In Need of Experts: Finding Theresa Ruiz

It was Monday, March 17, and the investigators returned to the Mexican District, the shantytown just west of the Los Angeles river. The intrepid investigators filled their automobile with provisions for the destitute population of Little Mexico, although Jules had some difficulty deciding if the poor wretches required caviar or paté. The state troopers allowed the investigators to enter without much questioning, since they did carry several aid packages, and Jules Pollack managed to find his way to the Church of Saint Franciscus, which was open. Young Father Rodriguez was praying in front of the altar, all by himself, as the church had been caring for the many deceased of the congregation. The smell of death permeated the pews, despite the many flowers strewn around the church. Father Rodriguez was talkative, tired, and quite helpful, but he really didn't have any new information that might lead the adventurers to the whereabouts of Theresa Ruiz. However, Father Rodriguez did provide directions to Salvatore Brixi, the coroner who was supposed to know the neighborhood quite well.

Salvatore Brixi

The coroner resided in an unassuming office, and Lake and Chester entered Brixi's office while the other investigators remained in the automobile. Brixi could not resist sizing up Lake and Chester while eyeing the empty coffins stacked against one of the walls. Brixi was happy to help, although he turned out to be a strange fellow who left Lake and Chester with a distinct sense of unease, as if the terms "medium" and "tall/slim" implied impending doom. Brixi did not have any new information on Pagano, but he might know where to find such information.

While Lake and Chester engaged Brixi, a somewhat bored Jules Pollack noted several figured emerging from the surrounding alleyways. He alerted Baker and MacKenzie and stepped out of the vehicle to confront the gaggle of hooligans. The thug in charge was quite a bit bigger than Jules Pollack, and without any form of proper introduction, he proceeded to ask Pollack what business he had with the Mary Star of the Sea, and to simply stay away - or else! The situation got out of hand pretty much right away, and the leader of the thugs lashed out to grab Moira Baker's rifle while Pollack struggled with Another one of the thugs. Mackie Mackenzie whipped out the legendary Pocket Knife of Doom, and lunged at the leader of the bandits, burying the knife all the way to the hilt in the arm of the ruffian, while Baker struggled to get control over her rifle. A shot burned off, and this was of course noticed by Lake and Chester inside Brixi's office. They all ran out as a couple of thugs tried to surround the automobile. Lake fired off an aimed round with his Luger, hitting a bandit in the knee, but Lake subsequently decided to skip the niceties and blew off the head of the next bandit. Meanwhile, Baker regained control over her rifle, and both Baker and Pollack fired their weapons at the leader of the bandits. Two bandits were now dead as doornails, one was wounded, and the rest fled unceremoniously.

These thugs were not prepared for determined investigators!

Brixi offered to "take care" of the dead thugs, and he also recommended that the investigators talk to the proprietor at the local unnamed bar. The Amazing Andreo was apparently one of the best sources for information in the Mexican District. The bar was in an open courtyard with dimmed lights and posters depicting the Amazing Andreo, who turned out to be really tall and muscular female Mexican wrestler who ran quite a tight ship, or rather bar. Considering the disease ravaging the community, the bar wasn't particularly full, and the Amazing Andreo was more than eager to serve the investigators, in this case Moira Baker, Mackie MacKenzie and Salvatore Brixi (who labelled the Amazing Angel "large/wide"). She did know of a house that had been rented to a person that matched the description of Pagano, and she also managed to coax Moira Baker into appearing at a wrestling extravaganza that was supposed to take place next Saturday, March 22.

The Amazing Angel.

By now the investigators had what they hoped would be the address to Pagano's rental schack. They decided to pay the house a visit first thing next morning. 

The streets were mostly empty as the investigators returned to the Mexican District. A local was peacefully napping at the corner of the block where Pagano's rental was supposed to be located. Chester and Lake told the other investigators to stay clear of the door while they sneaked up against one of the walls. The other investigators remained oblivious right in front of the door, and as Chester opened the door, unleashing two furious and maddened Rotweilers that attacked Pollack, Baker and MacKenzie.

