1925: The Idol of Thoth

1925: The Idol of Thoth by Joe Trier with GM Holly Buteau

Frank McDonald (Dave) owner of M&M Detective Agency

Jack Morgan (Orin) associate M&M Detective

Lucy Quinn (Bill) Student of Archaeology

Frank and Jack grew up together in the same rundown eastside Boston neighborhood. Both went to the Great War together for adventure. But each returned with a different perspective. Frank went to the front lines and saw the horrors. Jack was more the office paper-pusher for the war staff and saw the boredom. Yet it was Jack who had troubles adjusting after the war. Smoked constantly, moved from job-to-job. Till he bumped into Frank running a Detective Agency working rich clientele. Divorces and all the problems that entailed such as verifying adulty. They became McDonald and Morgan, M&M Agency. 8:03am, “Hey Frank, we got a nice one. Boston Museum had a robbery. Right before tonight’s grand gala display. All the hoity-toity are supposed to be there.”

Lucy couldn’t believe she’d been hired by THE Boston Museum of Fine Arts. A chance to actually use her degree in Egyptology. She couldn’t believe Professor Ormond had actually given her a good review on her resume months ago. Considering HE was one of those labeling her breakdown as “women’s troubles.” Last year’s dig in the Valley of the Kings. Trying to decipher those never-been-seen hieroglyphics. Diligent, toiling work. Until she found herself alone in the tomb while the others took a lunch break. Turning at the scraping of stone to see a corpse standing in the doorway no-one could open. An ancient language inside her head, yet she could understand “room for one more, Lucy.” Hell yes she ran. And has had nightmares since. The figure even showing up in her casual paintings…an unconscious addition. Thank God Miss Browning offered her the job that starts today. “Work will help get my mind off things.”

9am: Lucy stood upon the museum steps and gazed at the banner, “Egyptian Extravaganza!” Some how the museum had Professor Ormond’s collection from that Valley of the Kings dig. “Idol of Thoth? I don’t remember anyone finding that. They must have finally gained entrance to that room long after I left.” Lucy shrieked when someone suddenly tried to brush by, “Excuse us miss. We need to get thru, there’s been a robbery.” Lucy followed them inside, overhearing, “Don’t announce it to the world. I’m sure Mr. Hollister wants to keep a lid on it.”

The detectives looked left and right as they entered, gazing more for access points such as doors, skylights, or windows. Lucy’s eye was more drawn to the Greek and Roman stonework and the exquisite exhibits of almost every age. Down a short flight of stairs till, “The Ormond Exhibit!” Hundreds of Egyptian artifacts selected for their beauty and aesthetics. Lucy bumped into Jack who had stopped when Mr. Warren Hollister approached. “Are you following us?” Warren nervously interrupted, “You must be the detectives I called. Miss, who are you? Ah, Miss Quinn. We’ve been expecting you. Unfortunately, not the best of time. One of the Ormond artifacts is missing. Maybe you could help these detectives while I go get Miss Browning. She’s our Egyptian expert; I’m just the museum owner.”

Frank spoke up, “Before you go, give us some details. You already told Jack about the pay and urgency because of tonight’s event. And a sarcophagus…like a suitcase. And the idol was inside. Who discovered it missing this morning? Any security, night guards we can talk to?” Jack reacted to the answers, “A $2 million dollar item not to mention everything else in this museum and you just turn out the lights, turn the key, and go to bed?! I was going to suggest an inside job but even a street hobo coulda walked in and swiped it. No wonder the police laughed at you and set it at low priority.” Frank winked at Hollister, “Come on. Tell the truth. This is just an insurance scam. Return the idol, pay us a finder’s fee, and save yourself from the newspaper zealots who will rake you over the coals when they find out.”

And that’s when Miss Ethel Browning appeared, “Really gentlemen. This is not a joking matter. Follow me and I’ll show you its display plinth. Or pedestal if you prefer. I was the one to find it missing this morning.”

Jack looked at the slim pedestal and barely 18-inch-tall display, “THAT’s the sarcophagus? I thought mummies were supposed to be wrapped inside, like that one over there 

(pointing to a 7ft tall display). That must mean the idol is barely 12 inches tall. Like I said, a hobo coulda pocketed the thing.” Ethel challenged, “Look for yourself. No broken doors or windows. Only 2 keys: mine and Mr. Hollister who opened today. But you’re the experts Warren called; so, do your job but with a little more urgency please. The idol IS central to the advertised gala tonight at 7pm for our donors and elite patrons.”

