Betrayed!: The 1977 Journal of Zeke Moorie

by Bill Doyle

She used to be a big judge in San Francisco, but even before then, my family always called her Judges. I think it all started with my Great-Great-Grandma Fitz and a train. Judge recently left San Francisco and started her own security and bodyguard agency that she runs out of Washington State.

  THE FIRST PRIVATE EYE

  Born in 1819, Allan Pinkerton was America’s first private investigator and started the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. The company’s motto was “We never sleep” and its logo was an unblinking eye—which led to the term “Private eye.” During his life, Pinkerton foiled an attempt to assassinate President Lincoln, tracked down outlaws such as Jesse James, and invented the mug shot, which was used on reward posters in the Wild West.

  Judge is a Pinkerton!

  I let go of Judge and took a step backward. “Are you Okay?” she asked, her sharp blue eyes examining me.

  “I’m fine,” I smiled. “I’m just glad to see you.”

  Mrs. Craffin

  She nodded, satisfied for now. “Zeke,” Judge said, pointing to an old woman next to her. “I’d like you to meet my friend Alexandra Craffin.”

  Aha! So this was the woman who had the key to the Secret Map Box! I couldn’t wait to talk to her!

  The woman waved her ivory-handle cane at me like an accusing finger. “It’s hot. Why is Chicago called the windy City? There is no wind! There’s not even a breeze!” She spoke with such fury that I really didn’t know how to reply.

  “Yes, I, uh …,” I stammered.

  Judge rescued me by turning to a kid about twice my size who looked to be about sixteen. He was wearing a white polyester suit with an open-collared silk shirt.

  “And this is her nephew, James,” Judge said.

  I stuck out my hand to shake, but James ducked away as if I was swinging a hammer. “The hair!” he cried. “Don’t touch the hair!”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I mumbled. Who on earth was Judge traveling with?

  James

  He eyed me suspiciously and then said, “call me John.”

  And then I got it. The clothes, the name, the fussing about the hair. He was trying to be like John Travolta, the disco-dancing superstar in SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER.

  A hand reached up to swat “John’s.” head. “Step aside, you big lug!”

  “The hair!” James cried. But he moved and when he did, I could see the source of the swatting. It was an incredibly pretty girl, about fifteen years old.

  Nora

  “Ah.” Judge seemed relieved to focus on the girl for a moment. Her olive skin looked flawless, and her jet-black hair was worn loose and long, framing her head in a soft dark halo. “And this is Mrs. Craffin’s niece, Nora.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I said and shook her hand. I could feel my face start burning instantly. Trying to cover, I turned back to Judge.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We’re checking into this hotel.” she gestured toward a large pile of luggage directly behind her. “A taxi just dropped us off from the airport. I’m here with Mrs.Craffin.”

  The old woman waved her cane again. “She is guarding me and my family. We have been acquainted for years.”

  “That’s right,” Judge said. “In fact, we were born the same year: 1897.”

  It was hard to believe they were the same age. Mrs. Craffin looked even older than eighty, as if some unseen weight were slowly bending her body. But Judge looked as glamorous as ever. Her back was straight, and she was nearly 6 feet tall in her purple heels.

  “How is your brother?” she asked.

  “Chitchat?” wheezed Mrs. Craffin at Judge. “You’re working for me.”

  Judge looks great for an eighty-years-old!

  Judge’s yes grew cool as she turned them on the other woman. “That will do, Alex. I am here as a favor to you. You won’t let anyone else watch out for you, and I’m not sure you could pay them enough to do it anyway.”

  Mrs. Craffin looking around fearfully. “Shhh… he has ears everywhere.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Judge, who rolled her eyes.

  “It’s been a long trip,” Judge said, “Zeke, we’ll catch up later. I want to get Mrs. Craffin settled in her room and do a quick check of the area.”

  “Okay, Judge,” I said. “we’re in a trailer parked behind the museum.”

