Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb Chapter 2

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb

Chapter 2

I closed the door behind him and went to sit on the bed. Already threatened to give up the case—and I didn’t even know what it was about yet!

Another knock at the door startled me out of my daydreaming. It was Raj. Coming? Dinner’s ready.

Yeah, I said, distractedly.

What's up? He asked as I followed him out into the hallway. He had changed clothes as well. Dressed in long khaki pants and orange dress shirt he looked different than his usual tank top, basketball shorts and flip flops.

Tell you later, I said as I saw Neela and Maya come out of their rooms and approach us. Neela had opted for a blue sari that matched the one Maya was wearing.

 Zayd was probably back in his room, the music still blaring.

We followed Maya downstairs then into the dining room. Adya was there checking to make sure there were enough places set. She greeted us with a smile when we entered.

Sit down, please she said, motioning for me and Raj to sit along one side while Maya and Neela sat across from us. Maya sat directly across from me. Adya sat at one end of the table.

A moment later Fuad came in, having changed out of his suit into comfortable Indian attire, a long flowing cream coloured shirt called a kurta, and matching pants or pajama, loose fitting pants that narrowed at the ankle.

Where is your brother, Fuad boomed at Maya.

In his room, she replied.

We will eat without him, then, Fuad said, sitting down.

The servants soon served the food. I had done some research prior to the trip and was familiar with some of the food.

A plate of flat bread called naan, brushed with butter was brought out with another bowl of minced lamb called keema. The meat mixture was used to stuff the naan and eaten like a taco.

Another bowl of spicy potatoes, called dum aloo was served, as was some butter chicken and basmati rice. We served ourselves. I noticed that the food was not too spicy, probably for my benefit. I didn't mind spicy food as long as my mouth wasn't on fire for the rest of the day afterwards.

A small bowl of what looked like green beans was on the table. I reached for one but Raj nudged me. Those are hot peppers, he said under his breath. Extremely spicy. Use with caution.

Thanks, I mumbled back.

We apologize for our son's behaviour, Adya said as we were finishing our meal. She turned to Raj, are you OK?

I'm fine, Raj said. In fact, Zayd apologized, so we're good, he added nodding his head.

I doubted that Zayd had actually apologized. Why did Zayd hate Raj so much?

Once we were finished, a lovely young woman took away our plates. A small dessert was served, a rice pudding which was nice. After that was eaten, Fuad stood up. We will meet in my office, we have something very important to discuss, he said, turning to me and Raj. Will you two accompany me now?

Of course, Uncle Fuad, Raj said standing up. I got up and followed them out of the dining area across the parlour into another room that appeared to be Fuad's office. It was decorated in a western style, with bookshelves lining the walls. A family portrait was hanging on the one wall, taken quite a few years ago as Zayd and Maya were just small children. There was another child in the picture, an older child who I was not aware of. I was going to ask Raj later, but Fuad beat me to it.

My son Balan, Fuad said sadly, noticing me looking at the picture. He died soon after this portrait was taken about 10 years ago. He was killed in a road accident.

Oh, I'm sorry, I said, not knowing what else to say.

I was with Balan in the accident, Raj said quietly. I survived, obviously, he added. We were the same age. We were 10 when the accident happened. We were like best friends.

I put my hand on my friends shoulder. I'm sorry, Raj, I didn't know.

He just nodded and took a seat in from of Fuad's massive desk. I sat next to him. We were quiet for a moment as Fuad pulled a file from his desk drawer.

Justin, Raj has told me about your exploits back home in Canada. Your father is a renowned private investigator. I had a nice long chat with him yesterday, I hope you don't mind.

No, of course not, I said.

Fuad nodded. The reason I asked you here is that I need a young person to check something out for me. I have had an unusual request brought to me, and I need to know if this item can be located.

OK, I said nodding, curiosity piqued.

He handed over an 8×10 photograph, in colour. It looked like a casket. It appeared to be wood with intricate designs carved into is. Behind the coffin in the photo was what appeared to be a dark stone box. It reminded me of a tomb.

This is the tomb of Maharajah Nipendra Singh. We ruled one of the Indian states in the late 19^th century and early 20^th century. He was very revered here in Mumbai.

Fuad handed over another photo, black and white that showed a man dressed in beautifully embroidered top coat that went past the waist. Large gold buttons and a sheathed sword hung from his belt. His head was adorned with a wrap. He had a thick moustache that was tipped up at the edges. His eyes looked sad.

