Read The Honey Mummy (Folley & Mallory Adventure Book 3) for Free Online Page B

depicted a nude woman cradling an eggplant that was nearly as large as she was, gazing tenderly at its frilled stem.
    “Eleanor! It’s…” Cleo’s cheeks grew pink.
    “It’s entirely French and otherwise unexplainable,” Eleanor said.
    “I cannot thank you properly. It’s wondrous.”
    “You can,” Eleanor said, “every time you send a letter.”
    While Cleo collected inkwells, Eleanor didn’t think this one would go upon the shelf with the others, but would see good and constant use. It was too amusing to put away. Eleanor glanced at the gentlemen, then back to Cleo, who had not wanted Auberon to know they had maintained any kind of correspondence. Given her collection, the gift was not entirely strange, but Eleanor was not surprised when Cleo slipped the box into a pocket. She wanted to tell Cleo that Auberon had missed her, but believed Cleo already knew this, too. It was in every line of her body as she lifted her chin and stood straighter at their approach.
    “Gentlemen,” Cleo said.
    “Lady,” Virgil said and made her a sloppy bow. The bow from Auberon was more formal, reserved.
    “Miss Barclay.”
    Cleo’s lips pressed into a firm line before she said, “Our auction is this evening—at the entirely improper hour of eleven P.M., so I am positive we will encounter all manner of unsavory people in this endeavor.” She turned and headed for the elevator. “In the meantime, I thought we could see you all fed and settled at the hotel.” Her mouth moved into an unexpected smile. “Boiled eels are on the menu.”
    Eleanor blanched but didn’t miss Auberon’s echoing and unexpected smile.
    * * *

January-February 1887 – Alexandria, Egypt
    The palm-sized bee might have gone unnoticed but for its color. Cleo crouched amid the rubble and smiled down at the carnelian that peeked beyond the ordinary brick and stucco that had been tumbled by British assault.
    “Hello, pretty,” she said.
    The British attack on Alexandra was still evident five years later depending on where one wandered. As debris was yet cleared away, as buildings were reclaimed and repurposed, the ancient Alexandria was still giving itself up bit by bit. The Sirocco branch of Mistral had been contacted after the discovery of the carnelian bee along with a few other items that couldn’t be easily explained. Cleo hoped that she along with her team, could assemble the puzzle of what was here, of where the items had possibly come from.
    She did not mind the heat of the day, letting the sun bake against her back while she sketched the position of the bee amid the rubble and streets. It was not the bee’s original position, to be sure, but she believed some context was better than none when it came to projects such as this. She didn’t want to look back years from now and wonder how she had come to find it.
    Once done, she slipped her book into her duster’s jacket and drew on her work gloves, to begin moving the bricks one by one. A worker had spied the carnelian and had wisely left the debris alone, fearful of what he might destroy if he continued moving it. Cleo thought she owed that man a thanks, a bottle of wine, a
something
. These days, it was far too common for the old to be swept away in light of the incoming new—especially given the British occupation. Most did not care for Egypt, beyond what they had learned of Napoleon’s conquests and defeats, or Nelson’s great victory.
    When at last she could extract the bee from its resting place, she did so with a soft breath, blown upon the stone itself to ease away the last of the debris that clung to it. The fine lines etched into wings, and a proud face, made themselves known as the dust lifted away. Through her gloves, she discerned the line of a broken hinge and carefully turned it over, wondering if it had been part of a necklace, a bracelet, or even an ornament upon a crown.
    “What else is here?” she asked herself and surveyed the modern street around her. It was