“Now it makes sense.”
“What does?” I asked, bewildered.
“You forgot. You forgot about our plans tonight, even when I set a reminder on your phone.”
I pulled my cell out of my pocket and stared at it.
“What about my phone?”
“Has it been making any noise?” Jillian casually asked.
“Not that I can recall.”
“What about a series of beeps? Maybe every five minutes or so?”
Come to think of it, I did remember hearing something beeping. I had assumed it was coming from somewhere else, like maybe a smoke detector? I tapped the screen on my smart phone and sure enough, a big angry message appeared. It was a reminder to pick Jillian up at 5pm.
I looked at the clock. 5:05pm. Well, shit.
“How about that.”
“So you’re okay with me coming over? I was afraid that I had been pushing too hard.”
“I’m totally fine with you coming over,” I assured her. “Although I will probably have to take a rain check on the movie. I think Vance wants to go over the case.”
“Oh, about the missing pendant? That’s okay. I’ll agree to a rain check if I get to pick the movie.”
“That’s fine, Jillian.”
“Any movie.”
“Wait, what?”
“Any movie. My choice. You have to sit and watch it with me without any electronic devices in the room. No cell, no tablet, no internet, no nothing. Agreed?”
“You drive a hard bargain,” I groaned. “Fine. You win. I agree.”
“Excellent! When would you like me to come over?”
I heard the slams of car doors coming from outside. Vance and Tori were walking up the porch steps. I sighed.
“How about now? And if you’re asked, no mentioning I forgot to pick you up. Deal?”
Jillian laughed again.
“It’s a deal, Zachary.”
An hour later, after we had polished off most of the pizza and I had put the leftovers into the fridge, we retired to the living room. Jillian and I angled for the couch but Vance and Tori beat us there. Vance grinned at me as Jillian and I were forced to sit in the loveseat.
For the record, both Sherlock and Watson were hanging out next to Vance.
“So what did the crime scene techs find out about the body?” I eagerly asked. “Could you tell who it was?”
“You saw the condition of the body,” Vance said, after taking a long swig from his beer. “It’s going to be some time before any attempts at a positive identification can be made.”
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Tori said again, holding her head in her hands. “I can’t believe that this happened to them in our small town. Why couldn’t this have waited until they were in Portland?”
“I’m just sorry that pendant was stolen,” Jillian added, taking a sip from her own beer. “It’s probably long gone from here by now.”
Vance held up a hand, “On the contrary, we think the pendant is still here in PV.”
“You do?” I asked, surprised.
“You do?” Tori echoed. “Why?”
Vance leaned forward to set his beer on the coffee table. Tori frowned and pointed at a coaster. Vance sighed, picked up his bottle, and slid a coaster under it.
“Think about it. PV is a small town. Any outsider would’ve been noticed immediately. We’ve called in every off duty officer we have and even borrowed a dozen from Medford. There are so many cops in PV now that you can’t spit on the sidewalk without getting a citation.”
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“This is the work of someone local,” Vance answered, reaching for his beer.
“But who knew about the pendant’s history?” I asked, confused. “Don’t you remember what Dr. Tarik said? Only he knew that the pendant was real and authentic. He hadn’t even told his personal assistant its true nature. Hey, speaking of the good doctor, did he say if he knew who the victim was? Could he account for all of his staff?”
Vance polished off the beer and set the bottle back on the table.
“All but one.”
“The assistant,” I guessed. “The one who showed us the picture of the pendant in the book, is that right?”
“Ammar,” Vance agreed. “He hasn’t checked out of the hotel yet, and his bed hasn’t been touched. It means he never made it back to the hotel after we saw him the night of the heist.”
“The mummy got him,” I decided, knowing full well that it would get a rise out of everyone present.
“Don’t start with the damn mummy again,” Vance complained. “This isn’t a movie, alright? There isn’t some curse at play here, nor is there any plot to have the mummy take over the world. Let it go, buddy.”