This is Nipendra Singh. He died in 1904 and was buried here in Mumbai on the Gharapuri Island in Mumbai harbour. A few years later his tomb was stolen from his grave on the island and is reputed to be here in the city. He had advisers when he was the maharajah and it was assumed that they stole the coffin and tomb but nothing was ever proven.

Recently a rumour has surfaced that the tomb was found on the grounds of the University of Mumbai. I need you and Raj to go to the university and see if you can see if the rumours are true and try to locate it if you can. The university directors are very reticent in giving out any information, but if the tomb can be located after all these years then maybe it's mystery of why it was stolen in the first place will be solved.

Why do you need a young person for this? I asked, curiously, handing back the two photos.

I need you two to infiltrate—go undercover at the university and pose as students, and find out where the tomb is located. Time is of the essence. There are many fanatics here in the city who might harm the tomb or the coffin if and when it's discovery is made public.

I have been asked my a business associate to recover the tomb and the coffin of the maharajah.  They also fear that the coffin will be desecrated and lost forever if we do not recover it soon. Time is of the essence.

As well, next week is the Maharajah's birthday and is considered a special holiday to some. I fear that if the tomb is not located and the coffin is not procured, then it will be damaged and maybe hidden away again. If this happens it may never be recovered.

Whoa! Raj said. OK, So that doesn't give us much time. He turned to me. Think we can do it?

I looked at my friend and felt an extra strong bond with him that I hadn't felt before this trip. Zayd's animosity towards him bothered me and I was sad about his losing his best friend 10 years ago. He had never mentioned this to me before.

You and me, together as a team, buddy, we can do it, I know we can.

Raj beamed. That's great, he said, turning back to his uncle. Where do we start?

The next day dawned bright and humid. I showered and dressed, back in more western attire, t-shirt and cargo shorts. I decided to wear my high tops as Raj and I would be doing a lot of walking. I went downstairs for breakfast at 6 am. The girls were still sleeping, having stayed up late the night before getting caught up.

I had a few minutes alone. I thought about what Zayd had told me about not accepting his father's request. I had no intention of not accepting whatever he had asked me to do. I wasn't worried about Zayd—he didn't scare me. But I had a bad feeling that he would not be happy about my decision. I would have to watch myself.

Raj met me a few minutes later in the dining room, dressed in a dark brown t-shirt and Bermuda shorts. He had opted for sneakers as well.

We ate a small breakfast of poha, pressed rice mixed with vegetables. Some more naan bread was available and some western style jam and peanut butter was laid out for us. We drank some milk to wash it all down, and were soon stuffed.

Fuad came into the room as we were finishing. I will have Qasim drive you to the university this morning. You have everything in your back packs as we have discussed?

Yes, Uncle Fuad, Raj said with a grin. We are ready to go. I nodded in agreement. Thank you so much, Justin and Raj for doing this. Please enjoy yourselves today, but we need to find the coffin and the tomb as soon as possible.

We had discussed the prior evening that Raj and I would be exchange students who had just started at the university but had to start late due to a family emergency. The current semester had only begun about 2 weeks earlier so we wouldn't be too far behind.

Luckily we were only enrolled in 2 classes. History of India and an English literature course. This would enable me to investigate in the area where the tomb was reported to be located without arousing too much suspicion.

Raj and I had read the class syllabus the evening before so we knew what books we needed to buy at the campus bookstore. As well, Uncle Fuad had rented a small apartment that Raj and I could stay at while we were going to school, about 2 blocks from the university.

We met Qasim out front about 5 minutes later with our backpacks and luggage. Qasim would drop us at school then take our bags to the apartment.

As we got into the limousine I stole a glance up at the windows on the second floor. I saw Zayd looking down at us, a scowl on his face. I hoped by disobeying him I wasn't putting myself and Raj into danger. Was he involved in the maharajah's tomb at school? Zayd did attend the university but was currently on a co-op semester and worked at a research firm not far away, so at least we wouldn't be running into him at the university. But he likely had friends and likely had contacted them about us already. Our cover might not last that long. We had to work fast.

We drove through the early morning streets of Mumbai, traffic already thick, cars zipping along the streets that had steam rising from an earlier rain shower.