A fierce dogfight ensued, and as the investigators tumbled around with the crazed beasts, Moira reached for an unlikely champion: Karen the hen, who was quite terrified in her cage. The feathered companion did manage to distract one of the crazed canines, and the investigators subsequently did dispatch the dogs without further ado. The small and filthy schack did contain a basement, and a very scared Theresa Ruiz was found chained to a potbelly stove. This was a happy ending of sorts, although there was no sign of the villanous Pagano. However, there was still a book to purchase, a wrestling event to attend, and a movie mogul to satisfy.

In Need of Experts: A Hen Called Karen

As a Saturday morning broke, the LAPD was walking around the set, knocking on trailers and showing the sleepy occupants pictures of a young girl named Theresa Ruiz. She was allegedly kidnapped just outside the set yesterday morning. The intrepid investigators sensed some urgency in their attempts to find out where Pagano might be, and what he might be up to. Samuel Goldwyn was furious by now, simply livid. With his trusty assistant – Joe Pagano – gone and police swarming over the set, this was heading in a most unwanted publicity direction. The indomitable investigators split forces, with Lake and Baker heading to the Los Angeles Historical Society to examine, Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New England Canaan and to find any connection to Joe Pagano. Mackie, Jules and Henry decided to drive over to the quarantined so-called Mexican District, a neighborhood of thousands of people living in rundown wood-frame homes and dirt yards east of Downtown. Also referred to as the “Macy Street District” and “Little Mexico,” this neighborhood of makeshift lean-tos, aging catalog kit houses, crumbling brick structures, and adobes abutted the old Chinatown and the original Los Angeles Pueblo.

 From the diary of Moira Baker:

The LA Historical Society is located in a rather rickety building just south of the Hollywood Hills. The door was opened by an older lady, Ms. Plunkett, and Henry Lake turned out to be quite the lush, expelling layers of schmaltz to sweep Ms. Plunkett off her feet. We were promptly given access to the Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New England Canaan, and it turned out to be not only a first edition, but the commentary in the margins were actually penned by the priest Ward Phillips himself back in 1788 or so!

As we delved into the book, I could not get rid of a gnawing knot of despair when I think of the little girl Theresa Ruiz and what Pagano might do to her. I can only conclude that she is heading towards a horrible soul-devouring fate unless we find her in time. I have read the hoary tomes and grimoires that describe the horrible fashion of sacrifice that supposedly placates these strange eldritch beings that seem to be found in the remote corners of our society. Something truly terrible might happen on Friday!  

From the diary of Henry Chester:

(Illegible)

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

The Mexican District is an abominable insult to immigrant working-class families, and the police and reservists that had cordoned off the area were much more interested in keeping the immigrants out of society than actually helping fight the “Double Pneumonia” that is crippling this neighborhood. We were finally allowed to enter, but we were told to be on our guard against the local inhabitants, which were called by any number of slurs. The Mexican District was foul-smelling, and disturbingly empty. One could notice the furtive stares from inside decrepit buildings as we slowly drove down grimy Spring Street. We eventually found an old lady at a fruit stand, and Henry spoke to her in Spanish as we eyed the sad produce in front of her. The exchange was rapid, and we were finally gifted with information, fruit, and a hen. Seek out a bar, the school, Carlotta Romero, principal Jesus Toledo, and Savatore Brixi, in no particular order.

A case of pomodoro turned pollo (and Italian to Spanish, with tomato being tomate in Spanish).

From the diary of Mackie Mackenzie:

I’ve been pollo:ed, and I am now the owner of a hen that likes to roost in a paper bag. I shall call her Karen, and she will be my watch-hen. Huzzah!

 There are three churches in the Mexican District, the Church of Saint Franciscus, the Baptist Mission Church on Avila and Bauchet, and Church of Our Lady Mary, Star of the Sea. Saint Franciscus was surrounded by the bereft, as there were several funerals. Several of the immigrants outside the church looked quite ill, and one of then kept coughing up huge blobs of blood-steaked mucus. The Baptist mission is run by Ms. Bethany Dietrick, a devout and sturdy provider of much needed charity, and she was very concerned with this double pneumonia that is spreading uncontrolled through the Mexican District. Finally, the Star of the Sea church was closed and locked, and a dusty sign simply stated “services Sundays, open Mondays”. As dusk was approaching, we decided to head back to the film studio, and head back to the Mexican District together with Moira and Mr. Lake tomorrow morning, as in Sunday.

