RCC03.6 - The Bastard Mummy Read online

  After Eric closed the door behind him, Finch shook his head at Elias. “That was mean.”

  “And you’re never mean?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “What do you call sending Tower and Browning on a wild goose chase investigating that contractor when we worked the two-fer on Palmer Court?”

  “That’s between professionals,” Finch argued. “This is different. You’re making a college kid sweat. That’s mean.”

  “Let him sweat. He fell asleep. Maybe he’ll learn a lesson from it.”

  “Detective Elias, teacher to the world,” Finch said expansively.

  “And what if he’s lying?” Elias asked, ignoring Finch’s sarcasm.

  Finch considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think he’s lying.”

  “Neither do I,” Elias admitted, “but we don’t know for sure. And objectively speaking, he’s our most likely suspect so far. He had the means and the opportunity.”

  “What about our ex-con? Or Moore?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Elias rubbed his eyes while he spoke. “You call for Adam. Get him down here to do some computer work for us on that alarm system. I’ll get Renee to run our principals through the computer for background. Then we’ll meet the department head.”

  Twenty minutes later, the two detectives sat in the museum foyer and exchanged notes.

  “Adam should be here in half an hour,” Finch said. “What did Renee tell you?”

  Elias shrugged. “Not much. No one has a criminal record except for Booth. He did three years for possessing stolen property with a misdemeanor marijuana possession kicker.”

  “Which tells us what?”

  “That he’s a thief and a doper.” Elias grinned. “Or that he was. He’s rehabilitated now.”

  “Renee had nothing else?”

  Elias shook his head. “Except for the addresses on all five, nada.”

  Finch frowned.

  “What’re you thinking, Finchie?”

  “I don’t know for sure yet,” Finch said. “Too many unknowns. Let’s go talk to the department head.”

  Dr. Ruth Ingram surprised Finch twice.

  The first surprise came when he first saw her. Instead of a matronly woman in black-rimmed glasses and a scowl, she turned out to be in her early thirties with dark hair in a long braid. Her trim, curvy figure filled out a pair of khakis and a white business-casual blouse. The only expectation that remotely panned out was the eyeglasses—a stylish pair with a petite frame and thin gray rims.

  Finch flashed his badge. Elias did the same.

  Dr. Ingram was not impressed. “Have you found the relic yet?”

  “Not yet,” Finch admitted.

  “I figured as much. The insurance company will send special investigators.”

  Elias raised an eyebrow. “Special ones, huh?”

  Dr. Ingram eyed him coolly. “Artifact theft can be complex, detective.”

  “Burglary is burglary, theft is theft.”

  “Hardly.” She adjusted her glasses. “Now what can I do for you? I assume you’re here to question me.”

  “We’re hoping you can help us with the case, yes,” Finch said. “When was the last time you saw the mummy?”

  “When I left last night.”

  “Which was?”

  “Six o’clock or so.”

  “And where did you go?”

  “I went straight home.”

  “Did you return to the museum?”

  “Not until this morning. I assume by that question that you consider me a suspect?”

  “Everyone is a suspect,” Elias said with a tight grin.

  “Preposterous,” she snapped. “There was no forced entry into the museum, which means that whoever took Babafemi had the alarm code and a key. And since you haven’t simply reviewed the video surveillance tapes, I gather that something went awry with that system, which doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  Finch and Elias exchanged a glance.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise you?” Finch asked.

  “Because this museum is run by absolute morons from top to bottom.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it is true.” Her tone became matter-of-fact, with a tinge of iciness to it. “Director Leavitt couldn’t manage a lemonade stand and yet he’s in charge of the fourth-largest museum in the state. Why? Because his uncle left an endowment when he died, contingent upon his imbecile nephew getting the position. All he’s done since he took over is run the place into the ground. We have a third fewer visitors than last year. Our drawing power was never that good to begin with, not with Seattle and Portland being so nearby. Now, with our attendance down, we’re in danger of being relegated to a strictly regional museum because we can’t get any major exhibits.”

  “You got the mummy,” Finch reminded her.

  “And his bastard,” added Elias.

  “No thanks to Leavitt,” Dr. Ingram said. “I was the one who made the pitch for River City to be part of the Pedubastis the First tour. It was my work, and frankly, my reputation that brought the exhibit here.”

  “You have a good reputation in the academic community?” Finch asked.

  “Obviously.”

  “You ever been on the Discovery Channel?” Elias asked.