We passed street vendors selling their wares. Finally Qasim turned down a small street lined with low apartment buildings. He pulled over in front of a nice cream coloured three story building. He turned to us. Your apartment is there, he said pointing to the building. Number 744. The apartment is Number 301 on the third floor. No elevator.

We nodded as he handed us a set of keys. I will take you to the university as classes start soon. I will return here with your luggage. You can walk back as the university is only 2 blocks away.

Qasim started to pull out into the street. A large truck had been lumbering along the street but had stopped about a half a block back. Once Qasim had pulled out, the truck suddenly gunned his engine and came right at us. I glanced out the back window and gasped. The truck was going to hit us!

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb Chapter 1

Mystery Of The Maharajah's Tomb

Chapter 1

The air was stifling as I stepped off the rickety bus and headed into the station and I was sweating profusely. My companions, brother and sister Raj and Neela Mistry followed close behind.

Over here, a voice called out as we went through the doors, and I turned to see who had spoken. It was the man we were meeting, here in the train station in central Mumbai, India.

Uncle Fuad! Raj called out, turning to make his way over to where the man was standing. I followed Raj and Neela to meet their father’s brother. I could see the resemblance right away. Fuad Mistry looked like his nephew, wavy dark brown hair, brown eyes, neatly trimmed dark moustache. He was about the same height as Raj, 5’11” but was more heavy set than his nephew. His suit was dark with a white shirt and no tie, his shoes were shined. He looked like a government official but he was in fact a businessman in Mumbai. I wasn’t sure the details of his business, but was sure I would soon find out. He was very rich according to Raj.

I greeted him with a handshake and he smiled. Mr. Macdonald, thank you for coming to Mumbai with my precious nephew and niece. It is good to see they are making friends in Canada. When I summoned them back here they said you might be able to help me.

I hope so, sir, I said. Call me Justin, please. This is a beautiful city—from what I’ve seen so far.

It is, he said with a grin. And please call me Uncle Fuad. Yes, it is very beautiful and very many people live here.

It’s the 8th largest city in the world, Raj boasted, looking between his uncle and me. Largest and richest city in India.

I nodded, grinning at my friend. He was excited to be back in his hometown.

When my brother moved to Canada, we never thought we would see you again for many years, my dear, Fuad said to Neela. I’m so happy you are here with your brother and his friend.

Oh, Uncle Fuad, you know we could never stay away too long. We miss you and Aunty Adya. And Maya and Zayd, of course.

You miss your aunt’s cooking, I’ll wager, Uncle Fuad said beaming. Your cousin Maya misses you too. I don’t know about my son, though. He has not been too happy lately. Come. We will get you settled—then we will discuss why I summoned you here.

We grabbed our luggage and went back out into the late afternoon sun. The heat was oppressive and the honking horns and general bustle of a large city made it noisy, but the architecture was breathtaking. I had never been to India before and was looking forward to the visit, even if it was not all pleasure.

Uncle Fuad had a limousine waiting at the curb. We piled our luggage inside the trunk then got in the back. Fuad’s chauffeur was named Qasim and was a short older gentleman with greying hair and brown eyes. He wore a black hat and white gloves and a white shirt and tie.

Once we were inside, the car pulled into traffic. Qasim drove from the busy section into more residential area. We turned onto a side street and I gasped. The homes were huge, as big as I’ve ever seen anywhere. Palm trees dotted the boulevard and set back in from the street were the houses, surrounded by fences and beautiful trees.

Leaving the noise behind, the street narrowed and started to twist and turn through shaded areas with larger trees. We drove for a while, the homes getting seemingly more beautiful the further we drove.

Finally, Qasim turned into a driveway. I couldn’t see the house right away, it was secluded by a grove of trees, a large banyan tree in the centre, with its wide foliage and twisted trunk.

Uncle Fuad has a grove of these banyan trees in the back orchard, Neela remarked as she noticed me admiring the one in front of us.

Qasim drove up the winding bricked driveway and went around a small bend at the top. The “house” came into view then. It was quite simply a mansion! Two stories of cream coloured wood, with inset windows and main entrance with a large balcony on the second floor. Palm trees dotted the surroundings. It was peaceful here, I thought as we got out of the limousine. Another young man dressed in dress pants and white shirt came forward with a small cart and got our luggage from the trunk.

Once we had our things, Qasim drove off to park the limousine in the garage which I figured was out behind the house.

This is Bashir, my butler, Uncle Fuad announced. He will look after you while you are here. Bashir, please take the young people’s things to their rooms.