That Sunday, the illustrious investigators did drive back to the Mexican District. The first stop was the Church of Our Lady Mary, Star of the Sea. The sturdy padlock on the rear entrance did fare poorly against the lock picking equipment and deft hands of Lake and Chester, and it was only a matter of minutes before the party of five entered a dusty and cobwebbed church. Lake privately questioned both the judgement the and sanity of his comrades as Pollack expertly pointed out ominous occult patterns that had been painted in front of the altar, and this led to a most thorough search in and under the church – or was it even a church? Persistence eventually paid off, and Moira Baker found an extraordinarily well hidden compartment inside the writing desk in the refrectory. It contained a fairly sizeable notebook with the title “Proceedings of the Esoteric Order of Dagon”, and both Mackie and Moira realized that this may actually pertain to the lost cursed cult of Dagon, whose devilish worshippers were burned alive and their ashes strewn for the winds by Roman legionnaires back in antiquity, although it cost the mind of the legate Claudius Lucius Brocca.

Dagon and friends

Much had been written in the notebook over the course of half a century, but the final paragraphs were particularly chilling:

“We leave tomorrow, beckoning the summons of our Father Dagon. But we have prepared the land for his return, and we shall witness the glory of his rule, his omnipotence. The unfaithful will be vanquished by a lingering malaise, a few at first, but eventually all who do not bow down to father Dagon on the twenty-first of the second”

 

-       Sister Carmilla, Prefect of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, on March 25, 1913, as witnessed by the faithful.

 

Mackie added the information below regarding Dagon:

Dagon (Phoenician romanized: Dāgūn; Hebrew: דָּגוֹן‎ Dāgōn) or Dagan (Sumerian romanized: ^dda-gan^[) is an ancient Mesopotamian and ancient Canaanite deity. He appears to have been worshipped as a fertility god in Ebla, Assyria, Ugarit, and among the Amorites. The Hebrew Bible mentions him as the national god of the Philistines with temples at Ashdod and elsewhere in Gaza.

 

A long-standing association with a Canaanite word for "fish" (as in Hebrew: דג‎, Tib. /dɔːg/), perhaps going back to the Iron Age, has led to an interpretation as a "fish-god", and the association of "merman" motifs in Assyrian art (such as the "Dagon" relief found by Austen Henry Layard in the 1840s).

 

Marnas was the Hellenistic expression of Dagon. His temple, the Marneion—the last surviving great cult center of paganism—was burned by order of the Roman emperor during the Persecution of pagans in the late Roman Empire in 402. Treading upon the sanctuary's paving-stones had been forbidden. Christians later used these same to pave the public marketplace. Dagon is still mentioned as a figure of cultic worship in the First Book of Ethiopian Maccabees (12:12), which was composed sometime in the 4th century AD.

 

The "fish" etymology was accepted in 19th and early 20th century scholarship. This led to the association with the "merman" motif in Assyrian and Phoenician art (e.g. Julius Wellhausen, William Robertson Smith), and with the figure of the Babylonian Oannes (Ὡάννης) mentioned by Berossus (3rd century BC).

 

The first to cast doubt on the "fish" etymology was Schmökel (1928), who suggested that while Dagon was not in origin a "fish god", the association with dâg "fish" among the maritime Canaanites (Phoenicians) would have affected the god's iconography.^[9] Fontenrose (1957:278) still suggests that Berossos's Odakon, part man and part fish, was possibly a garbled version of Dagon. Dagon was also equated with Oannes.

 

The association with dāg/dâg 'fish' is made by 11th-century Jewish Bible commentator Rashi. In the 13th century, David Kimhi interpreted the odd sentence in 1 Samuel 5.2–7 that "only Dagon was left to him" to mean "only the form of a fish was left", adding: "It is said that Dagon, from his navel down, had the form of a fish (whence his name, Dagon), and from his navel up, the form of a man, as it is said, his two hands were cut off." The Septuagint text of 1 Samuel 5.2–7 says that both the hands and the head of the image of Dagon were broken off.

