Murder Most Egyptological (A Mrs. Xavier Stayton Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

door of the cockpit. The flimsy chairs were arranged similarly to seats on a train, with two chairs, facing each other on either side of the narrow aisle, allowing for seven passengers and the cabin boy. Each row had a window with checkered curtains that were drawn back. There were six wooden struts attached at the ceiling that slanted downward and ran the length of the cabin, connecting to the floor every six or seven feet, and this made walking about the aisle a tad bit dicey.
       Lucy and I sat in the first group of seats along the left side of the aisle so that we faced each other. The other passengers, all men, boarded as well. Talkative and jovial, they proved some distraction for Lucy. I went on studying the airplane.
       After a moment of confusion, I realized that the interior of the craft reminded me of my Great Aunt Dottie’s covered porch. Rickety was the first word that came to mind.
       The smell of stained wood and worn wicker was strong. A little shelf was affixed below each window, and upon them sat a narrow silver vase with fresh-cut flowers, arranged in a haphazard way. Above one window was a mounted clock; however, it wasn’t a wall clock. It was the type that should sit on a mantel or credenza.
       After the cabin boy had stuffed our baggage into the cargo hold, he sat down at the open seat catty-corner to mine. Giving me a nervous smile, he remarked, “We have very few ladies who fly all the way to Africa.”
       “Is that so?” I managed to reply, as I noticed my mouth had become quite dry.
       Lucy asked, “Have you flown to Africa a great many times?”
       The lad smiled and told us, “Seventeen times, there and back!”
       I nodded my chin, and Lucy remarked, “How adventurous.”
       “One day I will be a pilot,” the lad said rather earnestly.
       As if on cue, the pilot and his co-pilot emerged from the forward compartment of the airplane and began to greet the passengers.
       Everyone was quite jolly, despite the fact that we were soon to attempt breaking the bonds of gravity and hurtling ourselves into the air.
       With shaking hands, I pulled my little silver snuff box from my purse and took a clove from within. I had just placed the clove on my tongue when the pilot introduced himself to Lucy and me.
       Thank the Almighty, Lucy was ever so charming, as my replies to any statement put to me were no cleverer than the phrases repeated by Mother Stayton’s parakeet.
       Concluding the pleasantries, the pilot pointed toward the front of the craft and said, “Right, well now, just so you won’t be startled, the engines make a considerable amount of noise.”
       Lucy nodded her head and thanked the man for his warning. She then looked to me and asked, “Are you all right?”
       “Of course I am.” I consider myself a good Christian and became concerned with how easily I told my friend an outright lie.
       Peter pointed toward the sky and said, “It gets a little nippy up there; would either of you like a rug?”
      This term had confused me the first time I was asked by our chauffeur if I cared for a rug to be wrapped around my knees. Xavier had nodded that I did, and to my relief, a blanket was produced and tucked over my lap.
       Lucy answered for us both. “Oh, yes, please.”  
      Peter gave us two coarse wool blankets, and I fumbled with nervous hands to spread mine over my lap.
       Lucy misread my apprehension and said, “Don’t be worried about me. I think I am actually going to like flying, after all.” She pointed to the cabin boy. “Peter has been to Africa seventeen times, and as you say, he seems no worse for it.”
       The lad was just about to speak when a terrible sound nearly caused me to jump from the flimsy wicker seat. The sound grew more intense in intervals, as the second and then third engines were brought to life.
       There was a jerky motion, and then the craft began to roll forward; slowly, at first,