The Case of the Murder at Madhouse Manor

by The Lord Of The Words

A Holmes parody. Six years after the original, I decided to write this one as a follow up. New humor, old humor, a new case, and of course, my two funny characters back to solve another bizarre mystery. How neat! If you liked the first, than take a look.

2. The Case of the Remarkable Walking Dead

The Case of the Remarkable Walking Dead Guy

"Lotson," I called, putting down my silver trumpet, after a rousing jam session with myself, "Why do just sit there, when I play all by my lonesome? Come and join me!" My assistant and friend, one Dr. Lotson, uncovered his ears, and pulled several chunks of cotton from them.

"I'd love to old chap, but I'm afraid that I'm not quite as musically oriented as you."

"Tut tut, my dear Lotson, I'm sure you've got a hidden talent for music! We just have to find it, that's all. Now let's see, hmm…" In my mind, I was trying to pick the most perfect of instruments for my counterpart to play. "Perhaps a banjo? No, your teeth are far too straight for that. But there is still hope…Lotson, were you by any chance your nephews son, your uncle's brother, your mothers wife, or your sisters fiancé? If so, a banjo would be perfect for you."

"I can't say that I was Condo, and I cringe at the possibility of those other relations." I tapped my foot, thinking deeply again. Suddenly, a blast of music filled my head. "Great Scott Lotson, I just came up with a dynamite new piece! I must play it at once, lest I forget it!" With that, I brought my trumpet to my lips, and began to blow, blasting notes and melodies. As I did so, though I could not hear it, there was a ring of the bell, to which Lotson answered. Outside was the inspector, in his all purpose, summer or winter, rain or shine, coat and hat.

"Good Lord Lotson, you look terrible? What's the matter?" My partner leaned out, trembling somewhat, and whispered in a wavering voice, "He's been playing for seven hours!"

"My god, what a brave man you are!" I lowered my trumpet, frankly a bit put out. "Come now, can't anyone around here appreciate a bit of good music? Anyways, inspector! Good to see you! What brings you by our office on this fine day? A bit early to get hammered isn't it?"

"No, not really, but I've come to ask for your help. We have a case on our hands and quite frankly…we're all a bit baffled by it. The clues don't add up, there is so much evidence, and well…I'm pretty tired right now. So, we thought we could call for the great Padlock Condo, and see if he could lend us a hand. What do'ya say Condo? Can you take a look?" I meanwhile was scratching my chin, glancing this way and that.

With a shout, and tossing my hands into the air, sending my trumpet flying and crashing out the window, I thundered, "BY GAD SIR! A new case you say? Of course, we'd love to take a look, wouldn't we Lotson?"

"Oh, most definitely Condo, it sounds positively smashing!"

"Alright, that settles it! But first, I have things to gather!" I floated across the room, pulling up our expensive Persian rug (Irreplaceable, what with there not being a Persia anymore), toppling a small wooden pedestal, which had a paper mache pallet of Sir Arthur Butterbottom sitting atop of it, and uncovered the flawless hardwood floor underneath. "Now," said I, "For the arduous task of locating the one and only one floorboard that is loose, under which, I have cleverly hidden my most valuable crime-solving equipment. Lotson, do you recall which one it was?"

"I'm afraid not Condo, they all look quite the same to me."

"Of course. Inspector, could you be a chap and fetch that sledgehammer standing next to you?" The inspector looked round, saw the twenty pound hammer, picked it up, and tossed it to me. I caught it, but just barely. "Careful with that, you dumb schmuck! That thing can cause some serious damage to my wood floor, you know!" With that, I began pounding the flooring, bashing the planks into splinters, ripping them up, and making a largish hole. "Ah, here it is!" I snatched up the small leather bag, similar to the kind old fashion doctors carry, hopped out of the hole, and dusted myself off.

"Well, I suppose that wasn't too arduous. Now then, let me see," I plopped the bag down on the desk, opened it, and carefully picked out my assortment of necessary paraphernalia. My magnifying glass, a bag of marbles, a fat tipped black marker, a rock, a Colt Commando XM177 with laser site, Dungeons & Dragons dice, some WD-40, and my watch, now retrofitted to send out a signal that would summon a fleet of one hundred and fifty-four H.I.N.D. helicopters for a massive air-to-ground bombardment. "Very good, this will be all that I will need. Now, come Lotson, Inspector! We have a case that needs to be solved. Lead on!"

