The Adventures of Phineas Frakture

by Joseph Gatch

  “That would explain the notebook with your name on it at the scene of the crime, but when was the last time you saw the deceased?”

  “Yesterday afternoon,” answered Phineas. “Can I have my notebook back? It has important research.”

  “Hush about your research, Phineas,” scolded Abigail. “I saw him last night at eight-thirty. He was quite lively, as I recall.”

  “Excuse me,” said William as he tried to swallow some pancakes, “but just how did he die?”

  The inspector threw a pile of photographs onto the table showing various shots of Cavanaugh in his repose. “His throat was crushed. From the looks of it, it was a wrench of some kind,” replied Manifold.

  “And where was he found?” asked Phineas, picking up one of the photos and turning it every which way.

  “At the Exposition Theater. He was lying in a mummy’s casket.

  “On top of the mummy?”

  The inspector looked confused. “There was no mummy; however, we did find a trail of bandages leading out the door.”

  “Well, there’s your motive,” said Phineas. Find the mummy, and you find the killer. He had an assistant…Burke, I think his name was. You should check with him, he might know something,”

  “Well, if you don’t mind my saying,” interjected William, “his throat was crushed with something like a wrench…there were mummy bandages leading out the door and no sign of the mummy…so it sounds to me,” William swiped some pancakes from Manifold’s plate, “that the mummy’s curse is real.”

  EPISODE

  6

  “A mummy’s curse!?” exclaimed Mrs. Popkiss. “Posh! That’s nothing more than a story from a penny dreadful.”

  “A curse? Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Manifold. “What are we talking about here? Plagues? Flying cows?”

  “Despair,” William said, once again with his mouth full.

  “Despair? What sort of curse is that? For the record, I will put it down as locusts…more dramatic, you see. The higher-ups love a good hullabaloo.”

  “Whatever you wish, inspector,” dismissed Phineas. “Are we finished here? I really need to sleep.”

  “Yes…yes, I think that we can rule you out as a suspect for now.” Manifold waggled a finger at him. “But don’t you be going anywhere. We might need to question you further.” He turned to Mrs. Popkiss. “Would seven in the morn be too early?”

  “That would be fine,” replied the housekeeper, knowing full well what he meant.

  “Noooo!” wailed Phineas in response. “If you need to see me, you can come to the university. Now, take this lot and get out! Come on, all of you! This isn’t a meeting house!”

  Scooping up as much food as they could carry, the constables, William, and Abigail filed out of the house. Phineas stopped William as he passed and shoved a piece of paper into his breast pocket.

  “Pick these up for me, if you will, and have them here by the time I wake up.”

  William muttered something unintelligible through a pastry in his mouth and followed the others. Once the front door was closed, Phineas dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed.

  William had just left the university library. His arms were full of the books that Phineas had asked him to retrieve, and he grumbled that they all happened to be the largest in the library’s collection. After passing a pastry shop and exerting a brief act of willpower by denying himself a look into the shop window, he stopped and turned slowly at an alley, reconsidering the merits of an afternoon snack. However, he never got the chance to act on his desires.

  Hands quickly grabbed the assistant, hauling him into the alley, away from enquiring eyes. He was thrown up against the brickwork, causing him to lose his breath and drop the books. A gloved hand clamped over his mouth, and a pointy-faced man with very bad breath held him against the wall.

  “Not a word, Mr. Patterson,” he said. “Now, if you promise not to shout, I will remove my hand. If you do decide to call for help, you might not like what happens next. I just want to talk. Do you understand?”

  William nodded his head, and the man stepped back. Once he was free, the first thing William did was cough and wave his hand in front of his face, trying to get the man’s breath out of his nose. “What do you want?”

  “Your friend, Professor Frakture, is playing with a new toy. We want it and all of his research.”

  “And just who the devil are you?”

  The man produced an identification paper stating that his name was Lieutenant Farringdon Thorne of the Imperial State Security, Division Five.

  “You are the devil,” said William in a hushed tone.

  “Some have called me that. They were all enemies of the Empire.” Thorne smiled wickedly. “What do you know about Cavanaugh’s mummy?”

  “Nothing, I swear. I only saw him for a few minutes. Phineas has been studying him. Cavanaugh is dead though…did you…did you kill him?”

  “We don’t waste our time with trivial matters. The mummy is gone, and Frakture is the only one with knowledge of his inner workings.”

  “I don’t know what to say…I know nothing about all this. I’m just his assistant.”

  “Not a very good one,” Thorne sneered. “He doesn’t even let you in on what he is doing. And what do you do? You run for him, jump at every command. You could be so much more than his lap dog.” Faster than William’s eyes could follow, Thorne’s hand pulled open William’s shirt, exposing the mutated skin he had received while in the Dolonite tank. “Oh, you could be so much more, Mr. Patterson. We can fix that for you if you want…we can finish the process and make you better…stronger.”

  “A monster, you mean? Never. And if you think that I would betray my friend for you, you are sadly mistaken,” William said defiantly.

