As he said this, the plump man fixed his bowtie and straightened his suit jacket.
“You would have known about the theft when it happened if the alarm had sounded, but it didn’t.”
“Correct, what’s your point?” the curator asked, growing more impatient by the second.
“Well, you need more than a key to get to the sword don’t you? There must be motion sensors or lasers, even a video camera watching the display case. It wouldn’t matter if someone made a copy of the key because they would have to know the entire security system to make it out without setting off the alarm. So my question is, who knows the ins and outs of the security system?”
“Listen kid, I’ve already told the police all of this and I don’t need to say it all again, least of all to you!”
“You can’t humor me even a little bit?” Ezra pleaded and placed his hands together, interlocking his fingers as though in prayer.
“Look, whoever did it worked here or knew someone who did. Don’t worry your little head over it though; we’ll get them. Now go on, I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are.”
Ezra stepped outside the door smiling and wrote down all that he could remember from his interview with the curator. He didn’t want to let the curator see him taking notes. Franklin Roy was already much too suspicious of Ezra to give him even more reason to distrust him.
He returned to the fork and saw Madison and Mason waiting, already finished with their interview with Tanya.
“How did it go?” Ezra asked.
“That woman is horrible,” Madison hissed.
“We told her we were doing a school project about swords and wanted to ask her some questions.”
“She got mad when we asked her about the heist…”
“What did her hair look like today,” Ezra asked.
“It was pulled back really tight,” Madison said. “Ugh, that’s probably horrible for her skin.”
“Why do you ask?” Mason asked.
“Because the receptionist found a bottle of hairspray in her office the day after the heist.”
“Well I didn’t see any when we were there, it must be gone now,” Mason reasoned.
“Makes sense. Her hair didn’t have any hairspray in it, so why would she need any?”
“Remember Mr. Kessler’s class on Infrared light waves? If you spray a little hairspray you can see the light beams. She must have used it to get past the security system.”
Ezra explained what the curator had said during their meeting. Madison and Mason looked at each other and smiled.
“Well that’s it then, right?”
“Not yet Masey-Poo, remember what she said when she talked to us? Tanya has a solid alibi. She was with the British Millionaire that was in town, showing him around or something.”
“That guy could have been an accomplice?” Mason reasoned.
“Well, either way there are some things we still don’t know and until we find out all the facts we have three suspects and not enough evidence to prove any of them did it.”
“Three suspects?” Madison asked.
“Kenji,” Ezra said. “I talked to him yesterday and he didn’t have a solid alibi. He also had just found out the day before the heist that the Masamune’s validity was confirmed.”
“Right, so that’s two suspects,” Mason said.
“There’s also the British Millionaire. We don’t know anything about him but he was in town right before the heist.”
Madison checked her watch, bit her lip nervously and said, “We better get going. We’re already late.”
“Mom’s going to kill us.”
“I have a feeling my parents are getting tired of me coming home late,” Ezra said frowning.
They walked back to the MAX as quickly as they could and sat down on the purple seats in the back of the railcar. Ezra briefly remembered finding a matchbook on a seat very similar to the one in which he now sat. He shook off the thought, dismissing it as trivial, and he and the twins continued talking back and forth about different ways the heist could have occurred.
By the time they reached their station they had begun laying out ridiculous scenarios that would have been impossible in actuality. Ezra was happy now that he wouldn’t be doing this case alone, because it was becoming more complicated by the minute.
That night Ezra’s parents grounded him and sent him to his room to “think about what he had put them through.” Ezra tried to make the argument that if he had a cell phone he would be able to call and tell them he would be late and they wouldn’t have to worry. While he wasn’t sure if his angle was working, it wouldn’t be for want of trying if he didn’t get a cell phone. By making his tardiness an argument about communication breakdown, Ezra had played a sympathy card he hoped would save him from getting into too much trouble.
7
The case would have to be put on hold. Ezra’s schoolwork was falling behind and without careful attention his parents would suspect something was amiss. Being grounded wasn’t ideal for solving a museum heist, spurring Ezra to rack his brain for another way to find clues and sort out the information he and the twins had already gathered. It occurred to Ezra that something minute, something he had missed, would spread the case wide open.
In class Ezra drew the layout of the Japanese Sword Exhibit in his notebook and listed the clues they had discovered in the margins. Drawing pictures often helped him to understand a situation or problem. Sometimes he could swear his brain worked differently than everyone else’s.
Mason, who was sitting next to Ezra, tore his eyes away from a text he was writing to a girl across the room and glanced at Ezra’s crude drawing.
