Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy Read online

  “This doesn’t bode well,” I decided.

  I pulled the Jeep into the closest parking space to the door. Vance was out the door before I could bring the Jeep to a stop. I started to get out when Vance turned to look at me and pointed at the car. He wanted me to stay put, too. I was halfway tempted to bark at him. It’d be my luck Sherlock would think a dog was in the car with him and I’d receive a bite for my troubles.

  I could see Vance pulling out his badge and talking to a few of the people wandering aimlessly up and down the sidewalk just outside the store. He then walked up to the locked front door, jiggled the handle, then cupped his hands around his eyes and tried to look inside the store. It was too dark to see anything.

  Vance looked straight back at me, held up an open hand – palm facing me – and gave me my second doggie command of the day. Wait. I watched him disappear around the back of the store. A few minutes later he reemerged on the other side, having completely circled around the store, presumably looking for a way to get in. He looked back at me and waved me over.

  “Come on, Sherlock. I think we’re on.”

  Amidst a chorus of ‘what a cute dog!’ comments, Sherlock and I approached the darkened store.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  Vance shook his head no.

  “I think we’re too late. I think Victor has cut out of town. And why not? With that necklace he could buy himself a whole fleet of stores in a new town. Dammit!”

  I felt Sherlock pull on his leash. Apparently he wanted to follow in Vance’s footsteps and make a complete circuit of the place. He barked and pulled on the leash again.

  “What’s he doing?” Vance asked.

  I noticed my detective friend had his cell phone in his hand, as though he was trying to convince himself to phone Captain Nelson and let him know what he had learned thus far. However, as he had so eloquently stated not so long ago, it would look exceedingly bad for him if he couldn’t backup any of his story without having a shred of tangible proof.

  “I think Sherlock wants to look around. Should I let him?”

  Vance looked down at his cell and slid it back into a pocket.

  “What the hell. At this point it couldn’t hurt. Maybe he can find something.”

  I gave Sherlock some leash and let him wander around the perimeter of the building. We got as far as the back door, which was what Victor Preston must have used to receive his deliveries, when Sherlock paused. He yipped once, pulled me over to the back door with as much grace as a farmer using an ox to plow a field, and looked pointedly at the door.

  “I’ve already tried it,” Vance announced, coming up behind me. “It’s locked.”

  “You heard him, Sherlock,” I told the corgi, pulling on his leash so we could keep circling the store. “Yes, you found a way inside, but we can’t get in there. Come on. Let’s keep searching.”

  Sherlock refused to budge. He looked up at me, whined, and then looked back at the door. He let out a short, high-pitched yip of frustration.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Vance asked.

  “I’m not sure. He doesn’t want to leave. The last time he did this was back at the school, when we were searching the locker. I’m pretty sure the pendant was in that locker when we searched it. If I didn’t know any better I’d say there’s something here that we’re both missing.”

  “Like what?” Vance wanted to know. “I’ve tried the door. It’s locked.” The detective grabbed the door handle and gave it a little jiggle. “See? It… I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

  I was about to ask what the problem was when Vance held a finger to his lips and pointed down at the bottom of the door. I looked down. The door had moved! It must not have closed all the way when Preston had left, indicating our friend Mr. Preston had left in a hurry.

  Vance paused, placed his ear up against the door, and then grunted with surprise. He looked down at the bottom of the door as he eased it open another few inches. His gun suddenly appeared in his hand.

  “Zack, get Sherlock out of here. Now!”

  He didn’t need to ask me twice. I scooped up Sherlock in my arms and retreated to the safety of the parking lot where there was more light. And witnesses.

  “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “There’s someone in there!” Vance reported. He grasped the door handle and pulled. The door swung open. “That’s why Sherlock led us to this door. He must have heard something in the store! Wait here!”

  From nearly 50 feet away Sherlock and I watched as Vance chambered a round into his gun and ducked into the store. Less than ten seconds later Vance’s head poked out of the door.