Bashir smiled and nodded and moved off with the cart of luggage.

Now you will meet my family, Fuad announced, clapping his hands.

We went into the main entrance and again I was shocked at how opulent this home was. Raj had told me a little about his uncle before we came. He was a very rich man here in the city and this had caused a little animosity between Fuad and his brother Hamid, Raj’s dad.

A woman dressed in along flowing aqua coloured sari came out to greet us.

Aunt Adya! Neela exclaimed running over to her aunt. She kissed her on the cheek. Raj approached and did the same. She approached me and shook my hand. Welcome to our home, Justin, she said. She was smiling but I detected a note of sadness in her eyes.

Neela! A female voice called from somewhere above us. A teenaged girl dressed similarly to her mother but in an orange sari, came running down the curved stairway and came up to Neela, giving her a hug and kiss. I assumed this was Maya. She spoke a few words to Neela in a foreign language, I supposed was Hindi.

English only, her mother admonished. We have a guest.

Sorry, mother. Maya saw Raj and gave him a hug. You’re looking good, cousin, she cooed. You're looking fit and you look so handsome with your moustache.

You're looking well too, Maya, Raj said, embarrassed. Here, this is my friend Justin Macdonald, from Canada.

Maya turned to me. I noticed her eyes, a creamy chocolate brown. Her hair was long and curly, interlaced with strings of jewels. She also had a small shiny stud in her nose.

She stopped when she saw me. Oh, this is Justin, she said, coming over and shaking my hand. She turned to Neela. You lied to me, cousin, she said. He’s not homely at all!

I said no such thing, Neela gasped, slapping Maya’s arm. Raj just snickered.

So, you made it, another voice—male, boomed from the stairway. A young man, I assumed was Zayd, came down the steps. Unlike his mother and sister, he was dressed in western attire, jeans with ripped knees, a white t-shirt and black zippered fleece sweater and black high tops. His hair was dark brown and curly and went to his shoulders, with dark brown deep set eyes. Clean shaven except for a few days growth of stubble.

He came over to Raj and went to shake his hand but at the last minute pulled his hand away and smacked Raj in the face. Raj turned away putting his hand to his face.

Zayd! His mother said. What was that for?

Zayd was silent for a moment. Answer your mother, Fuad boomed. That was very rude. Apologize to Raj.

It’s OK, Uncle Fuad. Raj said. Aunt Adya. Really. Zayd and I have an—understanding. We’re cool.

That’s right, cousin, Zayd sneered. He turned to me. You must be Raj’s friend from Canada. You have my sympathy. He put his hand out and I shook it—reluctantly.

Zayd—enough! His father roared. Back to your room—now!

Zayd looked at his father and scowled, but finally relented and turned and went back upstairs.

Adya came over to me. I apologize for Zayd’s rudeness.

I just shrugged and glanced at Raj who looked a little shocked at his cousin’s actions. I nodded to him as if to say “You OK?” and he nodded back.

Maya, can you take our guests to their rooms. They can relax before dinner is served in a little over an hour.

Neela followed Maya up the winding staircase, Raj and I following in their wake.

The upstairs hallway was carpeted with a rich golden brown colour. Mirrors adorned the walls and Indian art hung at intervals, interspersed with large vases, some with flowers, some empty. One large vase at the end of the hall had a beautiful countryside scene painted on it. We passed a door about halfway down with loud music blaring from behind. It was a western band I wasn’t familiar with.

Zayd’s room, Maya said pointing to the door as we passed. My parents room is there, she added pointing to the first door we passed, next to Zayd’s. Mine is on the other side of my brother’s. You will each have a room across the hall. Neela of course will be across from me, she added with a giggle.

My room proved to be right across from Zayd’s and Raj was next to mine, first door on the left. The servant’s quarters were in the basement.

We went into our respective rooms. I was totally bowled over by the opulence. Rich red carpeting with a large king size bed with a dark red comforter sat along the inside wall. A large window faced out to a large yard with the grove of banyan trees that Fuad had mentioned earlier. My bags were on top of the bed. I opened up my suitcase and started to put away my clothes in the large dresser, handles looked like they were made of gold.

A large mirror was behind the bed. More art hung on the walls. Once unpacked I noticed a small room at the back. I opened the door to reveal a small en suite bathroom with a shower, sink, toilet and another device sitting beside that resembled a toilet. What was that?