  Thorne leaned in close. “Then we will have to take care of you another way.” He held out his hand, and a soldier handed him a device that looked like a magnifying glass with several wires wrapped around the framework. He flipped a switch on the handle, and several small lights began circling within the lens. Thorne held it up in front of William’s eyes. “Now, Mr. Patterson, you will remember nothing of this conversation until I decide to let you remember. As far as you are concerned, you tripped and fell into this alley. Is this understood?”

  William’s eyes lost their focus and he answered, “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, you may wake up as soon as we are gone.”

  William shook his head and looked at the mess around him. Cursing his clumsiness, he picked up the books and straightened his shirt. “I must be starving if I lost my balance so easily. Perhaps it was bad luck to pass up the shop after all.”

  “These tomes nearly broke my back,” William complained as he dropped them on Phineas’ desk. “What do you need these for anyway?”

  “Just some light reading,” replied the professor.

  “You never took an interest in ancient history before. Why now? Cavanaugh is dead, so there is no point in continuing with his request.”

  “It’s not Cavanaugh that I am interested in…it’s Steamhotep.”

  “Why would you be interested in a murderous mummy?”

  “He didn’t murder Cavanaugh…not that I care who did, but it wasn’t a desiccated corpse.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Recall the pictures the inspector showed us. The measurements of the marks on Cavanaugh’s throat match those of a standard pipefitter’s wrench. Steamhotep’s was a quarter of an inch smaller in width than that.”

  “Are you positive?”

  Phineas rolled his eyes. “Do you really need to ask that? Of course I am positive…I have schematics. I spent the better part of the day taking measurements on him. Besides, the marks left on Cavanaugh’s throat indicate that the wrench had teeth. The mummy’s was flat. Whoever killed Cavanaugh didn’t do a very good job at studying their alibi.”

  “Then who would want him dead?”

  “Take your pick; but that isn�
�t my problem, it’s the police’s. No, my problem is what this does.” Phineas stabbed his finger on the drawing he had made of Steamhotep’s inner clockwork. “This device, where his heart used to be, is completely foreign to me.”

  William peered at the drawing. “Well, it is Egyptian after all. Since that was where his heart was, could it possibly be some form of artificial heart? That would make the most sense.”

  “It would if it functioned like one. Hearts push blood. This pushes…nothing. No blood, no fluid of any kind. Even automatons use some form of self-lubrication. This totally baffles me. I need that key.”

  “Which will do you no good without the mummy.”

  “That is the second order of business. We must find Cavanaugh’s assistant, Burke. I’ll get our coats, you grab your pastries.”

  “Burke is dead?”

  Inspector Manifold had stopped Phineas and William outside of Burke’s apartment. “Yes, he is…another victim of the mummy’s curse!”

  “There is no curse,” stated Phineas. “How did he die?”

  “Same way, his throat was crushed…where were you about four hours ago?”

  “Talking to you while you ate half of my pantry and they ate the other half,” Phineas said, indicating the loitering constables.

  “Yes, well…right, then. I guess that we can rule you out altogether.”

  “May we come in and view the body? I might be able to shed some light on this.”

  “So, now you’re one of those penny detectives, eh? Well, by all means, shed your light. It’s not like I haven’t been doing this all my life. Please, by all means, come in.”

  “Wipe your chin, inspector,” Phineas said as he passed, “you still have some sarcasm drooling off of it.”

  The apartment was in total disarray. Bookshelves were knocked over, cushions were torn open, and cabinets were emptied of their contents. The professor did a quick look around, barely observed the body, and then grabbed a hat from the hat stand, a wide-brimmed musketeer with a huge plume stuck in its band. He quickly put it on.

  “Here’s that hat I leant him, William. I’d hate to lose this on account of a murder.”

  “Very dashing, Phineas, but since when…”

  Phineas hushed him quickly. “Inspector, I believe that you should hurry! The mummy will strike again very soon! I am thinking that he will go after the tavern owner at the Five Mules, where Burke is known to frequent when he is in town. Come along, Patterson, we must make haste to our next call!”

  Manifold watched them in wonder and then turned to his men. “Well, you heard him…clean this mess up and then get down to the Five Mules.”

  Once they were clear, William grabbed Phineas by the arm. “That was spectacular! How did you know about the tavern owner?”

  “I didn’t. It was rubbish. I just wanted this hat, or more to the point, what was in it.” Phineas pulled out what William had assumed was a hat pin; however, it was much longer and much more ornamental. He tossed the hat aside and held up the object.

  “The key?”

  “The key,” repeated Phineas. “Now, see what you can find out about our missing mummy, and I’ll get this to my lab and examine it.”

  William started off down the street when, not more than a few seconds after leaving Phineas’ side, he heard a yelp from Phineas’ last direction of travel. Spinning on his heel, William raced back towards his friend and found him sitting on the cobblestones, rubbing the back of his head. “Phineas? What happened?”

  “I’ve been jacked. The lout was waiting for me in the shadows and clubbed me as I passed by. He took the key.”

  EPISODE

  7

  “Did you get a good look at him?” William asked, handing Phineas a cold compress as they made their way down the street. The lack of generosity in the city never ceased to amaze him. As the inspector had already vacated Burke’s apartment, it took William the better half of an hour to scour the neighborhood, banging on doors, before he acquired a cloth and cold water. He had finally had to pay a more than unfair bribe to an elderly woman for the simple remedy.