  “Zack! Get over here! You’re not gonna believe this.”

  Sherlock and I hurried over to the door and cautiously stepped inside. I could see Vance standing on a chair, looking into the store’s tiny manager’s office through the only window it had. He motioned me over and stepped off the chair.

  “Have a look for yourself.”

  I looked through the window. Someone was inside, tied, and gagged. He was struggling furiously with his bonds but wasn’t making any leeway with them. He had yet to see either of us staring at him through the office’s tiny window.

  ““Who’s that?” I asked. “Is it Victor Preston?”

  Vance stared at me in disbelief.

  “Zack, that’s Ammar Fadil!”

  “What?!”

  I stepped up onto the chair again for a second look. That’s what threw me. The last time I had seen our friend Mr. Fadil he was wearing the same dark green shirt and khaki pants that the Egyptian Exhibitions’ uniformed staff wore. This time his clothing consisted of a dark blue turtleneck sweater, black trousers, and a pair of black sneakers.

  I must have made some noise as I stepped up onto the chair because this time Ammar was looking straight at me. His eyes pleaded for help. I nodded and stepped down.

  “He knows we’re here,” I told Vance.

  “He knows you are here,” Vance corrected. “I knew I heard something.”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “You’re going to tell me that you really did hear Ammar making some noise? Calling for help? You don’t expect me to buy that, do you? You were just looking for some pretense to enter the building.”

  “I really did hear him,” Vance insisted. “That’s when I looked at the door and wondered if I could kick it in, but didn’t have to. The door hadn’t quite shut all the way, almost like whoever was leaving had left in a hurry. Let’s go let our new friend out, shall we?”

  We tried the lock to the office door. It wouldn’t open. Vance gripped either side of the door frame and kicked the door open. Ammar’s look of relief switched to terror when he saw Vance and saw the badge on his belt. He looked accusingly back at me.

  “Hey, he’s the one who heard you,” I told the unfortunate man. “He was already with me when you saw me.”

  Vance produced a pocket knife and cut the ropes holding Ammar’s gag in place.

  “Well?” Ammar demanded. “Aren’t you going to cut me loose?”

  Vance pulled out his cell and, with a broad smile on his face, dialed a number from memory.

  “Not yet, pal,” Vance said. “I know of a few people who have got to see this.”

  “I’m telling you again that I had nothing to do with this!” Ammar Fadil protested. “I am the victim here, do you not understand?”

  We were sitting in one of the larger conference rooms down at the police station since the standard interrogation room wouldn’t hold all the people that were present. Captain Nelson, Vance, Dr. Tarik, half a dozen police officers I didn’t know, the district attorney, and even the mayor had wanted to witness the interrogation. I think the moral of the story here is to not try and sully a small town’s name. Everyone who was anyone wanted to make sure that the perpetrator was brought to justice.

  Captain Nelson looked over at Vance and inclined his head. Vance smiled, as did I. That one simple nod had just allowed Vance back on the c
ase.

  “We know, Mr. Fadil.”

  “You know what?” Ammar Fadil asked, feigning ignorance.

  “We know all about your plan.”

  “What plan? I am the victim here! I was the one who was kidnapped and held against my will! Why aren’t you looking for that deplorable store owner?”

  “And who would that be?” Vance calmly asked, as if he was bored out of his skull with this interrogation.

  “Victor Preston! He’s the one that set everything up! He’s the one who stole the pendant!”

  “Is that so?” Vance asked. He glanced around the room for effect. “Why don’t you tell us what you know and then I’ll let you know which parts you’re lying about.”

  Several beads of sweat had started trickling down Ammar’s face. He swallowed nervously, faked a coughing fit, and when that failed to generate the slightest bit of sympathy, he sighed. He placed both hands on the table and linked his fingers together.

  “Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  Vance shrugged, “Sure. I wouldn’t want your mouth to go dry when you’re doing such a fantastic job of trying to blow smoke up our asses.”

