“Only the boys don’t have the pendant,” Tori reminded him.
Vance tapped his small notebook, “It’s next on my list. So, the boys pull off the heist, stash the loot in one of their lockers, and then try to figure out what to do with it now that they’ve got it. Trying to fence stolen goods isn’t as easy as the movies make it look.”
“But now someone else has the pendant,” Jillian said.
Vance nodded, “Right. Somehow one of those boys let it slip to someone else that they were the ones who pulled off the heist. Somehow someone else figured it out.”
“Let’s say someone did,” I said, drawing everyone’s attention. “How would they know where to find the pendant? How would they even know where to look?”
“It’s not too hard to figure out that the first place to look for stolen goods, if you suspected a student, would be their locker. Someone managed to open Jimmy’s locker, search through it undetected, take the pendant, and then put everything back the way it was.”
“The only other person to do that would be Ammar,” I pointed out. “And I doubt he has the fortitude to pull that off.”
Jillian leaned forward to whisper in my ear.
“Nice word, Zachary.”
I patted her hand, “Thanks.”
Watson woofed a warning. Jillian smiled, scratched behind the corgi’s ears, and settled back against the sofa. Watson returned to her nap.
“Zack, you can’t possibly think that Ammar is innocent, can you?” Vance sputtered. “I mean, aren’t you the writer? Isn’t that supposed to mean you have an active imagination?”
“I never said I was a mystery writer,” I pointed out.
“What type of writer are you?” Tori asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say which genre you write in. I’ll have to look some of your books up.”
Shitshitshitshitshit! I needed a subject change and I needed one now! Thankfully I was saved by an incoming call on Vance’s cell.
“Detective Samuelson. Hey, Jeremy. Thanks for calling me back. I…”
“His name is Jessie!” Tori hissed at him.
“Jessie. Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been a long day. What do you have for me? Okay… uh huh. Wow, really? Talk about an unlucky family. How long ago? Okay. I… what? He did? I’ll be damned. That’s definitely good news for me. Okay, Jessie. Thank you very much.”
Vance pocketed his cell and looked at the three of us. He held up a finger – signaling us to wait – and picked up his notebook. He began writing furiously. For two solid minutes Vance mumbled to himself and transferred his thoughts to paper. Tori finally cleared her throat.
“Care to share? We’re all dying over here.”
“Just a minute,” Vance mumbled as he hastily scribbled notes down on his pad. Finished, he looked up. “Okay, Jessie had a veritable treasure trove of information. Get this. Ammar Fadil comes from a large family. A large unlucky family.”
“Unlucky in what way?” I asked.
“Both his brother and his father are missing.”
“Well, now we know he has a brother,” I said.
“Jessie says that the Fadil family had ten children. He didn’t know if any of them were twins but when you have that many kids I’d say there would be a high chance of the family having one set. Maybe two.”
“You said a brother and the father are missing,” Tori reminded him. “What happened? Did he say?”
“The father disappeared while looking for the missing son,” Vance said, reading his notes. “When the son went missing the father took it upon himself to look for him since the local police weren’t much help.”
“The police weren’t much help?” I repeated, amazed. “Since when? Isn’t it their job?”
“Police departments in other countries might not be as thorough as we are here in the States,” Vance told me.
“How long ago did the brother disappear?” Jillian asked.
Vance consulted his notes.
“Two months.”
“Two months?” Tori repeated, growing excited. “That time frame would fit with how long it’d take to turn a body into a mummy! And wow, I really shouldn’t get that excited about that. Sorry.”
Jillian stifled a giggle. Sherlock, who had been curled up by my feet, suddenly rose, stretched, and then jumped onto the couch to settle on the other side of Jillian. Within moments the tri-color corgi had resumed his nap.
“The mummified body has gotta be Ammar’s brother,” Vance continued after he smiled at the corgis. “The time frame fits the facts.”
“What nationality is the Fadil family?” I asked.
“Egyptian,” Vance said. “Why?”
“Does the family still live in Egypt?”
Vance nodded, “Cairo. What about it?”
“How did they get a mummified body all the way from Cairo to here?” I asked. “It’s not like PV was the first stop on their American tour. How did they conceal the body for that long?”
“That’s an easy one,” Tori said as she looked my way. “They are already taking around an Egyptian sarcophagus with them. They’ve already got one authentic mummy. I’d say that either that sarcophagus has a false bottom or else Ammar was the one responsible for caring for the real mummy. If he was the only person that was opening and closing that casket then he’d be able to conceal the fact that Egyptian Exhibitions was carrying around not one but two mummies.”
Vance’s cell rang.
“Hello? Oh, hey Jessie. What’s up? He what? Are you sure it’s him? Okay, thanks for letting me know. Yeah, it does help my investigation. Thanks again.”
“What?” I prompted. “What was that all about?”
“Jessie wanted to let me know he came across an Egyptian police report. He didn’t know why it wasn’t tied to the report on the rest of the family. Ammar’s father was found dead last month.”
“Oh, that poor family,” Jillian softly. “I feel bad for the mother.”