Frank spoke up, “Let’s start with the facts. Who was here last night? The last to leave?” Ethel explained, “Clarence was the last to leave. Clarence Butterfield. He’s my research assistant but unreliable at times. Sloven and unorganized as you can see by the mess on his worktable over there. Clutter…how he ever finds anything…Anyway, he’d been working late trying to decipher the hieroglyphics to open the sarcophagus so we can could display the idol tonight.”

Jack added, “I see that pedestal is also empty. What else is missing?” Ethel answered, “That held a soapstone status of Isis who was a 4^th dynasty fertility god. Maybe the thief didn’t know what he was looking for and took it just in case. There is also the legend the sarcophagus was a gift from Thoth and the idol within of pure diamond. My surprise: HOW did he get the sarcophagus open when we couldn’t. Neither I nor Clarence. Not even Professor Ormond the original owner.”

Finally, Lucy had enough, “EXCUSE me gentlemen. Mr. Hollister DID ask me to help you. First off, the idol will look something like that relief and the wall. The man with the bird-head. Second, not that I’m a crime sleuth like you. But I did pick up on the fact Clarence was the last to leave yet there are only 2 keys. How did he lock up?” Ethel sheepishly corrected, “Well, since he needed to stay later, I loaned him my key. He was supposed to open this morning but is probably sleeping in. I’ve never been there, but I can only image his house a hoarders’ nightmare considering his office clutter.”

Frank jumped in, “Very astute Miss Quinn. So let me see if I got this straight Miss Browning. You were planning this gala tonight despite the fact the sarcophagus wasn’t opened yet. You gave Clarence your key to lock up. The sarcophagus is now open and the idol missing along with Clarence. Jack, go check if his car is still outside. Ethel, was there anyone else showing interest in this missing idol?”

Ethel spoke, “I looked for Clarence’s dark blue 1917 Abbott-Detroit but its not outside. As for interests, ever since we bought the collection, we’ve had almost daily inquiries from a man wanting to buy the idol. Very pushy and got irate when we wouldn’t sell. Threatening. Threw his name and position around like that would make a difference: Professor Vincent Grey of the Miskatonic University’s Occult and Archaeology Faculty.”

Lucy was already at Clarence’s side table looking for clues after carefully removing the half-eaten food and drink cups. Still cluttered and disorganized. After reading some of his notes and glancing at the hieroglyphics on the face of the sarcophagus, the hair on her arms rose. Very similar to those she studied at her last year’s dig. She didn’t realize she was reading aloud, “Even after weeks of study, a full translation still eludes me. Gift from Thoth? Stolen by Thoth? Contains a gift from God to the Pharaoh of the Blackest Night? How does it open? There is no visible seam. The unknown hieroglyphics bear a resemblance to those I saw in The Akhenaten Fragments, I wonder if Prof Grey will grant us access?”

Jack returned shaking his head to confirm the car gone. Frank was already starting to work an angle, “1917 Abbott-Detroit. Pretty fancy car for just an assistant. Miss Browning, would you happen to know if any museum staff has gambling debts?”

Suddenly Lucy gasp, “Oh no! My professor from last year’s dig. The one who sold the idol to the museum. Here’s a newspaper article dated last month. Prof Ormond was hospitalized at the Arkham Asylum. The newspaper suggests ‘curse’ but his doctor says ‘extreme stress’. His butler found him with self-inflicted wounds raving about monsters from the moon. Scoff all you want Mr. Morgan, but curses shouldn’t be discounted so quickly. If you remember your history, it was only 3 years ago when Egyptologist Lord Carnarvon and discoverer Howard Carter ignored the curse of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Both died within months of opening the tomb.”

And that’s when Jack noticed the calendar on Clarence’s table, “January 9^th. Today, February 10^th. Both dates circled on the calendar. Both equate to nights of a full moon. Moon monsters as Ormond claims? Frank, you can ignore my occult theories, but you can’t deny the facts.”

11am: Frank took the lead, “Alright folks, it’s 11am. We’ve only got 8 hours to solve this. Lucy, if you’d please go search Clarence’s office and use his phone to call the Asylum to see they’ll allow visits for Prof Ormond. Jack, drive over to Clarence’s flat to wake the man and get his statement. Bring him in. I’ll make some calls of my own. Mr. Hollister, may I use your office phone?”

