A Stabbing Death in Luxor

Howard E. Hallengren

Description

This book recounts how Professor Hilary Tamar solved another murder mystery, just as the late Sarah Caudwell described them in her famous novels.
A Stabbing Death in Luxor or the Further Adventures of Professor Hilary Tamar is essentially a murder mystery. The story is told entirely from the viewpoint of Professor Tamar who, along with five of her associates, all barristers in London, comprise a group which has solved several crimes in the past. Professor Tamar becomes suspicious of a client of one of the barristers and soon uncovers a $2.5 million embezzlement scheme.
Before the crime is even discovered, one of the embezzlers drives away from a bank in Switzerland with $2.5 million in gold coins loaded in his car, waving to the bank officials as he leaves. Very shortly thereafter, one of the embezzlers is dead, and Professor Tamar begins a more thorough investigation of the embezzlement and this death.
Since one the embezzlers is Egyptian, the story soon shifts to Luxor, Egypt, where Professor Tamar and associates soon assemble. A detailed investigation is described, at the conclusion of which the reader is given a possible solution to the more recent stabbing in Luxor, but is left with a question as to its actual cause. The reader is also left with the question as to what the proper pronouns should be for Professor Tamar.

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Stabbing
• Detective
• Mystery
• Hilary
• Tamar
• Luxor
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 16 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669844013
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

A STABBING DEATH IN LUXOR
The Further Adventures of Professor Hilary Tamar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Howard E. Hallengren
 
Copyright © 2022 by Howard E. Hallengren.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022915655
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-4402-0

Softcover
978-1-6698-4403-7

eBook
978-1-6698-4401-3
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 08/25/2022
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
 
844544
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part II
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
In a number of novels written primarily in the 1980s, Sarah Caudwell introduced her readers to what has to be considered one of the most memorable group of characters ever created in the genre of the English murder mystery. From the rather pompous Prof. Hilary Tamar to the disorganized and disheveled Julia Larwood, each of her characters literally developed a life of their own. Cantrip, Ragwort, Selena, Julia, Timothy, and Henry became distinct and unique individuals in the pages of Miss Caudwell’s novels. As these novels have become more widely read in recent years, Professor Tamar has become even more well-known.
Sarah Caudwell died in January 2000, shortly after completing her final book. But the characters that she created spring to life again whenever anyone picks up one of the novels in which they appear. It seemed to one reader of those novels that Sarah Caudwell’s characters were meant to have more adventures, and a way had to be found to continue to report on their activities. Realizing that no one could report on them as well as Sarah Caudwell had, it still seemed worth the effort to try.
Howard E. Hallengren
FOREWORD
Many of those discriminating readers who followed my exploits a number of years ago will no doubt be rather surprised to discover that another of my scholarly analyses has been prepared for publication. I am sure that most of these readers had concluded that they would have no further opportunity of reading the learned analyses in which I, Prof. Hilary Tamar, was able to explain, in a scholarly manner, many mysteries that had seemed to be insoluble.
Their conclusion, of course, would have been occasioned by the tragic death of my associate, Sarah Caudwell. I have perhaps been remiss in the past in not acknowledging more fully the extent to which Miss Caudwell assisted me in the preparation for publication of such works as Thus Was Adonis Murdered, The Shortest Way to Hades, and The Sirens Sang of Murder. I hesitate to mention our last endeavor, The Sibyl in the Grave since I have to confess that it probably took me somewhat longer to solve this mystery than it should have. In any event, I must say that without her assistance, those works would never have reached the rather large audience that they in fact did. I gather, however, that many readers surmised that she had made such a significant contribution to our joint efforts that works such as these would no longer be available to the public.
Before commenting any further on past or future business arrangements, I would like to express on behalf of myself—as well as my friends at the Chancery Bar in London, Selena Jardine, Julia Larwood, Desmond Ragwort, Michael Cantrip, and Timothy Shepherd — our very sincere remorse at the untimely death of Sarah Caudwell. I know that everyone who knew her joins us in this sentiment. While it has been a number of years since she died, we continue to remember her with unbounded admiration.
After Miss Caudwell’s death, I also assumed that there could be no further addition to the group of historical treatises that had been published concerning my scholarly exploits. My duties as the tutor in Legal History at St. George’s College, Oxford, were quite demanding, and, as I have indicated in previous volumes, the bursar was becoming increasingly difficult when I attempted to spend some small amount of my time on other pursuits. He seemed to feel that I was neglecting my duties to advance the academic standing of the college or at least its financial interests. Therefore, I had concluded that it would be impossible for me to spend the necessary time preparing a manuscript concerning a rather interesting case in which I had recently been involved along with my associates at the Chancery Bar. This would be doubly difficult since I would no longer have Miss Caudwell to assist me.
I must confess that I was feeling quite dispirited as to this situation (I will not use the word depressed since scholars will not permit themselves to fall into such a state) when I received a letter from the United States. I had been to the United States on several occasions and had met some of my peer group who were working in similar fields of academic pursuit at a few of the better Eastern universities. I had generally found them to be rather pleasant men and women, but I would have put them in the same category as Cantrip—in other words, the Cambridge category, which is a cut or two below Oxford. Since I knew no one else in the States, I assumed that the letter must be from one of the so-called academics that I had met on those trips. However, I saw no reason why one of those people should be writing to me since we had not been on particularly friendly terms after my visit. (Jealousy, while it is unknown at Oxford, is a feeling that academics at other institutions have been known to experience from time to time.)
I was quite surprised when I did open the envelope since the letter was from a person whom I had never met. It was from an elderly gentleman who lived in Chicago and was one of those readers I referred to earlier who had so appreciated my previous scholarly dissertations. I was, however, a little irritated by his letter since he seemed to presume that Miss Caudwell had played a far greater role in those dissertations and in the solution of those cases than I had, and he seemed to suggest that without some similar assistance it would be impossible for me to bring any further scholarly enlightenment to the general public. Accordingly, he offered to try to fill the role that Miss Caudwell had previously held.
I am sure you can imagine what my reaction was to such a presumptuous suggestion, particularly since it came from an American. My initial thought was simply to ignore the letter and toss it out. However, my training as a scholar came to the fore, and I decided to put the letter down and reconsider it when I could perhaps do so more objectively. It was several days later before I again picked it up and this time I read it more carefully. As we all know, Americans have quite an obsession with money, and this tends to color practically all of their thinking. Scholars, of course, do not permit themselves to think in those terms, and the financial loss that I was suffering by being unable to publish any of my historical analyses had only crossed my mind fleetingly. The American brought this loss home to me more clearly, and that, taken in conjunction with the continued unpleasantness of the bursar, caused me to conclude that I should perhaps give his suggestion some additional consideration.
True scholarship requires that an idea be considered from every possible viewpoint, and therefore, I decided to bring the American’s suggestion to the attention of my friends at the Chancery Bar in London. As barristers, they had all been involved, to some degree, in my previous dissertations, and in fact, it was the rather serious problems with which they had been concerned that formed the bases for my analyses. Therefore, at the earliest opportunity, I managed to elude the bursar and take a train to London. After getting settled in the guestroom of Timothy Shepherd’s flat (Timothy being a former pupil of mine), I went immediately to 62 New Square to call upon my associates in their office. Unfortunately, it was now almost five in the afternoon, and Henry, the senior clerk, rather grudgingly informed me that those I had come to see were no longer in chambers but could probably be found at the Corkscrew Tavern, a rather well-known nearby wine bar. I initially hesitated to break in on their gathering, but I knew that they would almost certainly not be discussing business. And since a glass of Sancerre would be a great tonic after my difficult journey from Oxford, I was det