 

—Roman imperial period An abundance of material and literary sources indicate that the cult of Marnas was associated with the ancient city of Gaza, located in the Eastern Mediterranean on what is today Palestine. According to Taco Terpstra, the literary texts represent Marnas as a "sky god who also performed oracles. Ancient authors equate him with Cretan Zeus, but the tradition seems to be Hellenistic in date."(Terpstra, p. 182). The depictions of Marnas in coin iconography is not consistent. At times he is shown naked, similar to a naked and bearded Zeus, either seated on a throne or standing while holding a lightning bolt. Other images show Marnas holding a bow, standing on a pedestal in front of a female deity. Regardless of the variety of depictions, the abundance of them on coins indicates that the inhabitants of Gaza held him in high esteem and associated this god with their city. (Terpstra, 182). Gazan overseas traders were still adhering to this cult well into the fifth century CE (Terpstra p.186).

 

–In Christian literature Marnas is mentioned in the works of the fourth century scholar and theologian Jerome, in several stories from his Life of St. Hilarion, written around 390 CE, in which he condemns his adherents as idolatrous and as "enemies of God." Violent sentiments against the cult of Marnas and the destruction of his temple in Gaza are described by Mark the Deacon, in his account of the life of the early fifth-century saint Porphyry of Thessalonica (Vita Porphyri). This request was eventually granted, and after all temples had been destroyed, Porphyry built a church over the ruins of Marnas's temple with financial and other assistance from empress Eudoxia Marnas's temple, Mark the deacon petitioned the emperor Arcadius through his wife Eudoxia to grant a request to have all pagan temples in Gaza destroyed(Terpstra, p. 184-5).

 

 

In Need of Experts, Part Two

Classified ad in the Los Angeles Times, March 14, 1924:

The Los Angeles Historical Society will be holding a gala and auction on Wednesday, March 26, at 7 pm. The auction will take Place at 1122 Larchmont Street in Hancock Park, and a great range of unique items from Los Angeles' past will be featured, including several rare books as well as works of art. The proceeds from the auction will help finance a new building for the Historical Society.

1122 Larchmont Street

________________________________________________________

Some excerpts from the notebook, a 162-page heavy bound book with all but eleven pages filled with scribbled notes, enormous amounts of repetitive prayers, charts and tables, as well as sketches of questionable spiritual value

There is truth. There is. Mankind is mankind, only mankind, and we are the blessed servants of God, our Lord. All these women surrounding us, they distract us, and try to keep our eyes from God, the one, and the many. Womankind cannot be redeemed, and they are an abomination, whores of Babylon, as was stated in the earliest and truest of Christianity. Our Lord, My LORD, I am not worthy.

The Israelites knew it knew how………….the immortal offering, defying the Antipater. How do we speak to Our LORD, God Almighty. Our OverLORD!!!

I listened to the Dominican brothers, I listened well. My body listened well, and my soul immortal soul followed after consuming the blessings of the Dominican brothers, our Holy, holy purpose to serve as a vessel for the will of Our LORD! The Dominican brothers are blessed, they have taught us SO MUCH! They know the way, the path, and I need to understand the path and the road of ICHTHYS.

I believe I may have found the real meaning of ichthys. It is not IESOUS CHRISTOS THEOU YIOS SOTER. We were looking at the wrong language, it is not Greek, it is Hebrew. Ichthys, fish, is דחג (DAHG), beckoning to Jahve as its Phoenician avatar Dag(on), Dagon. Dagon.

I have since delved into the ancient legends and the lore of Baal and Dagon, where I seem to find the roots of Christianity and the voice of God, our LORD, the real voice and the true face of God as seen in the original days of mankind. It is a deeper (pun intended) history and faith than we usually consider within the realm of the Holy Bible. We are not studying the Holy Bible in the right way, not according to the old, original ways. I have spent many days looking at other works of mystical history to really understand. I have looked at the collection of Egyptology and Judaism in LA, and I have found that there are items here in Los Angeles that provide direction as to how to properly worship the LORD, our God. I have also read Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New England Canaan,  and even excerpts from The Book of Eibon and the Unaussprächligen Kulten of von Juntzt. There are many strange and fantastic indications of what Christian faith really is, and how we have misconstrued it. I struggle with many passages though, and especially with the phrase Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. It is not of any language I know, and I have tried to apply many conventional scholarly works of language on it, but without success. I am actually considering this as mere scribbling of a bored transcriber.

