Mum looked pale. Her bedside light cast deep shadows across her cheeks. Andrew put a glass of water down for her.
‘Thanks, sweetheart. Listen. Three across, six letters, a faint whisper, starts with “M-something-R”?’ She held her pen above her bumper book of crosswords hopefully.
‘I have no idea. We should make an appointment at the doctor,’ Andrew said.
‘Why? Are you poorly?’
‘No. But you are.’
‘Just tired. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.’
Andrew made a noise that was disagreeing without arguing.
She smiled at him. Then gasped.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Murmur! Three across is murmur!’
He left her to it and went to get ready for bed.
Pyjamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, a tiny bit of singing into the toothbrush to classic pop tunes. Then actually cleaning his teeth. His brush slowed as he stared at himself in the mirror. He’d taken off his glasses and the reflected image was blurry. Something was bothering him.
Something to do with three across.
What was it?
Not the clue. Or the answer. Mum probably had that right. But something about it was making his brain feel a little itchy. As though he had left the house but forgotten to lock the front door.
M-something-R?
Then it hit him.
The letter he’d lifted from the mummy’s case that evening – the watermark had been damaged by the smoke. It said V-something-S-something-Y! Tilda had thought it said Valley, because of Valley of the Kings. But it couldn’t. It didn’t fit. The smoke had scorched the S and made it visible.
He spat in the sink and dropped his toothbrush into the cup.
V-something-S-something-Y.
What could that be? Was it a clue?
Vosey? Vesay? Visey? They didn’t mean anything to him. They weren’t even real words.
Vusay? Vasey?
He paused.
Vasey.
That was ringing the tiniest bell imaginable. He’d seen that somewhere.
Andrew splashed water on his face, rinsing away stray blobs of toothpaste. He dried his hands, patted his cheeks.
Vasey.
On Marsh Road.
The construction firm who were redeveloping the building opposite Meeke’s were called Vasey. He’d tried to make an anagram from their name a few days ago, and failed.
But he was sure he hadn’t failed this time.
The letter was a fake.
Someone had used Vasey Construction’s business paper to write the note inside the mummy’s case. They hadn’t noticed the watermark.
But who?
And why?
Was he right?
Andrew left the bathroom and headed to his bedroom. He paused by the phone in the hallway. He had the tingling feeling he got when a case was getting hotter. But maybe he was just catching a cold from being out in the rain.
He needed a second opinion.
It was just about not too late to call Piotr.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone and dialled. Piotr’s mum answered, and, though she didn’t sound very pleased about it, she took the phone through to Piotr, who was reading in bed.
‘Hi,’ Andrew said. ‘You busy?’
‘I’ve got the latest edition of Batman. But no, not really. What’s up?’
‘I think I’ve got something.’ He explained quickly about V-something-S-something-Y.
Piotr made some doubtful noises. ‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence? I mean, the letter looked really old. What makes you think that it has anything to do with a construction company?’
‘There are builders right there! On Marsh Road.’ Another flash went off in his mind. ‘And Miranda’s kitchen is lovely!’
Piotr laughed. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Builders! I bet a million dollars that if we asked Miranda which builders made her extension, she’d say Vasey. And I bet that they went up to the loft poking around her grandad’s stuff. If Benedict and Miranda didn’t touch the mummy, then someone must have. We should ask Miranda!’
Piotr sighed. ‘And we will. But in the morning.’
‘I could try and call her now?’
‘It’s late. It can wait until morning. And so can you.’
‘I don’t know if I can.’
‘Well, try. Goodnight.’ And with that, Piotr hung up.