There was already a small crowd being held aback by uniform branch by the time Sergeant Wilde reached the body. With Inspector White on holiday in Jersey with his wife (Beryl had a sister who lived there) she was in charge, much to the annoyance of Sergeant Peters. The coroner was just finishing his on site examination. "Mr. Chambers," she said. "What have we got?"
"Caucasian male, mid forties. Robert Robertson, according to his passport and just back from Egypt. A collector and smuggler of antiquities by all accounts."
Anna squatted next to the corpse. Robert Robinson had a sickly yellow pallor not entirely covered by the bright red of his sunburn. He had a small unhealed tattoo on his right wrist: half circle – flax - feathers – viper. "What does this mean?"
Chambers shook his head. "I've no idea," he said. "I can read French but ancient hieroglyphs are a dead language to me." He turned the corpse over. "This might give you a clue, though." He stuck his gloved finger in the dead man's mouth and hooked out a small terracotta tablet, dusted in green with a hieroglyph on one side and an Arabic symbol on the other. "What do you make of that?"
"It looks like something out of the British Museum."
"It does indeed I think you'll find the green tinge is a chromium based glaze. Quite poisonous, I believe.
Anna nodded. "What will you put down as the cause of death?"
Chambers grinned. "Rosetta stoned."