And lead he did. We all filed downstairs, to the inspector's awaiting car, a Lexus that had obviously seen better days. "So," I asked, "Exactly what is this case you were going on about? Thievery? Murder? Crime ring? Drug ring? Circus ring? Come on, out with it man!"

"Well actually, nothing quite as serious as that lot. Vandalism as a matter of fact." I scratched my chin, contemplating the significance.

"I see, I see. Come Lotson," and I turned about, starting back inside. "Mr. Condo," a flustered inspector called after me, "Where in the world are you going?"

"Inspector, when you said you had a case for me, I had thought you had an ambiguity worthy of my talents, not spray paint on some wall, stating some manner of dirty words or crude innuendo. I'm a mystery-solver, not some bumbling P.I. If that's what you want, then I suggest you call Dick Tracy." I snickered. "Tracy. Anyway this is not what I specialize in and I don't appreciate being called out of my study for nonsense like this."

"I assure you Mr. Condo, that while this is only vandalism, it has several elements pertaining to you expertise. It's not the usual case of trivial damage. If you could just take a quick look…pretty pretty please?" I waved a hand.

"Fine, fine, stop your begging man, and get in the car. But I warn you, this had better be damn good, else you will pay for my floor. Come Lotson, seems we've been suckered into this." So, we got in the car, and the inspector drove us to the city museum, where there were several police cars, as well as numerous overly-fed cops, struggling to get across the parking lot.

"My word inspector, don't any of your men know of a little thing called the Stairmaster? They are all pudgy piles of goo! They're so fat, that when they walk, they cause vibrations on the Richter scale."

"Ha ha," my partner laughed, "A good one Condo, very funny indeed!"

"Thank you Lotson, it was rather good, wasn't it?"

"But Mr. Condo," the inspector argued, "surely you know that the police force must be filled with the correct quantity of obese men, so as to fail in catching a criminal on foot."

"Yes, I know the typical routine. I have done this before, you know? Now then, the museum eh? Hmm, perhaps you are right, and this will escalate into something more than petty defacement. Some priceless work of art smeared with paint? A sculpture's private parts having been removed? A sculpture's private parts having been enlarged?"

"No, not quite like that. Someone scribbled something on the janitor's door." My face grew red, but surprisingly enough, my usually mild-mannered partner beat me to the outrage.

"Now look here, you drivel-faced dinglywart! Padlock Condo is an expert at solving dastardly murders, and impossible mysteries all before tea, and you insult him…us by recruiting his help for something like this? You sir…are a magpie!"

"Hear hear," I cried, patting my counterpart on the shoulder. "Well done Lotson, very eloquently put." The inspector was getting red in the face, all the fat cops nearby snickering at him.

"Magpie," one of them chuckled.

"Err…ahem, well yes I understand. But what is scribbled, and what was left at the scene…I think you will see what I'm talking about." Lotson and I traded looks.

"You had better hope so," I warned, "Lest…lest…lest I kick you in the fanny! Now, hurry up!" We headed inside, passing several hallways and galleries, full of mediocre paintings and sinister wax dummies. The "crime scene", so called anyways, was on the second floor. The area had been taped off, and several hefty officers were loitering around on plastic folding chairs, taking a doughnut break.

"Here we are Mr. Condo," the inspector gestured, "this is where we found…Aww right, doughnuts! Let me at 'em!" With an almost terrifyingly lack of restraint, the inspector lunged for the box, grabbing up a jelly doughnut, and taking a bite. "Mmm, that's good eating."

"Excuse me, you fat pigs," I called, waving my arms, "This is a crime scene, not a lounge! Get off your fat asses this instant, and get to work! Dear God, this is just shameful! And inspector, perhaps you could explain to me what we are doing here? My patience is growing very…sayyyy…is that a double chocolate sprinkled glaze?" The oafs in uniforms, smears of sugar and cream filling running down their chins, nodded, grunting and snorting. "Oh well, I suppose one wouldn't hurt…And look here Lotson; there is a Bearclaw for you! You like Bearclaws right?"

