Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy Read online

  “Do you have plans for the night?”

  I reached my Jeep, loaded Watson into the passenger side, and nudged Sherlock – curled up in the back seat – to wake him up. I had to think for a moment. Did I? I shook my head, forgetting that Vance wasn’t able to see me. I had yet to talk to Jillian today. In fact, for the past hour or so I had been trying to come up with an excuse to stop by her store. As far as plans go, Watson’s checkup was the only thing I had on my calendar. That and to finish the draft of my latest book.

  “I haven’t spoken with Jillian today. Why? What’s up? What do you know that I don’t?”

  “I thought you might like to swing by the school and see the Egyptology exhibit. The grand opening is tonight. It opens to the general public tomorrow. Tori has VIP passes.”

  Tori is Vance’s wife, in case I hadn’t mentioned anything about her before. She was a tall, lithe woman with long red hair and sparkling green eyes. Wickedly smart. She can make both Vance and I feel like grammar school dropouts whenever we’re in the same room together. Jillian, however, is another story. I think she could give Tori a run for her money.

  “We’re talking about the high school, Vance. I read in the paper that the exhibit is being set up in the school auditorium. It’s not like it’s a rock concert. I can’t imagine what a VIP pass to that exhibit would do for us.”

  “Tori says that it’d be well worth our while to check it out. Come on, man. Don’t make me suffer through that by myself.”

  “Ah. There’s the real reason. Look, I wouldn’t mind going but, I don’t have anyone to watch the dogs.”

  “Couldn’t you just crate them for a few hours?”

  “Crate them? Are you out of your mind? Hell no. Would you do that to Anubis?”

  Anubis was Vance’s German Shepard. Gorgeous dog, if a touch intimidating. That dog’s eyes could drill holes right through you.

  “Sure. I’ve done it before.”

  “Let me rephrase that. Would Tori ever do that?”

  Perhaps I should have clarified. Anubis was Tori’s dog. Vance’s wife was a born again dog lover and there was no way she’d ever crate her precious dog.

  “Er, no.”

  “Didn’t think so. Is this important? I might be able to get Jillian to watch them for me.”

  “That’s not gonna work, buddy.”

  “Why not?” I asked, growing confused.

  “Because she’s accompanying you tonight.”

  “She is?” I asked, dumbfounded. “Since when? And how would you know?”

  “Tori and Jillian are good friends. Besides, I overheard Jillian say she’d never pass up a chance to go to a formal event.”

  “Wait, what? Formal? To a high school auditorium?”

  “That’s right, pal. The tuxedo shop closes at 3 pm. Better get going.”

  I stared at my phone in shock and horror. A tuxedo? Me? I hated them. With a passion. The last thing I wanted to do was to get trussed up like a penguin and bump elbows with similarly dressed penguins.

  “Look, Vance. Maybe this isn’t for me. I’m not a big fan of dressing up. Besides, if I’m escorting Jillian to this shindig then I don’t have anyone to watch the dogs.”

  “Just bring them over to my house,” Vance instructed. “My kids can watch them. Besides, Anubis, Sherlock, and…”

  “Her name is ‘Watson,’ pal,” I hastily interrupted.

  “I was gonna call her Watson. Take it down a notch. Anyway, all three dogs get along great. Drop them off here and we can all head to the school together.”

  “You owe me for this.”

  “Oh, just relax. It’ll be a night you won’t soon forget.”

  Well, I had to hand it to Vance. He wasn’t wrong. In fact, in less than two hours the exhibit we were heading to would be the talk of the town for months to come.

  “I don’t know about this,” I grumbled as I yet again tried to loosen the hangman’s noose around my neck.

  Damn bowties. I should have just gone with my gut instinct and chosen the clip-on rather than the real thing. Jillian had assured me that not only would it look better but the people at these types of events could spot a clip-on from a mile away. I was told these type of people had a bad habit of looking down their noses at anything even remotely less than the best.

  Let’s set the record straight on something. I personally don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks about me, or how I look and have said as much to Jillian on more than one occasion. However, as was typical in these types of circumstances, her argument-cancelling smile had won me over. I have never cared – or wanted – to bump elbows with the city’s upper class and, I’m sure my defiant behavior was written all over my face. With extreme reluctance, I agreed to spend the evening in a form-constricting tuxedo.