I decided to have a quick shower to freshen up. Once I was done with the shower I got dressed quickly. I decided to dress up a little for dinner, choosing dark pants and turquoise dress shirt. I was just pulling on a clean pair of socks when there was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Raj I opened the door. I was surprised to see Zayd there.

Hey, I said. What’s up?

Can I come in?

He brushed past me into the room without waiting for an answer. Sure, I said. I could smell garlic on him, like he had just eaten an entire clove of it.

I left the door open but he turned back and closed it. We need to talk, he said, sitting down on the bed. He had taken off his shoes since we met in the hallway, to reveal bright neon green socks with blue polka dots.

Never the one to mince words I first asked the question I had been dying to ask since I arrived. What’s your problem with Raj?

My cousin? Pfft. He’s a doofus, that’s all, Zayd said.

I don’t think so.

You don’t know him very well, Zayd said.

I know him well enough, I said, not liking this guy very much. What did you need to talk to me about?

The reason you’re here in India. My father wants you to look into something for him, Zayd said, standing up again and approaching me.

He hasn’t spoken to me about it yet, I said. I don’t even know what it’s about.

Good, Zayd said visibly wilting. When he asks you to help him say that you can’t. Make up some excuse. Any excuse.

Why? I said. Why would I do that? That’s the whole reason I’m here. I’m a guest in his home. I can’t just turn him down like that.

But you will, he added with a menace to his voice.

Or else what? I said getting up in his face. Are you going to do something? I hated bullies and I hated being threatened even more.

Zayd stepped back, shocked at my response, but quickly recovered. Yeah, he said. I will do something. And you won’t like it. I promise you that.

With that he left the room.

Night Of The Zombie Chapter 8- Final Chapter!

Night Of The Zombie

Chapter 8

Uh-oh. What was going on?

The emergency lights came on a second later. I got up and left the room to go and find Dad but stopped when I saw someone standing in the middle of the hallway outside my door.

The person was holding a gun, the emergency light casting a reddish glow on his bald head.

You had no intention of listening to me, did you? Chief Rose sneered. I knew you were investigating this further. I told you to leave the investigating to the police.

You got a phone call from the hospice, I said, suddenly regretting my decision to call. He must have figured it out it was me that called. Dumb move on my part.

He didn’t respond.

Dad! I called out but there was no response. What have you done to my father, I asked seething.

Nothing too serious, Rose wheezed. But don’t bother calling him again. He won’t hear you.

So it was you all along, I said. It wasn’t Zach you were trying to ruin, it was Lee Landers?

Rose just stared at me. He was wheezing again and wiped perspiration off his face as he continued to stare at me.

I’m sorry about your nephew, I said, quietly. You can’t blame Lee for that.

Oh, but I do blame him, Rose mumbled, licking his lips under his massive moustache.

But Simon was in an accident. Lee had nothing to do with that.

My poor nephew blacked out on that mountain road, because of the injury that Lee inflicted, he said. So you see, he did ruin his life, so I’m going to ruin Lee’s career. And in turn his life

I don’t buy it, I said. You can’t blame—

Enough, Rose roared. You are an insolent little pest, he said. I told you to stay out of police business, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you will stay out permanently. You’re such good friends with Lee Landers and any friend of  his is an enemy of mine. So I’m going to eliminate you here and now. No one will suspect it was me—after all I will lead the investigation—poor Justin Macdonald the victim of a robbery at his father’s lab. Ha! Poetic justice finally.

You’re freakin’ crazy, man, I said, hoping to stall for time. This man was deranged. He had gotten a job as police chief solely to exact revenge of Lee Landers. That was just crazy. I told him as much.

You don’t understand, he said, wheezing and now sniffling. I didn’t just want to ruin his career, I wanted him to suffer. Like Simon suffered. I tried before—to kill him or at least make him suffer, but he always squeaked by without a scratch. So I tried another tack—ruin his career. What better way than to ruin another movie. Investors were counting on this one succeeding, if it didn’t then they would drop him and Zach--permanently. They would never work in L.A. again. Goodbye filmmaking career. Whatever career he tried next, I would be there as well, doing my darndest to ruin that as well.

You hoped he would die when you set up that carbon monoxide poisoning stunt, I said, incredulous. We could have all died. Everyone in that room.

That would have been unfortunate. For Mr. Gilman and Mr. Mistry. For the rest of you—not really. I don’t like Mr. Bristow much or his movies for that matter. Zombies are so—I don’t know. Stupid.