  Judge nodded with a smile. “Your parents told me. I’ll find you.”

  “Bring in the bags. I don’t want to tip any bellboys,” Mrs. Craffin told James and Nora as Judge led her into the hotel.

  “This heat is killing my hair,” James said and darted quickly after them into the cool air of the lobby.

  That left poor Nora alone, struggling with all the bags. Suddenly, one of the bags slipped from her hands and tumbled back onto the sidewalk.

  I rushed over to her. “Here. Let me help you.”

  “Thanks.” she said.

  We managed to strap several pieces of luggage over our shoulders and hold the rest by the handles. The bags were under control. But I made no move to enter the hotel. I wanted to talk more with this girl—and we just stood on the blazing-hot sidewalk. “Do you travel with your aunt all the time?” I finally asked.

  “This isn’t vacation for me,” Nora said, I’m working for her during the summer holiday. I’ kind of her secretary. I type up her notes. At least it gives me a chance to check out the King Tut exhibit close up.”

  “Are you an Egyptologist?” I asked.

  “It runs in my family,” she said and then, her eyes met mine. “Kind of the way detective skills run in yours.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I read THE INSPECTOR, and Ms. Pinkerton talks about your family all the time. She’s very proud of you,” Nora said, “And, of course, I’m interested in the work she does. I would love to talk to you more about it. Maybe over a soda or something?”

  I hoped my face hadn’t turned bright red and that I didn’t say, “Yes!” too fast.

  Judge and R.T. by the turtle pond in the zoo

  JULY 29, 1977

  5:00 PM

  R.T., Judge, and I were walking through the Chicago Zoo. Judge had told us she wanted to talk someplace where we wouldn’t be disturbed.

  The sun was pounding down on us, and I felt sweat rolling down my back. But Judge, as always, looked fresh and energetic in her purple slacks and white blouse.

  R.T. and I had had a chance to catch up with her. Now she was telling us about Mrs. Craffin as the three of us strolled by the turtle pond. “Mrs. Craffin wasn’t always like she is today. We spent a year in boarding school together, and we would get each other laughing so hard.” Judge smiled at the memory and then shook her head sadly. “But that was a long time ago. She has a kind heart, it’s just been buried by years of living in fear. And since her husband died last year, I’m afraid she’s grown even colder.”

  “Why is Mrs. Craffin so afraid?” I asked.

  Judge said, “she received two disturbing notes.”

  “Did they threaten her?” R.T. asked. She shook her head.

  “No, they never hinted at any violence. But they did demand that Mrs. Craffin return her ankh necklace to its rightful owner.”

  I asked, “How did she get an ankh necklace to begin with?”

  The ankh necklace

  “It’s a pretty amazing story,” Judge said, and we paused near the monkey house so he could have our full attention. “On November 4, 1922, a it water boy with Carter’s archaeological team dug a hole for his water jar and found the first step that led to King Tut’s tomb. The tomb was pretty much untouched by grave robbers. It was like opening a doorway into the past, with treasures people normally only dream about.”

  “I still don’t see the connection between the Craffins and the tomb,” R.T. said.

  “Mrs. Craffin’s husband was the water boy,” Judge said. “He felt that since he had been the one to find the entrance to the tomb, he deserved at least a small token for himself.”

  “So he took it,�
� I guessed.

  VALLEY THE KINGS

  On the west bank of the Nile River, about 416 miles south of Cairo, lay two desert canyons covering half a square mile. Home to at least 62 tombs of Egyptian pharaohs and nobles, including King Tut’s the area is called the Valley of the Kings. King Tut took the throne around 1332 BCE, when he was about eight or nine. Ten years later, he died. Some think he might have been murdered.

  Judge nodded. “He was young and foolish, and secretly took an ankh necklace from the tomb. Since that time, his family has fallen prey to some extremely bad luck. Some might even call it the Craffin Curse, a kind of extension of the Curse of the Mummy. There have been several accidents over the years. Still, Mr. Craffin refused to give up the necklace. And after his death, my friend continued to hold onto it. She felt like her family had paid a huge price for it with their suffering. But then she received the notes and decided enough was enough.”