  “All I saw were stars and a red fez,” said Phineas.

  “That should narrow the search. How many fezzes could there be in New York?”

  The duo turned the corner and stopped. Phineas sighed as they observed several hundred red fez-covered Shrine Masons entering their temple.

  “I need coffee,” said Phineas.

  “I’ll have something stronger, perhaps,” returned William.

  As they continued on, Phineas rubbing his neck and William still counting fezzes, something caught Phineas’ attention in the reflection of a storefront window across the street.

  “Let’s take a short cut,” Phineas announced, suddenly guiding his friend into an alley on the right. As soon as they were around the corner, he pushed William up against the wall and motioned for him to keep silent.

  A moment later, a head capped with a fez slowly peered around the corner. Phineas quickly grabbed the man by the lapels and hauled him into the alley. The squat, dark-skinned man went wide-eyed at being caught.

  “Why are you following us?” demanded Phineas. “Were you the one who hit me?” He quickly patted the man down, looking for the key and any weapons. All the while, the man jabbered quickly in a foreign tongue, which Phineas assumed was Egyptian.

  “What is he saying?” asked William.

  Phineas turned his attention to his friend. “When have you ever known me to speak Egyptian…or any other language for that matter?”

  “Well, you were studying the symbols and texts…and you speak in tongues when you get angry, add the science-gibberish and…I’ll be quiet now.”

  Phineas shook his head and returned to the foreigner, who was still jabbering. Finally, he finished with a word Phineas understood: Steamhotep.

  “Steamhotep?”

  “Yes…yes…Steamhotep,” said the foreigner with the look of a lost puppy. He obviously wanted to tell Phineas something, but he had no way of communicating with him.

  The professor thought for a moment and then pulled both the foreigner and William by their arms. “Come on. I think that I have a solution.”

  Hailing a cab, the trio journeyed to a shop that sported a giant automaton in front of it. Phineas paid the driver, and with a belch of smoke from its boiler, the cab went on its way.

  “What are we doing here?” asked William as he gazed at the monstrosity standing over the entrance.

  “Finding a solution,” replied Phineas. Fortunately, because of the Expo, the majority of shops in the city were open on Sunday. They entered the shop and were greeted by a shriveled old man with white hair that stuck out in every direction, wearing a multi-lensed ocular enhancer over his right eye. “I am looking for an interpreter. Do you have any available?”

  “Sweep!” the old man shouted, much louder than expected.

  Phineas and William looked at each other, confused. A minute later, an automaton walked in holding a broom.

  “This is Sweepio. He’s an interpreter, but all he’s been good for around here is cleaning the place.”

  Phineas looked the model over as it started talking.

  “I am AD1977, human/automaton relations. He calls me ‘Sweepio’. I am fluent in over one hundred forms of communication.”

  “Do you speak…” Phineas turned to the foreigner, “say something,” and gestured for him to talk. When the man finished, Phineas continued. “Whatever that is?”

  “Of course, sir. It’s like a second language to me.”

  William leaned in. “Ask it if it speaks ‘Bocce’.”

  “Do you speak…” Phineas turned and glared at him. “What the devil kind of language is ‘Bocce’? I swear, William, you live in your own world sometimes.”

  “Far, far away,” William said, drifting off.

  “All right, how much for it?” he asked the shop owner.

  “One hundred dollars.”

  “A hundred dollars? For this
? He’s ancient and…things are falling off of him.” Phineas flicked a piece attached to a spring and it went flying across the counter, where the owner caught it.

  “Ninety then…and you’ll pay ten for breaking that.”

  Seeing as how he wasn’t going to get a cheaper price, he paid the man. “Come on. You can leave the broom.”

  “Sir,” the automaton said, “if I might say, I have a companion in the backroom that is really good at—”

  “No,” snapped Phineas. “One wreck is enough.”

  As they walked out of the shop, Phineas continued griping about the cost of the old automaton until he realized that he was walking alone. He stopped, turned around, and noticed that William and the foreigner were standing and watching Sweepio walking, in what was actually a rocking shuffle, twenty yards behind them. Phineas grumbled some more as he walked back to the interpreter.

  “Are you always this slow?”

  “Unfortunately, sir. I have been in that shop for a very long time.”

  “All right. Let’s see if we can speed you up a bit. Where are your memory punch-cards located?”

  “In my cranial cavity, of course.”

  Phineas checked the back of its head, found a key protruding from the neck, and then pulled out a screwdriver from his coat. He loosened some screws and wiggled Sweepio’s head. When that didn’t work, he picked up a loose brick from next to the building and smacked the side of the automaton’s head several times. Much to William’s, and Sweepio’s, surprise, Phineas then yanked the head off of the body.

  “We only need this part,” Phineas said, tossing it in his hand.

  “How undignified,” Sweepio stated as his body began to rock/shuffle around in circles on the sidewalk.

  Phineas found a piece of discarded twine and tied each end to one of the interpreter’s ‘ears’. He then hung the head around the foreigner’s neck. “You interpret for him as well as us, understood?”