Lucy found Clarence’s office just as cluttered. No new clues other than the hieroglyphic reference books he mentioned in his table notes. She called the Arkham Asylum getting the receptionist, “This is Miss Quinn. I’m a friend of Prof Ormond, one of your patients. I’m hoping to speak to Dr. Merrick his tending physician on a most urgent matter. Yes, I’ll wait…Thank you Dr. Merrick for taking my call. I realize doctor-patient confidentiality, but another member of Prof Ormond’s Egyptian digs is exhibiting similar reactions. I don’t believe in curses but I’m thinking maybe one of the artifacts he sold the Boston Museum might have poisonous remains on its surface. Before anyone else handles the items, I’m hoping to speak to Ormond as soon as possible. Yes, I know he may be incoherent, but this is urgent and could save lives. 1pm? Thank you!”

Jack found Clarence’s home. A tenement building in a rundown neighborhood. As he parked, “Hey kid, here’s a fin to watch my car.” An elder woman answered the knock, “Mr. Butterfield? Yeah, he lives here; what’s it to you? (she pocketed the dollar) Room 201 but he hasn’t been here awhile. Left for work yesterday and ain’t seen him since. He better not ah skipped out, he owns back rent. Tall, broad-shouldered, drives that fancy blue car but can’t afford rent. Have a look in his room yourself…for another dollar.” That was a wasted dollar as his room was a pigsty.

Meanwhile, Frank followed Warren to his locked office. “Say, can you give me some privacy for the call. Make yourself useful and grab us some sandwiches and soda.” Alone, Frank picked the locked desk and perused the ledgers for evidence of financial woes. He found a decent balance. A lot of regular high-society donations more than covered the hefty $2 million purchase of the Ormond collection. In the 2^nd drawer, the $1 million insurance policy just on the sarcophagus.

His first call was to his mob bookie contact, “Hey Connelly. Let me runs some names by you. Tell me if any are clients or known in debt: Browning, Hollister, Butterfield. Bingo! How much is he down? Thanks, and put $25 on ‘No-Good-Nik’ for me.” His 2^nd call was to Prof Grey at MU. A secretary picked up, “I’m sorry, he’s not in. No, he doesn’t have a home phone. Address? In the Arkham phonebook.” 

Frank last called Western Union, “I want to send a telegram: Vincent Grey, call M&M Office, re- sweepstake winnings.”

12pm: Back together, they drove to Arkham, “First stop, to check Lucy into the asylum. Just a joke. Then let’s go pay Mr. Grey a visit.” With Frank driving, Lucy sat in the back reading more of Clarence’s notes. Starting at the last page and working backwards. “The full moon will reveal the idol. Does that mean it is invisible? Could it still be in the cavity of the sarcophagus? Did anyone feel around in there?”

1:22pm: It was a cold rain, getting harder and darker as they drove north thru Arkham to the north side where Arkham Asylum stood. Thru the open gate, for all to walk up the steps and enter. “Please sign in. Dr. Merrick will be down shortly.” Lucy took time to flip the registry pages to find Grey’s entry 3-weeks ago. 

Within minutes, Merrick descended the stairs and shook the men’s hands. Lucy harumphed then extended her own, “I’m the one who called. I’d love to sit for a drink and smoke but we’re in a hurry. May we see Prof Ormond now? Life and death remember.” Merrick looked apologetic but warned, “During Prof Ormond’s last visit, he became quite agitated. I had to step in.”

Jack asked, “Is there anything we should avoid mentioning? Such as the moon?” Up the stairs and down a long hall past other residents on walking breaks. From the far end of the hall, they could hear someone screaming, “It’s in me! Get it out! Cut it out!” Yep, Ormond’s room. Merrick warned, “Don’t give him anything. He’s scarred and wounded as it is.” Lucy boldly stepped forward, “Prof Ormond? Arthur? It’s me, Lucy.” 

She squealed when he turned around to face her, getting a good look at his bloody face (he tried to scratch his own eyes out).

Arthur paused for a minute, blinking his scarred eyelids. Then softly spoke, “The moon…like an eye. Wants it back. The idol. It’s in me. It’s IN YOU!” He got louder, “It’s in you! Can’t you hear it?” As if Lucy wasn’t fractured alright by the sight. “Ahhh!” Lucy backed towards the door. Ormond lunged and grabbed her arm, “Room for one more, Lucy.” That did it. Screaming herself, Lucy broke free and ran down the halls, down the stairs, and out the door. Jack in pursuit. Leaving Frank to tidy up, “Thanks Dr. Merrick. I think we got what we came for.”