Tori suddenly frowned, “Wait a moment. There’s no way the victim is Ammar. Mummification takes a long time. It’s not an overnight process. It can take upwards of three months for a body to become completely dried out.”
“Desiccated,” I supplied, showing off my newfound word of the day.
Jillian beamed a smile and patted my knee.
“It’s so cute when you try.”
“So who did know about the pendant’s true history?” Tori asked. “Besides me, that is.”
“What?” Vance sputtered, turning to look at his wife. “You knew?”
Tori nodded guiltily, “Yes. I figured it out. Egyptian Exhibitions maintains photographs of everything in their collection. They’ve actually made publicity pamphlets out of it. You can download and print it directly from their website, which I did. Now, you have to understand, I have an eidetic memory.”
“Is that the technical term for ‘photographic memory’?” I asked.
Tori shook her head, “No. Although it’s close. Eidetic means I have extraordinarily accurate and vivid powers of recall. I can typically remember what I see.”
“It’s a pain,” Vance sniggered. “I can never win an argument.”
Tori swatted his arm.
“Now, as I was saying, as someone with an eidetic memory, I studied the publicity pamphlet and essentially memorized all the pieces in the collection. So imagine my surprise when, a few days before the exhibit opened, I was touring the auditorium with Dr. Tarik when I saw something that didn’t match anything in the pamphlets.
“The pendant,” Jillian breathed, amazed.
“Right. The pendant. Oh, don’t get me wrong, the pendant was in the pamphlet, but not that exact version of it. The colors were off and the tip of one of the feathers was chipped when the photo in the pamphlet showed a vulture in pristine condition. I knew a switch had been made. I just didn’t say anything to Dr. Tarik about it.”
“There’s not many people that would have been able to do what you just did,” Jillian told her. “That’s impressive.”
“A search on the internet confirmed my suspicions. It was the authentic Nekbhet Pendant, once owned by King Tut himself.”
“Did you tell anyone this?” Vance demanded, incredulous. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“Of course I didn’t, you nitwit,” Tori admonished. “I’m not stupid. I knew full well what would happen if word got out that a priceless Egyptian artifact happened to be in PV.”
“And yet, look what happened,” Vance reminded her. “We need to prove that someone else figured it out, too, or…” The detective trailed off.
“Or what?” Tori asked, dropping her voice down into the don’t-even-go-there level every married man was familiar with.
“This makes you look guilty as hell, Tor,” Vance told her as gently as he could. “I know you didn’t do it, everyone here knows you didn’t do it, but if it ever became known that you knew of the pendant’s history? It’ll look bad. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Then you need to figure this out before that can happen,” Tori calmly told her husband. “You’re the detective. Let’s hear what the PVPD has figured out so far.”
Vance turned to me and then delibe
rately looked down at the snoozing corgis.
“I already said we’ll help,” I assured my friend. “As much as we can. Let’s hear what you’ve got. Then we’ll decide what to do later.”
“What can you tell us about what’s happened?” Jillian asked. “Do you have any leads?”
Vance shook his head, “No. Not yet. We thought for certain the pendant was still in the high school. We searched every single person in that school before they were allowed to leave. No one had it. I’m sorry to say the pendant is still missing and we still don’t have a suspect there. Now, either Zack is right and the mummy has it or else it has been very expertly hidden.”
“So we don’t know where the pendant is,” Tori recalled, “and the police don’t have any suspects. Where does that leave us?”
“I say we go take a look at the high school again,” I suggested.
Vance glanced my way and waited for an explanation.
“Let’s assume that what you say is true,” I began. “The pendant wasn’t on any of the people leaving the auditorium. We’re pretty sure the heist was orchestrated by a local. I think maybe the pendant was stashed somewhere in the school. And if it has, who better to find it than Wonder Mutt and his sidekick?”
“You want to go to the school?” Jillian asked. “Now?”