"Yes indeed Condo, I simply adore them!" Moments of wolfing passed before we were ready to proceed. "Ahem, yes now…inspector, perhaps you should show us why we are here…"

"Of course, over here Condo. We don't really know what to make of it." Inside the taped off area, was a baby blue door, the big word Janitor printed on it. Underneath that though, was the mysterious vandalism in question. In a messy hand, some had scrawled the message, "Things are not safe! We will walk again!"

"Hmm," I mused, "A most peculiar message indeed. Lotson, what do you make of it? Any thoughts?" My partner scrutinized the door.

"From what I can see, old friend, is that someone is either quite mad, or this seemingly simple phrase holds an untold amount of unseen danger. What of you?" I looked closer as well.

"I was merely going to say that this so-called message was written in Magic Marker. This was done either by a bored child, or an adult that acts like a five year old."

"Find something Condo," the inspector called, stepping over, leaning down with us. "Any leads?" I stood up straight, hostility in my glare.

"Leads? Are you a raging madman? This is something you call us out for? I'm in a good frame of mind to knock your block off! This is ridiculous, there being no evidence of this being any more than someone who had nothing better to do!" The inspector hung his head, touching the tips of his index fingers together, looking sheepish.

"But…we got a call at the station that this was here. Surely it means something?"

"Mayhaps, but then why aren't you following the source of the call? This scribble might mean something, but only with other evidence. Alone, it is very near pointless. Now, how about you stop this silliness, and get back to the things that really matter. And wipe that blasted writing off! Lotson, this is the janitor's closet; be a sport and fetch us some stain remover." My partner nodded, and opened the janitor door, stepping inside.

"So," the inspector asked me slowly, "We should…do what…now? Any ideas?" I was in the midst of wondering exactly how a man like that could be in charge of people's safety, when Lotson returned with some Zap! "Here you are Condo. Oh, and by the way…there's a dead guy in that closet."

"Yes yes Lotson, dead guy, thank you. Now then, inspector, do you have a reason, any reason whatsoever as to why this scrawling of senseless words and a lone phone call to your office could somehow be related? Did you never think that it was some moron just messing with you? That it was some bratty kid, doing this just so dinks like you would come running out here, with your heads up your asses!"

"Well…not really no. It's just…we were all a little bored over at the precinct, and this was our only case all day, so we thought we could make it…well, a bit more extravagant. We have you to thank for the lack of crime. No one dares commit an offense with the great Padlock Condo in town."

"I thank you for that inspector, but rest assured I shall address this issue in full later. Now, please excuse me whilst I busy myself by examining the dead guy Lotson found in the janitor's closet." At this, the inspector jumped.

"Dead guy in the closet? Where? When?" He was jittering about at this sudden and new information; too much sugar I suspected.

"Right behind us Mr. Spaz. Are you telling me that you weren't aware of that?" His expression was all the answer I needed. "You stupid imbecile," I roared, rising up, towering over him, "You mean that you've been gathering evidence here for over two hours, and you hadn't even bothered to open the door that the crime was printed on once? Really now, what is wrong with you?"

Quick as a flash, the inspector summoned all the lounging oafs on the surrounding premises, and at once the situation became a real crime scene, not the half-baked one from before. "Seems there is a reason for us to be here now, my dear Lotson. Let's see what we can dig up around this place."

For there was much to dig up indeed. The body in question was that of a small man, perhaps classifying as midget sized, wearing the typical janitor overalls. His hair was white, as was his face, mostly. Around his neck there was a thin wire, digging deeply into his throat. "Hmm, this grows all the more perplexing. See here, someone strangled this poor fellow, and stuffed him in here. Now why would they do that do you think?"

"I'm sure I don't know Condo. But someone didn't do much of a job of hiding the corpse. Perhaps it is a message of some sort?"

"It could be at that Lotson, but we won't know until all the evidence has been examined. Bring me the evidence!"

"Um, Mr.…Condo," one of the lesser cops addressed me; "We haven't got any evidence yet. We only just found the body."

