Frank Zafiro: The Bastard Mummy

Booth pushed open a door marked “Employees Only-Men.” Light reflected off the bright tile on the locker room floor. A long row of blue lockers stood along the wall. A bench ran the length of the lockers. Booth stopped in front of number twelve. He turned to face the detectives, his face grave. “I’m trusting you guys here. I’ve been screwed over by cops before.”

“We just want to find the mummy,” Finch said. “What is it?”

“The thing is,” Booth said, “I’ve got a lot of joint pain. Lifting weights in the pen got me really big, but then I didn’t stick with it after I got out. There’s a lot of pressure on my joints, but the doctor won’t prescribe anything harder than Tylenol for it.” He shook his head. “He sees ex-con, same as you, and probably thinks I’m scamming to get some OxyContin or something.”

“What’s this have to do with the mummy getting stolen?”

“Nothing,” Booth said. “But-”

A Nextel phone on Booth’s belt chirped. A tinny version of Moore’s voice echoed in the locker room. “ Mike? Where are you?”

Booth cursed and spoke into the phone. “Locker room.”

“You with the detectives?”

“Yeah.”

“Be there in a couple.”

Booth cursed again, replacing the phone on his belt. “If he finds out about this, I will get canned.”

“Finds out about what?” Finch asked.

Booth pointed to locker number four. A piece of masking tape on the front bore the name “Mike” in black marker. “That’s my locker there. This one here”-he pointed to twelve-“is supposed to be empty.”

“But it’s not.”

“No. It’s not.” Booth slipped a key into the lock and opened it. Then he stepped aside for the detectives.

Elias stepped forward first and examined the interior of the locker. He let out a long, loud sigh. Then he stepped aside for Finch.

Finch looked inside the locker. At first sight, it appeared empty. Then his eyes lighted onto the upper shelf. A rolled baggie of marijuana the size of two thick cigars perched halfway to the rear of the locker.

Finch groaned. “This is about some marijuana?”

“Yeah,” Booth admitted. “I smoke it for the pain in my joints. I don’t sell it, man. I just use it, you know, medicinally.”

“Why is it here?”

“My P.O.,” Booth explained. “He visits my house and tosses the place. And he comes here sometimes, too, and searches my locker. So I use the spare locker to store my stuff. Before I go home at night, I take a little with me. Just enough to get through.”

“Great,” muttered Elias.

“Are you guys going to arrest me on this?” Booth asked. “Because if you do, my P.O. will probably violate me. I’ve got seven months left to go on my sentence.”

“Close that,” Finch told him.

Gratitude flooded Booth’s features. He shut the locker and snapped the lock into place. “Dude, thank you. Really. I mean it.”

Finch ignored him and went to the sink, where he splashed some water on his face. Behind him, he heard Booth thanking Elias. Elias grunted.

When Finch turned back around, Moore strode through the door. Adam trailed behind, carrying a notepad.

“What are you guys doing here?” Adam asked. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“The acoustics are better in here,” Elias said.

Adam smirked at him. “Whatever.”

“What do you have, Adam?” Finch asked.

Adam’s smirk melted into a proud grin. “Something interesting. I cross-checked all of the door contacts against the alarm disables.”

“If the alarm is off, how did you-”

“The current still runs through the contact on the door,” Adam explained, “even if the alarm is disabled. Breaking the contact just doesn’t set off the alarm, that’s all. It still registers in the system as a contact break.”

“Meaning you can tell when a door was opened, even if the alarm was off,” Finch concluded.

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you check this earlier?” Elias asked.

Adam scowled. “The software doesn’t display it. I had to go into the programming language and identify-oh, never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

Elias opened his mouth to protest. Before he could, Finch asked, “What did you find?”

Adam glanced down at the notepad. “The alarm was disabled at 0100 and forty seconds. Six minutes later, it was re-enabled with a sixty-second delay.”

“We know that already,” Elias said.

Adam held up a finger, silencing him. “The door was opened at 0100 and twenty-eight seconds.”

Elias twirled his finger, signaling him to hurry up.

Adam paused, seeming to savor the moment. Then, through a smile, he said, “The door wasn’t opened again until 0613.”

Finch and Elias stood still, absorbing the information. In the silence, the sound of water dripping from the sink reverberated throughout the locker room.

Finch cleared his throat. “I thought there was a disable before that.”

“There was. The system was disabled at 0559.”

“Which we figured was Leavitt. And then Moore a short time later.”

“0613,” Adam said. “And there is a corresponding break in the door contacts for Moore’s arrival at 0613. But there isn’t one at 0559.”

Finch and Elias exchanged a knowing glance.

“Whoever it was that came in at 0100 never left,” Elias said.

“Most likely Leavitt,” Finch said. He rubbed his chin. Then he asked, “So where’s the mummy?”

Elias gave him a confused look.

“If Leavitt never left,” Finch began.

Realization flooded Elias’s face. “Then neither did the mummy. Of course.”

“So where is the little bastard?”

The five men stood in the locker room in silence once more. Finch closed his eyes. He envisioned everywhere he’d been inside the museum. He considered and rejected Leavitt’s office as a possibility. Too obvious. Dr. Ingram’s office, perhaps? Too dangerous. Maybe inside another exhibit, where it could sit until the fervor died down and then he could retrieve it?

Finch tried to focus, but the dripping water faucet and the rattle of paper from Adam’s notepad distracted him. Michael Booth coughed. Elias unwrapped a piece of gum.

Inspiration struck Finch like an unseen left hook. He opened his eyes and smiled. “You,” he said to Booth.

Booth shifted nervously. “Me?”

Finch nodded and pointed to the lockers. “Open those.”

“Huh?”

“The lockers. I want you to open them.”

“All of them?”

“Maybe. But start with the spare ones.”

Elias broke into a smile. He nodded his head appreciatively. “Could be, Finchie.”

Finch shrugged. “We’ll see. And since we’re dealing with a mummy, you might as well start with lucky number thirteen.”

The relief was plain on Booth’s face as he fumbled with his master key. He unlocked locker thirteen. It was empty.

“Open number fourteen.”

Booth did so.

Empty.

“Next one.”

Fifteen was likewise empty. So were the rest of the teens, twenty and twenty-one. When Booth swung open number twenty-two, he let out a gasp and took a step backward.

Finch put a hand on Booth’s shoulder. He pushed slightly and the janitor stumbled to the side. Finch stepped forward and gazed into the locker.

Inside, leaned casually against the locker wall, stood a two-foot mummy in a narrow, wooden coffin.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Elias said, peering over Finch’s shoulder.

Finch felt the presence of the other men in the locker room as they crowded near him to see what stood inside the locker.

“Thank God,” whispered Moore.

“Thank Finch,” Elias said.

Behind them the door swung open. All five men turned at once.