You're Not My Mummy!
The sarcophagus opens.
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Author’s note: This is Episode 5 of “A Game of Corpse and Robbers”. Here’s the full index so you can catch up on the story. Enjoy!
Turns out, it wasn’t a mummy; it was Freddy King. He was barely conscious but still alive. While Faiza called in an ambulance, I examined King, and it was painfully obvious what had happened.
“It must have been de Laurent, right?” Faiza asked as they wheeled King away on a stretcher. “He decided to keep the ruby so he double-crossed King and left him to die.”
“Probably, but it doesn’t matter,” I told her. “De Laurent had a head start. I’m sure the ruby’s out of the country by now.”
I admit, having lost my quarry at the very end of the chase left me feeling quite dejected. But, I suppose, this outcome was only to be expected. I am cursed, after all. Faiza, on the other hand, is a different story.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, a self-satisfied grin plastered across her face. I knew that grin. I hated that grin. You see, Faiza and I have known each other for a long time. We met when I was still just a freelance codebreaker for the department. We’ve become great friends over the years, and I love her to bits. She’s kind, smart, efficient, and she makes a great macaroni and cheese. But if there’s one thing I can’t stand about Inspector Faiza Ahmed, it’s her passing fits of excruciating optimism.
“When I called for the ambulance, I also called in de Laurent’s description,” she said gleefully. “They found him at the boarding gate, and I have two officers escorting him here right now. We got him this time, Finn.”
About twenty minutes later, two policemen walked into the office, each carrying a large suitcase. Behind them came Mr Oscar de Laurent. He was carrying his dog Anubis with him in a small pet carrier. He didn’t look worried.
“What’s happening here?” de Laurent asked, casually setting the carrier down and finding himself a chair. “I’m supposed to be in Dubai tomorrow, you know. Oh, hello, Mr Grimm. Is this more material for your article?”
I told him, “I have everything I need, Mr de Laurent.”
“What does that mean?” he laughed. “Am I under arrest or something? Because I do believe I’m entitled to a phone call, and I’m sure my good friend the police commissioner would like to hear about this.”
“We know about the ruby,” Faiza said. “We found Freddy King. He’s alive and conscious, and he told us everything.”
She was lying of course but the bluff almost worked. For a brief moment, a flash of anxiety crossed de Laurent’s face. Then it was gone, replaced by his normal, easy, ever-so-friendly smile.
“That’s just his word against mine,” he said. “Where’s your proof? Where’s this ruby you think I’ve stolen?”
That was the problem. We might have been able to prove that de Laurent attacked Freddy King but we couldn’t tie him to the ruby. There was only one piece of evidence that could nail the case: the corpse of my recently deceased brother-in-law Roger Walters, Oscar and Freddy’s accomplice, who was shot during the robbery. Unfortunately, at that very moment, my sister Freya was disposing of Roger’s body so no one would find out she’d been poisoning him.
Faiza didn’t give up. She and the two officers meticulously searched de Laurent’s luggage. They found the statuette of Ra almost immediately, but the pieces of the Carmichael Ruby that had been fixed to it had already been taken off. Then they frisked de Laurent’s person and even opened the pet carrier to look inside. The dog was sleeping, thankfully, but there was nothing there either.
It was as I’d expected. De Laurent had gone through the security checkpoint just like everyone else. I don’t have the highest opinion of airport security but I’m sure they would have noticed it if the ruby had been on his person or in his luggage. But he must have had it close by, right? So where could it be?
I watched Faiza back away from the carrier and felt an icy feeling in the pit of my stomach. She knew as I did that we were beaten, and the joy that lit up her face a short while ago had completely evaporated. I hated seeing her like that, and I was almost tempted to turn in Roger’s corpse, consequences be damned. Then, in the darkest depths of the valley of defeat, there came a startling light. Or rather, a startling sound.
“AAAAAAAAAUUOOUH!”
It was my phone. Freya was calling to update me about the corpse, which was not a call I could take under the circumstances. I hung up the phone and put it back in my pocket, turning my mind again to the problem of the missing ruby. And as I did so, the last piece fell into place.
