Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Just then we passed a family of five, being led in the opposite direction by a young girl in coveralls. Ordinarily I’d chalk that up to poor fashion sense. However, I had seen other kids wearing the same getup when I had parked my Jeep, so I had to assume that was what Fanny’s Farms was making their employees wear. Poor saps. Working on a farm and being forced to wear that hillbilly getup? They had my deepest sympathies.

  “But why do we hafta leave?” I heard one of the small children ask. I glanced back to see the father reach down to scoop up his young daughter.

  “The police said we have to,” the father patiently explained. “They need to check things out to make sure it’s safe, honey.”

  “I heard that it was only hanging on by a thread!” a ten year old boy added.

  “What was hanging on by a thread?” I heard the mother ask.

  I noticed Vance had stopped to listen, too. Both corgis felt their leashes go taut and gave us exasperated looks. Sherlock tugged on his leash. He wanted to keep going.

  “The mummy’s head, of course,” the boy proudly answered. “I heard the head was flopping around so much that people thought it was gonna fall off!”

  “Ewww!” the young girl exclaimed, burying her head in her father’s chest.

  “Charlie, you heard no such thing,” the mother scolded.

  “Did so!” Charlie whined.

  “Did not,” the father added, with a wink. “They did say that the mummy was seen dragging its leg, holding its arms outstretched, and rasping on about getting his hands on five year old girls. Hmm, if only I knew of some.”

  “Dadddddy!” the girl shrieked, as predicted.

  “You’ll know the mummy is near when you hear its piteous moans,” the father added, winking at his sons.

  Charlie proceeded to add the appropriate sound effects as the family moved off. I could hear the little girl’s shrieks long after I had lost sight of them. I turned to Vance and shook my head.

  “Stories like those are going to blow this out of proportions.”

  “All the more reason to nip this in the bud while we still can,” Vance agreed.

  “Why would a mummy want to come to a corn field?” I asked just as we were moving again. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Vance shook his head, “The more appropriate question would be, why would a person steal a mummy and then make it look like the mummy visited a corn maze?”

  “Still think someone is pranking us?” I asked.

  “Still think the mummy came back to life on its own?” Vance countered. “Of the two of us, which one sounds improbable?”

  We arrived in ‘Michigan’ a few minutes later. I don’t know how Sherlock knew where we needed to go. Perhaps he followed a number of scent trails there? However he did it, I’m glad he did. If it had been up to the humans then we’d still be lost somewhere around Georgia, I’m sure.

  We came upon a junction of at least five different paths and found a group of ‘uniformed’ kids blocking access from each direction. Were we the first on the scene? From an incident that happened over an hour ago? I glanced over at Vance to see him frowning at the kids.

  “Would’ve thought there’d be more people here,” I softly muttered.

  “That makes two of us,” Vance agreed. He singled out the closest staff member, a boy of about 16, and motioned him over. “Detective Vance Samuelson. How long have you kids been securing this location?”

  “Umm, about twenty minutes,” the boy shyly answered. “Uh, sir.”

  “And yet this ‘sighting’,” Vance continued, throwing in some air quotes, “happened over an hour ago! Why wasn’t it reported sooner?”

  “I dunno. We were busy?”

  Vance took a couple of deep, calming breaths. He dismissed the boy and began studying the ground. Sherlock sniffed at a set of footprints, looked back at Watson to see what she was looking at, and then began canvassing the area in ever widening loops. I heard several of the kids comment on how cute the dogs looked.

  “So what do you see?” I asked Vance as I saw him squat down on the exposed dirt of the path.

  The detective pointed at several scuffs in the dirt.

  “Do you see here? This groove? It looks like someone was dragging something.”

  “Like someone was dragging a leg?” I nonchalantly asked. “A dead, lifeless leg?”

  “Would you forget about that for a moment? Look at this.” Vance tapped a nondescript scuff in the dirt. “This is odd.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It looks like whoever left this print suffered an injury. This is a print from someone’s right foot. See this? This was made by a broken toe.”

  “A mummy could have a broken toe.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” Vance grumbled, straightening up. “You need to… where are they going?”

  I felt a tug on a leash. Sherlock apparently didn’t think there was anything more to learn by staring at the dirt and was leading us away. We were angling towards a path guarded by a pimply-faced teen boy. The teen’s eyes widened with surprise as he noticed us approach.

  “Step aside, son,” Vance ordered.

  “Umm, I’m not supposed to…”

  “Step. Aside. Now.”

  The boy moved out of the way just as Sherlock pushed by him. We were led about twenty feet down the path when the corgi stopped. He looked back, over his shoulder, and watched us approach. Sherlock then dropped his gaze to Watson and stepped to the side just as she arrived. He nosed a few stalks then turned back, as if checking to see if Watson had noticed the same thing he had.

  “What is it, boy?” Vance asked as he squatted down next to Sherlock. “What do you… is that a -? Holy shit!”

