girls toward the door. “Let’s go to the bookstore. If you spot this man, you can point him out to me.”
    “Then you believe us?” Caron said.
    I didn’t, but I also didn’t want to linger and end up with a tablecloth and matching napkins. “I believe you captured the attention of an Arab gentleman who most likely thinks the two of you are attractive and charming, and is hoping for an opportunity to make your acquaintance.” I lowered my voice. “Then fling you across his camel and carry you to his oasis, where he will ravish you nightly and force you to wear emeralds in your navels.”
    “Mother!”
    I allowed them to sputter while I herded them back to the bookstore. Neither claimed to see their less-than-dashing sheik, and eventually they began to look at postcards. The bookstore was much mustier than mine, and dusty enough to elicit several explosive sneezes from me. I dabbed my eyes with a handkerchief while I examined the shelves of worn covers and titles in a bewildering array of languages. I was looking at an ornithology guide when Caron and Inez tracked me down and admitted they were tired.
    The two salesclerks did not look up as we left. We turned onto the corniche and headed for the hotel. The grand staircase that led up to the lobby of the Winter Palace looked daunting, so we continued past the low wall to the entrance of the New Winter Palace.
    Abruptly Caron stopped. “There he is!” she squeaked. “Going in the lobby! Do you see him, Mother? The same man!”
    I paused. “I see a businessman returning to his hotel.”
    “That’s the man,” Inez said, squeaking less vehemently than Caron but doing her best. “The one who has been following us.”
    “Now’s your chance to reciprocate,” I said, “unless you want to stand out here and dither the rest of the day. I’m not in the mood for lunch. I’m going to buy a newspaper and go up to our suite. You can either eat lunch downstairs or come up and order room service.”
    Ten minutes later I was on the balcony, reading the previous day’s newspaper and listening to snores from the bedroom on the far side of the parlor.
    Thus far, my honeymoon had been less than romantic—but the moon had yet to rise above the Nile.

CHAPTER 2
    Caron, Inez, and I were having tea on the terrace when Peter arrived. He was accompanied by an Egyptian man in a rumpled suit, who waited at a polite distance while Peter greeted me as warmly as he dared in front of the girls. “I hope you all made it with a minimum of fuss,” he said.
    “It took forever,” said Caron, not yet recovered from her nap. “Ten thousand miles, at least. Maybe more.”
    Inez put down her teacup and stared solemnly at him. “It’s slightly less than seven thousand, if one travels in a straight line. Since we flew through Frankfurt, it was actually—”
    “A very long way,” I said. “Would you and your friend care to join us?”
    Peter, who was rather tan for someone who supposedly had been in meetings for two weeks, gestured to the man. “This is Chief Inspector Mahmoud el-Habachi, of the local tourist security office. Mahmoud,