Heart Wounds (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

to the brim of his peaked cap. “The director, you say? Sent for a pair of American tourists?”
    Miranda eyed the short downy blond hair under his hat, his oversized ears, the badges on his shoulders. She couldn’t decipher his rank but he seemed too young to be more than a rookie. A rookie rule-follower. Her first inclination was to remind him they were guests, not colonists, maybe with the knuckles of her fist for emphasis. But she held back and let Parker handle it. Since he was in charge.
    As if he were doling out a donation to the policeman’s ball, Parker pulled out a business card from his back pocket and handed it to the man. “We’re from the Parker Investigative Agency. We’re here to look into the matter of the missing dagger.”
    The officer put one hand behind him and rolled back on his heels. “Really now? I’m sure Inspector Wample will be thrilled two American tourists have come to help him conduct his investigation.” He handed the card back without budging.
    Miranda watched Parker’s jaw tightened. Then he smiled again and returned the card to the young man. “If you’ll speak to your inspector as well as to Sir Neville Ravensdale, I’m sure all will be made clear to you.”
    Good one, she thought, stifling a grin.
    Realizing they weren’t going away, the officer snatched the card, turned on his heel as if falling into formation, and disappeared inside.
    Miranda pulled her jacket around her, glad Parker had picked out something on the warm side for her to wear. “Looks like this one’s gonna be a piece of cake.”
    Parker’s dark brow rose and he regarded her, the battle with frustration written all over his handsome face. “Once we resolve the authority issues, we’ll be fine.”
    If “fine” meant they’d reached the haystack they were to start looking for Marc Antony’s dagger in, she guessed he was right.
    As t hey paced back and forth in the misty rain a loud bell clanged in the distance. It played a familiar ditty then went bong, bong.
    “Is that what I think it is?” Miranda asked.
    Parker nodded. “Big Ben. It rings every hour on the hour.”
    “Nice.” Kind of a communal alarm clock for the entire city.
    Big Ben stopped clanging and another ten minutes went by. No sign of Officer TightAss.
    Miranda peered through the tall glass doors. “He might have gotten lost in there.”
    “You could be right,” Parker said.
    She put her hand on the tube-shaped handle and gave it a yank. It opened with ease. “Well, look at that. It isn’t even locked.”
    His eyes twinkling with pride, Parker strode toward her and opened the door wide. He gave her a sly grin and a ladies-first gesture. “It is a public institution, after all.”
    “It is, indeed.” She grinned back at him and stepped inside.
    ###
    They stepped into a dark hall filled with squarish columns that led to a huge, wide-open white space flooded with light from a glass ceiling. It was good to be out of the rain, but the dampness from outside seemed to seep in through the walls. The air had a fresh, citrusy smell, probably from cleaners, and the entire area was silent except for the sound of their shoes on the tiled floor.
    They strolled around the room, past thick stones covered with hieroglyphics, dramatic statues of nymphs and poets, busts of ancient pharaohs, mummified cats. They veered off into another hall where there were long cases filled with spears and arrowheads and pottery. The arched doorway at the end of it opened to another vast space. In the corner was the display that must have been intended for the dagger.
    A golden rectangular structure covered in hieroglyphics sliced in half to give the illusion you were looking inside. A colorfully robed mannequin of the Egyptian Queen lay across a divan, a gold mesh headdress covering her long black hair, golden discs around her neck. The figure of a wounded Roman soldier in tunic and breastplate leaned against her, his head in her lap. His arm was raised as if