"We? Who's we? Lotson here discovered it, you glory hog! Well, you'd best hurry and scrounge something up, so that this mystery might be solved, else I'll eat your…badge or some such thing! Off with you now!" And off he went, scurrying away from my overwhelming and awe-inspiring presence. In the meanwhile, Lotson and I milled around the crime scene, putting forth our own creative ideas. Eventually, the inspector walked our way, as we were crouching on the floor.

"We have some…uh…evidence Mr. Condo. Mr. Condo? Dr. Lotson?" We were so very absorbed in what we were doing that we hardly heard him.

"Hah ha Lotson! Your level five barbarian is no match for my mighty level seven wizards! Have at thee!" My partner laughed in return.

"I think not, my good chap, for I have the Sword of Power, that shall shield me from you evil magic! En guard!" And the two of us rolled our respective dice to see who would emerge the victor.

"Ack Lotson, my magic has failed, and you seemed to have removed my head! Well played, old friend, well played indeed. Ah, inspector, do you have something for us, or shall we continue our campaign?"

"Uh…yes…I…we have found this note inside the closet, and it seems to be similar to the writing on the door."

"Excellent, let me take a gander." I put aside my D&D dice, and pulled my magnifying glass to the ready, studying the document. The words were quite peculiar to say the least. "The dead shall rise, and take back what was stolen."

"My word Lotson, this seems to be growing all the more stranger. Threats of the dead rising and reclaiming stolen property? Sounds to me like this evening will take a turn for the bizarre."

"It does at that Condo. Whatever does it mean?" I scratched my chin, wondering deeply.

"I cannot say, but I have a hunch. My guess is that this poor fellow," I gestured to the mini janitor who was being wheeled out, "Caught the perpetrator in the act of penning these words, and silenced him. Somehow I get the intuition that whatever is going to happen, shall happen right here. And probably fairly soon at that. So, you'd best cancel you ballet class for this evening, we may be here for a while. I'll speak to the inspector, and try and get an ID on the victim." With that, Lotson went to the nearest payphone to call his teacher, whilst I found the inspector trying to look important and order his men about.

"Mr. Condo, have you got something? Could you make sense of that note?"

"I may have inspector. But tell me, do you know who the little fellow is?"

"Yes, we have his nametag and documents here," he fumbled about, pulling up several papers with scribbled writing. "Carter Nockle, the night cleaner at the museum. Although he doesn't exactly look the same in the picture…Why he was here this early though, I'm not too sure, but it may be a clue."

"Excuse me, but I'm the detective here, thank you. Now then, tell me inspector, does the "dead rising" part hold any meaning for you? We are in a museum after all. Are there any…well…dead guys knocking around the halls?"

"Well, I don't really know, but I'm certain we can find out. I'll be right back." As he left, Lotson returned to my side.

"Everything is taken care of Condo. Now, where do we stand exactly?"

"That's a very good question Lotson. I've just asked the inspector to fill me in if there are any sorts of dead men around this museum, apart from the one you discovered." Quickly the inspector returned.

"We got something Condo. Apparently there is an exhibit here that features dead people. Mummies and frozen cavemen, and the like."

"Aha, just as I suspected. Very good. Inspector, you remain here at the crime scene, and gather more crucial evidence. Lotson and I shall take a look."

"Um…Mr. Condo? Are you sure that's wise? If there is any danger, it might be better to have some of my officers escorting you, lest the situation turns ugly." I however, was not too receptive to this idea.

"Nonsense, you will do no such thing! I will not have fat slobs lumbering around, mucking up my investigation! If you want this murder solved, albeit a most peculiar one, then you will let Lotson and I get on with our respective jobs unhindered. Thank you." My stern and somewhat hostile expression stemmed any further objections from the inspector, who meekly slinked away, back to his herd of overstuffed cows. "I swear to you Lotson, it is getting harder and harder to be a good detective these days, what with the stupidity one must put up with."

"I know how you mean Condo. So, shall we go?" Thus…we went. The supposed place in question that was in question that we were currently making our way to where we would suppose things, was located back downstairs on the opposite side of the museum. "Does this place not seem most eerie in the dark Condo? I feel as if we are being watched."