Los Angeles Times, March 12, 1924

Sheriff’s Relief Organization formed in Los Angeles

A Sheriffs’ Relief Association has been organized by Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz as the benevolent arm of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department as of March 1, 1924. Its primary purpose is to address the needs of Department members during individual times of family crisis. Its membership is to be composed of sworn and civilian and current and retired employees who maintain their active status in the Association by paying dues collected monthly via payroll deduction.

“Winter Olympics” a Great Success

The 'International Winter Sports Week' in Chamonix that was organized by the French Olympic committee has been deemed an outstanding success, and it has been decided to hold Winter Olympic Games every four years, and the inaugural completion has retroactively been named the First Winter Olympic. The events in Chamonix included bobsleigh, curling, ice hockey and various versions of Nordic skiing. Norway won the most Gold medals, with 4, for a tally of 17 overall. 

Mysterious Double Pneumonia in Latino Neighborhoods

Francesca Guiterrez, age 15, was taken ill last week and pronounced dead upon arrival at St. Mary’s Hospital on Friday, February 7. Her neighbor, Lucena Hidalgo, who was six months’ pregnant, and who had cared for Ms. Guiterrez, miscarried and passed away later that same day. These are some of the latest victims of what has been labeled ‘double pneumonia’ by medical examiners. Several blocks of downtown Los Angeles have been quarantined as of Monday, February 10.

German Reds to enter Election

Germany has declared the German Communist Party, KPD, to be legal, and it is expected to take part in the elections for the Reichstag on May 4, having abandoned the goal of immediate revolution. The KPD has a new leadership since 1923, and it is expected to campaign vigorously. The new leadership is nowadays supposed to be quite loyal to Red Moscow after previous demands from Lenin and Trotsky to change the leadership of the KPD.

Theft at Los Angeles Museum of History, Science and Art

The Los Angeles Police Department has not commented on what seems to be a burglary of the popular Los Angeles museum on the night of March 11. According to the head of the Egyptology Department, Dr. Joseph Warren, several very valuable items were stolen, including a gold-plated candlestick and written works from antiquity.

Late Evening, March 12, 1924

The following conversation took place between Jules Pollack. “Mackie” MacKenzie, Henry Chester, Moira Chandler and Howard Lake on the late evening of Wednesday, March 12, 1924:

“This is perfectly ridiculous, you know. What is this? The Underwear Thieves of the Underworld? I really anticipated a spending time somewhat differently here in Hollywood”. Jules scoffed while he grabbed another chilled bottle of champagne. Domestic, not imported. “My Hollywood memoirs will indeed be a bit disappointing”, Moira replied. She was fieldstripping her trusty Winchester rifle, not because it was necessary, but better safe than sorry. Jules nodded approvingly as Moira slid the bolt into the receiver, although he still preferred his trusty Colt .38 revolver, a most pleasant handgun to own and fire. Much better than a croquet set.

Henry Chester stretched and looked at his fellow travelers. “I would respectfully disagree. Have you even paid any attention whatsoever to the work of Page Parr? I am dumbfounded by her artwork and makeup skills! Look, even Howard seems to have picked up a thing or two. What do you say, Howard?” Howard Lake nodded. “But this otherwise seems to be a menagerie or circus! It is indeed amusing to see how the actors differ from their roles. Square-jawed action hero van Buren is the most self-obsessed individual I’ve ever met, and what a queen to boot. What a polar opposite to Charles Bernard, who seems to be the commensurate professional, albeit a rather private individual”. “Oh, and look at William Gerrymor”. This was Mackie chiming in. “A drunkard and druggie with fake Queen’s English. By the way, someone mentioned that he is in some serious financial debt”. Lips pursed, Mackie looked down over some the set designs before rolling her eyes yet again. “Sebastian Brunt is such a nincompoop. Could you ever…” Mackie was apparently less than happy with some wild interpretation of Egyptian murals. “I mean, he may be a graduate student of Egyptology, but this is just ah-pall-ing. Brunt had better be a much better assistant that a set designer, or I can see Mr. Goldwyn looking for a new assistant sooner rather than later. Jules, pour me some of those bubbles, will you?”

