The Mummy Mystery

by Martin Widmark

  There was no doubt she needed the money.

  “Does the museum have a cleaning staff?” asked Jerry.

  “That’s a very good question”—Barbara Palmer laughed drily—“considering how dusty and dirty this place is. The cleaner’s name is Cornelia Hamberg.

  “She works part-time. She starts at five o’clock when the museum closes, cleans for three hours, and then goes home at eight, just before the night watchman arrives.

  “This room is the last one she cleans before she returns her cart to the broom closet and goes home. She’s a careless cleaner, and I’ve told her that she will lose her job if she doesn’t start working harder.”

  “How did she react to that?” asked Maya.

  “She started crying and said I shouldn’t forget that she’s a member of a group called Friends of the Museum. She threatened to tell them at the next meeting how poorly she thought I was managing the museum,” said Barbara Palmer scornfully.

  “Does Cornelia Hamberg live in the middle of town, too?” asked Jerry.

  “Oh no, she lives far outside Pleasant Valley and takes the bus to and from work every day. She’s worked here for ages, and I imagine she’s as old as the mummy,” added the director with a laugh.

  Jerry and Maya suspected that Barbara Palmer’s unpleasant manner might make her a lot of enemies.

  “Ahem!” The sound of someone clearing his throat came from the doorway. It was the police chief of Pleasant Valley.

  He nodded to Jerry and Maya, who were old friends at this point.

  “The pictures from the security cameras have just come in,” he said. “You’d better take a look.”

  The museum director quickly opened the packet of photographs. Suddenly, she shrieked.

  One of the photos fell to the floor. Barbara Palmer shuddered and slumped into her chair.

  “The night watchman was right . . . the mummy moved!” she said, staring blankly ahead.

  Maya bent down and picked up the photo. She couldn’t believe it: It showed a bandaged hand holding a knife! And the knife was cutting the missing painting from its frame. However strange it may seem, everything suggested that the mummy had stolen the painting.

  She handed the photo to Jerry. “Look!”

  He looked at it carefully, but then shook his head.

  “Yes, I see that the mummy is holding a knife. But something’s not right about this picture.”

  Jerry’s figured out an important clue, thought Maya.

  “You said earlier that four people work in the museum,” said Maya as she turned to Barbara Palmer. “That’s you, the director of the museum; Penelope Green, the receptionist; Cornelia Hamberg, the cleaner; and the fourth person must be the night watchman, Chris Long.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Barbara Palmer replied, recovering from the shock of the security pictures. “Chris hasn’t worked here long. He actually only started two months ago.”

  At the same time the mummy arrived, thought Maya. She made a note on her pad.

  Did Chris Long steal the painting, and was he trying to make everyone believe it was the mummy who was responsible?

  “What else do we know about Chris Long?” asked Maya.

  “I know that he actually used to work as a tour guide, among other things, in Egypt. And I know that he has a lot of children—seven of them, in fact. Think of all the diapers and bottles,” said the museum director with a wince. “It is because of his big family that he started working here. He said he needed to earn some extra money.”

  “So, the night watchman, Chris Long, could be in serious need of money,” observed Jerry.

  “Yes, it seems so,” replied the director. “Chris actually has two jobs. Cornelia Hamberg’s husband and Chris work in the same factory during the day. Chris drives a truck there,” continued Barbara Palmer. “He’s a big sports fan and never misses the sports news on TV. He lives in this part of town, not far from the museum.”

  “So, if we’ve understood everything correctly,” said Maya, “this is the situation:

  “Penelope Green, the receptionist, went home at five o’clock yesterday.

  “Cornelia Hamberg, the cleaner, finished at eight in the evening.

  “Chris Long, the night watchman, came shortly after and set the alarm. He went into the Mummy Room and locked the door behind him. At nearly nine in the morning, he dashed out of the room in a panic, and the painting was already gone by the time the police arrived.”

  “That’s right,” said Barbara Palmer.

  “And . . . where were you yesterday evening?” asked Jerry.

  The museum director bristled and stared at him. Did he think she had stolen her own museum’s painting?

  Maya and Jerry noticed how her cheeks flushed red with anger. But Barbara Palmer quickly understood that she would look suspicious if she didn’t answer Jerry’s question.

  “I was at the hospital visiting my elderly mother. I had a long talk with Dr. Wilson there, a very successful doctor who is also interested in modern art. He can confirm that I was there,” replied Barbara Palmer moodily. “But now I need to get back to my work, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “And we need to go home and think a bit, but we’d like to come back later this evening and keep watch outside the room.”

  “Of course, of course. Why not?” replied the director absentmindedly, waving her hand to indicate that she wanted to be left alone.

  CHAPTER 5

  On Guard at Night

  Outside the museum, the air was mild. A few of Jerry and Maya’s classmates bicycled past on their way to the Rio Cinema.

  And then came Penelope Green, riding in a fancy sports car, driven by a young man. She was gazing at the man and had a big smile on her face.