  “That’s why she’s going to give the ankh necklace back on the TEENS FOR TUT show?” R.T. asked.

  “Yes,” Judge said. “She asked me to watch out for her until she hands over the ankh necklace.”

  “So what’s so important about this necklace?” I asked.

  Judge said, “That’s what you discovered.”

  I was so caught up in the flow of the story that her words caught me off guard. I looked at Judge, confused. “That’s what WHO discovered?”

  She never took her eyes off mine. “The person who has been following us and listening in on our conversation.” With that, she turned and spoke to someone who was standing in the shadows of a few nearby trees.

  It was Nora!

  She took a few quick steps toward us, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I wanted to give you this message from my aunt.” Nora handed Judge a slip of paper. “It’s nothing urgent.”

  “Do you want to finish the story, Nora?” Judge asked.

  Nora nodded. “Okay. I came into the picture after my uncle died. I was helping to clean up his office and donate some of his studies to different universities. When I found the ankh, I knew it could be the key to unlocking the five layers of the Secret Map Box. It might be the key that could reveal the map and lead archaeologists to one of the most important discoveries from the ancient world.”

  Nora found the necklace on her uncle’s desk.

  “Where did you find it in his office?” R.T. asked. “Was it hidden?”

  “It was in an envelope with the words ‘Egyptian Uni.’ I think my uncle was going to send the ankh back where it belonged, to the Egyptian University, to the people of Egypt.”

  “But your aunt disagreed?” I asked.

  Nora’s lips tightened. “The address wasn’t complete, so she believed what she wanted to believe.”

  Judge hesitated. She looked at me and then at Nora. I could tell there was more she wanted to say but not in front of Nora. R.T. picked up on it, too.

  He turned to Nora. “Hey, want to see the monkey house? You can see why I feel right at home there.”

  She looked at me and then at him. She wasn’t dumb, she knew we what we were trying to do. “Sure …”

  I watched the two of them walk away and felt a sharp pang of jealousy, bus I tried to push it aside. Judge obviously had something important to discuss with me. Plus, I wanted to tell her about the “accidents” that had been occurring lately.

  “What is it, Judge?”

  “I want to show you something. You are so good at seeing patterns, Zeke. What can you see on these notes? Do they trigger anything in the Code Zone?” Judge removed two pieces of paper sealed in plastic from her purse and handed them to me.

  “What are these?” I asked.

  “These are the two messages Mrs. Craffin received.”

  Here’s what they said:

  DO WHAT IS RIGHT.

  RETURN THE ANKH.

  SEND THE ANKE HOME.

  NOW IS THE TIME.

  “Fingerprints?” I asked.

  “No,” Judge said. “Only Mrs. Craffin’s.”

  “Fibers?”

  “Nothing that we can trace.”

  “How about the ink?”

  “No. These are typewritten notes that could have been composed on any one of the millions of typewriters out there. So it would be nearly impossible to find the one it came from.” She taped the notes thoughtfully. “You’re the code expert. I need to know if you see any patterns. Any hidden messages that I might be missing.”

  “No,” I said, and Judge sighed in relief. But I continued, “Except there is one thing …” I asked Judge if she had a magnifying glass in her purse, and she handed one over.

  I took a closer look at one of the notes. “Check out the A.”

  “The A?”

  Whenever it was used, the A was slightly chipped.

  “Yes. It’s slightly chipped. You find the typewriter that makes an A like that and you are one step closer to finding the person who used it to type these notes.”

  “Bully for you, Zeke!” Judge had taken the magnifying glass and was examining the A. “Still, I think the notes are a hoax. There aren’t any threats in them.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her about other possible threats. But Judge said something that kept my lips sealed. “Otherwise,” She told me, “I would send you and your brother home right now.”