You stole the car from the high school, or had it stolen then handled the investigation. Wow! Mysteriously no suspects. What a shame!

Rose just smirked.

You know, I don’t like you very much. I hope you realize that, I hissed, getting sick to my stomach now.

I figured as much, but you see, it will all end here, he said. You—a victim of a robbery and all I will have is another conveniently unsolved case on my hands. I’ll get rid of that pesky Canning—he’s much too friendly to you Macdonald clan. I don’t know what it is you have that people want to help you all the time.

Something you’ll never understand, I muttered. It’s something called compassion and just being a good person. People tend to respond to that, I don’t know, it’s silly really, I added sarcastically.

I was a good person once, he said, wistfully. But look where it got me. A nephew who might as well be dead and people like Lee Landers walk around making stupid zombie movies like nothing else matters.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the security system blink into “on” mode, due to the lights being out for so long. Rose must have unknowingly tripped the security back up. I only hoped since he was the chief he wouldn’t be alerted and cancel it and “deal” with it himself.

It’s time, he said finally. He lifted his gun and aimed at me, but a voice behind him called out. Hold it, Rose.

Canning.

Leave us alone, Officer Canning, Rose hissed. I’m taking care of this.

I don’t think so, Chief, Canning said, coming closer. Put the gun down, sir. You don’t want to do this.

Rose turned suddenly and aimed at Canning, but Canning saw it coming. He dived into the main lab room as Rose fired, putting a bullet into the wall. I took advantage of the momentary distraction to fly back into the computer lab and shut the door. I dialed 911. A bullet hit the door but didn’t penetrate. Another two shots then silence.

Justin, you OK, Canning said, opening the door. Rose lay on the ground, eyes staring at the ceiling, blood seeping from a wound on his chest.

I stepped past Canning. Dad! I blurted, moving along the hallway towards Dad’s office. He was slumped over his desk, still seated in his chair. I pulled him back and he came to. Justin? What happened, he asked rubbing his forehead where a large goose egg was forming.

It was Rose, I blurted. All along. He’s in the hallway. Canning’s got him under control. The police and ambulance are on their way.

Dad smiled. Good work son, he said.

It was nearing midnight. Zach and Lee were in the main police interrogation room, Canning was there as was Dad whose goose egg had gone down after having it looked at by paramedics.

Rose is in the hospital and is expected to survive—I know, Canning said, but he’s a seriously disturbed man. He will get counselling.

So he wanted to ruin my career, Lee said, shaking his head. After what I did to Simon Rose. That’s nuts. Simon and I actually became sort of friends after our ordeal. I got help after I was in jail for a few months. Simon came to see me and we kind of patched things up. I deeply regretted what had happened to him. I didn’t know about the dizzy spells, he added looking down.

Those were from an underlying condition, Canning said. We spoke to the doctors out in B.C. Simon had epilepsy and that’s what brought on the dizzy spell and the crash that fateful night. He should never have been driving a car. Your attack had nothing to do with it.

What a relief, Lee sighed.

But Rose didn’t know about the epilepsy, Canning replied. His brother, Simon’s father, didn’t tell anyone in the family about the epilepsy. He and his wife were distraught after the accident and Rose wanted revenge. I heard that his being a chief of Police in Vancouver, he had some pull with the authorities in L.A. and in some roundabout way tried to mess up some paperwork.

Yeah, it was strange, Lee continued. I had these police hounding me for days but they soon left me alone. I had a few near miss accidents as well. I guess that was Rose’s doing?

He admitted as much, I stated.

And our first movie, Zach said. Was he involved in that movie being a bomb.

Not so sure about that, son, Canning said with a smile. I think it was just a bad movie.

Zach was silent for a moment. Yeah, it was but I thought I could blame someone else.

Told you, Lee said with a smirk. You’re always trying to blame others. He then smiled. I would try to do the same, he added.

Is that what you guys were arguing about earlier, I asked, rembering them yelling at each other in the trailer. And the animosity they seemed to have when I first met Lee the day of the fire.

Yeah, Zach said with a grin. Lee and I butt heads once in a while, but we always come out of it no problem. We understand each other, he said with a wink at Lee.

So, when Rose learned that you making your movie here in Port Salser he immediately asked for a transfer, our chief was retiring so the timing was perfect, Canning remarked. He got the job—probably with some finagling behind the scenes. That way he would be in charge of any investigation that took place and could hide evidence.