"Indeed it does Lotson. However, unless I am mistaken and your nerves are overly exerted, I do believe that we are being watched. Or more precisely…FOLLOWED!"

Suddenly, with this declaration still ringing in the air, I whirled about, pulling from my jacket…my rock. And with this, I hurled it with much might into the darkness. I heard a crash, as a priceless vase was shattered into nothingness. Then…silence. There was no further sound. "Huh," said I, perplexed, "I was almost positive that we were being followed. Oh well, no harm done. Come then Lotson, we have much to do."

We went on, arriving at the exhibit that the inspector spoke of. On the display, it pronounced in pretty curvy letters, "Famous Dead Guys." A rather bizarre, but surprisingly to-the-point title. Inside there were several wax dummies of now deceased people from history that had some great significance on mankind or something. Furthermore, there were numerous glass cases with dead bodies, laid out in a somewhat gruesome fashion, pieces here and there. What made this particularly disturbing was the fact that this was a children's exhibit. I knew this for scattered throughout the hall were literally dozens of posters depicting children walking hand in hand with a decaying mummy, saying that teaching children about Death early in life was beneficial, so bring them around dead corpses.

"A rather twisted message children are being sent these days, eh Lotson?"

"I agree Condo. It's frightful. There are no signs about telling children to wash their hands after touching the corpses. Simply shameful."

"Uh…well, yes I suppose but that wasn't…Oh nevermind. Anyway, this seems to be the place. I wonder…does anything think look out of place to you Lotson? Something just doesn't feel right."

"I know exactly what you mean old friend, there is indeed something amiss. We had best investigate further."

"Capital idea. I'll take a look over in the Maimed Corpses section, whilst you examine over by the Autopsied Bodies exhibit."

"Jolly good. I'll holler if I spot anything."

"Good. Oh, and Lotson…"

"Yes Condo?"

"I say this now as a precautionary measure. My detective senses are tingling, and that can only mean something is indeed about to go down. So, be prepared for some mind-blowing weirdness."

"I certainly will." Thus, we split apart, scouring across the room. All was quiet, as I meandered past several glass displays. Inside were famous men who had died in gruesome fashion. The third Pharoe of Egypt, Akru-Bon-Bon wrapped in his goofy bandages after being brained by a rock, the ninth Emperor of China, Quinta Chang, who had been disemboweled and beheaded, Jesus Christ, hanging from his cross-thingy after all the unnecessary torture, and Attila the Hun, brutally hacked to pieces. At the last one, I scowled and gave my head a shake.

"Honestly," said I aloud, "Can there please just be one exhibit, just one exhibit, where Attila the Hun isn't mentioned? For god's sake, the man is everywhere, his name itself is a cliché of barbarism! You might as well as put him on the same level as that guy," gesturing to Jesus. Before I went on, I pulled out my black fat-tipped marker, and made a bunch of squiggly lines across his ugly scowling mug, happy faces and kitty cats. "There, that ought to cheer him up a bit."

It was as I was making this remark when I noticed a shuffling sound. And it wasn't coming from a rousing game of shuffleboard either. No, this sound was coming from behind me. I whirled, and scanned the room. There was Attila the Hun, Jesus, Chang, and…To my somewhat unalarmed eyes, the third Pharoe of Egypt, Akru-Bon-Bon had risen from his display, and began to shamble towards me.

"My word," said a voice right behind me, "A walking mummy!" At this sudden voice, I let out a yell, and whirled again, fists raised, expecting Attila the Hun to make his entrance and take vengeance upon me. Instead, I found Lotson standing right behind me.

"What in the name of…! Lotson, don't do that, my cat-like reflexes were about to maim you horribly! Didn't I ask you to check on the other side of the room?"

"Indeed you did Condo, but I grew so very lonely over there, and what's more, I didn't find anything. So I thought…"

"Lotson," I explained gently, laying a hand on his arm, "Perhaps in the near future, I should reexplain the concepts of detective work to you in full. Ah, such novice actions are a trip down nostalgia lane. Why, I remember one time, when I was first starting out, I took a case similar to this. But it was far harder in those days…I was still a fresh amateur, never having done work before. I knew it was a hard job, but…" I went on and on, explaining things in great detail, all the while Lotson listened, and the mummy slowly advanced. Finally, I began winding up.