  I’m glad Judge was too busy examining the notes to notice the look on my face. Suddenly, I was torn. I wanted to tell her my suspicions about the strange “accidents” that had been occurring with the TEENS FOR TUT group. But Judge would call our parents and send us back to Nebraska before R.T. had the chance to be in the big show. I was doing it for R.T., I told myself, but I wasn’t being completely honest. There was another reason.

  “Nora!” Judge called, as if reading my mind. If we got sent home, I wouldn’t be able to hang out with Nora. “Why don’t you have Zeke show you the secret language of the iguanas? It’s really fascinating.”

  I gave Judge a grin. She’s the best.

  R.T. and Max trying to outdo each other

  AUGUST 2, 1977

  5:10 PM

  It had been a while since the dancers had rehearsed the Dancing Egyptian Queen number—which involved disco roller-skating. Madame Katerina said, “You children are getting lazy. Rehearse the number while I consult with my Muse.”

  I helped get the dancers into their costumes and stuck around to watch them run through the number twice. That’s when R.T. and Max started daring each other to do little stunts.

  It started when R.T. leaped over a mop handle that had fallen on the floor. Max then jumped over the mop from one end to the other. Then they put the mop up on two Chairs—and jumped over that.

  “Face!” they kept shouting at each other, which is what everyone said when they felt like they were outdoing someone.

  Soon they ran out of challenges inside, and they headed out to the parking lot and continued with their little game, this time on skates. I got bored watching them and went back inside to something more exciting—the carft services table. I wasn’t the only one with that idea—the tall chorus girl and her friend were there.

  “What it THIS?” The tall chorus girl whined. “There’s a big loaf of moldy bread out here!”

  Yuck, I thought. It wasn’t like Madame Katerina to allow something like that on her food tables.

  Oh, well, I thought, and had just popped two pizza rolls into my mouth when I heard a voice that sounded like soft music to me.

  “Zeke.”

  I turned and spotted Nora sitting with her brother, James, against the wall. She was putting on her skates, and he was just staring at his. Nora waved me over, and when I got there, she looked up at me from her seat on the floor and said, “Hi! How are you?”

  “Hine!” I said. Somehow my brain had combined “hi” with “fine.” And to make things worse, I had forgotten about my mouthful of pizza rolls, and small crumbs went flying.

  Nora acted like she didn’t
notice, and I swallowed quickly, trying to think of what R.T. would say in a situation like this.

  “James and I—” Nora broke off when her brother nudged her. She started over. “JOHN and I came over with our aunt and Ms. Pinkerton to check out the stage. The two of us were going to skate outside in the parking lot, but he changed his mind.”

  “Too windy out there today,” James explained. “Not good for the hair.”

  “You want to use his skates?” Nora asked me. “John won’t mind, will you John?”

  James didn’t answer, but left his skates and huffed off.

  I still had not said one word that made sense. Nora patted the spot next to her. “Here. Take a seat and put them on. Let’s give them a try.”

  I sat down next to her and tied the skates on. Then we headed outside to join the others. The raised parking lot where our caravan was parked had been blocked off to other traffic—and the long three-story ramp that led down to the street had been closed with orange construction cones. The lot was the perfect spot for roller-skating—that is, it would have been if I knew how to skate.

  NORA CAN REALLY SKATE!

  But as I discovered after about two seconds, Nora was really good.

  I didn’t know what to say as I stumbled along next to her. Ask her about herself. Keep her talking and you won’t have a chance to put your foot in your mouth. “You’re a great skater. What else do you like to do?”

  “Well, I’m an amateur Egyptologist—and that’s led me to a little detective work. Nothing like your family, but I helped a local art dealer figure out he was about to buy a fraud. There’s this husband and wife team of archaeologists called the Vettles.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “That’s why I’m so interested in the work your friend Justine Pinkerton does. Are there any new leacs with the notes that my aunt received?”