The Laughter of Dead Kings by Elizabeth Peters
This is Elizabeth Peters’s first Vicky Bliss book in I think 14 years. Since I only discovered Peters in 2001/2002 (I forget exactly which) and binged on every book she had written under that name within six months, I haven’t been waiting quite as long as other fans of the series.
Vicky Bliss is an art historian who looks like your stereotypical blonde bombshell. Obviously, she isn’t, and is actually incredibly intelligent, successful, and more than happy to turn people’s preconceived notions on their ears. She also, naturally, has a habit of getting caught up in murders and conspiracies. As one does, when one is the heroine of a mystery series. Usually, she’s accompanied by her boss, Schmidt, who never met a stranger because everyone is his best friend. As a general rule, his sheer force of personality takes care of any objections to this. She’s also accompanied by John Tregarth, her significant other, and an art thief. Among other things.
John has supposedly gone as straight as straight can go in recent years, and is even a respectable businessman. But when King Tut’s mummy is stolen, their old friend, Feisal, “The Inspector of Antiquities for All Upper Egypt,” comes to ask John to please give it back before word gets out, as the theft perfectly mirrors his own schemes. John, of course, claims to have nothing to do with it, and he and Vicky soon set off to prove his innocence.
In many ways, this is Elizabeth Peters-Vicky and otherwise- at her best. An indomitable heroine, amazing dialogue, a fun caper, and exotic locales where she goes out of her way to show respect to the people and culture of said locales. That said, it also shows at times that Peters hasn’t written a “modern” book since the mid-90s. It’s a minor thing, but in the first half, I almost wanted to start a drinking game over how many times it was mentioned that a character texted another, or was ignoring a text.
This, however, is a minor complaint, and in no way diminishes the overall enjoyability of the book. I’m not sure how well the book would hold up without having read the other Vicky Bliss books, but I think it would stand on it’s own pretty decently.
A couple spoiler bits:
So, I’ve always had this pet theory that John is Sethos’s great-whatever grandson. It probably happens when you’re first reading the two series at once in a binge spread out over several months. I decided this must be true at what seemed to be a vague reference to Amelia early in this book. You can imagine the sense of mostly-vindication I felt when it was revealed that he’s Amelia and Emerson’s great-whatever grandson. It’s close enough.
And I really wish I could remember what Jacqueline Kirby looked like, so I could be sure if the author who showed up near the end was her or not. If it was, I hope this means that there’s another book about her coming up.