"And then the head asked me, "Why is you are so good?" Well Lotson, I told that head that I was a born mystery solver, and that it was my destiny to win the championship of slug racing. That's what I said. I actually didn't win, but the point remains valid. How about that hmm? Pretty good story eh?"

"Oh yes Condo, very intriguing! But perhaps we should…ah, turn our attention to more pressing matters?"

"Right you are Lotson, we still have this fellow to deal with!" We both turned our attention back to our moving menace, who had covered a surprisingly small amount of ground in the seven and a half minutes it took me to tell the whole tale.

"Now there's something you don't see every day," said I, my hands in my pockets, watching the shaky approach of the deceased Pharoe, "A walking dead guy. What are the odds?" Suddenly, an ancient spear, the one it had been holding was launched at us, missing my head by only an inch or two. I glanced at it, still quivering, its tip embedded into the eye of Attila the Hun. "Bloody hell." After that, the mummy started to wave its hands wildly, and began to wail and moan.

"All hail the mighty Pharoe, kneel before Akru-Bon-Bon! Kneel petty ones, kneel!"

"You know," I answered, rather nonchalantly, "I find it incredibly amazing that a Pharoe whose been dead for over four thousand years, and who lived in ancient Egypt his whole life, would be so well versed in English only moments after his resurrection. Fancy that huh?"

"Oh," the mummy grunted, scratching his head, fumbling for words, "Ah…um…well, I'm…well, I'm just smart that way. I guess."

"I suppose you must be. For there is almost no chance in the world that you are just some bumbling fool who had merely decided to wrap himself up in bandages, and pretend to be a mummy, all for the sake of scaring innocent museum patrons away from their valuable learning. Right? For that is obviously the only conceivable reason as to why you would do such a thing! Of course, there might be a slight chance that you really are a mummy…Lotson, what say you on this? What are the odds?"
"Well," my partner answered, scribbling figures down on his pad of paper, "As you so smashingly put it good chum, the odds are not good. But I'd have to say there is a one in forty-seven trillion chance that he could in fact be a real mummy. Give or take one or two."

"I see. Well then, there is that slim slim possibility that he is a walking corpse. What do you thing old friend? Is he decomposed enough to be called a mummy?"
"I dare say not Condo. Why, he doesn't even smell that awful, and his face is almost totally visible. He must be a man."

"A wise assessment. Very well, mysterious walking dead guy, be you man or animated mass of decaying flesh, I, Mr. Padlock Condo, will not let you terrify anyone any longer. You'll have to get though the two of us first! Have at you!"

"With pleasure!" And he started forward.

"Get back Lotson, I'll handle this lout!" Whereupon, I pulled from my jacket my Colt Commando XM177 with laser sight, slapped the magazine into the slot, cocked the lever, and switched on the laser target. The walking mummy froze, staring at me. "Holy shit!" he cried, turned and ran like striped ape.

"Eat this, moving abomination or crazy guy in smelly bandages!" So declaring, I depressed the trigger, and began to wildly wave the mussel of my gun every which way, blasting everything around me. In the hailstorm of bullets, chucks of wall exploded, glass shattered, paintings and posters were turned into paintings and posters that had holes all over them, and wax dummies and real bodies were now piles of indiscernible lumps. By the time my gun began to click, signaling its emptiness, the air was full of smoke, heavy with the smell of gunpowder, and the only sounds were that of the last bits of debris hitting the floor.

"Absolutely smashing Condo, terrific, really a bang up job!"

"Indeed my good Lotson. Aha," I called out triumphantly, "Take that! I'll bet your regretting your decision now, hmm? Don't mess with the guy with the big gun!" The mummy came out from behind a bullet-ridden wall, unharmed. "Yeah but…you didn't hit me…Jeez…you suck."
"Well, the gun's new, and I haven't gotten the feel of it yet."

