Author: C. L. Kraemer
ISBN: 978-1-62420-127-1
Genre: Suspense
Excerpt Heat Level:
Book Heat Level: 1
Review:
Cats in the Cradle of Civilization by C. L. Kraemer
Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
Genre: Contemporary, Suspense/Mystery
Length: Short Story (146 Pages)
Rating: 5 Stars
Reviewed by Cyclamen
Glenda Nagel, editor for Getty Museum’s monthly magazine loves her home
in the Juniper Hills and her cats. When an ivory and emerald statuette of the
cat goddess Bastet makes its way to her home and sets her cats on edge, Glenda
is panicked.
Who knows about his and why has the darkly handsome, new Director of
Egyptian Antiquities become so determined to visit her high desert home?
Doesn’t Egypt have enough sand?
Glenda Nagel has ordered her life just the way she wants it. She enjoys
her job as editor for Getty Museum’s monthly magazine, and she has a home far
away from the Los Angeles congestion and smog, as she lives in the Juniper
Hills with her three cats. But then a new Director of Egyptian Antiquities is hired,
and while Glenda admits that he is very handsome, she finds something strange
about him. She doesn’t trust him.
I liked Glenda from the very beginning. She is smart and capable, and
she’s worked hard to get to her current position. All of a sudden everything is
threatened when she discovers an ivory and emerald statuette of the cat goddess
Bastet. She only discovers it because Pandora, her Persian cat, takes an
instant dislike to the vase it was hidden in.
It can be hard to write a convincing mystery when the reader knows from
the beginning who the villain is and what he’s up to, but C. L. Kraemer manages
just that. Much of the story is told from Glenda’s point of view, but we also
get to know Dr. Dabir Omar Ben Rashid Yacoub Riyadh, and he is definitely a
villain that I really disliked. His character is well-fleshed out and he has
very few redeeming characteristics. But then we also get the viewpoint of
another level of villains and the suspense builds as the reader follows
Glenda’s actions. There are curses and a long history of intrigue and
injustice.
The descriptions of not only the scene, but the history of Egyptian
archaeology is fascinating and brings a real richness to the story. I learned
things while I held my breath as Glenda faced one situation after another. The
pacing is excellent and the author really keeps her readers on the edge of
their chairs.
Mystery lovers are sure to enjoy this glimpse into the world of
archaeology as they watch Glenda trying to stay ahead of Dr. Riyadh.
Blurb:
Glenda Nagel, editor for
Getty Museum’s monthly magazine loves her home in the Juniper Hills and her
cats. When an ivory and emerald statuette of the cat goddess Bastet makes its
way to her home and sets her cats on edge, Glenda is panicked.
Who knows about his and
why has the darkly handsome, new Director of Egyptian Antiquities become so
determined to visit her high desert home? Doesn’t Egypt have enough sand?
EXCERPT
Lifting the lid of the innocuous, wooden box sitting in the middle of
his desk, Dabir Omar Ben Rashid Yacoub Riyadh allowed a smile to transform his
bronzed features. His ebony eyes glinted as they slid appreciatively over the
form resting on straw packing. Unconsciously, his tanned finger reached to
stroke the artifact. He stopped, hand poised in midair, as his mind flashed to
the photo of the hieroglyphics painted over the doorway of the vault posted on
the internet at the Cairo museum's site. There was a warning regarding misery
and eating one's self. Omar Riyadh didn't put much stock in the curses carved
on crypts thousands of years ago, but recent scientific studies of the germs
entombed made him cautious, nonetheless. He reached into the desk drawer to his
right, and removed a pair of surgical gloves from the opened container. Slipping
his hands into the milliliter thin second skin, he lightly ran a finger over
the relic resting inside the box.
Gingerly, he picked up the detailed piece, jumping at the buzz of his
intercom. As he felt the artifact slip from his fingers, he cursed. Inspection
of the new object d'art assured him no damage had come to it. He punched the
button on his intercom.
"What?" he growled.
Sharp, snapping sounds assaulted his ears. "Uhm, Mr. Riyadh?"
"Yes?"
The popping sounds filled the air. "Uh, Dr. Burkhardt and Ms. Nagel
are here."
"I'll be out in a moment; tell them to have a seat." I must
speak to Miss Showers regarding her office demeanor. This gum popping will have
to cease.
Omar reclosed the lid of the small box and slid the package into his
bottom drawer, surgical gloves resting on the top. Bits of straw littered his
desk. He looked around his office and, spying the large shipping crate sent to
him by his cousin Feneku, hastily ripped open the top pulling out a clay vase,
and setting it on the spot where the little treasure had sat.
He stood and straightened his tie, then opened the door to face the
Director and Miss Nagel.
Karl Burkardt, Getty Museum Director, made the formal introductions.
"Glenda Nagel, let me introduce Dr. Dabir Omar Ben Rashid Yacoub
Riyadh, our new Egyptian Antiquities Director. Dr. Riyadh comes to us after
many years working in the Egyptian antiquities system and on several important
digs in the Valley of the Kings. His last post was in the Cairo Museum.
"Dr. Dabir Omar Ben Rashid Yacoub Riyadh, allow me to introduce you
to Glenda Nagel, contributing Editor to the Museum's publication, Archaeology
in Today's World."
Omar extended his hand.
"Please… just call me Omar. All the other stuff has meaning only in
my country. Omar is much simpler. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
He wrapped a velvety smooth, copper colored hand around Glenda's squeezing
gently and gazing intensely into her turquoise eyes.
Glenda's hand tingled. Her heart skipped a beat, and breath suspended in
her lungs. Slipping her appendage from Omar's, she replied, "My
pleasure".
