The Cairo Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

drove her home, across the Chain Bridge, away from the clotted cityscape of Pest into the greener Buda hills, keeping his Ford full of chatter about what to expect, what the name of her babysitter would be, and who she should expect to hear from tomorrow. Anything and everything to keep from touching on an hour ago. As he spoke, though, she heard the killer’s voice: I here for you.
    Fiona Vale was already in the apartment when they arrived. She was in her fifties, from Nebraska, and told Sophie that she knew Emmett well. She knew better than to start offering assessments of her husband—no “a lovely man” or “he will be missed.” Just the fact that she knew him, brief condolences, and a plate of chicken breast, potatoes, and grilled asparagus that she had picked up on her way over. Sophie was famished, but she didn’t touch the food at first. She headed toward the liquor cabinet. Predicting everything, Fiona cut her off and asked what she wanted to drink. “Take a load off. I’ve got this.”
    Gerry Davis had left by then, and soon they were settled in the quiet living room with glasses of Emmett’s Jim Beam. Before they could speak again, the kitchen phone rang, and Fiona went to get it. She reappeared after a moment. “It’s Glenda Bennett—you up to talking?”
    Sophie heard: Rhubarb-rhubarb .
    “Sure,” she told Fiona Vale.
    She heard: Bang! Then: Bang! A wet sound.
    “Oh my God, Sophie. Oh my God. Ray just told me.”
    She soon found herself trying to calm Glenda; her friend was hysterical.
    “I’m coming over, Sophie. I’m calling the taxi right now.”
    “No, Glen. Don’t. I’ve got someone looking after me, and I just want to sleep now. Really.”
    “But it’s not right. I just. Sophie. ”
    “Tomorrow. Tomorrow you’ll come over and spend a couple hours listening to me, okay? Right now, I’m exhausted.”
    “Well, let me do something, ” Glenda said, and from the background came her husband’s voice.
    “Let me get to sleep.”
    “Okay,” she said, then: “Just a sec. Ray wants the phone.”
    Raymond Bennett, consul general, came on. “Sophie, I know you want to get some rest. I only want you to know how shocked we are by this, and that we’re here for you. Anything you need.”
    “Thank you, Ray.”
    “This is being investigated from the top. We’re going to have answers soon. Who’s there with you?”
    “Fiona Vale.”
    “Fee’s great. Ask her for anything you need, and if there’s something she can’t take care of don’t hesitate to call.”
    “Thanks, Ray. I should probably just go to sleep.”
    “Absolutely. Good night, then.”
    But even after the whisky, a few bites of the chicken and vegetables, another whisky with Fiona, and a hot shower followed by Fiona tucking her into bed at one in the morning—even after all that, she lay in the darkness, staring. She saw it again, the endless loop of I here for you, rhubarb-rhubarb, and bang! She also heard every early morning noise: cars passing on the street, a dog in pain somewhere, people laughing on their way home from bars, and the fan of Emmett’s laptop on his side of her now-enormous bed—that last sound was the worst.
    She got up and closed the computer, waiting the extra minute until the fan shut off, then heard more street noises—but they were in her head. They were Cairo voices, the jumble of melodic arguments and the muezzins’ calls to prayer that she remembered from that dusty hotel room in Dokki where she and Stan, after their groping, lay sweaty and exhausted. She, outlining her plans for the rest of the day. He, listening with odd satisfaction to the unimaginative details of her life, for she never shared the imaginative ones.
    Then it came. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still took her off guard, the cold shiver running from head to heel, the twist in her stomach, and then the weeping. It leapt upon her, loud and wet and very messy. It was real, and for a moment she believed it was the most real