Moira put down her rifle after working the action with deft hands. “So what do we really have here? A mummy at large, clearly both a quick and fairly powerful man-being, having run into him myself. We have missing undergarments galore, initially from the famous femmes, most notably Rita Zann herself. You know, having spent some time with her, I must admit that she is wound tight. Moody, interested and intense are just some words that come to mind. She also mentioned her grandfather Erich was a musician, and now she insists that I am a natural violinist!” Jules looked up and laughed just a bit too loud. “You? A violinist?” For some reason, this amused Jules a lot. “Most people seem to be plain eccentric, if there is such a thing, and some, like dear Mr. de Vries, are really nice. Actually, even the director, Mr. Besser, is decent man, accent and all, but his assistant is a mean son-of-you-know-what, and he seems be a bit of a woman-hater. Did you all notice how he refuses to talk directly to Mackie and Moira? I also think that Mr. Shelley needs to be watched a bit. He really seems to be a diva, and he does not miss an opportunity to slander and ridicule. He actually seems to be particularly venomous towards van Buren, or am I wrong?”

Henry Lake said, “I do not know about Shelley, but Pagano is rough, although he seems to know his stuff. He lectured me on old books just yesterday, and as an antiquarian on a movie set, I really did not know what to say.” Lake emptied the last of the bottle of champagne, and as Jules reached over for a fresh edition of bubbles, there was violent knocking at the door: “Let me in! Let me IN!” Moira opened up the trailer door, and in a cloud of alcohol, there was William Gerrymor holding Rita Zann in his arms in a most unromantic way. Gerrymor’s shirt was bloody, and Rita Zann seemed unconscious. Gerrymor looked at Moira, eyes wide, froth in the corner of his mouth, and he half-mumbled, half-yelled “it… ATTACKED Rita…it bit and ATE Rita!

Moira just managed to catch the two actors before Gerrymor’s legs buckled. 

Van Buren

Gerrymor

Charles Bernard

De Vries

Joe Pagano

Sebastian Brunt

Page Parr

Rita Zann

 Keith Shelley

In Need of Experts, Part One

Beverly Hills, February 15, 1924



Dear Ms. Mackenzie

I have not had the pleasure of meeting you in person, yet, I had the pleasure of meeting your late father some years ago, and he spoke very warmly of your academic prowess. I will proceed to introduce myself: I am a film producer, and I have been working in this field for just about a decade. As you are well aware of, the current fad for all things Egyptian has been well spread, and I am planning on producing a frightful and shocking film about a dead priestess brought back to life in pursuit of long-lost love. The film will star William Gerrymor, Rita Zann, and Reginald van Buren, names who you might be acquainted with. The film will be directed by Gerhard Besser.

I have some truly excellent actors, a great director and a fantastic script to use, but I want the audience to truly experience the spirit of ancient Egypt through the silver screen. My films aspire to perfection, and that is why I am reaching out to you. I am most aware of you and some of your friends and colleagues being very knowledgeable about Egyptian history, a field that I am decidedly less qualified to engage in. My previous films, for example Vanity Fair and Three Wise Fools, have been praised by the press for their authenticity, and I am committed to following this path. I would therefore like to ask you and colleagues to advise myself and the director, Mr. Besser, so that we may complete the film in a way that will provide alluring, yet authentic.

The film is to be shot in Hollywood, which is in Los Angeles, California. I will provide you with a suitable salary as well as compensation pertaining to travel and accomodations. Please do let me know if this seems amenable to you at your earliest convenience.