  Jerry and Maya went over everything that had happened at the museum. Had the ancient mummy really woken up and begun to take its revenge?

  It sounded incredible, but the night watchman claimed to have seen it, and the security pictures showed a bandaged hand cutting out the museum’s most valuable painting.

  Shortly before 8:00 p.m., Maya and Jerry headed back to the museum. Dark rain clouds had gathered in the sky, and rumbling thunder could be heard in the distance.

  Jerry and Maya raced to beat the storm. just as they reached the museum, the first raindrops began to fall on the stone steps.

  They banged on the museum’s main door, and Barbara Palmer opened it. She looked tired.

  “I thought it might rain,” she said as she looked up at the sky. “Now we just have to hope we have a quiet night. I’ve tried to find someone else to take Chris Long’s shift tonight, but it was absolutely impossible. He really should be at home, resting.”

  Maya and Jerry walked through the museum with the director. Everything seemed different in the evening light. The statues cast long, sinister shadows across the floor. And the portraits in the old paintings seemed to follow them with their eyes.

  Jerry had a strange feeling that he was being watched. Was there someone else in the museum? Someone who was not supposed to be here? Someone who was waiting to strike again?

  Jerry looked at Maya. But she didn’t look as spooked as he was—in fact, she sat calmly on one of the two chairs the director had put out for them just outside the Mummy Room.

  Jerry and Maya looked for the cleaner, Cornelia Hamberg. She was supposed to stop work at 8:00 p.m., but she was probably already on the bus home.

  “You can keep watch here outside the room, but remember: Chris must not be disturbed while he is guarding our works of art,” said Barbara Palmer as she left Maya and Jerry.

  A little later, the pale, exhausted night watchman arrived.

  He looked a little surprised to see Jerry and Maya. After saying hello, he went into the room and locked the door behind him.

  Outside, the rain was po
uring down; they could hear it beating on the roof.

  Every once in a while, streaks of lightning cut through the air and lit up the dark rooms. Jerry and Maya felt sorry for the poor night watchman who had to be locked in the room with a vengeful old mummy.

  Soon the rain passed, and Jerry and Maya sat whispering, piecing together what they knew.

  Early in the morning, the two detectives could no longer stay awake, and they drifted off to sleep.

  Suddenly, the door to the Mummy Room that Chris Long guarded burst open. With a roar, the night watchman charged out of the room.

  “Help! The mummy has woken up again!” he yelled, racing up the stairs.

  Maya quickly checked her watch.

  It is just before 9:00 a.m., the same time as yesterday, she thought. Then she and Jerry ran after Chris.

  Had it really happened again?

  When they reached the office, the night watchman was talking a mile a minute on the phone to Barbara Palmer.

  “Yes, it is true! The mummy woke up again! No, I don’t know if another painting has disappeared. Fine, I’ll see you in five minutes,” Chris Long said as he hung up.

  He slumped down onto Barbara Palmer’s chair.

  “I can’t stand another night in that terrible room,” he said finally, standing up. “I’m giving my notice today! I quit!”

  A few minutes later, Barbara Palmer hurried in with the police chief, whom she had contacted as soon as Chris called.

  When Chris, Jerry, and Maya reached the Mummy Room downstairs, they immediately noticed an empty frame.

  Another painting had disappeared!

  The room was already full of people.

  The police chief was writing in his notebook.

  The museum director was pacing back and forth, mumbling to herself.

  The cleaner was glaring at everyone as they tracked dirt into the freshly cleaned room.

  The receptionist was gaping at the empty picture frame.

  The night watchman was sighing deeply.

  The mummy was standing in its usual place.

  Jerry and Maya looked at each other.

  Now they knew who had stolen the two paintings!

  CHAPTER 6

  “I Wanted to See Her Cry”

  A moment later, Barbara Palmer gathered her staff in her office. The police chief stayed behind to examine the crime scene.

  “Our young friends, Jerry and Maya, have something they want to tell us,” she said nervously. “And I hope it is something very important,” she added. “The reporters from the papers and the television station are outside waiting to talk to me.”

  “At first, we thought it was the mummy who had stolen the paintings,” started Maya. “The night watchman seemed to be telling the truth when he described what he had seen, and there are other stories about mummies taking revenge.”

  “But how did the mummy manage to unbind its own bandages?” interrupted Jerry. “The pictures from the security camera clearly show a bandaged hand holding a knife. But the mummy in the coffin was tightly bandaged, with its arms bound against the body. So how could that be possible?”

  “And above all, there was something in the letter that didn’t make sense. Why would a mummy want one million dollars? Why would a mummy need money?” asked Maya.

  “The demand for money in the letter made us suspect the people who work here at the museum, not the mummy,” she continued. “For example, Penelope, who clearly lives a life of luxury, with expensive clothes and a fancy apartment.

  “But yesterday evening when we saw her in a luxury sports car, we realized that her rich boyfriend could help her buy those things.”