The fire at the tent was to delay filming, Canning went on. He used a lighter and gas can which would be virtually untraceable. He wanted everyone to know that the movie was being targeted. He also planned the “zombie invastion” with masks and make up he arranged to have stolen from Mandy’s trunks. He stepped it up when that didn’t really work. He wrote the notes to Zach to throw suspicion off his real target—Lee, I remarked. Then the carbon monoxide was the last straw. Killing you or seriously injuring you would have certainly but a kibosh on the filming.

What about the zombies, Zach said after a moment. The ones that caused the vandalism?

Like I said, he planned that, but I also think that plan was already in place when he stole the masks before the fire, I surmised. He had hired some people on the side and told them to go to town—and not get caught. If they had been caught he would have just released them later on his authority.

The carbon monoxide was, however, a spur of the moment thing, Canning related. When that didn’t work he went ahead with the vandalism anyway.

Very creative mind, Dad said. He had a list of things to thwart the film but one after one we in turn thwarted the attempts. Just like the attacks back in L.A.

Thanks goodness for that, Zach said. And thanks to Justin for not giving up on us.

That’s what friends are for, I said. Hey, isn’t that a song?, I added with a grin.

Soon after Rose came to town he learned of Justin’s involvement in police cases and quickly put a stop to that, Canning said. I’m afraid I told him about you. It was soon after that he wanted to transfer me. I blamed you, he added looking at me. I’m sorry Justin for being a jerk to you. I was upset at you and at Rose, but couldn’t do anything about Rose, his being my boss.

No worries, Paul. I just wish you would have told me. I couldn’t figure out why you were so ticked at me. After all, I’m such a likeable guy, aren’t I?

Paul and the others laughed. Sometimes, he said ominously.

The next day dawned rainy and cool. It was a nice change from the searing heat, and as an extra bonus it was great weather for filming a zombie movie.

Van, Raj and I were in our makeup and masks that had been recovered from Rose’s apartment. We looked much scarier and deader with our masks than just the make-up. The final scenes were to be shot before the team returned to L.A for indoor shooting later in the week.

I heard Lana Somers is going to be in this movie, Van said, scratching at his mask. They were a little itchy. Too bad she didn’t come on the location shoot. I would’ve loved to get her autograph.

I could get your autograph, I said mysteriously.

How—you’re going to L.A.? aren’t you? Lucky butt, he muttered.

Well, all of us are going, if you can come that is.

What! Van and Raj said simultaneously.

Yeah, I asked the guys if we could come watch the shoot in L.A. and they agreed. Only one hitch.

What’s that? Van said skeptically.

We have to work on the crew. Put up some of the equipment be gophers, stuff like that. But we get to stay at Lee’s home in Hollywood. There’s a pool—and a maid I heard.

I don’t mind that, Raj said, scratching at his moustache so that some of the make up came off.

What are you doing?  A voice blurted out. Mandy came over to Raj and pulled him away and into the nearby tent to add more make-up colouring to his moustache.

Another voice piped up from the opposite direction. OK, you zombies there, let’s go. We have one more scene to shoot.

Van and I went off, Raj joining us a minute later. Don’t scratch at it, dude, I said as we made our way to the street where we would be filming our last scene of the day.

But it itches, he complained.

You could just shave it off, Van muttered.

No way, I’m not shaving off my moustache, he said, touching it gently. It makes me look like—.

A butt, Van interjected. Yeah, you’re right about that.

No, Raj said defensively. Like my favourite Bollywood star. Ravi Shankar. He’s cool. And he gets all the chicks.

You would be cool without the moustache, I remarked diplomatically.

Just then a young girl came up to us, pen and paper in hand. She went right to Raj. Can I have your autograph? She asked, eyes twinkling. Raj wrote his name as the girl giggled, her two friends coming up and asking for his autograph as well.

The two girls just ignored us completely!

Raj handed back the notepad. I like your moustache; the girl said. You look so handsome and debonair. Even in your zombie costume. You know you’re my favourite zombie in the whole movie. I can’t wait for this movie to come out.

With that she turned away as Van and I looked at our friend, incredulous, our mouths hanging open

Raj just looked at us with a wicked grin. Eat your heart out fellows, he said, then walked away, whistling.

**the end**

©2015 by  JT Brock