Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy Read online

  “How’d you get keys to this place?” I asked.

  “Preston’s night manager turned in her set, right after she officially resigned. I didn’t know what else to do with them so I kept them locked in my desk.”

  Vance pushed open the door and switched on the lights. Sherlock pushed his way past the detective and took the lead. I tapped Vance on the shoulder to get his attention.

  “Should I drop the leash? There’s nothing in this store that can hurt him, is there?”

  Vance shook his head, “No. It’s perfectly safe. Go ahead.”

  I dropped the leash. Sherlock turned to look up at me with a look of amazement on his canine features. I nodded.

  “You wanted to check this place out, pal. Well, here we are. Let’s see if our friend here is gonna have to wear tights to his first dance class.”

  “Oh, shit. I forgot about that.”

  “Rest assured that I haven’t, buddy.”

  “If he finds it you’d better not hold me to it,” Vance warned.

  “If he finds it then you’d better pick out a pair of tap shoes,” I returned.

  “Whatever. There’s no way Tori would let me out of the house in that getup.”

  I had to bite my tongue. If you only knew, dude. That was going to be the Kodak moment of the century.

  Sherlock turned to head into the main part of the store. He wove his way through the aisles of snacks, jerky, and candy bars and stopped at the chips section. The little corgi promptly sat, turned to look up at me, and gave one of his low howls.

  “Awwoooo!”

  I looked over at Vance. My detective friend looked worried. I would be, too, if I had been dumb enough to agree to put on tights. In public.

  “What do you have?” I asked as I joined Vance at the rack of potato chips and corn chips. “See anything?”

  Vance started pulling bags off the shelf. Nothing. Nothing was hiding behind the products nor did it look like any of the bags had been tampered with.

  “Are you sure he wants us to look over here?” Vance asked, turning to look down at Sherlock.

  “He hasn’t moved,” I pointed out. “Whatever he wants us to find has gotta be right here.”

  Vance and I began emptying shelf after shelf of bags of snacks. Several dozen bags of potato chips, pork rinds, and corn chips fell unceremoniously to the floor. It wasn’t until we made it to the bottom shelf, where the tubes of snacks were, that Sherlock started to bounce up and down on his front legs, as though I was bouncing a ball and he was eager for me to throw it.

  “I think we’re getting closer,” I mused, sweeping tubes of Pringles onto the ground.

  “Please don’t be here, please don’t be here, please don’t be here,” Vance softly chanted.

  I laughed and continued to search. I had just swept the last of the tubes onto the ground when I paused. I had heard a metallic clunk. Granted, these types of snacks weren’t the best for you, and they were probably going to end up resembling a lump in your gut, but they still shouldn’t sound like that when knocked to the floor.

  I began picking up the last batch of tubes I had knocked over. One of the tubes, a red original-flavored tube of Pringles, felt heavier than the rest. And it jingled when I gently shook the tube.

  “What do you have there?” Vance asked, alarmed.

  I looked up and grinned. I do believe the good detective was looking a wee bit pale. I popped open the top of the tube and saw that the safety seal was still in place but it had been peeled almost off. I peeled back the seal and looked inside the tube. There were no chips inside. I tipped the tube over and felt something heavy plop into my hand.

  It was the infamous, priceless, Nekhbet Pendant, once worn by King Tut himself. I turned to Vance and held up the ugly piece of vulture-shaped jewelry to my friend and grinned at him. Vance groaned.

  “First pair is on me. Do you prefer control top or would you like fishnet?”

  EPILOGUE

  “Would you stop laughing? What kind of dog owner ridicules their own dogs?”

  I wiped the tears from my eyes.

  “What kind of dog owner dresses up their dogs in silly getups like that?” I countered.

  Jillian and I were strolling arm in arm along the rows of vendors setup behind the main storefront at Greentree Gardens. At the moment, Jillian was holding both leashes while I carried a number of bags. It felt like we had purchased something from every single tent we had passed.

  Sherlock and Watson, typically found in front of our procession whenever we went on our walks, trailed behind us on this particular day. Looking miserable. If ever a dog could throw a human a dirty look it’d be Sherlock. Since Halloween seemed to be celebrated the entire month of October in PV, and since I’ve seen quite a few people also dressed in costumes, I had suggested that perhaps we should get costumes.

  Not for me. Don’t be silly. For the dogs.

  Jillian had thought it was a delightful idea. She had instantly found several websites that catered to canine costumes. She picked out a couple she thought were adorable, I paid for it, and I got to watch Jillian put them on the dogs.

  Sherlock was dressed up as… Sherlock Holmes. He was wearing a small deerstalker hat, complete with a strap that went under his chin – which he tried every ten seconds or so to dislodge the irksome accessory – and a tweed cape that stretched down his elongated torso almost to his hind end. Like the hat, it too had elastic straps to keep the costume in place.

  Watson was wearing a Coachman’s style bowler hat, a brown tweed ‘jacket’ that encompassed the majority of her torso, and had a tiny cane attached to the left side of her jacket. She, too, had tried to dislodge the cumbersome attire that we had dressed her in but at least she only tried every minute or so as opposed to Sherlock’s incessant shaking. Watson kept throwing me traitorous looks, as though she believed I no longer loved her.

  “You really need to stop laughing,” Jillian whispered, looking apologetically down at the dogs. “They’re making me feel bad for suggesting we buy them costumes.”

  “Oh, they’re fine. I thought it was a clever idea, dressing them as their namesakes.”

  Vance and Tori appeared, leading Anubis on a leash. The elegant German Shepherd, also outfitted in a costume, looked none too happy with his owners, either. Anubis was also dressed as his namesake, complete with headdress, golden chest plate, and an intricate golden blanket running down his back.

  Everyone oohed and aahed over the dogs. We laughed, we joked, and we had a good time. Walking alongside Jillian, with her hand in mine, felt good; natural. I had believed for far too long that I would never be happy again after my beloved Samantha died. I had thought that my life was over, that I had nothing to live for. Looking down at the two dogs reluctantly following behind us, and then over at Jillian, who smiled every time she looked my way, I began to feel normal again. I was surprised to realize that I had started looking forward to waking up every morning again.

  Here, in this small rinky-dink town of Pomme Valley, I truly felt like I was home.

  THE END

  Zack and the corgis will be back in time for Christmas in Case of the Holiday Hijinks!

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  My plan for this novel was to have it released by Halloween. I thought having a subject with the words “Fleet-Footed Mummy” in the title would be cool and very appropriate to the time of year. But, life finds a way to derail the train, no matter how stable/sturdy the tracks appear to be. So I didn’t quite make it.

  But, I had a lot of fun revisiting Zack and the corgis in scenic Pomme Valley. This time they were visited by a traveling Egyptian side show and, naturally, nothing goes as planned. However, now that order has been restored, the question becomes, what now? Well, life will return to normal, but only for about a month (Pomme Valley time).

  Case of the Holiday Hijinks is due to be released a few days before Christmas. Zack and the corgis are called in to see if they can figure out how presents keep disappearing from under t
he tree, all without any signs of forced entry. Money doesn’t appear to be a factor, so what is the motivation for stealing the presents?

  By now I’m sure you’re thinking, in time for Christmas? Isn’t Christmas less than two months away? Yes. Yes it is. Time to get crackin’!

  Happy reading!

  J.

  November, 2016