“I’m sorry. This wasn’t the night I had planned for us.”
Tori leaned forward, interested.
“Ooooo, do tell!”
Jillian blushed. I’m sure I did, too. Vance stared at his wife, horrified.
“Tor-i! That’s none of our business!”
“That’s so not what I meant,” I hastily added. I couldn’t meet Jillian’s eyes, although I did hear a giggle coming from her direction. “What I meant was, would you care to go on a little excursion with us?”
“To check out the school?” Jillian asked, wiping her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her purse.
“Yes. I know it’s nowhere on the list of things you want to do tonight, but…”
“Of course I’ll go,” Jillian interrupted. “We’re searching for clues, right? Count me in. It sounds fun!”
As we were all heading outside, towards our cars, Vance passed by me and whispered in my ear.
“This girl wants to go hunting for clues on a Friday night? At a school? Zack, you need to marry this girl.”
“Shut your damn mouth,” I hissed back.
Vance chuckled as he unlocked his door. Then he saw me holding the door open for Jillian and, not to be outdone, hurried around his car to hold the door open for Tori. I helped the dogs into the back of the Jeep and we were off.
“Thanks for coming along,” I told Jillian. “I know this can’t be anywhere on your fun-things-to-do-on-a-Friday-night list, but I am glad you’re here.”
Jillian took my hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s not often a girl can say she helped look for clues with a man and his dog. I actually feel a bit like Daphne or Velma.”
I snickered in response.
“Wouldn’t that make you Freddie?” Jillian continued. She looked back at Sherlock and ruffled his ears. “And that’d make you Scooby, wouldn’t it? You’re such a pretty boy.”
Sherlock’s mouth fell open and he panted contentedly. Watson was curled up in her seat, hiding her nose under a paw. I hadn’t noticed that behavior before. Was she cold? Was she in pain? Then it hit. Rotten broccoli.
“Oh, my,” Jillian exclaimed, holding a hand over her nose. “Those sure are powerful, aren’t they?”
I cursed silently and jabbed a finger down on the window controls. We needed a rapid venting and we needed it now. I’m surprised the windows hadn’t melted.
“Are you sure she’s okay?” Jillian asked, concerned. “That can’t be good on her system.”
“Harry is pretty sure she eats too fast,” I explained. “It must have happened with her previous owner. He’s guessing Watson must have thought it was the only way to be sure she would get her food, so she inhales it as fast as she can. I keep trying to slow her down but so far nothing has worked.”
Before I knew it we were walking through PVHS’s halls once more. As before, the school was deathly quiet. Vance was leading us back to the auditorium when suddenly Sherlock threw on the brakes. His nose lifted and he sniffed the air. Watson joined him a few seconds later.
We were standing in the middle of a junction of corridors. The hall we had been walking down was lined with lockers. This second hallway also had lockers. It stretched off to the east for at least a hundred feet before terminating in an exterior perimeter door.
Sherlock tugged his leash. He wanted to go down the new corridor. I looked over at Vance, who shrugged. I gave Sherlock permission to go and started after him. Watson trotted along beside him, content to keep pace with him. Jillian was walking beside me with Vance and Tori bringing up the rear.
Just as suddenly as he started, Sherlock came to a stop and whined. He looked up at the row of lockers, yipped once, and promptly sat down. Figuring it was the proper thing to do, Watson did the same.
I looked at the lockers. Sherlock had stopped at #151. I tried to see if he wanted to explore the rest of the hallway but the little corgi refused to be budged. That was all the affirmation Vance needed to pick up his cell and place a call.
Fifteen minutes later the janitor was there. Vance wordlessly pointed at the locker. The janitor grunted once, pulled out a familiar ring of keys, selected one at random, and unlocked the locker. He stepped out of the way and waited while Vance carefully inspected the contents.
Books, wadded up papers, pencils, two rulers, a spiral notebook that was almost ripped in half, and a moldy apple met their gaze. Vance carefully moved all the items to the floor and gingerly felt around the insides of the locker. He looked back at me and shrugged.