  Dammit.

  “Stop that,” Jillian scolded as she batted away my hands after I tried yet again to ditch the feeling I was being throttled. “You’re going to mess it up. Trust me, you look very handsome.”

  I glanced over at my date for the night. Jillian Cooper owned and operated Cookbook Nook, a specialty cookbook store located downtown. She was in her mid-thirties, had long curly auburn hair, green eyes, and like me, didn’t have any tattoos or extra piercings. She kept herself fit by the simple fact that she was always on the go, a prerequisite, I’m told, of running your own business.

  Jillian looked absolutely amazing. She was wearing a purple chiffon evening dress with half sheer sleeves, which had a net overlay with corded lace giving the sleeves and neckline a scalloped appearance. The chiffon skirt draped to the ground in a floor length sheath style. Her hair was done up in what she later told me was referred to as a ‘side shaped coif’. I couldn’t quite tell what she had to do to get her hair to look like that but knew one thing: she looked absolutely stunning. I scratched at the bowtie encircling my neck. Jillian promptly swatted my hand away.

  “Sorry. Force of habit. It feels like I’m being strangled.”

  “Oh, stop your fussing. How often do you get dressed up like this? Try and enjoy the evening. Don’t forget those things are harder to tie than they look. I had to tie yours, remember?”

  I gave my bow tie a last, furtive scratch.

  “Hey, as long as I’m standing next to you then I won’t have to worry about a thing. Everyone will be looking at you, not me.”

  Jillian inserted her left arm into my right.

  “Oh, that’s so sweet! Thank you.”

  We followed Vance and Tori into the crowded auditorium. Spotlights and track lighting were everywhere. Stanchions and soft red velvet ropes guided us to the center of the huge space. Large tables had been erected and covered with thick black velvet. Sparkling clear glass display cases were situated on several of the tables. Glittering jewels beckoned enticingly in their respective cases and attracted small admiring crowds.

  I sighed. Jillian was right. I was glad that I came to this. A small part of me had wanted to just blow the evening off but thankfully I managed to talk myself out of it. Egyptology exhibits were something I typically avoided due to the strong likelihood that I’d encounter that which creeped the bejeesus out of me.

  More on that later.

  “This is nice,” Jillian whispered in my ear. “Listen! Can you hear that?”

  Unsure of what I should be listening for, I paused. I heard the soft murmur of several dozen conversations. I heard the clink of champagne flutes as people drank to a variety of toasts. Someone coughed nearby. I looked at Jillian and shrugged.

  “What am I listening for?”

  “The music. Tori was right. It’s exquisite!”

  “The music?” I closed my eyes and tried to will away the ambient noise. There, barely perceptible above the din of the hundreds of people at the exhibit, were the dulcet tones of flutes and harps.

  “Okay, now I hear it. Sounds like elevator music. What about it?”

  Jillian playfully swatted my arm.

  “You uncultured barbarian. What you’re lis
tening to is an arrangement especially written in the Phrygian dominant scale of medieval Egypt. Isn’t that fascinating?”

  Both of my eyebrows shot up.

  “And you knew this off the top of your head? Damn. That’s impressive.”

  “Well, no,” Jillian admitted. “I didn’t. Not at first. Tori told me about it. One of the curators specializes in ancient music and wrote the piece specifically for this tour.”

  “I wonder what they’ve got behind the curtain,” I mused, turning my attention to the stage located at the front of the auditorium.

  “It’s a stage,” Jillian pointed out. “Stages have curtains. They’ve got a podium up there. I’d say that’s where the presenter will address the crowds.”

  I pointed at the four different spotlights illuminating the entire stage, from left to right.

  “They wouldn’t have that many lights trained on the stage if they weren’t planning on doing something.”

  “That’s where the big reveal is going to happen!” a woman’s voice said behind me.

  I turned at the sound of the voice. Tori was back and she was standing next to her husband. Each of them were holding two champagne flutes. Tori handed her extra flute to Jillian while Vance handed his to me.