"Uh huh…oh, right. YAHHHHHH!" With a scream, arms raised again, the mummy charged towards us, with some intention, probably one filled with hostility.

"Good gravy!" I shouted, "Hurry Lotson, we must begin the chase scene!"

"Right behind you Condo!" The two of us bolted out of the room, and down the dim hallway, our pursuer right on our heels. We must have gone around in circles numerous times before I realized that we were getting nowhere.

"Lotson," I spoke to my partner whilst running, "We must stop this madman now, lest he catch us! I have a plan, but I'm going to need your help. Here, take these…" And I handed to him my bag of marbles. "You know what to do with those right?"

"I do indeed Condo, leave it to me!" With this, Lotson came to a halt, turned about, and hurled the sack of marbles right at the incoming mummy's head. There was a thunk, as the mummy halted.

"Ow," he whined, rubbing his cheek. "That kinda hurt!"

"Uh…Lotson, that's not what I…oh well…" Without wasting time, I too pulled out my weapon, my can of WD-40. "Take this," I cried out, and dashed up, pressing on the little spraying thingy, squirting a steam of the oily amber liquid right into the mummy's face.

"Eww," he shuddered, "This stuff smells gross." As he was wiping it from his eyes, I walloped him on the side of the head with the can itself, effectively dropping him. "Well done my friend," Lotson shouted, pumping his fists into the air, "Another successful capture!"

"Indeed it is…Well, what are you waiting for Lotson? Pin him!"

"Oh…right." And Lotson preformed a bellyflop right on top of the prone mummy with a ninja yell, causing the mummy to groan. At that exact moment, the police came across us, with heavy guns and vicious tracking dogs, things that would have been more useful about five minutes ago.

"By golly Condo," the inspector congratulated, having a subordinate slap some cuffs on the would-be ghost, "You got him! I am soooo impressed! Who would have ever thought that a mummy would rise up and cause trouble? In this day and age too..."

"Aha, you only think he is a mummy! When in fact…he is a man! Voila!" So saying, I pulled the few bandages away, revealing an average looking fellow.

"Gasp!" everyone present gasped. "He is a man! Why Condo, however did you figure it out?"

"It was elementary inspector…whatever that means. There were several crucial elements to my discovery, none of which I feel like talking about right now." Instead I turned to the man glaring up at me from the floor.

'Your reign of terror is over before it has really even begun! You'll not haunt these halls any longer, and your attempts to bring down public education and intelligence ends. It was a clever plan, oh yes, but not quite clever enough! In your face!"

"Well actually…I was gonna…you know, steal stuff."

"Ah…Well then, that is wrong too! And now that plot has been exposed and halted! And let's not forget the innocent man you murdered! Such a dastardly thing cannot be so easily overlooked."

"Here's the thing though…I didn't kill that guy…" The inspector bent down, eyeing the culprit with a squinty eye. "Really…and just why would you think that?"

"What…are you kidding me? Didn't you see him? Hello?" This sparked my curiosity, and I pointed to a nearby officer uniform with a fat guy stuffed into it.

"You, bring that body down here…I want another look at it." He saluted and went waddling off. It was sometime before the body was wheeled down. We learned later that the fat cop had died from a heart attack going up the stairs. Once the gurney arrived, I pulled back the sheet, examining the dead guy. "My word," I shouted, "Now I see it! However could I have missed it before? Of course!"

"What is it Condo," the inspector leaned forward, eager to hear. I turned to the criminal. "So, that is how it is. A clever move indeed. It took me a minute."

"What did?"

"It was an impressive tactic, to throw me off the trail, and it almost worked. However, I am Padlock Condo, the greatest mystery solver in the world, so not much gets by my magnificent eyes!"

"What does?"

"I mean, seriously, have any of you taken a good look at my eyes? They are awesome, the color is so unique, sort of a greenish blue, with a hint of gray. It's fantastic. I've always thought…"

"Condo, please, I can't bear the suspense! What did you uncover?"

"Only…this!" And I pulled the sheet off with a flourish. Beneath was the minute dead guy.

"I don't get it," the inspector scratched his head. "What?"

