Betrayed!: The 1977 Journal of Zeke Moorie

by Bill Doyle

  I wanted to tell Nora whatever she wanted to know. But detectives didn’t talk about each other’s work while they were on a job.

  “You should probably ask Judge about that. It’s her case,” I said. Nora looked disappointed, and there was an awkward silence. I decided to change the subject. “So … everything is leading up to two days from now. Your aunt will make an appearance after the dance and return the ankh?”

  “That’s the plan, I think my aunt would have given the ankh to the exhibition two weeks ago, but your producer convinced her to wait until tomorrow so he could hype the big event.” She slowed down and looked at me. “Well, it keeps us around for a little while longer.”

  I was just about to say that I was glad when something caught my eye—

  A small piece of paper was fluttering on the back of Max’s right skate. It flapped free and was caught in the breeze. I snatched it out of the air without thinking and looked at it.

  “That kid shouldn’t litter,” Nora said.

  But I didn’t say anything. I was too stunned. On the paper was a series of hieroglyphs.

  The last time I had found a hieroglyph, there had just been an accident.

  Was something bad about to happen?

  Just to be safe, I called out, “Hey, Max, you might want to—”

  Max turned his head toward me and opened his mouth to say something. At that very moment, the back two wheels of his right skate snapped off. The wheels bounced and skittered off to the side of the parking lot.

  Suddenly, Max’s face was a mask of confusion and panic. It might have been comic if it wasn’t potentially deadly.

  He teetered on the edge of the ramp and then he was rushing down it.

  Without thinking, I headed after him. I found myself able to skate better than I thought.

  Max’s weight was balanced on his left skate. I would have just sat down on my backside. But by then, Max was going way too fast. He was careening down the ramp, his arms pinwheeling as he tried to keep his balance.

  At the bottom of the ramp, he shot across a small back street and rammed full speed into the curb. He shot into the air and rolled through the open gate of chain-link fence that surrounded a small auto parts lot.

  The sound of savage barking exploded and echoed up the ramp of the parking lot. By the time, Nora, R.T., and I got to the bottom, it was clear where the barks were coming from. Two rottweilers had been chained up inside the fence. Why someone needed them to protect rusted-out cars and old tires was beyond me—but right now, that didn’t seem to matter.

  Max looked terrified!

  The dogs were snapping at the air, straining to reach Max, who lay still between them. The wheels of his intact skate were still spinning.

  Without thinking, I headed toward the gate. But both R.T. and Nora pulled me back.

  “No,” R.T. said. “You can’t go in there. Those dogs will tear you to shreds.”

  “But we have to get Max out of there,” I said.

  “Right now, he’s lying in the exact spot where the dogs can’t reach,” Nora said.

  I had a plan. I sat down and took off my skates so I could move easily.

  I told R.T. to go to one side of the fence and Nora to the other. If they could pull the dogs’ attention over to them, I might be able to sneak through the gate and save Max.

  “I’ll do it,” R. T. said.

  “No,” I said. “You’ll be able to move faster and distract the dogs better on skates. I’ll just fall down.”

  They agreed and went to their places. They started shouting crazily at the dogs, waving their arms and skating in quick short circles. I noticed Nora got a little too close at one point and nearly lost a hand to one of the dog’s snapping jaws.

  The dogs were distracted, which gave me a chance to run and help Max up. He leaned against my shoulder, and we hurried back toward the gate.

  Just as we were about to slip free, a rottweiler latched onto Max’s right skate. I leaned down and plucked the lace free. It slid off his foot, and the dog was distracted for a moment. And then it ripped the skate to shreds.

  Max and I fell into a heap, and I clenched up, waiting for the dog’s teeth to clamp down on me.

  But when I looked around, I saw that we had fallen out: of the gate. We were safe!

  Nora and R.T. skated over to us.

  “Wow,” Nora said. “That was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”

  R.T. just grinned at me.

  Together, the three of us helped Max back to the museum.

  6:50 PM

  About twenty minutes after Max’s accident, Judge was in our room. R.T. and I sat on the lower bunk. There was no room for a chair, so Judge leaned against the wall next to the poster of CHARLIE’S ANGELS star Farrah Fawcett that R.T. had taped up.

  “I heard about what happened,” she said. “Are you two okay?”

  R.T. said, “We’re okay. Mr Myles probably picked up those skates from Busted wheels R Us.”

  “Zeke?” she said, looking me in the eyes. “Are you fine? Do I have to call your parents?”

  I was torn. I thought of the paper with the hieroglyphs I had discovered in the parking lot. But I didn’t mention it. Instead, I said, “No, Judge, we’re okay.”

  Judge kept her eyes on me a moment longer. I could tell she wasn’t really sure whether to believe me. But she finally nodded.

  “All right then, I’m glad to hear it,” Judge said. “I’d better get back to Mrs. Craffin.” She paused and added, “Oh, and congratulations, R.T., Mr. Myles told me you’re the new lead dancer since Max sprained his ankle.”

  “Thanks,” R.T. said. “Kind of a crummy way to get the job, but I’m excited.”

  “You should be,” Judge said, opening the door. “Watch out for yourselves.”