  “What?” I demanded, hurrying over to Vance’s side. “What have you… no way. Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

  It was. Several feet inside the corn I could see a form lying face down on the ground, arms and legs bent and twisted into unnatural positions. It was a body, wearing torn khaki trousers, a dark green long sleeve shirt, and thick soled work boots. I hurriedly looked over at Vance. I had seen that outfit before. We both had. Dr. Tarik’s staff had been wearing it when they rushed up on the stage after learning the pendant had been stolen.

  “Help me roll him over,” Vance instructed. “We need to check for a pulse. Hurry!”

  As soon as I laid a hand on the still form’s shoulder I knew that we were wasting our time. And I was right. What we found sent chills down my spine and will probably haunt my dreams for quite some time.

  The body had been mummified.

  FOUR

  “What do you think?” Vance asked quietly as he studied the shriveled flesh, the sunken eyes, and the mouth stuck open in a never-ending scream of terror.

  “You don’t want to know what I think,” I told him, straightening up and pulling the dogs away from the body. “You can’t sit there and tell me that the mummy didn’t do this.”

  “There’s just no way,” Vance murmured as he slowly stood up. “Did you notice the clothes?”

  I nodded, “Yep. Dr. Tarik’s assistants were wearing that outfit when they rushed on stage. Which one do you think it is?”

  “There’s no proof it’s any of them,” Vance hastily pointed out. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Zack.”

  “But…”

  “No matter how compelling the evidence,” Vance hastily added.

  “There’s an awful lot of evidence pointing squarely at that mummy,” I reminded my detective friend.

  “True,” Vance admitted, “but you and I both know there must be some other explanation. We just have to find it.”

  “Where do we start?” I pointedly asked. “And are we even allowed to get involved? This is a police matter.”

  Vance pulled his cell from his pocket and stared hard at me.

  “As soon as I make this call then PV is gonna go ape-shit. This place is going to be overrun by anyone and everyone with a scanner. Cops, techs,
reporters, video crews, goofs who think they’re mummy hunters, etc. As much as I hate to say it, this sort of thing will probably make the nightly news all the way up in Portland.”

  I nodded, “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”

  “I need to tell you something. You have no idea what this case is doing to Tori.”

  I was silent as I thought about it. I could only imagine the hell she was going through. From the sounds of it, it had been Tori’s insistence that Egyptian Exhibitions had even stopped in PV. That had to make her look guilty in everyone’s eyes. Even Dr. Tarik had insinuated she was involved on the night of the theft.

  “Come on, Zack. Help me out here. She may not show it but I can see this is totally stressing her out. I don’t like to see her like this.”

  “You’re putting a lot of faith in Sherlock,” I quietly said, dropping my voice so that the kids standing guard nearby couldn’t overhear. “What makes you so sure Sherlock can help?”

  “You told me how much Sherlock helped you when we all thought you were guilty of murder,” Vance reminded me. “Myself, included. He found the painting with the blood on it. He found that old picture of Bonnie Davies and her family. He even found the missing glass tiger. I’m willing to accept his help if he’s willing to give it.”

  Sherlock sidled up to Vance and whined. The detective scratched behind his ears and slipped him another biscuit. In less time that it takes to ask if Watson was interested, she appeared next to Sherlock and dutifully sat next to him. Once both corgis had finished their treats I gathered up the leashes and gave them a gentle tug.

  “Well, I’ll see if he can find anything. You find out what the mummy was doing out here.”

  “There’s still no proof the mummy is alive,” Vance insisted. “I… no, stop pointing at the body, Zack. There’s gotta be some other explanation. Now, go with the dogs. See what they can find. I’ll take care of things here.”

  “Fine. Give me the whistle.”

  Vance passed over the cheap plastic signal. After a moment’s hesitation he held out the map.

  “You’d better take this, too.”

  “Smartass.”

  I tucked the map and whistle into a pocket and looked down at the dogs. Sherlock looked up at me, waiting to see what I was going to do. I looked back at the body in time to see Vance pull out his cell.

  “Okay, you two. Do your thing.”

  Sherlock stared at me and cocked his head. Watson promptly sat. Sherlock must’ve decided it was a good idea so he sat, too.

  “What are you doing? Come on, guys. He gave you treats. Get up and get going.”

  Acting as though he had forgotten he had just been given a retainer for the case, Sherlock got to his feet, sniffed once at the body, and then moved off, heading back out of the maze, toward the east coast if I remembered the map correctly. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Vance was on the phone and was holding up a finger, indicating I should wait. A few minutes later he finished his call and approached.

  “Where are you going? Shouldn’t they check out the body to see if there’s anything they missed?”

  I indicated Sherlock.

  “He already looked. I watched him do it. Apparently he feels there isn’t anything else to be learned here. In fact, he wants to go that way.”

  Vance turned to look east. There was nothing but swaying corn stalks as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t far considering the damn things were taller than we were. The detective looked down at Sherlock and shrugged.

  “Fine. You guys go that way. If you find anything, give three blasts on the whistle.”

  I waggled my cell in front of him.

  “Or I could just call you?”

  Vance shrugged, “Whatever.”

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for you?” I asked, growing concerned. I still wasn’t convinced a 3,000-year-old dead dude wasn’t walking around out there.