Nothing.
“Come on, Sherlock,” I told the dog, patting his head. “There’s nothing there. It’s a false alarm. Let’s look somewhere else, okay?”
Once more the corgi refused to budge. Sherlock turned to look at Vance and cocked his head. Vance met the corgi’s gaze, grumbled once, and moved back to the locker to search again. The janitor stepped forward.
“Here. Use this.”
It was a flashlight. Vance mumbled his thanks, clicked it on, and stuck his head in the small locker. It wasn’t until he twisted around, looking straight up, that he grunted with surprise. He held the flashlight out, as though he was a surgeon looking to dispose of a scalpel he had been using. Once the janitor reclaimed his flashlight Vance reached an arm up into the top of the locker, yanked once, and came away with a false panel.
“Did you find it?” Tori hopefully asked. “Was the pendant in there?”
Vance pulled himself out of the locker, turned around, and help up a small sealed baggie of a dried green substance.
“No, but I did find some weed. That had to have been what Sherlock smelled.”
Jillian smiled warmly at the little corgi and ruffled the fur behind his ears.
“Good doggie. You found some drugs! Aren’t you a smart, handsome boy?”
Sherlock regarded her as though she had asked him if he had wanted a bath.
“Is that all that’s in there?” I asked. I had noticed Sherlock still hadn’t moved.
Zack reached up into the tiny hidden compartment and felt around some more. After a few moments he pulled his hand out and handed the false panel to the janitor. He shrugged.
“That’s all I could find.”
“What about all that stuff on the ground?” I asked, pointing at the crap from the locker that was now spread out on the floor.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” the janitor said. “I’ll take care of it. I have to report this to the principal anyway. No drugs ‘lowed on campus.”
“I think you need to suggest that all lockers should be methodically searched,” Vance told the janitor.
The janitor nodded, “I’ll
tell ‘im tomorrow mornin’. He ain’t gonna be too pleased about this.”
As we were walking away I still couldn’t help but notice that Sherlock still refused to move. I could only assume that there was more marijuana hidden in some of the other lockers. But in close proximity to #151? I couldn’t help but feel that we were missing something.
Turns out I really should pay more attention to Sherlock and follow my instincts.
FIVE
The following day I was in my kitchen, flipping angrily through the only cookbook I could find in the house. Consequently, it was a Betty Crocker cookbook that had been published in the mid-1950s. I know, I checked. I had seriously mucked up the first attempt at a date since my wife’s death. I was hoping by offering to cook dinner I could mend a fence or two. Therefore I was desperately searching for a recipe that:
a) Sounded good.
b) Would taste just as good as it sounded.
c) Had four ingredients or less.
Do you have any idea how complex those recipes are when you are not a cook? ‘Gently fold in’ this, or ‘season to taste’ that. When you don’t know what you’re doing in the kitchen, the only thing you want to see is a very explicit list of instructions.
Now, in case you’re wondering about option ‘c’ up there, let me explain. I already told you that the kitchen is not my favorite room. My idea of a homemade meal was cooking one of those yet-to-be-baked pizzas that you finished yourself at home. However, Samantha – knowing that cooking was so far out of my comfort zone that it was considered to be the next county– encouraged me to try. Turns out that if the recipe called for four ingredients or less then I could typically muddle my way through it. I should also mention that I considered spices as ingredients.
So, what did I end up settling on? ‘Hungry Man Casserole’, a dish my mother used to make for me all the time when I was a kid. The recipe actually called for five (gasp!) ingredients, fulfilling both option ‘a’ and ‘c’ at the same time. It had ground beef, pork and beans, cheese, and biscuits, which should satisfy option ‘b’. If I managed to get through this without burning anything – or poisoning Jillian – then I’ll definitely spring for a newer cookbook. Hell, I’ll even let her pick it out.
Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy Page 9