2pm: Frank found Lucy standing in the rain, by the car, guzzling Jack’s flask of whisky. “I thought that went very well. Now, let’s go check up on Mr. Grey.” Jack had to point out, “Did you hear him mention the moon?” Frank barked, “Fuck the damn moon! This should be a simple insurance fraud.” Along the way, Jack happened to turn around at a strange noise. And found a trembling Lucy fumbling with a derringer. “Careful missy. You sure you know how to handle that thing? Here’s a towel to dry off.”

It was another half-hour along winding roads of backcountry before they pulled up to the Grey estate. Even thru the hard downpour, they could tell the manor a rundown manse of moldering wood. An elder manservant, almost death himself, answered the door and invited them in to sit, “Let me see if he’s up for visitors. Over a week ago, he suffered a massive heart attack. Luckily, he survived but is now invalid and bed ridden.”

Long minutes for Lucy to scan the house and marvel at the Egyptian collections on display. Jack pondered, “House almost falling down. How could the man afford to offer $1 million for the idol?” Finally, “If you’ll follow me up the stairs to his bedchamber.” 

Where they found an emaciated husk of a man amongst his yellowing pillows. The room a sickly stench that evoked a few gags. In a rattling voice, “Thank you Jeffery. Please show them in then get them drinks. Yes? You wanted to talk to me about the moon?”

The others only knew Lucy a short time. They did not know her necrophobia (fear of the dead). Which lay before her. [Sanity 97] Thus, she recoiled when Vincent asked her to “fetch the Arkenaten parchments.” Frank complied instead. Vincent pointed to a particular passage, “The Idol was a gift from the Pharaoh of the Blackest Night to his high Priest. When the light of Khonsu (the moon) shone upon it, the sarcophagus opened to reveal the Idol, fashioned from the very moonlight Thoth stole from Khonsu. All who laid eyes upon the idol were driven insane and under the power of the Idol; their only remaining wish was to force others to view it and fall under its power.”

The lightbulb came on for Jack, “Oh shit! It’s a full moon tonight. And the museum with its huge skylights and large side windows and all those patrons about to arrive.” The emaciated Vincent suddenly sat up in his bed, “You mean they are about to display the sarcophagus and idol?! I was trying to prevent this very occurrence. HURRY! Get back there before the moon rises!” Vincent collapsed from exhaustion.

And that’s when Jack heard the crash downstairs. And smelled the gasoline fumes. All could hear the crackling of flames somewhere below. Jack stepped out of the room and looked down the stairs. Where he spotted Jeffery lying unconscious on the floor. As Jack dashed downstairs, Frank grabbed Vincent off of the bed to fireman-carry him out. Lucy grabbed the Arkenaten Fragments to follow.

Jack JUST caught a glimpse and ducked as a baseball bat swished where his head used to be. He stared into the blood-raged eyes of a huge burly man, “Clarence!” Jack pulled his pistol and shot. But somehow missed ‘the broadside of the barn’. Frank lowered Vincent, pulled his 1911 pistol, and charged downstairs. Leaving a panicked Lucy who retrieved the bedsheet to roll Vincent and the fragments into. To then drag back to the bedroom in hopes of escaping thru the window. 2nd floor drop versus engulfed in flames. [failed STR check/failed push] Except, Vincent rolled off the sheet.

Clarence had brought a bat to a gunfight. He lost. And the smoke grew stronger and began to fill the room. Frank ran back upstairs to grab Vincent and lead Lucy out the front door as they all hacked and coughed. Jack actually tried to drag the bleeding and unconscious Clarence outside. Easily 350 lbs. Jack grunted at the unconscious man, “Did you ever consider dieting?!” Adrenalin kicked in [STR fail/push-hard pass] as Jack grabbed pantlegs and drug the body out. The head thumping down the steps.

3:30pm: Parked beside their car (hood up and smoke wisping out) was a blue Abbott-Detroit. Jack searched Clarence’s pockets and retrieved his keys. Frank ran back inside to retrieve the dead body of Jeffery. Jack knelt beside Clarence binding his wounds, “Handcuff him to our car and let the police deal with him. We gotta go!” As they peeled out of the driveway, Frank suggested, “If we pass a gas-station, stop so I can call the police and lie that there is a bomb hidden in the museum and for them to evacuate the place.” Good idea but no stations along the way.

Jack drove like a madman, weaving in and out of traffic, honking the horn madly. Their bad luck no policemen to pull them over so they could falsely warn about a bomb. Lucy sat in the backseat with Prof Grey’s head on her lap. Trying to comfort the poor man. Till his eyes clouded gray and he wheezed, “There’s room for one more.” Jack jerked the steering-wheel at her deathly scream. And Lucy kicked the poor man into the opposite floorboard space. And Jack heard the rattle and retrieved a 38 from the glovebox.