“Anubis,” I said, approaching the pet carrier. “Your dog hates my ringtone. Earlier today, he couldn’t stand it. But he’s not barking now.”
“Get away from him, he’s sick,” de Laurent yelled, jumping to his feet.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
“Faiz, get a vet,” I said triumphantly. “The ruby is in the dog.”
The veterinarian’s car broke down on the way to the Seti Club but so did de Laurent’s resolve. He confessed to the robbery and to assaulting Freddy King but, for whatever reason, he didn’t mention Roger. The policemen led him away in handcuffs. The vet arrived shortly afterwards and extracted three priceless pieces of material evidence from the dog’s stomach. As I’d figured out, de Laurent had reshaped the ruby and cut off two smaller pieces. Perhaps that made them a little less valuable but I’m sure the difference was negligible. I’m sure you’ll also be pleased to know that Anubis made a full recovery not long after and was subsequently adopted by a certain police inspector with a soft spot for animals.
Faiza dropped me in front of my flat and drove off to deliver the rubies to their rightful owner. I watched her car turn the corner before hailing a cab and heading to the cemetery.
It was a cold, moonlit night. Freya was waiting for me, a large black handbag slung over her shoulder and a small white rose in her hand. As we walked past the silent graves, I filled her in on everything that had happened.
“That’s that, then,” she said when I was finished. “I’d just like to point out that you wouldn’t have solved it if I hadn’t called when I did.”
“It would have come to me,” I insisted. “You know, eventually. What will you do now?”
Freya sighed. “I think I’ll take a break from marriage,” she said. “Rachel and I are heading to Iceland in the morning. They’ll start asking questions about Roger eventually, and I don’t think I should be around for that.”
To my surprise, I felt a little sorry that Freya would be leaving, but I told myself it was for the best. Besides, I knew I would probably see her again soon enough; trouble follows my sister like a loyal pet weaned on sugar and arsenic.
In time, we came to the grave of one Ferdinand Braganza. The new concrete lid was still hardening. From her bag, Freya retrieved a tall glass and a bottle. She placed the rose and the glass on top of the headstone, then filled the glass with the contents of the bottle. It was orange juice.
“I put a drop of the good stuff in it,” she told me with a wink. “Just for old times’ sake.”
After everything that had happened, I woke up the next day feeling better than I had in years. The world felt alright. Maybe this was the start of a new life, I thought. Maybe the curse was finally broken.
Then I picked up my phone and saw a news story, which instantly deflated my spirits and replaced them with a vitriolic rage. I quickly got dressed and rushed to a coffee shop on the corner of 7th and 42nd. Faiza was just finishing up a sumptuous breakfast.
“Have you seen the news?” I asked coldly, handing her my phone. “It’s a report about us catching de Laurent. Only, it’s not about us, it’s about you.”
“I did catch him,” Faiza argued. “And anyway, I don’t see what you’re so mad about. You should be happy for me. You know, the system really does work. You can have all the success and recognition you want if you just grab onto opportunity when it comes knocking. It’s the way of the world, Finn. People appreciate those who appreciate themselves…”
There was more. A lot more. By the time I got back home, I was a broken shell of a man. Once again, I had solved a case, quite brilliantly though I do say so myself, and it was ultimately of no benefit to me whatsoever. And this, I knew then, was not about the way of the world at all. It was about the way of me, and the fact that I am quite irredeemably unlucky.
Perhaps this was all my life would ever come to, could ever come to.
Maybe I could be okay with that.
Or… well, I suppose I could start my own agency. Self-employment. Being my own boss. I like the sound of that. What could go wrong?
The End?
No, this most certainly is not the end, though it is the end of “A Game of Corpse and Robbers”. I’ve had a lot of fun working on these characters and I’m not ready to stop just yet. That means Thorfinn Grimm will be returning for another accursed adventure soon enough. Come back next week for a BTS look at the production of this serial and the week after that for the first episode of Finn’s next case, tentatively titled “The Agoraphobic Murderer”.
Loved the story! Finn sounds very interesting for a detective. This should be a crime procedural show. :)
Nice light-hearted touch. Enjoyed reading it.