Mason whispered, “Why would the thief replace the stolen sword with a fake?”
“Because,” Ezra explained, “it would buy the thief time to get away. How are they to know that Tanya would be able to identify the fake so fast?”
“Hmmm, unless Tanya planted it and identified it early the next day to clear her own name.”
“Why would she draw attention to a crime she committed?”
“Maybe she wanted to frame somebody else?” Mason reasoned.
Ezra narrowed his eyebrows deep in thought, and said, “Maybe. I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we find out what happened to the security system. The alarm didn’t go off, but the security station didn’t report anything either. Something big is going on. I think there’s more to this than we can understand with the information we have.”
Their math teacher, Mrs. Mullins, gave a loud “ahem” for the boys to be quiet. Ezra and Mason apologized and took notes quietly for a few minutes, scrambling to catch up. Ezra actually quite liked geometry because he could play with shapes rather than pages of meaningless numbers. His mind was still trying to grasp the case, and after a moment of silence he had a thought that he couldn’t hold in.
“Someone switched the security tapes.”
“What?”
“I saw it in a movie once. Before the heist, the thief switched the security tape with one that shows a normal, empty night at the museum.”
“That’s a nice theory, but, wouldn’t they have to get the guard away from their station?” Mason asked, then continued his thought, “I guess the guard could have been in on it too?”
“I think we need to talk to the security guard and see what happened from his perspective. If I’m right, their tapes will be out of sequence.”
“EZRA THORNE!” Mrs. Mullins shouted. “I’ve had enough of trying to talk over you. Detention. After school. Be here.”
Ezra sank deep into his chair. How was he going to explain this to his parents? After class Mason suggested Ezra use his cell phone to tell his parents he was working on a project at the school.
“That way, it isn’t really lying. You’ll be at school, and you’ll be thinking about the case, a project.”
Ezra agreed and called his parents, who grudgingly took the bait.
When the final bell rang, Ezra pack
ed up his schoolbag and walked grudgingly to Mrs. Mullins’ classroom to receive his punishment. When he made to take a seat, Mrs. Mullins turned from her computer screen and said frankly, “No. Don’t sit down.”
“You won’t be serving detention with me. Please go see the custodian. Maybe cleaning up the floors after hours will teach you the value of silence.”
Ezra solemnly walked down the hall to the custodian’s office. The older kids called him Slim Jim, but his real name was Jim Schidlowski. Most people had trouble saying his last name and opted for his more descriptive nickname. Jim was six foot five and would have been a professional basketball player if not for a debilitating car crash that practically crushed his leg and jarred his brain badly.
He still walked with a slight limp and he had a scar on the back of his head where they had to operate. For years Jim had served as school janitor because it was the only work he could get. Some of the kids made fun of him; some believed he lived in the school and watched it at night, but no one said anything mean to his face. That would be a huge mistake. He was nice enough when he kept to himself, but he had a temper that was fierce if egged on.
Ezra arrived at Jim’s office, which was in truth a broom closet with a chair, TV, and all of his cleaning supplies lined against the wall, and knocked meekly at the door. While he waited for Jim to answer, a tangle of fear knotted in his stomach and he nervously pitter-pattered his fingers against his jeans.
“Who’s there?” Jim said urgently.
“Um, it’s Ezra Thorne. Mrs. Mullins sent me to help you clean…”
The door opened and the tall wire-thin man stepped out with a mop and bucket. He looked Ezra up and down and wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve. He looked as though he was suffering from a monstrous cold, prompting Ezra to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve. Jim pointed down the hall toward a display case.
“Start down by the trophy cases and work your way back here. I’ll do the other end,” he said vacantly.
Ezra hesitated, and then replied, “Right. Start down there, come back here. Got it.”
Ezra’s mind wandered while he mopped the floor. He imagined the museum at night. He imagined chasing a thief dressed from head to toe in black. On the floor he swirled his mop in a slow figure eight, watching the frayed strands as they soaked up water and turned from light to dark gray. He smiled. This isn’t so bad, he thought.
He looked up at the display case, which held trophies for basketball, baseball, and football, but none were won recently. There were also photos of the highlights from President Truman’s career, possibly an attempt by the administration to educate the students in the school’s namesake. Ezra, however, had never paid much attention to the case before that moment.
In the corner of the case was a picture he had never noticed before. The picture was old and the edges worn, Ezra guessed it had been taken just after World War II. A caption read, “Harry S. Truman accepts sword created by the famous Masamune Okazaki as a symbol of peace and solidarity between Japan and the United States. Presenting the sword is Hatake Okazaki, descendent of the prolific sword maker.”
