The Wrong Dead Guy

  “Of course,” said Sally. “They don’t see us, but they do see the drawbridge is down.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  They ran across the lawn as fast as they could, cutting in a wide circle around the ten security guards heading in their direction. It was all going fine until they drew abreast of the guards. Out of the shadows, a Pontianak reared up, sneezed, and punched Sally in the face. Both women went down. Coop grabbed Sally and got her on her feet, but it was too late. The blow had stunned her and the noise had attracted the guards’ attention. They were visible to everyone. The guards rushed them.

  “Crap.”

  Coop and Sally ran as fast as they could for the front gates, but the guards gained on them.

  “Do something,” shouted Sally.

  Coop rummaged in the duffel. “I have something, but I only kind of know how it works.”

  “What is it?”

  “A distraction grenade.”

  The guards closed in on them.

  “Use it! Use it! Use it!”

  “Cross your fingers,” Coop said. He pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it over his shoulder. There was a muffled whoomp followed by the sound of drums and trumpets. They slowed down just enough to look behind them.

  A large military marching band high-stepped in an elaborate pattern across the mansion grounds, completely surrounding the guards.

  Sally looked at Coop. He shrugged. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  At the house, the generator failed and the power went off again, leaving the Fitzgeralds’ limo stuck between the half-open gates.

  “Are you okay enough to do your Marilyn thing?” said Coop.

  “I’m already doing it,” Sally said.

  “Perfect.” He took the television remote from his pocket and pushed the button. The house and the grounds lit up again. The gate slowly swung open, allowing the limo to pass through. Before the gate closed, Coop and Sally ran out and kept going until they reached the van. They jumped in the back and both fell on the floor panting.

  Sally gave Coop’s leg a kick. “That was your brilliant rescue plan?” she said. “Halftime at the homecoming game?”

  Coop waved a hand in the air. “I told you I never used one before. I don’t know the different settings.”

  Sally sat up. “Fuck,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My nose is bleeding.”

  Coop took a clean rag from the duffel and handed it to her. Sally wiped her face and held the rag over her nose. She said, “I guess I’ve been on worse jobs, but none weirder.”

  “I just needed a little more time.”

  Sally shook her head. “Dammit, Coop, you promised me a payday this time.”

  He rummaged in the duffel and his hand fell on something unfamiliar. Coop pulled it out. It was a small plastic black cat. The note attached said, For good luck. xoxo G.

  He looked at Sally, thinking. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you that payday.”

  Sally wiped her nose and handed the rag back to Coop. “How? Do the feds have a time machine so we can go back and not fuck things up?”

  Coop smiled. “No. They have something better.”

  32

  “Ah!” screamed Zulawski.

  A mouse ran from under his desk, dragging a Tupperware container into the recesses of the storeroom.

  “Are you all right?” said Vargas.

  “All limbs are intact. For now.”

  Vargas watched the mouse go. “What was that?”

  “Thai green chicken curry.”

  “Oh, that sounds delicious.”

  “It was my lunch,” said Zulawski. “But the container was yours. I was going to clean it after I ate.”

  “Damn. That was a good container,” said Vargas. “Have you noticed how the mice’s eyes are changing? Not just red, but they seem to glow. And they’re getting more . . . what’s the word?”

  “Horrifying,” said Zulawski. He used a yardstick to probe for other whiskered thieves under his desk. “And what about the squid? It keeps growing. I had to take all the drawers out of one side of one desk just so it would fit.”

  “Have you been back by the true-self mirror? The dingoes ate some of the mice. Ever since, they’ve been trying to break out of the glass.”

  Zulawski went to the perpetually empty in-box. He picked it up and shook it. He looked behind the table for any fallen items. There was nothing. “Why hasn’t anyone come down?” he said.

  “I filed a report,” said Vargas tersely. “But you know it won’t help. There just aren’t enough mice yet to infest the rest of the floor.”

  Zulawski went back to his desk and dropped into the chair. “We’ll just have to learn to coexist with the little beasts awhile longer.”