Most sincerely

Samuel Goldwyn

Samuel Goldwyn. He has recently formed the production company Samuel Goldwyn Productions, and the first film released was Potash and Perlmutter, a comedy based on a Broadway play. The film premiered in September 1923. The Curse of the Mummy will premiere in the summer of 1924. It is based on the short story Cagliostro. The film will be shot both in a Hollywood studio and in the Nevada desert.

Reginald van Buren plays Felix Temple, a young Egyptologist, as well as Prince Akhenaten

Rita Zann plays Aaliyah Bey and Priestess Ankh-su-namon

William Gerrymor plays Professor James Applebee

The director, Gerhard Besser, one of the rising stars of Hollywood.

The Plot of The Curse of the Mummy:

 In 1911, an archaeological expedition led by Sir Arthur Temple (Keith Shelley) finds the mummy of an ancient Egyptian priestess named Ankh-su-namon (Zann). An inspection of the mummy by Temple's friend and advisor Dr. Schaffhausen (Reginald de Vries) reveals that the viscera were not removed, and from the signs of struggling Schaffhausen deduces that although Ankh-su-namon had been wrapped like a traditional mummy, she had been buried alive. Also buried with Ankh-su-namon is a casket with a curse on it. Despite Schaffhausen's warning, Sir Arthur's assistant Brian Nunn (Charles Bernard) opens it. He reads aloud an ancient life-giving scroll, the "Scroll of Thoth". Ankh-su-namon rises, the sight of which snaps Nunn’s mind and causes him to laugh hysterically, as the Mummy shuffles off with the scroll.

Ten years later, Ankh-su-namon is masquerading as a modern Egyptian woman named Aaliyah Bey covering herself with makeup. She calls upon Sir Arthur's son Felix (Van Buren) and Professor Applebee (Gerrymor) and shows them where to dig to find the tomb of the prince Akhenaten. After locating the tomb, the archaeologists present its treasures to the Cairo Museum and thank Aaliyah Bey for making their discovery possible. It is further revealed that Ankh-su-namon's horrific death was punishment for sacrilege: attempting to resurrect her forbidden lover, Prince Akhenaten.

Ankh-su-namon has realized that Felix Temple bears a striking resemblance to the prince. Believing him to be Akhenaten's reincarnation, she attempts to kill him, with the intention of mummifying him, resurrecting him, and finally making him her immortal love. Felix is rescued when he remembers his ancestral past life and prays to the god Ra to come to his aid. The statue of Ra raises its arm and emits a flash that sets the Scroll of Thoth on fire. This breaks the spell that had given Ankh-su-namon her immortality, causing her to crumble to dust. At the urging of Dr. Schaffhausen, Professor Applebee calls Felix back to the world of the living while the Scroll of Thoth continues to burn.

The Case of Auntie Tilda, part 3. Showtime!

It was surely an evening to remember. The sight of Jules Pollack’s infested body in the spore-laden cold air of the drawing room, and then the light bulb exploding and plunging the room into utter darkness sent the investigators scrambling in what seemed to be an organized fashion. Flashlights were secured by Mackie, Moira got her hands dirty with the slime, phlegm and mucus that was covering much of Jules, and Henry went to the rather well-equipped gardening shed to find useful tools and perhaps even protective gear. Jules was alive, but just…well, altered in some horrifying way. Nevertheless, Moira made sure that Jules was stable, and as Mackie returned with two flashlights, Moira grabbed one and headed for the basement while Mackie and Henry checked the upstairs bedrooms.

As Moira opened the door to the basement stairs, she noticed that the indescribable odor of both growth, fertility and fetid decay grew stronger, and the stairs were covered by even more of the pungent slime that had graced Jules. It was only matter of second before she slipped on the stairs, rolling down into the abyss and landing on something disturbingly soft as the basement door slammed shut. Moira dropped her flashlight in the fall, and it rolled of only to reveal a glimpse of something horrific that seemed to have been biding its time in the womb of the basement: a brownish-gray tentacle horror of unspeakable quality, something that was not of this world, yet part of some unwholesome fertility spectacle. Moira tried to get up the basement stairs, slipping, shrieking and cursing while clawing her way to the closed door.