  “I’m so glad you two could come with us tonight!” Tori exclaimed. “I’ve worked so hard to get Exhibitions to come here. Now that it’s finally happening I don’t know what I’m going to do with my free time.”

  “Maybe now you’ll be able to relax,” Vance gently teased. “You’ve been so stressed these last couple of weeks.”

  I watched Tori level a neutral stare at her husband. “You try juggling two jobs and organizing a petition to get Egyptian Exhibitions to stop by a small town like PV for a week. I’m honestly surprised I was able to pull it off.”

  “Maybe it was because you petitioned them daily for three months straight,” Vance idly suggested as he lifted the glass to his lips.

  I stifled a smile as I watched Tori frown at Vance. The detective smiled sheepishly and pretended his champagne had become the most important thing in the world. I looked back at Tori and cleared my throat.

  “Did you say you were working multiple jobs?” I asked. I knew she was a school teacher but didn’t know anything else about her.

  Tori nodded, “That’s right. I teach here at the high school. History. I also teach dance three nights a week down at the rec center next to City Hall.”

  “She’s the best jazz dancer in PV,” Jillian proudly announced, drawing a small smile of appreciation from Tori. “She’s also one hell of a traditional Irish dancer. I’m still hoping you’re start teaching one of those classes, Tori. I’d love to give it a try.”

  Surprised, I turned to Tori and nodded appreciatively.

  “Irish dancing? That’s impressive. Is that the dance where all the dancers hold their arms motionless at their sides? I’ve seen some of the videos. How those dancers can move like that is beyond me.”

  Tori smiled at me, “If I were to start a class on Irish dancing would you and Jillian be my first students?”

  Oh shit on a stick. I walked right into that one.

  “Umm…”

  Jillian looked expectantly up into my eyes. I usually can’t tell when I’m blushing but right then I could. Suddenly it felt like I had walked under a heat lamp. I caught Vance smirking at me.

  “Why, that would a great idea,” Jillian exclaimed as she tightened her grip on my arm. “What do you say, Zack?”

  It was time to wipe that smug smile off of Vance’s face. If I was going down then I sure as hell was taking someone with me. If I was going to suffer through one of these dance classes then so was he because, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t imagine my friend, the detective, trying to learn to tap dance. Well, if you want me to be honest, I couldn’t imagine myself doing that, either.

  Jillian flashed me another smile. Unbelievable. What we gullible men will do when a pretty girl bats her eyes continues to blow me away.

  “Fine. Tell you what. We’ll sign up…”

  Jillian squealed excitedly. Clearly she didn’t think I’d go along with this.

  “…if Vance takes the class with us.”

  The smile disappeared from Vance’s face in the blink of an eye.

  “Really? You had to drag me into this?”

  “Misery loves company, pal.”

  “Oh, hush,” Jillian scolded. “You’re not going to be miserable. In fact, I think you’ll love it! I’ve always wanted to learn how to tap. What about you?”

  “I can honestly tell you that it has never crossed my mind,” I confessed, patting Jillian’s hand. “Not even once.”

  Tori laughed, “Okay, you guys. It’s not going to happen any time soon, so relax.”

  Vance and I started to smile.

  “But it will,” Tori continued. “Mark my words. I will look forward to seeing you three in tap shoes.”

  Our smiles vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Tori hooked her arm through Vance’s and led the grumbling detective off. I looked over at Jillian and shook my head. She owed me big. Me? Taking a tap dancing class? It was official. Hell hath frozen over. Words could not adequately describe the size of the favor Jillian now owed me. So, the question was, how should I collect?

  “A penny for your thoughts?” Jillian asked.

  “I’m trying to figure out what favor I can ask that will be in the same ballpark as the one I just did for you.”

  Jillian giggled, “Very well. Fair’s fair. Ask away. However, once you discover that you enjoy Irish dancing then the favor becomes null and void or else you’ll owe me a favor. Do we have a deal?”

  “Absolutely. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to enjoy tap dancing.”

  Jillian smiled cryptically at me and pulled me toward a small group of people chatting amiably amongst themselves.

  “I can’t wait to hear you admit that you were wrong.”

