The Pharaoh Of Hauntown, Pt. I

Clinton: Officer Bob Mallory of Hauntown was the last person I ever thought would call begging for help. The last I heard from him, he was pointing the fastest way out of town and admonishing in patriarchal tones, "And if I ever---" (see: Hauntown's Grain Elevator Of Death, August, 1996, vol. 3, Issue #8).

     "Ma'am, I need your help. I've got something happening here that's just too weird. I don't think someone like you would even believe it."

     I told him to go ahead and try.

     "We've got a woman down here, Doreen Hutchens, says she was attacked by a monkey or something last month. No, no---she said it was a baboon; she watches a lot of those PBS nature documentaries. Now, I have checked everywhere with everyone. There's no zoo missing anything like that, no exotic animal stores or collectors, or a wild animal parks. I've even paid off a few of the shadier fellows around here to snoop about and they turned up nothing. Doreen's okay, and her arm has healed up well enough for her to go back to work. But ever since she did, I have had no end of people calling me up saying they've seen a baboon or some such animal out monkeying around the old grain elevator."

     I asked him what he wanted me to do. Even though I knew already, I still had to have him say it if only for a modicum of revenge.

     "Look, Ms. Cavalier, I'm the only cop in a very small town. Now, I believe what happened to Doreen but I can't tell folks I'm out chasing baboons in the middle of the night. Before you know it, I'll be the featured kook on Cops. You gotta come down here and look around. Please."

     I pulled up to The Willow Inn in Hauntown about an hour later in time for dinner. The waitress immediately bobbed up to my table and instantly recognized me as "that woman reporter who climbed around in the elevator last year". I wasn't going to tell her Mallory had asked me to come to town, but when she said she figured that was why I was here, I asked her to tell me her story.

     She rolled up the sleeve on her arm and showed me the horse-shoe shaped bite mark and then the claw marks on her chest and neck. "It happened last month, December 21, right before Christmas. All that night, people were coming in here asking if we heard the noise from up by the elevator. Couple of people that live up there said it was some sort of cry they never heard before and that it was happening every hour. So at about 10 PM, I went outside with a couple of other folks and sure enough, we heard the cry. A long, whining howl, I guess. Anyway, it happened again at 11 PM and then at Midnight."

     "Well, by 1 AM, I was on my way driving home past the elevator when I heard the cry again. I got curious and pulled over and got out. There was nothing there, but I stayed near the car because I was scared. Then I heard a bang, but I saw it was just the door to the old office swinging in the breeze. Well, I decided to get out of there and just as I turned to open the car door, I saw it squatting in the snow snarling at me. A big baboon; fur all puffed up with huge fangs. I yanked the car door open, but before I could get in, he jumped me and bit me in the arm. Now I keep a can of pepper spray under the car seat and I was just able to grab that and let that monkey get it in the face. As soon as he let go of me, I got the hell out of there."

     A guy in a grease-stain apron behind the counter called out that I had a phone call from Mallory. When I muttered how he knew I was here, Doreen smiled, "He's a smart man. If you give him a big enough chance, you'll find out he's a real nice guy, too."

     As soon as I picked up the phone, Mallory barked, "Ma'am, you better get over to my office right away. Pete just found something peculiar in the basement."

     I got a ham and cheese sandwich to go and headed over to the Hauntown town hall. Hauntown was laid out the same way as many small Iowa towns with delusions of grandeur were laid out in the late 1800's. A one block park in the middle of town complete with bandstand-gazebo, ringed all about with the town's businesses and municipal buildings. The Willow Inn is just off the southwest corner and the town hall sits squarely on the north side. So, setting off a brisk jog, I arrived in the town hall in scarcely two minutes. Mallory met me at the door.

     Without a word, he led me into the basement of the tidy little building and into a brightly lit room cluttered with piles of blueprints and engineering plans stacked on top of shelves and filing cabinets. At once I smelled a heavy, musky stink. A tall man with glasses stood staring at damaged spot in the far wall and scratching the bald spot atop his auburn head. He turned as soon as he heard us and looked at me.

     "Hi there. I'm Pete Rondale, town Civil Engineer. Bob said you might be able to tell me something about this," he said, pointing to the wall.

     The plaster had been scratched away down to the brick below by something with large human-hand like claws. As I got nearer, I saw the small pile of feces and the urine stains in the midst of what looked to be his desk.

     "I don't think an angry contractor did this," Bob observed.

     "Yep," smiled Pete wanly, "I usually get a lot more crap from 'em, too."

     "Possibly some animal...marking...territory..." I answered just as something about the bricks in the wall caught my eye. They weren't quite the right color for one; a sort of brownish-tan as opposed to the bright orange-red I've seen in many other old buildings. But what really caught my eye was a peculiar design had been stamped into them. I took out my handkerchief and brushed the plaster dust from them. They were stamped with ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs!

     "Well, I'll be," Pete murmured. "So, it is true after all. I thought it was just talk."

     "What is it?" Bob asked.

     "Wait a sec...I got a book around here somewhere," he said, starting to head toward a shelf half buried beneath a sheaf of plans.

     "How 'bout getting rid of this, first?" Bob shouted.