“You said something about good news,” I remembered. “What was that all about?”
Vance snapped his fingers.
“Damn! Thanks for reminding me!” He turned to Tori and took her hands in his. “What would you say if I told you that you were not responsible for bringing Egyptian Exhibitions to PV?”
“But I was!” Tori protested. “I alone sent them daily emails. I alone nagged them until they finally agreed to listen to my petition. Trust me, I’m the reason they stopped in PV.”
“Except you weren’t,” Vance argued. “Jessie was able to access the Fadil family’s phone records. Guess what? Someone in that family has been in touch with someone here in the United States.”
“Not surprising,” I decided. “Why is that good news?”
“Because the number that was dialed was located here in Oregon and it was within the last month.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“Umm, which part?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Pomme Valley,” Vance proudly announced. “Someone in the Fadil family, and I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out it was Ammar, had called a PV number several times.”
“Do we know who it was?” Tori asked, growing excited once more.
Vance nodded, “We do. It’s a cell phone number and it is currently registered to one Victor Preston.”
I shrugged, “Does anyone know who that is? I don’t.”
“Nor do I,” Jillian admitted.
“Have either of you heard of the Square L convenience store?” Vance asked.
All of us were nodding.
“Sure,” I said. “It’s in the grocery store parking lot.”
“The Square L is Preston’s store.”
“That’s a wee bit on the suspicious side,” I decided.
“Oh, it gets better,” Vance assured me. He flipped a few pages in his notebook and turned it around so that we could see the chicken scratch he called handwriting. He excitedly tapped the page. “Guess who has a part time job at that store?”
“Who?” I asked.
“Dean Rupert,” Vance smugly said.
ten
Surprised, I looked around the room. Tori and Jillian had shocked looks on their faces, too. Sherlock woke up and looked at me. Right about then I remembered that for the last two or three days Sherlock had barked at the little convenience store every time I had driven by it.
I shook my head in amazement. Sherlock had done it again. How the hell had he known shady things were afoot at the Square L?
“So one of the boys works there?” I asked. “So you think that’s how this Victor person figured out one of his employees had robbed the school?”
Vance nodded, “Yes. Boys will be boys. What do you want to bet that they were overheard bragging about the theft? Or maybe they were arguing because they couldn’t find a way to safely sell the necklace without alerting every Tom, Dick, and Harry. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is we now have a lead!”
“Why haven’t you called this in?” Tori demanded. “I’m due to be arrested tomorrow morning!”
“You’re being called in for questioning,” Vance clarified. “You’re not being arrested. Umm, at least I don’t think you are.”
Tori’s expression soured.
“That’s comforting. Answer the question. Why haven’t you called this in? If this will give the police someone else to chase after, why haven’t you done it? Words cannot begin to describe how much I don’t want to go to the station tomorrow morning.”
“I can’t call this in until we get that little something called proof,” Vance explained, albeit a tad sarcastically.
“Can’t you show them what you’ve found?” Jillian asked. She pointed at Vance’s notebooks. “Can’t you tell them you were given some new leads and they’ve… what’s the phrase? Panned out?”
“I’ve been pulled from the case,” Vance reminded everyone. “I can’t go back to my captain unless I have definitive proof that Victor Preston is actively involved.”
“And how are you planning on accomplishing that?” I asked.
Vance stood, unholstered his weapon, checked the clip, and then slid the gun back into its place under his left shoulder.
“I’m going over there to check out the store. Poke around a little.”
Tori automatically looked over at the closest clock. It was past 8. She rose to her feet and collected her purse and jacket.
“I’ll go with you. I can call…”
“Like hell you will!” Vance snapped. “Seriously, Tor? This is not some random visit to the grocery store. People have died here. Do you really think I’ll let you step into harm’s way? It’s out of the question. Stay put.”
Tori frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Stay put? What am I, a dog?”
Two canine heads popped up, much like how a prairie dog would stick his head up out of his burrow. I winced. That was one word that both Sherlock and Watson knew well. Dog. The slightest mention of that word would have both corgis checking the immediate surroundings to see if another dog had somehow appeared in their territory.
Tori patted both corgis on the head.
“I’m sorry. Poor choice of words. Go back to sleep.” Tori looked up at her husband. “As for you, mister…”
Vance held up his hands, signaling a surrender.
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. However, you will be staying here. Zack, would you care to join me?”
I eyeballed the weapon dangling from Vance’s shoulder holster just before it was concealed under his jacket.
“I’m not sure I should. Isn’t this a police matter?”
“It is, and I’m pretty sure we’re not going to find anything, but I would like someone there who has my back.”
“But I don’t,” I pointed out. “I don’t have a gun.”
Vance pulled up his right pants leg, revealing a snub-nosed revolver nestled in an ankle holster. He damn-near had it unbuckled before I came to my senses. He had squatted down so that he could access the smaller gun. I hooked an arm under his shoulder and pulled him to his feet.