"Simple. This tiny man here is not Carter Nockle, the night janitor. This man," I pointed to the false walking mummy, "Is Carter Nockle."

"Oh," the inspector examined the files again. "I guess that does makes sense. I was wondering why the picture didn't match…But then, who is this diminutive man?"
"Haven't you guessed yet," I laughed. "You are looking at none other than the third Pharoe of Egypt, a one Mr. Akru-Bon-Bon!" Everyone turned down to examine the body. It was true, for upon closer inspection, the corpse was shriveled up, missing eyes, hair, and most noticeable features. Funny how we missed all that before…

"This is the Pharoe," the inspector cried out.

"Correct!"

"Astounding," my partner exclaimed with no small amount of enthusiastic force, "What a marvelous discovery for historians! Ancient Pharoes were buried in ceremonial vestments that are almost identical to our present day janitor uniforms! Simply incredible!"

"Err, yes Lotson, funny how that is…Anyways, as for you Mr. Nockle, you have a lot of guts for disturbing the good Pharoe. You know that most of those guys have ancient curses around them right?"

"You're kidding me! You, the one who saw past my cheap disguise, telling me that there were no such things as walking mummies, are now warning me about curses? You're an idiot!"

"Am I? Tell me then, am I the grown man running around in a bad Halloween costume trying to scare people like some lame villain from Scooby-Doo? I think not. Officers, take this fruitcake away!" As he was being dragged out, another man, a wiry skinny old fellow approached us, with the cliché spectacles sliding down his nose. He had the smell of a Frenchman.

"Ah, mousier Condo, I am so thrilled that you have caught zee culprit and have saved my museum!"

"Oh yes, that's right," the inspector slapped his forehead, "This is the museum curator, and he has been most anxious to have this matter cleared up."

"Wee wee, for tonight is a big night for us! We are just opening our newest exhibit, zee one where zat villain was hiding. Famous Dead Guy's. Tonight will be our grand opening, and our greatest triumph! We cannot thank you enough mousier Condo!" I laughed, my eyes going back and forth, leisurely rubbing the back of my head.

"Yes…hah ha…it was…nothing, yes that's it. Well, love to stay and chat but I must be going away from here right now. Lotson…come." And after a quick nod, Lotson and I beat a hasty retreat towards the door.

"Condo, whatever is the matter? Don't you wish to bask in the limelight a bit longer?"

"No no, I'm finished basking. I just feel this compelling need to get home as quickly as I can, and call my lawyer. Hurry now…"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" came the mournful wail, echoing up the halls, and resonating all around us, like some real tormented ghost. I was tempted to not have heard anything, but I got another idea.

"Don't worry about the damages," I called back, "This one is on the police department! Just send them a bill…Lotson, time to run."

"Right with you old chap." And we both dashed for the door, bursting outside. Just to be on the safe side, I pulled a bench in front of the door, to hold off pursuers.

"Whew," Lotson heaved after the run, "That was a close one. Well, things turned out in the end, didn't they Condo?"

"Quite so Lotson, the museum was saved, despite being roughed around the edges a bit, a criminal is in jail, and best of all, we still have that delicious pie waiting for us in the fridge back home."

"My goodness Condo, I had nearly forgotten the pie! Come on, we must get back at once!" With this, my mild mannered partner seized my wrist, which made a soft beeping sound, hailed a cab, and all but stuffed me inside.

"You know Lotson," said I, reclining in my seat, having to raise my voice quite loudly to talk over this increasingly loud humming sound overhead, "Once again right has conquered all, and we've made the world a better place. But still, I can't help but thinking that something isn't quite right…"

"Funny you should say that Condo," my partner answered rubbing his jaw, his face briefly illuminated by the gargantuan cloud of fire behind us, "Because I feel the same way. Weird, maybe we're just tired…Perhaps we should take a nap?"
"An excellent suggestion old friend…We'll eat some pie, have a little booze, and then nap. A fine idea indeed!"

"That's what I call I good plan," Lotson having to talk over the wailing sirens of dozens of rescue vehicles that went tearing past us. "Tell me Condo, however do you always come up with such smashing ideas?"

"Well, my dear Lotson, that is just the mark of a great detective."