  “Nice try, lady. Ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Mm-hmm. Would you like to meet some friends of mine?”

  “More friends of yours? Sure. Is there anyone you don’t know?”

  “Not really. I pretty much know everyone in Pomme Valley.”

  “Not surprising,” I added with a smile. “You’ve mentioned before that you have been living here your entire life.”

  Jillian nodded, “True. Have you met any of them before? No? Hmm. Perhaps I should give you a little background before we make it over there.”

  Well, color me intrigued.

  “Oh? Alrighty then. My curiosity has been piqued. Who do we have over there?”

  “Do you see the lady on the far left?”

  “The one with the straight long brown hair?”

  “That’s right. That’s Hannah Bloom. She owns The Apple Blossom. Its PV’s one and only flower boutique. She’s married to an emotionally abusive husband. She doesn’t spend a lot of time at home. She and Colin practically live in her store, so obviously don’t say anything.”

  “Colin?”

  “Oh. Sorry. He’s Hannah’s 10-year-old son.”

  “Ah. It is sad that her husband treats her like that. No one should have to live like that.”

  “Her husband is a douchebag,” Jillian agreed, causing me to snort with surprise. “I’ve been trying to get her to leave him for years but she just won’t do it. It’s heart-breaking.”

  “Got it. Who’s on her left? The one with the short blonde hair and all the piercings? Looks like she has at least ten earrings in each ear.”

  “That’s Taylor Adams. She owns Farmhouse Bakery.”

  “She’s a baker? I wouldn’t have called that. Hey, wait a minute. I know that place! I’ve been to her store! She’s the one that makes those bagel doggie treats, isn’t she?”

  Jillian nodded, “Yes. She divorced her husband about the same time I lost Michael to cancer. That’s how we met, at a support group.”

  “Roger that. She’s a helluva baker. I love he
r croissants. Okay, who’s that older guy they’re talking to?”

  “Seriously? Zack, you’re incorrigible.”

  “What? What’d I say?”

  “That’s Zora Lumen. You’ve met her before.”

  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The 4th Street Gallery owner had to be the most masculine woman I have ever laid eyes on in my life. Gray hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, high forehead, prominent cheekbones, it was all there. The only thing she was missing was an Adam’s apple. It also didn’t help that she was wearing black slacks and a white long sleeved blouse that looked remarkably like a buttoned down business shirt.

  “Oh. Uh, my bad.”

  “Did you do that on purpose or did you actually think Zora was a man?”

  “I thought Zora was a guy,” I admitted. “Looks like a duck, quacks like a duck…” Jillian dug her nails into my arm, forcing me to change the subject. “Who’s standing just behind Zora?”

  “That would be Margaret Woodson. She’s a teacher at the high school, too. She’s the math teacher. I believe you know her son.”

  “I do?”

  “Spencer. Goes by ‘Woody’.”

  I snapped my fingers, “That’s right. He runs the hobby shop, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes. In fact, there he is. Looks like he’s going to join his mother.”

  I saw Woody stroll up to his mother with an attractive young girl on his arm. I derisively shook my head. He was a little too old for her, I thought.

  “Zoe looks lovely, doesn’t she?” Jillian asked as she smiled at the young girl. The girl noticed she was being watched and waved back.

  “Looks to be a little young for him, dontcha think?” I whispered. We had almost approached the little group and I didn’t want them overhearing me.

  “She’s his daughter, you nitwit. Zoe is only 12. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

  “Proof positive that I couldn’t guess a girl’s age if my life depended on it,” I offered, by way of apology.

  I shook hands with Woody and met his family. Then it was right down the line, as though I was congratulating an opposing sports team on their victory after the game. Jillian’s friends were polite and cordial. Hannah smiled wistfully at the two of us and had to look away. Taylor, once she learned I was the proud daddy of two corgis, made me promise I’d stop by her bakery for a complimentary baggie of doggie treats. She threatened to talk our ear off about Simon, her pet Manx cat, and all his zany exploits until thankfully Jillian noticed a few other people milling about and pulled us away. The only thing Zora did was to give me one of her creepy trademark smiles before eventually wandering off.