Director Burkhardt launched into Glenda's achievements droning on
endlessly about her taking on the dying magazine and reviving the publication.
She felt herself flushing at the lavish compliments the Director was
heaping on her.
"Please, Director Burkhardt…" Glenda dropped her gaze to the
floor.
"It is well deserved, young lady. You've helped to breathe new life
into this institution. As much as we would like to function without the
public's help, we do need them. Your efforts have paved the way to a successful
partnership."
He continued, "Now, Omar. The reason I've brought Glenda here today
is, she'll be in need of your expertise, on occasion, to guarantee the
information we impart to the public is correct. Please extend her all the
resources at your disposal." He glanced at his watch. "If you two
don't mind, I've a meeting with the Budget Committee. Can you carry this
without my help?"
Both nodded.
"Good. Then, I expect to see our magazine, as well as our visitor
numbers, thrive."
Turning on a heel, Director Burkhardt exited leaving the magazine editor
and new antiquities director glancing nervously at each other.
Omar motioned for Glenda to take a seat.
"Please feel free to contact me at any time." He pulled a
business card from the holder on his desk and scribbled something on the back.
"This is my home phone. Should you have a question that arises after
business hours, do not hesitate to call." He shoved the card past the vase
to Glenda.
Taking the card, Glenda eyed the clay vase on the desk.
"This isn't authentic ancient Egyptian, is it?" She leaned
toward the vessel and squint her eyes to take in the details.
Omar loosed a deep, baritone laugh.
Glenda felt her skin rise in goose bumps at the pleasant sound washing
over her ears.
"Yes and no. All the authentic antiquities, we store in a room in
the basement with monitored temperature and humidity control. We wouldn't want
something the desert has preserved for thousands of years destroyed by today's
harmful pollution.
"This," Omar picked up the vase, "is my cousin's
handiwork and he is from Egypt. He sent it to show me what he has been creating
for the tourist business he runs; in case someone decides to try to pass it off
as an antiquity." Omar smiled as he replaced the vase. "His heart was
in a good place."
Glenda ran a slender finger over the smoothness of the vase's surface.
"This is quite lovely. Your cousin is a talented artisan."
Omar nodded. "That, he is. I have told him he should come to
America and start a pottery factory, but he loves Egypt too much to leave. He
sells enough goods to own two Mercedes, and put his five children through
college."
The two chuckled as Glenda continued to admire the simple designs on the
pottery.
"Miss Nagel?"
"Hmmm?"
"You have a question?"
"What? Oh, yes. I wanted to ask if you could direct me where to
start research to verify a story one of my freelancers recently sent."
"I'll try. Can you relate what your writer has so far?"
"Well, according to his source, there was a little known Princess
named, Kia, who fled to Yemen to be concealed from the sadistic Pharaoh to whom
she was promised in marriage. Rumors had been leaking from unknown sources in
the palace that his former queens had met Ra under suspicious circumstances.
Kia's protector, and nursemaid, hired a boat for the two to flee down the Red
Sea where they landed on the Yemen shores at a place known today as
Al-Hudaydah. The nursemaid's family had been slowly migrating from there to the
town of Ta'izz, so the pair trekked to Ta'izz. Things went well for a while.
The little Princess adapted, as most children are wont to do, and seemed to be
thriving in her new home. As the story goes, she contracted some unknown
illness a couple months after arriving, and died very quickly. Writings,
recently uncovered, indicate the Pharaoh had located the whereabouts of his
young fiancé and, in a fit of rage, ordered her death along with all who had
defied him by stealing her away. To keep the image of himself as a divine
entity, he buried the Princess in a royal tomb telling all she succumbed to
forces from the underworld. He would have saved her had she been by his side
but, unable to move with enough speed, he arrived too late. He gave no one the
tomb's location.
"Now, mind you, all of this had been hearsay passed from generation
to generation until this point. My freelancer also sent these photos."
Glenda handed pictures taken in the tomb to Omar.
He thumbed through each pausing on the last shot.
She watched his eyes scrutinize the details.
Handing them back to Glenda, a slight smile crossed his face.
"These could have been taken at any tomb in the Egypt, Saudi Arabia area;
there are so many. I have heard the story you tell me. It is similar to your
American fable of the Lost Dutchman's Goldmine; everyone has been told the
story, and is certain they know the true location. I'll be happy to start the
search in my library to see if I can, at least, verify the Princess existed.
When do you need the information?"
Glenda gathered the photos and stood up. "You don't need to do
this, Dr."
Omar, grinning broadly, waved a hand in the air. "It is no problem.
It will help me to get my bearings here, and help a fellow employee."
She blushed, "Thank you. If I need the writer to redo the story,
I'll have to get it back to him by the end of the week. Will that be enough
time?"
Omar nodded.
"Thank you, Dr. Riyadh. I appreciate the time you're lending to
this. I'll leave my number with your secretary if you need to get in
touch."
She walked into the outer room. Nodding at the Director's secretary, she
left. The new director was good looking, all right. He sent sparks up her
spine, but something just didn't sit well with her. Glenda shook her head as
she entered her office.
"Any messages, Amunet?"
The young woman behind the computer screen looked up. "No. How did
the meeting go? Is he handsome?"
"I think I can honestly say he is the most handsome man I've ever
met."
Amunet raised her eyebrows. "He can't be that good looking."
Glenda stopped and turned to her assistant. "Compared to Dr.
Riyadh, Brad Pitt is homely."
"Wow."
"That's an understatement. I'll be in my office pulling out my
hair. Buzz me only if the building's on fire. On second thought, don't. If
everything goes up in flames, I won't have to worry about it." Glenda
flashed a grin and closed her door. The magazine deadline was looming, and she
needed a lead story with undisputable facts.
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