     Pete nodded and cleared away the mess on his desk. He returned an instant later with an old leather bound volume entitled A Concise History of Hauntown, Iowa. Just as he started flipping through the book, a terrible snarl erupted from behind some filing cabinets at the far end of the room.

     Bob drew his gun and held it ready. Pete looked at him in surprise.

     "Don't move," I told him. "It attacked Doreen, it may attack us."

     "A baboon? You can't be..." Pete started but a weird cry drowned him out. From outside, I thought I heard another...and another...and another...answering. Since the building was closed up tight for winter, I knew the others were close by.

     The baboon snarled once more, banging into the several of the blueprint draped filing cabinets. Though he couldn't see it, Bob instinctively fired three shots, each one sending aloft plumes of shredded paper. The animal screeched and chattered wildly. Suddenly, it stood up on its hind legs out in the open; fangs bared and yowling, its yellow eyes ablaze with rage.

     It was only 12 feet away. Bob drew a bead on the baboon and fired. The slug slammed into an adjacent filing cabinet and man-sized beast galloped up the stairs before Bob could get another shot off. Cursing, he ran after it, his hip slamming into another filing cabinet, knocking it over with a bang.

     Pete surveyed his disheveled office and the clench of his jaw showed plainly his resolve for housekeeping. He let out a sigh, showing it would have to wait for later, and turned his attention to the book. Bob clattered back down the steps and said he'd lost all track of the baboon, but it sounded like there were more out there.

     "Baboons...in Iowa...in the middle of winter," I pondered aloud.

     "I don't know about that, but it says here that the new town hall was built by Russell or Rusty Thornson on the foundations of a building that his father, Ezra Russell Thornson, brought over from Egypt brick by brick," Pete announced. He read aloud as he skimmed through the text. "Originally part of a temple complex at Pi-Ramses dedicated to Thoth...housed the messengers of Hapi, Guardian of the Dead."

     "Who the hell wrote that?" Bob laughed.

     "Arch Thornson, Arnold's dad. He was civil engineer here until 1975."

     "The mummy!" Bob shouted. "Remember Arnold found that mummy in his basement back in September?"

     The connection to the Hauntown Mummy set my mind racing (see: Mummy's Tomb Found In Mansion Basement, September, 1997, vol. 4, Issue #9). The Egyptians worshipped the ibis-headed Thoth as their god of learning, wisdom, and...magic. And there could only be two reasons why a man in Clinton County Iowa would bring an ancient Egyptian structure brick by brick back home: money and desire. And if he had both money and desire, would it not be likely that when he died...

     Messengers of the Guardian of the Dead...

     But I needed proof and the key to that was imbedded in the wall right in front of me.

     The hour was getting late and it took a little extra cajoling, but in the end, Pete chiseled out one of the dun colored bricks. I planned to take it to the Egyptology Studies Department at Georg von Podebrad College in the morning. I hadn't planned at all to stay the night but Pete mentioned Arnold and Ellen Thornson's Bed and Breakfast being just around the block behind the town hall. I phoned and after talking to Ellen, found they would be glad to have me. I was just about to head over when I asked Pete if I could borrow the Concise History Of Hauntown. He rolled his eyes, "Sure. It may even be safer in your care then here."

     Bob insisted on walking me over, but by the time we got outside, the enraged yowling had been replaced by a cold breeze and starlight. We walked on in silence and as we rounded the block, the Victorian monstrosity of Thornson Mansion hove into view. Five stories it was, a wrap-around porch hugged it like grandma's girdle. Four towering chimneys sprouted from its flat, wrought iron trimmed roof and lonely lamp dangled over the front door on a long chain like a lost soul in a gibbet.

     A terrible snarl erupting from the bushes startled us both. A large black shadow moved. We froze; Bob threw his arm in front of me and carefully unsnapped his holster. Suddenly, the shadow barked.

     The front door opened and an old, balding man stepped out shouting, "Quiet, Rex!"

     The dog woofed dully, annoyed at being criticized for doing its job.

     "Shut-up!" shouted the man. Then he held out his hand to me, "Archie Thornson, Ms. Cavalier. Sorry if he gave you a start. Hi, Bob."

     Bob nodded and mumbled a salutation. Then he bid me goodnight and left.

     Archie had just shown me into the grand foyer when he noticed a man about to enter the sitting room. He wore a robe over some flannel pajamas and carried a steaming cup of coffee.

     "Professor," Archie called to the man. As the man came closer, I noticed his olive complexion, the near eastern facial features, and the pencil mustache. Given the age of the house, I half expected him to be wearing a fez.

     "This is Doctor Saddam al-Jariri of the Egyptology Studies Program at Georg von Podebrad College," Archie announced, proudly. "He's examining our mummy's tomb."

     I took the professor's proffered hand. Then I described the brick I had just taken from the wall in the town hall. He smiled tolerantly and asked me to show it to him under better light. We moved into the sitting room.

     As he examined it under a lamp, I watched his brow knitting with fascination. At last he gasped, "This is a singular discovery! Before this moment, scholars debated whether this building ever existed in Egypt! And now you say the whole thing was brought to Iowa!"

     "Who were the messengers of Hapi, Guardian of the Dead?"

     "Sacred baboons," he replied matter of factly. "Hapi was the baboon spirit that guarded the dead when they appeared for final judgment before Osiris."

     To be continued...