  “Why should we when you’re doing it for us?” R.T. said with a charming smile.

  Judge chuckled and shook her head as she left our room. After she was gone, I went back to what I’d been doing when she came into the room five minutes earlier. I examined the hieroglyphs that had flown off the back of Max’s skate.

  “Why didn’t you tell Judge about that clue?” R.T. asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked as innocently as I could.

  “Ha!” he replied.

  “Okay,” I said, coming clean. “I didn’t want to tell her about it—yet.”

  “Why?” he asked, and then his eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, I know why. Does this have anything to do with a certain person named Nora? That if we tell Judge, she’ll send you home and you won’t have a chance to go for long walks with you—”

  “Stop! I’m warning you!”

  “—with your girlfriend?”

  I tried tackling him, but he sidestepped out of the way, and I landed hard on the bed. “Well, what about you? You’ve just been made lead dancer. Do you want to go back home now?”

  That got to him. “All right,” he said. “But we’ll tell her after the show. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” I said. “Now let me see if I can make sense of these hieroglyphs.”

  He sat on the bed next to me as I worked. After ten more minutes, I finally cracked it. The hieroglyphs said:

  HISTAIAEUS

  TEC TIP

  SLOW DELIVERY

  If you’re not in a hurry and have someone you can order around you might send secret messages the way Histiaieus did. This Greek ruler would shave a servant’s head, write a message on the bare skin, then wait for the hair to grow back. Then he’d send the servant to the recipient, who would shave the servant’s head and read the message.

  R.T. and I talked about what the clue might mean.

  “What about James?” R.T. said. “He’s always talking about his hair. He could be the bad guy. Or working with them. He could have a secret message on his head right now!”

  “Come on!” I said. “You don’t think that kid is the villain!”

  “Who knows?” R.T. said with a mischievous gleam in his e
yes. “But it could be fun to find out.”

  Nora let me know James was in his bedroom.

  AUGUST 3, 1977

  12:30 PM

  Nora opened the door to the suite she was staying in with her brother and aunt. Overlooking Lake Michigan, it had a large living room, which was shared by the three bedrooms. The smell of Mrs. Craffin’s lavender perfume hung in the air as Nora let me in. But I knew that she was with Judge at lunch.

  Nora pointed to a closed bedroom door and mouthed, “James is in there!”

  Out loud, Nora said, “Zeke! What’s up?”

  “Have you heard the news?” I asked her, loud enough for James to hear. This was all part of the setup we had discussed and scripted earlier.

  “No, what news is that?” Nora asked, leading me into the living room.

  “John Travolta is going to star in the movie version of Pet Rock,” I told her.

  PET ROCKS ROCK!

  Q: What’s the hottest, weirdest had to sweep the nation?

  A: PET ROCKS! Here’s the idea.

  Take an ordinary small rock. Put it in a box with an owner’s manual and a “birth certificate.”

  Now sell the rock as a pet. Sound silly? Not to Gary Dahl, who came up with the idea two years ago. Since then, he’s sold more than five million. Pet Rocks! Everybody wants one-maybe became they never beg at dinner or have to be house trained.

  “Really?” Nora said. “How exciting!”

  “I ran out and bought this electric razor, Nora. It’s the same kind John Travolta used to shave his head for the part. He now looks like a Pet Rock.”

  This was ridiculous. My dad helped people detect cons and scams all the time, but no one would ever fall for this.

  R.T. pretending to be bald

  That’s when R.T. walked in wearing a skullcap from the makeup department. From a distance, I guessed someone might think he looked bald, but I could see where a few strands of hai had escaped the plastic.

  “Do you like it?” R.T. asked.

  “Sweet!” I said, thinking I must have sounded as flat as Lucy.

  “You look awesome, R.T.!” Nora cried. She was definitely a better actor.

  Nora had agreed to help us carry out our plan. She said she was tired of constantly hearing about her brother’s hair and how on one should touch it. Plus, she had a condition: If she helped us, I had to agree to talk to her more about the work Judge does.

  There was the click of a door opening across the room, and we all turned. James was now standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

  He looked at us suspiciously. “I’m president of the San Francisco John Travolta Fan Club. I would’ve heard about this.” He didn’t bother acting as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

  R.T. smiled at him. “We’re in show business, so we get the inside scoop first.”

  I waited for James to shout, “No way!” or “I can tell you’re wearing a fake skullcap—it’s so obvious.” But instead, he just nodded. He was satisfied by R.T.’s lame explanation. James headed toward the electric razor.

  This was supposed to be fun—but it was too easy and too mean. Nora must have been thinking the same thing because she was looking down guiltily.

  “Wait!” I said, and stood between John and the razor. “You can’t use that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… because it’s broken.”

  “You just don’t want to share,” James whined and stormed back into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” R.T. said plopping down in an easy chair. “Especially when you decided to pull the plug on our plan without even asking me.”

  “What plan? That was like a sketch from SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE,” I said. “He’s too easy to trick. Let’s turn back to the case. We need to think of other things that you might need to shave. Things that can be written on and then covered up, like a bald head that is covered with hair.”

  “What about a shaved cat?” R.T. suggested.