“I didn’t say I wanted a gun,” I clarified, “only that I didn’t have one. Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Ammar’s brother has been murdered,” Vance reminded me. “A priceless piece of ugly-ass Egyptian jewelry has been stolen. Would you really put it past him to not try and defend himself if he thinks he’s in danger?”
“That’s gotta be why Sherlock kept barking at that store,” I said as I reached for my ASU sweatshirt.
Vance had just zipped up his jacket when he paused.
“What was that? Did you say that Sherlock has been barking at the Square L?”
I nodded, “Yeah. For the past couple of days. Every time I drove by it he’d bark his fool head off at it. I never could figure out why.”
“And that’s how he behaved when he barked at the pet store several months ago, wasn’t it?” Vance recalled. “When that glass tiger went missing. Do you remember it?”
“How could I forget it?” I asked. “I was the one being accused of theft and murder that time around. It’s not something I’m going to be forgetting any time soon.”
Vance whistled, “Wow, you sure do hold a grudge, don’t you? What I mean was, we were looking for that tiger. You said Sherlock kept barking at the store. Clearly he wanted you to check it out. He must be doing the same thing here. Damn, Zack. I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”
“Told you what?” I asked. “That Sherlock barked at something? Dude, I’d be calling you up all the time.”
Vance kissed his wife and headed towards the door. I moved to follow Vance. I made it about three steps before Sherlock caught up with me. Watson tried to follow but thankfully Jillian caught the little female corgi before she could jump down from the couch. The look Watson gave Jillian was priceless. I never knew that pets – especially dogs – could convey so much emotion in their faces. Watson’s look to Jillian clearly said, mind your own business.
I clipped a leash onto Sherlock’s collar, “Let’s go, buddy. We’ve got a bad guy to find.”
Sherlock barked excitedly. Watson let out an exasperated whine. Both corgis looked at each other and I swear Sherlock gave his packmate a smirk.
“You be careful,” Jillian said as she rose to her feet. She waggled a finger at Vance. “Don’t you dare put him in harm’s way. If you do then you’ll have to answer to me, is that understood?”
“And me,” Tori added as she stood.
Vance stared at the two women and shook his head.
“Oh, sure, worry about him and not me, huh? Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Man, I can feel the love in this room.”
Before I knew what I was doing I was surprising myself by giving Jillian a hug and a kiss on the cheek before I followed Vance outside. Just as I was closing the door I heard hushed, excited chattering and a few giggles. Let them talk. I didn’t care. I was actually feeling pretty good, regardless of the fact that there was a chance I could be putting myself and Sherlock in danger.
I glanced over at Vance. He had started towards his Oldsmobile sedan when he stopped and looked at my Jeep.
“Let’s take yours.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want mine to get shot up, okay? Now let’s go!”
I remained rooted to the spot, arm outstretched and hand firmly gripping the door handle. I stared at my friend. If that was a joke then that was some seriously bad timing.
“Relax a little, would you?” Vance teased. “I was joking.”
“Hilarious, dude.”
Vance laughed as we drove down my driveway.
“So how many times has Sherlock barked at the Square L?” Vance wanted to know.
“Let’s see. Several times yesterday, once the day before, and once the day before that.”
“And prior to that?”
I shrugged, “I hadn’t really noticed. I don’t think he had at all.”
“You do realize that coincides with the disappearance of the necklace from Jimmy’s locker, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. Now I do.”
I turned on the radio and set it to an oldies station. The Beach Boys were singing about good vibrations. Vance hit the channel up button, forcing my satellite radio to begin playing a country music song. I frowned and set the radio back to my oldies station.
“You’re not Jillian, so I can threaten you with breaking off your fingers if you do that again.”
Vance laughed, “You don’t like country music?”
“Not one bit of it,” I admitted. “I mean, did you listen to the lyrics of that last song? The band was singing about someone having to die! How crude is that? I’ll stick with my golden oldies, thank you very much.”
“So you’d rather listen to old fogey music, is that it?” Vance asked, incredulous.
“I hate to break it to you, pal, but you and are I really close in age. Not to mention that these songs were popular when we were both kids.”
“Thereby insinuating we’re both old farts. Nice, Zack. Do me a favor and don’t ever talk like that around Tori.”
“Why?”
“Because if I start dropping hints that I’m feeling old then one of two things are going to start happening. Either she’ll force me to get more exercise, which I think I’m doing pretty good there, or she could… and this part scares the hell out of me, force me to change my diet. I’ll be honest with you. The last thing I want to do is cut out red meat, or bread, or chips, or… or…”
“Beer?” I suggested.
Vance shuddered, “Not even funny. Life without beer. Oh, the horrors.”
I grinned at him just as we came around the bend and saw the lights Gary’s Grocery and its huge parking lot. There, on the northeastern corner of the parking lot was the Square L. There was also, I noticed with surprise, several cars parked at three of the four pumps. I pointed at the store. There were also at least half a dozen people peering in through the windows.
The store was dark.
“It’s closed?” Vance asked, surprised. He glanced at his watch. “It’s not even 8:30. What is he doing closed?”
Case of the Fleet-Footed Mummy Page 16