Murder in Cairo

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first—*another* ‘curse of the pharaohs’ mystery? But *Murder in Cairo* won me over in the first chapter, not with mummy dust or supernatural scares, but with Lottie Sprigg’s razor-blade observations. She’s the kind of protagonist who notices the smear of lipstick on a lord’s collar *and* the way his valet flinches at the mention of a certain Cairo address. Bond’s writing is densely textured; she packs more social commentary into a description of a hotel lobby than some authors do in entire novels. The mystery itself is clever, hinging on a locked-room puzzle in a train carriage that had me pausing to sketch diagrams like a maniac. Now, the narration: Polly Lee *is* Lottie. Her performance is masterclass in vocal acting—she doesn’t just *read* the snark, she *embodies* it, especially in scenes where Lottie’s playing dumb to eavesdrop on the wealthy. The supporting cast voices are distinct, though I’ll dock half a point for her Egyptian characters, which occasionally veer into ‘Hollywood sheikh’ territory. Pacing-wise, the first act drags slightly with exposition about the Tut excavation (fascinating but *just* shy of tedium), but once the body drops, it’s a sprint. My only real gripe? The romance subplot feels tacked on, like Bond’s agent insisted on ‘marketable tension.’ Still, the final confrontation—set in a dust-choked tomb with a flashlight flickering like a dying star—is worth the price of admission alone. If you love your cozies with teeth, this one bites.