  Once a pitcher of water and a glass had been added to the table, Ammar looked despairingly around the room.

  “You can try to stall for time all you want,” Vance told the formerly missing curator, “but all its doing is giving us more time to finalize all the charges we will be leveling against you. Do you want to help yourself? I would advise you to come clean.”

  “But I don’t know anything!” Ammar whined.

  “Fine. We’ll do it my way. First, let’s talk about your family.”

  “What about my family?” Ammar asked, startled.

  “We know the mummified body is your brother’s.”

  All the color drained out of Ammar’s face.

  “We know your father was found dead last month.”

  Ammar hastily poured himself another glass of water and gulped it down.

  “It’ll only be a matter of time before we pin his murder back on you,” Vance casually added. “What happened, Mr. Fadil? Did your father learn you had killed your brother? Were you forced to kill your father, too?”

  Ammar was silent as he stared straight ahead.

  “And then you turned your brother into a mummy,” Vance said. “What kind of sick, twisted, sadistic son of a bitch would do that to his own brother?”

  “You know nothing,” Ammar sneered, dropping his innocent act.

  “So how’d you get your brother’s body into the States? Did you conceal him with the real mummy?”

  “American custom laws are pathetic and weak,” Ammar snapped. “You can get anything into this country if you know the right people.”

  “We’ll be sure to pass that along,” Captain Nelson said, breaking his silence. “I’m sure you just made a number of high-ranking officials very concerned. They are going to want to talk to you. Then again, you shouldn’t worry. I’m sure your schedule has just opened up for the foreseeable future.”

  “I gotta hand it to you, pal,” Vance continued as he consulted his notes, “that was one very intricate plan you hatched. Too bad it didn’t work.”

  “Damn kids,” Ammar softly muttered.

  Everyone in the room leaned forward.

  “What was that?” Vance asked.

  “Two years of planning,” Ammar said, bitterly. “Two years of my life… wasted. Everything was going to plan. We were set to spring the trap that night, only…”

  “Only the boys beat you to it,” Vance finished for him. “They… Zack? What is it? Why do you have your hand up? This isn’t school.”

  I hastily lowered my arm.

  “Can I ask something real quick?”

  An entire roomful of people turned to look at me as though I had no business being there. Well, let’s be honest. I really didn’t. I think the only reason I was allowed to attend the interrogation was that the captain was a huge fan of Sherlock’s.

  “Make it quick, Zack.”

  “Did you catch what he just said?”

  “What part?” Vance wanted to know.

  “He said ‘we’. That means he had a partner.”

  Surprised, Vance turned back to Ammar. By this time Ammar was scowling. One by one everyone turned their attention to the lone man sitting on the opposite side of the table. Then, in unison, everyone turned to look at Dr. Tarik.

  “Don’t look at me,” Dr. Tarik hastily exclaimed. “I had no knowledge of any of this.”

  “Mr. Anderson brings up a very good point,” Captain Nelson announced. “We know it isn’t Dr. Tarik. Identify your partner, Mr. Fadil.”

  “Go to hell,” Ammar sneered.

  “It’s no big mystery,” Vance told his boss. “It’s Victor Preston. Ammar here has been in contact with him.”

  “Victor Preston?” the captain repeated. “Why do I know that name?”

  “He owns the Square L by the grocery store,” Vance answered.

  Captain Nelson shook his head, “No, that’s not it. I know that name. I’ve seen it before.”

  A quick background check gave us the answer. Turns out our friend Victor Preston had a rap sheet. He had even done time for aggravated assault and attempted robbery.

  Captain Nelson skimmed the report.

  “Thought so. I knew I had heard of him. He’s involved in this? Bring him in.”

  “Looks like he’s skipped town, captain,” Vance reluctantly said.

  “Are we thinking this is the mastermind behind the heist at the school?”

  Vance shook his head, “No, sir. The mastermind you’re referring to is your grandson. Ammar here had been planning on swiping that vulture thing for quite some time, only Jimmy beat him to it.”