  Ingram turned an eye toward Elias as if to determine if he were serious or not. Finch maintained a straight face, hoping his partner did the same. He wished Elias would stop with the comments, but he knew it wasn’t likely.

  “I was interviewed for a documentary once,” she told Elias. “Though I’m not sure on which channel it aired. I don’t generally watch television.”

  Elias nodded and scratched something on his notepad.

  “I’ve never heard of a child mummy before,” Finch said. “Can you tell me about this one?”

  Ingram remained tight-lipped while she spoke. “It wasn’t common. But Pedubastis the First had a consort that he cared for deeply. When she had a son by him, he named it Babafemi. It means ‘loved by his father.’”

  “Isn’t that sort of a given?” Finch asked. “That a father would love his son?”

  “Not always, detective. Particularly not in ancient times. And especially when the child is illegitimate.”

  “But the Pharaoh claimed him, right?”

  Ingram gave a slow nod. “He acknowledged him, yes. And when he died, he left orders that the child be slain and mummified with him. He loved him that much.”

  “Loved?”

  “Yes, loved.”

  “He loved his son so much that he had him murdered?”

  Ingram smiled humorlessly. “To be mummified with the Pharaoh was a great honor, detective. It meant assurance of a place in the afterlife. And, frankly, the alternatives for the illegitimate son of a deceased Pharaoh were considerably less desirable.”

  Finch absorbed that for a moment. Then he said, “I’m curious, doctor. What will a theft like this do to this museum?”

  “Financially, you mean?”

  Finch shrugged. “Sure. And reputation-wise.”

  “Financially, it won’t have a large impact. The exhibit is doubly insured. We’ll likely need to increase our security measures to maintain our insurance, but that’s probably all. Our reputation, however?” She shook her head grimly. “It will take several years to recover from a security lapse like this. And it will be a struggle to secure another exhibit of any consequence.”

  “Would the director be fired?”

  She smiled coldly. “You’ve just struck upon the silver lining in this dark little cloud.”

  “That’s a yes?”

  “It certainly is. Leavitt’s contract can be severed and he can be fired for gross negligence without endangering the endowment his uncle left.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I read the terms of the endowment,” she said.

  “Who would become director if Leavitt left?” Finch asked.

  Dr. Ing
ram’s smile broadened but did not grow any warmer. “Ah, and now we touch upon motive, don’t we, detective? If Leavitt were removed, I imagine that I would be appointed as interim director while a search is conducted for a full-time replacement.”

  “Which could end up being you,” Finch guessed.

  Her smile sagged into a frown. “Possibly. If I wanted it. But I don’t. I am quite content where I am. It allows me to do the work I was trained for and leaves me enough time to conduct additional research for publication.”

  “You said the museum was full of incompetents from top to bottom,” Finch said. “Who else were you referring to?”

  “I believe I said absolute morons,” Dr. Ingram said. “And I meant everyone who isn’t a scholar. The head of security is a nitwit, who wasn’t even good enough to become a police officer. His night help is a juvenile college student who, when he isn’t sleeping the night away, takes great pleasure in re-arranging the displays into suggestive positions. And the janitor is a convicted felon. Does that about summarize things?”

  Finch took a moment to take in what she said. “Moore applied to be a cop somewhere?”

  Dr. Ingram looked at him with contempt. “He applied to your agency and was turned down, detective. Haven’t you done any research on your suspect pool yet?”

  “It’s in the works,” Finch said, ignoring her tone as Elias bristled beside him. “One last question, doctor. Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts last night?”

  “Just Diana,” Dr. Ingram said. “My partner.”

  There was a momentary silence.

  Finch cleared his throat. “Uh, partner as in…?”

  Dr. Ingram smiled genuinely for the first time. “As in life partner, detective.” She turned her gaze to Elias. “As in lover. Or girlfriend, if you prefer.”

  In the hallway, Elias needled Finch. “Judging from the way your mouth was hanging open, I’m guessing you didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Leave it alone,” Finch said.

  “It’s a shame, though,” Elias muttered on their way back to the security office. “Her batting for the other side. But I guess that explains why she’s so snappy, at least.”

  Finch glanced at his partner. “What?”

  Elias returned the look. “You heard me. She hates men, so that’s why the attitude.”

  “I don’t think her attitude has anything to do with her romantic preferences.”

  “Romantic preferences?” Elias shook his head. “Come on. When did you get so politically correct? What’s next? You’ll turn in your wingtips and your gun for a pair of Birkenstocks and a bouquet of flowers?”

  “It’s not about being PC. I just don’t think that had anything to do with her attitude.”