  “I’ve already made the call. Backup is going to be here in less than fifteen minutes. If you guys are going to find anything then you need to get going. Now.”

  “Got it. Sherlock, lead the way.”

  We followed a trail that, according to the map, led us from Michigan, through Ohio, across Pennsylvania, and then up to the northern reaches of New York. That was where we encountered the northern border of the corn maze and, consequently, a tiny dirt road that was barely wide enough to pass a small car. That was also where Sherlock lost the trail.

  I phoned Vance and informed him of what we had found.

  “I knew it. I knew there wasn’t any mummy involved. Whoever dumped the body must’ve had a car waiting for them. Then they simply drove off.”

  “No one said they heard any cars,” I pointed out. “It’s awful damn quiet out here. You think someone would have noticed if they heard a car driving away. And didn’t you say there weren’t any roads out here?”

  “A valid point,” Vance admitted with a sigh.

  “And what about that mummified person?” I asked, leading the dogs back into the maze and heading west towards the exit. “You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence that we suspect a mummy has stolen a pendant and then an actual mummified person appears in a corn field? What are the odds of that happening?”

  “We don’t suspect a mummy,” Vance corrected. “You do.”

  “You know what I mean. Do we have any idea who the new mummy is?”

  “I’ve called for Dr. Tarik. I don’t know if he’d be able to identify the body by facial recognition alone. The features are all severely distorted. I can only assume he can tell us if his staff is all accountable. If he can’t, well, then we’ll know.”

  “What do you want me to do now? We found a road where none were supposed to exist. Sherlock hasn’t given any indication he wants to look at anything else out here. With that being said, I’m presently heading for the exit. I don’t think you’d want me or the dogs hanging around there.”

  “Good thinking. Tell you what. Go home, Zack. If it’s okay with you, then I’ll swing by there after I’m done here. Then we can compare notes.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you back at the house.”

  The house I had inherited was a large two-story country farmhouse located on a 40-acre plot of land southeast of town. As I mentioned earlier, I had also inherited a winery. Lentari Cellars, I had been surprised to learn, was a local favorite. In fact, people were known to horde those slender green bottles with the ancient parchment labels. I had thrown a grand re-opening of the winery last month and had made presents of most of the existing supply of stock I had found in the back storeroom. It had been a fantastic way to make new friends and to prove to everyone that I wasn’t a cold-blooded killer after all. And yes. For once I’m not being facetious.

  Caden, my self-appointed wine master, had the vines trimmed, fertilized, and even replanted when some of the existing vines were discovered dead. He had all the machinery in the winery professionally cleaned, serviced, and running in top form. In fact, our first harvest was due to happen in the next week or so. I had reluctantly agreed to share the first bottle that came off the line with him, regardless of type or flavor. And yes, Vance had begged me to be included. I’m sure he just wants to witness me trying to choke down a glass of wine.

  The ass.

  Whatever. The acres of vines were looking good. Our first harvest was almost already sold out, all without us producing a single bottle. I had two dogs that meant the world to me accompanying me practically everywhere I go. Life was good.

  Or at least it had been until that damn mummy came back to life. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I’m being a fool. Only children believed mummies could find some way to become reanimated. Well, I’d like to see how fast you’d change your mind if you were to discover a, let me see if I remember the proper word, desiccated human corpse in a field of corn. You can’t possibly tell me that it wouldn’t cross your mind that somehow the mummy might be involved.

  Vance phoned ahead nearly two hours late
r to say he had just left the station. Since it was past 5pm I could only assume Vance, like myself, hadn’t eaten. I ordered pizzas and waited for my detective friend to arrive. When he finally did pull into the driveway I had the beers ready. However, I was surprised to see that he wasn’t alone. Tori was with him.

  Shitshitshit. Was I supposed to have called Jillian over? I ducked back inside and hurriedly phoned her.

  “Zack! What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Hi, Jillian. Listen, do you have any plans for tonight?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Damn. My hopes fell. If Vance had Tori with him then I would have really liked to have had Jillian here. It’s not that I’m afraid to be in the house with another woman, especially if she was the wife of my friend, but there’s something about a single guy trying to hang out with a married couple. All you single people out there should be able to back me up. No one likes to feel like a third wheel.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I was hoping I could encourage you to come over.”

  “Oh? Why’s that? Is it because Vance and Tori are currently on their way over?”

  Uh, oh. This didn’t bode well.

  “Umm, how did you know that? Did Tori tell you?”

  “As a matter of fact, she did. Look, Zack, if you’re busy tonight, it’s okay. You just have to tell me.”

  I was definitely missing something here.

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “We talked about this. Yesterday. We were planning on watching a movie tonight. Remember when you told me that you and Samantha used to watch movies together on Friday nights? Well, I offered to keep the tradition going. In her memory. You said that you were okay with it at the time. If it’s bringing up too many painful memories, then I understand. We can try again some other night.”

  “Movie night?” I repeated, feeling stupid.

  I heard Jillian start to laugh into the phone. I had to wait a full twenty seconds before she was able to compose herself. She cleared her throat, waited a few more seconds, and then started talking again.