  “Or farmland that’s covered in crops. When they harvest the crops, you could read the message,” Nora said.

  “From a plane?” R.T. said doubtfully.

  I started to come to Nora’s rescue, but I broke off when James’s door opened again and he came out. Nora gasped. In a low voice, R.T. said, “Dude …” But I was stunned speechless.

  James’s head was perfectly bald.

  “What did you do?” I finally managed to ask.

  “I have a razor in there, you know, for when I need to start shaving,” James said, as his eyes took in R.T.’s full head of hair. “Hey, what happened?”

  I walked slowly over to James. I didn’t know what to say.

  James shaved his head!

  “What do you see, Enigma?” R.T. asked.

  I looked at James’s bald head, but we already knew the answer. “There’s no message. There’s nothing.” I said.

  And that’s what I felt like after what had just happened. In fact, I felt like less than nothing.

  A few minutes later, we were sitting in the living room. We had just told James the truth. He sat on one of the sofas with his head in his hands. “You mean there is no PET ROCK: THE MOVIE?”

  “No,” I told him.

  “And you thought I had some secret message on my head?” he moaned.

  “Yes, I guess,” I said, then decided to come completely clean. “I mean, no, not really.”

  Tears were welling up in his eyes. “So it was just for fun that you had me shave my head!”

  “We tried to stop you!” Nora said.

  “You tricked me.” James looked down, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “He’s right. I feel like we just used our powers for evil,” R.T. said under his breath.

  “Give me a second alone with him?” Nora said to us.

  R.T. wandered over to the window, and I walked over to the desk Nora had taken over and set up as her portable traveling office.

  Just then, the door opened. Judge came in first, I guess to make sure the room was safe. She eyed the situation quickly and turned. “Alex, let’s go downstairs and have a cup of coffee.”

  But it was too late. Mrs. Craffin had pushed her way into the room, her cane waving wildly in the air. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw James. “The cures! The curse has made you bald!”

  “No,” Judge said, trying to calm her. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this. Probably not a very good one, but some explanation.”

  But Mrs. Craffin was staggering, as if she was having some kind of attack.

  Nora rushed to her. Everyone was shouting and rushing about.

  DING!

  For some reason that simple sound caused everyone to freeze in their positions. For a moment, they all looked like a painting on the wall of an ancient tomb.

  “What is that sound?” Mrs. Craffin asked.

  “Why don’t you tell her?” I said. I was standing over the typewriter, one finger over the A key.

  Mrs. Craffin looked at me like I was nuts. “Who on Earth are you talking to?”

  “The person who sent you those notes,” I told her.

  All eyes went to James, but it was Nora who spoke.

  “How do you know I did it?” Her pretty face was transformed by a storm of panic. She had the look of a trapped animal. “A lot of people have typewriters.”

  I hit the key again and again. Each time I did so, I could see Nora cringe.

  “The A made by this typewriter is chipped,” I said.

  Finally, Nora spoke. “You’re right,” she said.

  Mrs. Craffin sank into a chair, while Judge took a bottle of water from the room’s mini fridge and handed it to her. Mrs. Craffin took a long drink. “So it’s not a curse …”

  “No, Auntie. I’m sorry.” Nora turned to me. “When I found the necklace among Uncle’s things, I knew immediately that it was the missing ankh. I took it to my aunt right away. But she refused to give it back. It was wrong for my family to keep
the ankh any longer.”

  “It was ours,” Mrs. Craffin said stubbornly.

  “It belongs to King Tut and the Egyptian people,” Nora said. “I sent her the notes. I’m sorry I lied to you, Zeke.”

  I looked at her and suddenly, my face felt hot again. But this time from anger. “You were just using me to find out about Judge’s investigation. You wanted to see if she suspected you. That’s why you were so nice to me.”

  “No!” Nora cried.

  “Tell the truth,” I said.

  “At first, that might have been the reason. But I like you, Zeke. I like spending time with you,” Nora said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You have to believe me.”

  But I didn’t know what to believe. I shook off her hand and looked down.

  “If there is no curse and Nora sent the notes …” Mrs. Craffin’s bony fingers closed around the ankh necklace. “Then I could keep the necklace.”

  “You’re right about that, Alex,” Judge told her. “You could hold onto the necklace. But I wouldn’t say that there’s no curse.”

  “Look what’s it done to your family,” I said. And Mrs. Craffin’s watery eyes moved from her nephew with his shaved head to her niece who stood in the corner with tears rolling down her face.

  “Of course. You’re right,” Mrs Craffin said. “There was a curse. But I can see now it was of our own making. It’s time for me to stop living for a 3,000-year-old object and live in the present.”

  “Bully for you, my friend,” Judge said quietly and stepped back. Mrs. Craffin held out her hands. James came over first and took one. Nora hesitated until her aunt reached out for her again. “Nora, please.”

  The girl went to her. “I’m so sorry, Auntie.”

  “No,” Mrs. Craffin soothed. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. Let’s break this curse, once and for all. You two need to go home and get on with your lives. I’m sending you back to San Francisco this evening. I’ll stay here and finish up this business, and then I’ll join you. We’ll talk about our bright futures.”