  Vargas pointed at the shelves accusingly. “This is all the fault of the parcel.”

  “Agreed.”

  Vargas glanced around and scooted his chair to Zulawski’s desk. He put a hand up to his mouth so no snoops, metaphysical or otherwise, could read his lips. He spoke in hushed tones. “I have an idea. Why not lock the parcel in the box where Mad Prince Nestor kept his lucky Hand of Glory?”

  Zulawski looked puzzled. He spoke in an equally conspiratorial voice.

  “Lucky? Mad Prince Nestor was murdered by peasants and his body was chopped up and fed to wolves. Then the peasants killed the wolves and fed them to other wolves. Then, for some reason, they fed those wolves to other wolves and on and on until they created an uncontrollable pack of rapacious superwolves that plagued the French countryside for the next hundred years. I don’t see how Mad Prince Nestor’s lucky Hand of Glory was lucky for anyone.”

  “It was lucky for the wolves,” said Vargas.

  “You mean the superwolves.”

  “They wouldn’t have existed without it. I’d say that’s damned lucky.”

  “From a wolf point of view,” said Zulawski.

  “Of course.”

  “From everyone else’s, it was terrifying.”

  “Obviously,” said Vargas. “It’s a good reminder that truth is often a matter of perspective.”

  “It’s also a good reminder that you shouldn’t keep feeding wolves to wolves unless you want your descendants to be eaten by wolves.”

  Vargas got even closer to Zulawski. “Wolves aside, the box that held the Hand of Glory was said to possess magical protective powers. Maybe it could shield the animals and us from the parcel’s influence.”

  Zulawski glanced up at the parcel with all the cheeriness of a meerkat being carried away by a lion. “I suppose we could try.”

  “What have we got to lose?” said Vargas in his normal voice.

  Zulawski ticked off items on his fingers. “Our jobs. Our pensions. Our sanity. Our lives.”

  “We have to do something.”

  “If only we had some superwolves. Maybe we could get them to eat the parcel.”

  “Brilliant,” said Vargas. “Then you’d have superwolves full of a malevolent preternatural force that flourished in the hellish realm of death and chaos before the stars were born and that seeks to return the universe to darkness—the ultimate evil. Is that what you want? Preternaturally malevolent superwolves? Because that’s what you’re going to get.”

  “I guess not,” said Zulawski, chastened.

  “Of course you guess not,” sad Vargas contemptuously. He went to a nearby shelf and took down two large boxes. “Now stop this nonsense and put on this astronaut costume. I’m dressing as Frida Kahlo. That way, if the parcel is watching us, it won’t know that we’re the ones plotting its demise.”

  “That’s very clever,” said Zulawski, taking off his shoes so he could put on his astronaut boots. “I’m glad one of us can still think clearly.”

  Vargas nodded sagely. “Don’t worry. I have this all worked out.”

  “Good, because when I ran out of squid food, I gave it some of the canned chili we have in the back, and now that’s all it will eat.”
r />   Vargas put on his wig. “I haven’t noticed any empty cans.”

  “It eats those, too.”

  “We should hurry.”

  “I agree.”

  Putting some discreet duct tape over the locks, Morty left one of the DOPS emergency exits open. Around one in the afternoon, Coop sneaked into the building and went directly to the thaumaturgic antiquities department. Inside, he found Dr. Buehlman talking to a scarecrow-thin older man he guessed was Dr. Carter. It was lunchtime and there was no one else in their large lab space. Coop came into the room quietly. He leaned against one of the long worktables and waited. Buehlman and Carter were busy examining a skull that looked human enough, except for the horn protruding from its forehead and what appeared to be around a hundred teeth in serious need of flossing.

  “Nice unicorn,” he said. “My cousin Carrie had one when we were kids. Of course, hers had skin. Well, fur. It wasn’t a real unicorn. It was stuffed. I bet you have some real unicorns around here somewhere, don’t you?”

  Buehlman looked up. When she saw who it was, her eyes went wide and a rictus smile gripped the lower part of her face like jolly vise grips.

