J&L: Mysteries of the Macabre (2)

Mortuary, St. Thomas's Hospital

PGL: "Ah, Inspector Quick! Good morning to you. How is Mrs. Quick?"

IQ: "And to you, Professor. She's actually off visiting her mother in Margate for the week."

PGL: "Allowing you to indulge in a spot of relaxation, I shouldn't wonder."

IQ: "I wish that were the case, Professor. But it seems the criminal classes of London have something else in mind."

PGL: "I trust that's the reason for your visit here this morning then?"

IQ: "Sadly, it's not a personal visit, George. A man was found dead last night, in an alley off Suffolk Lane. Strangled, by the looks of it. Most of the boys think it's a straightforward case, but I'm not so sure..."

PGL: "You suspect some kind of supernatural interference?"

IQ: "I don't rightly know if I'd go quite that far, but as you have an eye for the singular and peculiar..."

PGL: " You thought I'd best give a second opinion as it were. Very well Quick, have the poor soul brought in. Police pathology is my official employment, after all."

The Red Tavern

*a man is panting, running for his life through London's streets. He reaches a door and hammers on it desperately*

EH: "We're closed! Tavern doesn't open until midday!"

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

EH: "Don't care 'ow 'thirsty' you are, nobody gets in 'til I've cleared up yesterday's mess!"

*KNOCKKNOCKKNOCKKNOCK*

EH: "Bloody 'ell, keep yer knickers straight. I'm coming, I'm coming. Can't get a moment's peace..."

*Ellie opens the door, revealing a dishevelled and distressed man of academic bearing. Young, gangly and wearing an expensive if crumpled and dusty cream linen suit.*

EH: "Oh my word! What 'appened to you dear? You look like somefing a cat sicked up while being dragged frough a bush!"

Man: "I am afraid my current predicament somewhat negates the practicality of adequate grooming, my dear...?"

EH: "Ellie. Ellie Higson, of the Red Tavern. Otherwise known as this place."

Man: "Thank you for your courtesy, Miss Higson. My name is Daniels. Dr. Timothy Daniels, London University. Archeology department, specializing in ancient Egyptian studies."

EH: "So, what brings a gentleman of your standing to a place like this, Dr. Daniels?"

DTD: "Please, call me Timothy. This is no time or place for formalities.  We can talk freely when I'm inside."

EH: "Get in then. You look like you could do with a stiff drink."

DTD: "Whiskey please. Double."

*The door is closed and Re-latched*

DTD: "My time is short here anyway."

EH: "Don't worry. I can delay opening of you need some time to recover from whatever is bothering you. Get it off your chest, it'll do you wonders."

DTD: "No, Ellie. I mean I'm going to die. Soon. It's too late for me."

EH: "What... what do you mean?"

DTD: "It's the curse. The curse of the Pharaoh. The Mummy's revenge. It will claim all of us before the week is over."

Mortuary, St Thomas's Hospital

PGL: "Male, approximately 30 years of age. Judging by the calloused hands and tattoos, this man was a labourer, most likely a dock-hand. And recently abroad, by the colour of his tan."

IQ: "His wallet identified him as a Mr. Albert Perkins, recently returned from Africa, aboard the Venturer."

PGL: "I see. That's another thing, his wallet and money was left on the body. The motive for this attack was not financially motivated."

IQ: "My thoughts exactly. Either it was a crime of passion, or a personal attack. Definitely not a simple mugging though."

PGL: "The bruising around the neck seems to indicate that they originated shortly before death, so the crushed larynx is the most probable cause of death. Although his back is covered with multiple fresh contusions, and his shirt is red with brick dust. Was there signs of a struggle at the crime scene?"

IQ: "Not a whole lot, really. This happened incredibly fast. There was an indentation on the wall next to where we found him slumped though."

PGL: "So the victim was slammed into the wall, then choked to death... The assailant must be incredibly strong."

IQ: "Another thing, Professor. The indent was six feet about the ground."

PGL: "So our chap was strong enough to in this sailor into the wall, then hold him aloft against it before killing him?"

IQ: "Exactly what I was thinking... But what could possibly be that strong?"

PGL: "Albert here must weigh 200lb if he's a stone! I can see why you called me in. Let me check with Jago this evening, if there's a rumour going around of a hulking brute terrorizing the streets of London... you can always count on him to have heard it. And probably embellished it along the way. For theatrical effect, no doubt."

The Red Tavern

EH: "Here's your drink."

DTD: "Thank you, Ellie. You're too kind."

EH: "Don't worry about it. But you could repay me with information. What's this curse you're worried about?"

DTD: "I should start at the beginning. 18 months ago, I led an archaeological team on a research expedition to Egypt. The Venturer, it was called. Magnificent ship. Our goal was supposed tomb site a few miles from the Valley of the Kings. Years of study and hardship on my part suggested that this was the fabled burial site of the Gods themselves. A shrine were life and death where two sides of the veil."

EH: "Because messing around with that kind of stuff is always a fine idea."

DTD: "This was to be the culmination of my life's work Ellie. The proof of my theories. And none of us believed in any superstitious claptrap. At least, not when we set out."

EH: "What changed your mind?"

DTD: "The sailing itself was a breeze, the ocean as calm as a pond. Everything was perfect. We found the correct spot almost straight away. It took us almost no time to locate a carved stone slab beneath the dessert sands. The slab, turned out to be a door. Excitedly, I prised it open with several of our labourers. That was the day our fortunes changed."

EH: "What did you find inside?"

DTD: "It was a form of hell itself. Cave-ins delayed our progress, our rations ran low, our water reserves evaporated, our tools broke almost constantly. And then the sickness started."

EH: "Like a disease? Trapped in the tomb?"

DTD: "Of a sort. Three men died of fever in as many days. Madness claimed two more. But we pushed on towards the burial chamber. It was worth it, we told each other. And it was! We found a perfectly preserved burial chamber. The most intact and whole artifacts ever discovered!"

EH: "Baubles and trinkets aren't much cop if you're all too dead to admire them."

DTD: "Yes, but the death didn't really begin until we removed the artifacts, and shipped them back to London. Ever since we left that tomb, we have all had visions of the Pharaoh, reaching out for us with his bandaged arms, always closer, always tighter in his grasp."

EH: "How many of you are left?"

DTD: "Only a handful. Three, maybe four? "

EH: "So why tell me? Why not just return the Egyptian stuff back to the tomb?"

DTD: "Because this is beyond me, or any of my crew! This is the find of the century, and it must be shared. Damn the personal consequences, I am in it for the historical value. It belongs in a museum!"

EH: "Would the rest of your crew see it this way?"

DTD: "Yes! Maybe... I don't know. And it doesn't matter. It's too late now. But their sacrifice must be made to be meaningful...  I must go. I cannot risk putting you in danger any longer."

EH: "But..."

DTD: "I just needed someone to hear my story. To make it worthwhile... Goodbye, Ellie Higson."

EH: "Tim! Wait, Tim!"

*But it was too late, Tim had already slipped out the door and into the fog...*