  “Then what, Inspector Clouseau?”

  “I think it was plain old intellectual arrogance.”

  Elias considered. “She’s got her PhD, so the rest of us are dopes?”

  “Or absolute morons.”

  Elias grinned. “That’s pretty funny, Finchie. Why don’t you share that humor with the world?”

  “It’s custom made for you,” Finch said. “The bigger question, though, is do we still consider her a suspect?”

  Elias nodded immediately. “Hell, yes. She had the access code, she has an axe to grind with Leavitt and she stands to gain personally if he’s fired. Plus she knew about Eric sleeping and screwing up the surveillance tapes.”

  “That doesn’t exactly strike me as a state secret. Something else bothers me, too.”

  “What?”

  “I just don’t know if she’d do something like this just to get back at Leavitt. It seems…I dunno, beneath her somehow.”

  A wide smile spread slowly across Elias’ face. “You’re buying into her superior bit, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “You are.”

  “No. I’m just trying to figure her out. I’m trying to figure all of these people out.”

  Elias rubbed his chin and glanced at his watch. “Well, get busy. Who knows how soon the FBI will be here to take over.”

  Adam arrived five minutes later. Moore led all three men to the security center. He offered Adam the chair in front of the main computer terminal.

  Adam took it. “What’s your administrator login?”

  Moore gave it to him.

  “And the password?” Adam asked.

  Moore hesitated.

  “You can change it when I leave,” Adam said wearily. “It’s easier than making me spend fifteen minutes getting it with my code-breaker program.”

  “It’s c-y-l-a-s,” Moore said. He glanced at the detectives. “That’s the first name of Director Leavitt’s uncle,” he explained.

  Adam typed the password and accessed a screen that looked like a gaggle of numbers to Finch.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s the column for zone,” Moore said, pointing, “and that’s the time stamp—”

  “I’m familiar with this program,” Adam told him in a curt tone.

  Moore fell silent. All three men waited while Adam read the screen, tapped the keys, and called up a new screen.

  Finch tapped Moore on the shoulder and waved him away from the computer terminal. When they were several steps away, Finch asked in a low voice, “I understand you applied to our police department?”

  Moore’s cheeks flushed. “Who told you that?”

  “It came up when we ran your name,” Finch lied. “What happened?”

  “You guys turned me down, that’s what.” Moore’s voice became low and intense. “Twice, actually.”

  “Where were you in the hiring process when this happened?”

  “The oral board. Both times.”

  Finch considered. Usually that meant a poor performance in the oral board interview, not a background issue. He nodded to Moore. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “This is going to take a while,” Adam said to everyone in the room.

  Elias reached out and tapped Finch on the shoulder. “We’ve got a couple other things to check out anyway.”

  Mary Leavitt was a petite, quiet woman. She offered Finch and Elias coffee, then tea, and finally ice water. When they’d politely refused the last, she sat primly on the small sofa in the sitting room and gestured to a pair of high-backed chairs.

  “Please,” she said.

  The detectives sat. Elias flipped open his notebook. “Mrs. Leavitt, we’re investigating the theft at the museum this morning.”

  “The mummy?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You heard, then?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Edward called this morning. He was worked up into quite a fit.”

  “When did he call?”

  “Around six, I would say. It was shortly after I got up.”

  “Did he wake you when he left this morning?”

  Mary Leavitt gave him a curious look, then understanding flooded her features. “Oh, I see what you mean.” She shook her head. “No, his leaving didn’t wake me. Edward and I have separate bedrooms, you see. He snores horribly and I’m told that I move around quite a bit in my sleep. Neither of us were getting any rest, so we decided to take separate rooms.”

  “Did you hear the phone ring?”

  “No, but I am a rather sound sleeper.”

  “Do you remember when Mr. Leavitt came home last night?”

  She thought for a moment. “Well, we had a late dinner. It was around nine by the time we ate and that was very soon after he arrived.”

  “Did he leave at all last night?”

  “Not that I could say,” she said.

  “When did you go to sleep, Mrs. Leavitt?”

  “Around eleven, I believe.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “Why are you asking all of these questions, officer? It rather sounds as if Edward is a suspect.”

  Elias shrugged. “As part of our investigation, we have to eliminate everyone. This is how we do it.”

  She pressed her lips together in a prim scowl. “Well, it seems like a waste of time.”

&nbs
p; “It can feel that way, but it has to be done.” Elias leaned forward. “Mrs. Leavitt, if someone were to suspect Edward of being involved in this, what possible reason do you think they might give?”