This was, of course, noticed by Henry and Mackie, and perhaps even at some level by Jules, and Henry, now fully equipped with a shovel, a pickaxe and protective gear and looking like a sick and twisted garden gnome butcher started working on opening the door, tightly followed by Mackie, who was brandishing a sturdy cast-iron poker from the fireplace. A filthy, bruised and distraught Moira was pulled out into the hallway, and it was decided that it was time to leave the house and clean up, at least for a bit. However, as Henry gathered some of his possessions as well as a change of clothing for Moira and Jules, he gazed into a mirror and saw a reflection of that very same mass of tentacles that Moira confronted in the basement. Shrieking, Henry ran down the stairs, arm flailing and babbling uncontrollably.

By then, even Jules had been persuaded to come out into his own garden, and after being thoroughly cleaned, supplied with a change of clothes, and having taken a swig or two from his generous hip flask, his senses seemed to return. Moira was also rinsed off in the cold rain, and although she was cold, she felt much more composed. The investigators huddled on the front porch, trying to figure out what their next step would be. The party’s suspicions focused in on Mr. Simmons, the gardener, who had seemed quite unaffected by the many unfortunate events that had struck the various inhabitants of Hampton Hill House. Would Mr. Simmons return? None of the investigators were willing to go back into the house, and it was decided to keep a lookout in Jules’ automobile while the rest of the party took turns napping in the gardening shed.

At around 3 am Moira was struggling to stay awake in the front seat of the auto, but sudden movement outside Hampton Hill House made her wide awake. A furtive figure carrying some form of equipment and perhaps a sack moved up to the front door and into the house. The intrepid adventurers armed themselves as best as they could: Mackie had her poker, Henry had his pickaxe (the shovel had been lost), Moira picked up a vicious-looking tree secateurs, and Jules opted for a croquet set. Armed and somewhat dangerous, the investigators entered Hampton Hill House, with Jules and Moira going upstairs while Mackie and Henry started stacking furniture in front of the door to the basement door.

As Jules and Moira entered the master bedroom, they did indeed run into Mr. Simmons. The gardener had previously not been threatening, but now Moira noticed what seemed to be a writhing mass of mucous matter underneath his shirt. Jules was more concerned about Simmons pointing a shotgun in their direction, and he launched one of the croquet balls at Simmons. The throw was not great, but Simmons was distracted enough to fire the shotgun up into the ceiling, raining plaster on everyone while Moira lunged at Simmons with her vicious secateurs. Simmons was impaled just below the throat, and ooze and ichor spurted out of Simmons’s near-severed neck as he lay shrieking and flailing on the floor until Moira finished off his miserable existence. 

The polite and pleasant-looking unspeakable horror that was Mr. Simmons.

Meanwhile, Mackie and Henry heard faint scratching against the basement door, and Henry leaned forward, putting his ear to the door. He could not have anticipated the unearthly tendrils that writhed into his ear, piecing his ear drum and pinning him to the door, Fortunately, Mackie had her trusty pocket knife, and at the cost of one-third of Henry Chester’s ear, he was free.

By now, the entire house was buzzing, vibrating, and leaving the investigators with a feeling of distinct queasiness as well as with headaches all around. As Mackie quickly ran off to make a couple of Molotov cocktails out of Jules’s liquor cabinet, Jules ran down and fired into the basement door, only to see a distinctly unwholesome tentacle probe its way out of the hole in the door. Pulling out his favorite revolver, Jules fired off a round at the tentacle, which promptly withdrew. This was followed by doors opening and closing, glass breaking, lights fluttering, and a dreadful chill descending on the house as the windows were filled by visions of the ungodly tentacle menace that seemed to be very close to actually fully materializing. It was time to leave Hampton Hill House, and although the front door was locked, sheer desperation forced it open, and Mackie decided to give the house a farewell in shape of her two extra-stuffed Molotov cocktails. The house was consumed at an alarming rate, and the investigators had to run away from Hampton Hill as the house seemed to implode, extinguishing the fire and leaving the investigators out in what was now a slight drizzle. Only faint markings were left of Hampton Hill House as well as a strangely inscribed metal plaque where the basement used to be. It was time to return to Arkham.