Jack had an idea, “When we get there, use your coat to cover the sarcophagus to prevent moonlite from illuminating it.” Frank grumbled, “When this is over, you can tell me ‘I told you so’. But first, we gotta get there. Step on it!” Both tried to tune out the sobbing Lucy in the backseat.

4:33pm: The tires squealed, and the car partially slide sideways as Jack jumped on the brakes in front of the museum. As they started up the steps, Warren met them at the entrance, “Oh thank God. Tell me you found it. Patrons will be arriving in 30 minutes for drinks and hors d'oeuvres before the grand event.” But Frank interrupted him, “Didn’t you get the call? Clarence stole the idol and planted a bomb inside to cover his tracks. Get everyone out. Keep anyone arriving out.”

Jack rushed inside to the atrium, felt inside the sarcophagus finding nothing, then closed it just in case. And wrapped it with his coat and carried it to a closet. Meanwhile, a now coherent Lucy found Miss Browning inside and ushered her outside, “The idol is somewhere inside along with a bomb Clarence planted.” Once depositing her outside, Lucy entered the museum to aid in the search, starting at the atrium now deserted.

But they all came up empty. Jack pondered, “Do you think Butterfield had an accomplice?” Frank suddenly remembered something Grey said, “She wouldn’t sell it. Warren is the owner. He’s the one to buy and sell.” Frank rushed to Ethel’s office to search, finding her desk locked. Until it was pried open with the butt of his gun. Meanwhile, Lucy checked the sarcophagus plinth for a possible hidey-hole. She turned at the sound of someone approaching.

Warren and Ethel re-entered the museum, with Warren harumphing, “I don’t have time for this. Guests will be arriving any minute. And I still need to arrange the chairs and tables.” Desperate, Lucy pulled her derringer and threatened, “What do you not understand about ‘BOMB’?! Get back outside and keep your precious patrons safe.” Warren dove into a corner, hiding his eyes and quivered.

Everything happened at once. Inside Ethel’s desk, Frank found the note, “100 guests. It will be the perfect time.” In the hallway, Jack heard Lucy in the distance shouting at someone. Ethel reached into her coat and pulled out something, only to show an empty hand she raised over her head. Till the first rays of the moon caught it and it began to glimmer. Bright, sparkling, beholding. Lucy was caught off guard by the sight and the voice in her head. [Sanity failure but POW pass to the command ‘Kill them all’] She unconsciously pulled the trigger. Successfully putting a hole in the upper corner of the room. Before she became mesmerized by the now visible Idol that Ethel held aloft.

Lucy screamed insanely as the imaginary corpse appeared before her, beckoning with his curled finger. Jack arrived with both pistols drawn (his and Clarence’s retrieved from the glovebox). Fighting the idol vision before him, he took aim at the idol and fired. Glass tinkled to the floor. The idol shattered.

“Why, why are you pointing a gun at me? What have you done?” A confused and bewildered Ethel stood in a daze. The control of Thoth over her psyche shattered just like the idol. Lucy too was coming out of her daze, “What happened?”

Frank stormed into the scene, “Nobody move. Put your hands up. We need to determine if Clarence had any accomplices to his robbery. We found out he was deeply in debt to the mob and stole the idol hoping to pay off his gambling losses. Last night, Clarence slipped you Miss Browning a ‘Mikey’ and drugged you into following his orders. You had that statue of Isis in your hand and were attacking poor Miss Quinn. We barely arrived here after Clarence tried to kill us and poor Prof Grey whom he tortured into telling him how to open the sarcophagus. The Arkham police have him in custody.”

EPILOGUE

Lucy adjusted the glasses on her nose as she leaned over the new artifacts just delivered to the museum. She had been promoted to lead Egyptologist for the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. And her dreams and visions of the corpse no more. Peace to settle into her work and enjoy life. Till...

With the idol destroyed, he treated by a prison doctor, Clarence regained consciousness as he sat in jail, “What did I do? Robbery?” His pleads fell on deaf ears.

Frank and Jack added another telephone line to their office. Not only did they receive a hefty pay for solving the theft of the Idol of Thoth, but the notoriety of their actions sang across the newspaper articles. Business was booming considering all the rich patrons of the museum were impressed. And Jack was driving around in the company’s recently acquired dark blue 1917 Abbott-Detroit.

The Grand Gala event was delayed a week. Despite the lack of the Idol of Thoth as the center-piece. Turned out, the thrill and excitement of the thief was the real draw to “the scene of the action.”