  “Unicorns?” said Carter in a Texas drawl. “You’re looking for xenobiology up on three.”

  “Thanks. I’ll stop by the gift shop. Do you know if they have snow globes?”

  Carter started to say something, but Buehlman whispered something in his ear. When Carter looked back at Coop, he had the same alarmed smile.

  “How nice to see you, Mr. Cooper,” said Buehlman.

  “You, too, doc,” said Coop. He walked down the table in her direction. She and Carter backed up. They remained cheery, but kept the table between them and Coop.

  “I don’t suppose you and Dr. Carter have found out anything that might help out my situation?”

  “Please sit down, Mr. Cooper,” said Dr. Carter, holding his hand out to a lab stool on Coop’s side of the table. Coop sat.

  “If you’ll give us just a minute,” Carter continued. “There’s something you must see.” He and Buehlman went to the other end of the lab, far enough away that they had to shout.

  “Can you hear us?” called Buehlman.

  “Clear as day, doc,” said Coop.

  “Good.”

  Carter looked at an anatomical chart on the wall. Buehlman went to a clipboard and flipped through some pages. “Now, would you repeat your earlier question?” said Carter.

  Coop drummed his hands on the top of the table. “Have you found out anything about the mummy’s curse that might save my skin?”

  Carter cleared his throat. “No,” he and Buehlman said. Buehlman grabbed his arm and they ran out a back exit together.

  “That’s encouraging,” shouted Coop. “I want you to know that I’m going to be kissing everyone with measles and mumps I can find. If my skin ends up down here, I plan on making you as miserable as me.”

  He left the lab and went back to the emergency exit. Morty was waiting for him with a metal lunch box. He handed it to Coop.

  “Star Trek. Very classy,” said Coop, looking the lunch box over.

  “That’s a classic,” said Morty. “From the original series and in mint condition, so I’d appreciate it if you treated it with a little respect.”

  “If it saves my life, I’ll marry it.”

  “No need for that. Just be careful with it. And with what’s inside. If you lose it, we’re both going back to jail.”

  “I won’t lose it. And thanks again.”

  Morty shrugged. “I like my friends with their skin on.”

  Coop put the lunch box under his arm. “Want to hear something funny? Sally Gifford had a date with your dental-assistant friend.”

  Morty’s hand went to his mouth. “Is she okay?”

  “She's fine. But we had a bet. Just how naked were you when you spotted her extra legs?”

  Morty put his hands in his pockets. “Let me see if I remember,” he said. “I had less clothes on than you the other night, but I wasn’t outside with my Star Wars panties around my ankles.”

  Coop gave him a look. “Did Giselle talk to you?”

  “No. Sally. She called this morning to get the lowdown on Spider-Girl.”

  “My secrets aren’t safe anywhere,” said Coop. He started to the exit, but stopped. “And for your information, they weren’t panties and they were only down to my knees.”

  “That’s not how I heard it.”

  Coop pushed the exit open. “Thanks again for this.”

  Morty pulled the duct tape off the door lock. “Just remember to keep your shorts on, Grandpa.”

  Coop couldn’t get the carpet-cleaning van again. He had to settle for a large flatbed delivery truck. The canvas dome that covered the truck’s bed belonged to a landscaping company. The truck’s owner had even given Coop and Sally a couple of small palm trees to stick out the back so the truck would look more legit.

  “And here we are again,” said Sally. “Waiting in a truck, hoping a rich dope goes out to dinner so we can go inside and get our innards eaten by Siouxsie and the Banshees.”

  “I have more pepper,” said Coop.

  “And I have my pepper spray.”

  “Just be sure to point it at them and not me.”

  “Let’s see how the evening goes.”

  Coop turned to her in the passenger seat. “Your nose looks good.”

  “It’s fine. Just a little tender.” She smiled to herself. “Morty called me. You lied to him about us having a bet about him being naked.”

  “You told him my awful secret about the other night.”

  “You think that makes us even?” she said.

  “I do.”

