The Cana Mystery by David Beckett Page A

other than her husband cheats but no woman can tell if her own husband cheats. If a woman discovers that her husband has cheated, she kills him that very day. The pope (who is infallible) visits the island and tells the women that at least one husband has cheated. What happens?”
    Paul thought for a moment. “Are any of the ladies, you know, domestic partners?”
    “Ha, ha. You’re hilarious.”
    “Okay. Sorry. Can I consult with my associates?”
    Ava giggled. “Be my guest.”
    Paul crawled astern and repeated the riddle to the boys. The Egyptians discussed it privately, then Sefu whispered their conclusion to Paul. He nodded in agreement and gestured for Sefu to tell Ava. He approached her shyly.
    “This might be wrong,” he said nervously.
    “Don’t worry,” Ava said gently, “just try.”
    “All men killed?” he ventured.
    “Yes! Excellent!” said Ava, patting Sefu’s shoulder. “But when are they killed?”
    Sefu wasn’t sure. He went to ask his brother. Ammon reduced speed and the boys huddled, debating. Eventually they agreed, and Sefu announced their conclusion.
    “As soon as possible?”
    Ava laughed. It was a delightful sound, Paul thought, and it was good to see her cheerful, even for just a little while. When she had caught her breath, she explained the answer: No man died for seven weeks because no woman could be sure her husband was the cheater, but after forty-nine days passed without a murder, the only possible conclusion was that all fifty had cheated, so all fifty were killed on that day.
    From their expressions, the boys seemed lost.
    “Do you understand?” Ava asked.
    They looked to Paul for guidance.
    “She’s saying that if you ever cheat on your wife, she’ll kill you.”
    “Oh!” said Sefu, eyes wide. “Okay.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” said Ammon.
     
     
    Near the village of Kwam Sharik, the delta was lush and green. Cows grazed in the fields and drank from the river. An orange sun slipped behind the row of tall palm trees lining the channel. Ava rose from her seat and opened the hold. She removed two icy bottles of beer, resealed the compartment, and sat down next to Paul. The boys shared a look.
    “Are both beers for me?” In college, Ava never drank beer, preferring fruity wines or champagne.
    “No. I enjoy a good lager from time to time.”
    “Really? I had no idea.”
    “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” said Ava. She gave the cap a firm twist, removed it, and took a swig.
    Slowly, near the village of Basyun, darkness overtook them. Sefu lit a lantern, but soon it was too dangerous to navigate. Paul asked the boys where they could camp. According to Ammon, they were close to a community called Sais. When Ava remarked that she’d heard of it, Paul was impressed, but when they arrived, he was confused. It didn’t look very important.
    “It’s just like all the other villages, maybe a little bigger,” he observed as they motored closer. “Why is this place special?”
    “It may seem insignificant now, but in ancient times this was an important center for pilgrimage. It contains the grave site of Osiris, the Egyptian god of the afterlife.”
    “This place?” asked Paul doubtfully, eyeing ramshackle buildings and heaps of debris. “Says who?”
    “Says Herodotus. This was also the location of Neith’s temple.”
    “Who’s Neith?”
    “Neith was a hunting goddess and a creator. That’s unusual in the Egyptian pantheon because creation deities are generally male. Neith gave birth to Sobek, the crocodile god, who represents fertility, power, and the Nile. In the Late Period, Neith’s temple was famous for exquisite linen cloth. Priestesses wove flax into fine fabric. In fact, royal linen was semitransparent.”
    Paul flashed a wide smile. “So, back in the day, this town was full of hot chicks in transparent clothing worshipping a fertility god?”
    “Nice!” said Ammon.
    “Sexy!” said Sefu.
    Ava refused to dignify their behavior with a