  “So, where is Mr. Preston now?”

  Vance shrugged, “Unknown. We think he left town in a hurry. We checked the store and we checked his house. The store safe was emptied and the house looks as though a tornado had hit it. Looks like he was anxious to leave town.”

  “And the necklace?” Captain Nelson asked. “He has it, doesn’t he?”

  Vance nodded, “Sure looks that way, sir.”

  “About your entry into the Square L,” Captain Nelson continued. He opened a folder and slid out a paper. “Oh, yes. Here it is. It says here that you maintain you heard something inside the store and that’s why you entered.”

  Vance’s face colored, “Yes, sir.”

  “When you didn’t have a warrant.”

  “Uh, that’s right. Sir. I heard a call for help. That’s when I investigated.”

  “Mm-hmm.” When nothing else was forthcoming the captain looked over at Vance. “Don’t stop now, detective. Where did you find Mr. Fadil? In what state was he?”

  “I found him in Preston’s office in the back of the store. He was bound and gagged.”

  The captain turned his attention back to Ammar.

  “You kill your brother, you turn him into a mummy, and then stash him in a corn field. May I ask why? What purpose did that serve?”

  “I do believe I said go to hell,” Ammar muttered. “And yes, you may quote me on that.”

  “It was his plan to cause pandemonium,” Vance said, breaking the silence.

  “It worked,” one officer grumbled.

  Several people snickered.

  “How did you get the body into the corn field?” Vance asked. “There were people all over that corn maze yet no one saw or heard a thing.”

  Ammar crossed his arms over his chest. His mouth became a thin line. Clearly he was done talking.

  Vance pulled the file they had on Victor Preston and skimmed through it. A look of triumph passed over his features. He handed the open folder to the captain.

  “I believe I have the answer, sir.”

  The captain nodded, “Go ahead.

  “Victor Preston may have been a convicted felon, apparently he was firm believer in conservation.”

  “What does that mean
?” I asked.

  Vance tapped the report.

  “Victor’s car. It’s electric. Do you have any idea how silent those things are? He simply drove his car into the corn field, dropped Ammar’s brother off in the maze, and then left the same way he came. That’s why no one heard anything.”

  “How did Ammar know which locker held the pendant?” I asked.

  “You’re looking at a lot of unfavorable crimes,” Captain Nelson pointed out. “Unless you want me to get word to the Egyptian authorities about how uncooperative you’ve been, you will start cooperating. And yes, we’ve already notified the Egyptian Consulate. Your work visa has been revoked. You will be headed home, where I’m sure you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”

  “Fine,” Ammar muttered angrily. “If I’m going down then I’m taking that idiot with me. Victor told me which locker held the pendant.”

  “How did Mr. Preston find out?” Captain Nelson asked.

  “He overheard one of his employees talking on his cell during a break,” Ammar slowly explained. “He got the kid drunk and plied him for information. Once we had the locker number it was easy.”

  “How did you get the locker open without forcing it?” I asked.

  Captain Nelson looked at me and I fell silent.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ll shut up now.”

  The captain waved a dismissive hand.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Fadil. How did you get the locker open?”

  “Please,” Ammar scoffed. “Lockers for children with built-in combination locks? I could pick them with my eyes closed. It took me less than ten seconds to get in.”

  “Are you the one who stashed a bag of weed for us to find later?”

  Ammar gave us a vindictive smile.

  “It threw you off the scent, didn’t it?”

  “Not for long,” Vance reminded him, which wiped the smile from his face.

  “Looks like I owe Jimmy an apology,” Captain Nelson muttered.

  “He still stole the pendant and the mummy,” Vance reminded him.

  “True. So tell me something, Mr. Fadil.”

  Ammar’s angry eyes looked into the captain’s.

  “Why haven’t you fled town? I would have thought that the instant the pendant was in your hands then you would’ve fled. Why didn’t you?”