  “When I get a Caravaggio and a couple of Gutenberg Bibles, we’ll be even. I have a whole list of expensive books from a dealer friend.”

  Coop nodded. “You’re going to love this. When I’m done, we’re going to have all the time we need with the library.”

  Sally reached over and shoved Coop’s shoulder. “Why won’t you tell me this secret plan of yours? There is a plan this time, right?”

  “There is indeed. And I want it to be a surprise.”

  Sally looked at the Fitzgerald estate through the windshield. “Maybe the second time is the charm.”

  “It will be. Trust me on this.”

  “Okay, smart guy. Show me some smarts.”

  Coop checked his watch. “It’s almost eight. They’ll be going to dinner soon.”

  “How do you know the Fitzgeralds’ schedule so well?”

  “The DOPS knows it,” said Coop.

  “That’s creepy.”

  “You don’t want to know all the things they know or the stuff they have.”

  “Tell me one thing.”

  Coop thought for a minute. “My boss has his wife’s head on the wall over his desk.”

  Sally’s face curdled. “You’re fucking with me.”

  Coop looked out the window. “It’s actually just a windigo, but it looks like his wife, so it’s sort of the same thing.”

  “Sort of?” said Sally. “I was going to get you and Giselle to introduce me to some of the local fed talent, but if they’re the kind of people who hang exes on the wall, I’ll stay home with my vibrating friends.”

  “Not everyone there is crazy. We’ll have a party. You can mingle and see what happens.”

  “I’m bringing my pepper spray.”

  “I won’t try to talk you out of that,” said Coop. “I think I see something at the house. Let’s go.”

  Like the previous night, Sally turned them invisible and she and Coop went through the gates as the Fitzgeralds left. Like the previous night, Coop killed the power to the house and grounds. Also, like the previous night, Coop spent a certain amount of time looking for mummies over his shoulder. Enough that Sally noticed.

  “You keep your eyes on the prize, Coop. I’ll look out for bogeymen,” she said.

  “Deal.”

  They ran across the
dark lawn to the library. When they were halfway there, the Pontianaks began to approach through the dark. When Coop and Sally got close enough to see who it was, they stopped. Coop had his bag of pepper out and Sally had her spray. One of the Pontianaks, the one who led the pack the previous night, held the others back. She gave Coop the finger, but waved him and Sally on past. She sneezed as they went by.

  They made it to the library in record time. It sat silent and massive in the dark. Coop took out his key-card machine and got it working. While it computed, Sally said, “We’re here. Now will you tell me what’s going on?”

  Coop opened his duffel and showed the lunch box inside. “This,” he said.

  “Is that Captain Kirk?” said Sally.

  “I think so,” Coop said.

  “You realize he’s made up and can’t really beam down to help us?”

  “That wasn’t Kirk, that was Scotty. And he’s not coming either. The DOPS is,” said Coop as he opened the lunch box. He removed something that resembled an old-fashioned video-game controller. There were little toggles, buttons, and wheels.

  “Aw. We’re going to play Ms. Pac-Man,” said Sally. “That’s almost as good as being rich.”

  “O ye of little faith. Just wait and see,” said Coop.

  “What is it?”

  “A Tweak box.”

  “A what?”

  “It tweaks things. Their physical makeup. It’s called a Quantum Molecular Trans something Engine.”

  “That clears everything up.”

  “Hold on and get ready to be amazed.”

  “I’m right here, Dr. Strange,” said Sally. “Impress me.”

  The card reader pinged. Lights lit up. Sally took the device and put it back in the duffel as the drawbridge lowered.

  “Good. They haven’t replaced the Domovoi,” said Coop.

  “Yes. Less monsters is good. Now do your trick and get us inside. I’m hungry.”

  “We’re not going inside,” said Coop. “That’s the surprise.”

  “What are we doing here, then?” said Sally.

  “This,” replied Coop. He pressed a red button at the top of the game controller and turned one of the little wheels. Then he moved the toggle ever so slightly forward.

  “This isn’t like the grenade last night, right? I mean you know how to use this,” said Sally.