  “Who else was in dire need of money? The night watchman, of course. With seven children, a little extra money would certainly come in handy,” said Jerry, looking at Chris Long, who nodded in agreement. “He was also the only person who was in the room at night.

  “But how did he manage to get the paintings out of the room? And he was definitely frightened when he came rushing out of the room this morning.”

  Jerry looked at his notebook.

  “The letter from the mummy was very cunning,” he continued. “Everyone thought it was the money that was important. But then we realized that was not the case. It was actually the revenge!

  “The letter said, ‘The mummy’s revenge is terrible but justified.’ So the person who stole the paintings was not interested in the money, but in getting revenge. Isn’t that so, Cornelia Hamberg?”

  Everyone in the room turned to look at the cleaner. Cornelia Hamberg said nothing at first, but then she burst out, “How should I know anything about it? Surely you don’t think that I would be the one who . . . ?”

  “Just now, in the room with the mummy and the empty frames,” said Jerry, “there was one person who should not have been there. And that person was you, Cornelia! Barbara Palmer told us earlier that you start work at five o’clock in the evening.

  “Why were you here at nine in the morning? You have a long journey to work, and you couldn’t have gotten here by bus, even if someone had called to tell you about the latest painting theft. The explanation must be that you had been here all night. Isn’t that so?”

  Cornelia sighed heavily and said, “It’s true. I took the paintings. I took them to ruin things for Barbara Palmer. She’s awful!

  “And I couldn’t resist staying this morning. I wanted to see her face when she found out that yet another painting had disappeared from her museum. I wanted to make her as miserable as she has made me.”

  The cleaner looked angrily at the museum director. Her eyes flashed. She continued. “I thought that if it seemed as though she couldn’t run the museum properly, she would lose her job. Ever since she started here at the museum, she’s been mean to the staff, and she’s complained on and on about how poor the cleaning has been.

  “And of course I’ve heard her joking about how old I am. Barbara Palmer shouldn’t be in charge of this wonderful museum,” said Cornelia Hamberg. “She doesn’t deserve it.

  “When I read in the paper that she was thinking of selling our beautiful old paintings, I made up my mind.”

  “But how on earth have you managed to get the paintings out of the locked room?” asked the museum director. She was angry, but also very curious.

  Cornelia glared at her boss. Cornelia looked at Jerry and Maya. Finally, she decided to tell all.

  “As you know, my husband and Chris Long work in the same factory during the day, and then Chris works here at night, as well.

  “A person cannot work day and night without sleeping.”

  “And playing golf in the afternoons,” Maya added.

  Cornelia didn’t say anything about Maya’s interruption, but continued with her story. “He can’t sleep at the factory. Everyone would notice if his truck was not moving. So I figured out that he must be sleeping in the museum at night.”

  Barbara Palmer glared at the night watchman and scribbled something on a piece of paper.

  Chris Long looked away.

  CHAPTER 7

  Works of Art in the Garbage

  “One evening, earlier this week, I found Chris Long’s cell phone on a windowsill while I was cleaning,” continued Cornelia.

  “Was that where I left it?” asked Chris in surprise, looking at Cornelia.

  Jerry and Maya noticed beads of perspiration on his forehead.

  “I immediately realized it was his, because he had been running around asking about it. So then I knew precisely what I should do. That evening, I hid in the bathroom of the room holding the mummy and the museum’s most valuable paintings.

  “The sports news begins at eight, so the first thing that sports-crazy Chris does after locking the door to the room is turn on the TV,” explained Cornelia.

  �
�He doesn’t check whether anyone has hidden in the museum like he’s supposed to.”

  The director cleared her throat and made another note on her paper.

  Cornelia continued, “When the sports news is finished, he eats whatever food he’s brought in his lunch box. Then he goes to sleep, tired from working at the factory. So the other morning, while our night watchman was sleeping, I disguised myself. I wrapped myself in bandages.

  “It was a real struggle, I can tell you, to get them all to stay put. And goodness knows how many safety pins I used.”

  Cornelia’s face brightened as she remembered her craftiness, and she continued. “The first time I looked at myself in the mirror, I actually frightened myself! I opened the door a little to check that Chris was still asleep. Then I came out of the bathroom where I’d been hiding.

  “I went into the room, cut the painting out of its frame, rolled it up, and stuffed it inside the cleaning cart. Then I dragged the mummy from its sarcophagus and hid it in the bathroom.

  “I thought maybe it would be nice for it to use the restroom after so many years.”

  Chris laughed, but he was the only one who seemed to find Cornelia’s little joke amusing. The mood in the small room was very serious.

  “Now everything was ready for the part of the job I liked the least,” continued Cornelia, looking at the night watchman apologetically. “I needed to scare poor Chris.

  “I tried to frighten him gently, but you saw for yourselves how terrified he was. I had worked out that Chris would have to leave the room to call the museum director, because I had his cell phone. That would give me the few minutes I needed.”

  “You had it all worked out down to the last detail,” the director noted bitterly. “One of my own employees! How outrageous!”