“Masamune?” Ezra whispered to himself. “Hatake Okazaki?”
♦
Madison and Mason stood by the buses after school, deciding whether they would go straight home or take a detour to the Ancient Artifacts Museum.
“Ezra had some good ideas in math class today.”
“Yeah, and the whole class could hear him too,” Madison said and giggled at her own joke.
“Let them hear. Look, we should check into some things at the museum.”
“Without Ezra?”
“He doesn’t have to know unless we find something. It’s half my fault he’s in detention as it is, I’d like to find a clue to make it up to him.”
Madison bit her lip guiltily, agreed, and the twins left promptly for the MAX station.
On the MAX the twins stayed huddled close together in the handicapped seats, due to their close proximity to the exit. The train was filled with more transients than they had ever seen in one place before. A light drizzle began soaking the windows and fogging up the glass; an average autumn afternoon in Portland.
Mason tried to avoid the gaze of a man dressed all in black with spiked cuffs around his wrists and eyeliner caked in excess around his eyes. When their eyes met, the dark man squinted and cracked his knuckles menacingly. Mason quickly looked away and didn’t chance to gaze up again until their stop was announced over the loudspeaker.
When the MAX stopped near the museum the twins hopped off the train gratefully; Mason felt as though a large weight had been lifted mercifully off his shoulders. They hurried through the sprinkling rain and up the hoary museum steps to the Japanese Sword Exhibit. Mason leaned in close to the glass and admired the fake Masamune Sword.
“Would have fooled me.”
“I’m sure it would have,” Madison said and gave Mason a playful shove.
The exhibit was fairly empty, but a tour came through every so often to break the silence. While the twins were checking around the exhibit for clues, Tanya stepped silently from the shadows.
She wore her light blonde hair pulled back tight into a bun. Her pantsuit was charcoal gray and taut over her slim body. It would have been easy to sneak up on the twins if not for her fancy black heels, which echoed an enormous click-clacking sound as she walked. Her many silver bracelets lined her slender wrists like chaotic and cold armor. Tanya seemed even more callous than her previous encounter with Madison and Mason.
“You two again?” her snakelike voice hissed with disdain. “Keep in mind if you badger me about the theft again I’ll call security to remove you from the premises. I have little time to spend humoring children.”
“You know the security guys pretty well then?” Mason asked.
“Well enough. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She slid slowly past the twins giving each of them an icy sneer and returned to her office, the sound of her heels echoing off the chilly museum walls and her bracelets clinking together like a great rattle.
“I think she needs to go on a date,” Mason said. “Badly.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Oh yeah,” Mason said. “Ezra and I were talking about interviewing the security guards earlier. I think we should go talk to them.”
“You’re probably right, it’s not like we’ll get anything out of Tanya.”
The twins retraced their steps to the entrance of the museum where a semi-circular security station stood. Behind the big round desk sat a blonde security guard with gelled up hair. Mason guessed he was in his mid-twenties. He remained spaced out until Madison rang the bell and cleared her throat, in the way that especially annoyed Mason.
“Oh, hey. Sorry about that.” He said. “What can I do you for?”
“We were just looking at the Japanese Sword Exhibit and admiring the swords. We heard about the heist that happened here a few days ago, how horrible.”
The guard frowned and said, “I know. We don’t usually get exhibits as cool as that one. I guess that’s why someone wanted the artifact for themselves.”
“Were you here the night of the heist?”
“Yeah, but I was working the back room.” He motioned to a large door behind him. “You know, where they have the wall of TV screens we have to watch. I can’t believe I got a job where I watch TV!”
“So, were you watching the screens for intruders or anything suspicious? Or were you watching a TV show?”
“Well, I did see a heist take place if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, Brad Pitt is one of my favorite actors. You know some people say I look like him?” He checked his compact mirror, and satisfied with what he saw, turned back to the twins and continued, “Yeah, Ocean’s 11 is my favorite movie.”
“You were watching Ocean’s 11?”
“No, I mean…well, yeah kind of. But I was watching the other TVs too, a
nd nothing happened. It was weird. I got to work the next day and the cops were all asking questions and stuff. I told them I didn’t see anything, but they checked the tapes anyway. They didn’t find anything either.”
“Do you talk to anyone while you’re in the back room?” Mason asked.
“Sometimes. I have a radio that I use to talk to the entrance guard, the same one that walks around the museum on rounds.”
“Does anyone come back and see you? Friends, coworkers?”
“Now that you mention it, it was my birthday that day and the curator came in with Tanya and that Kenji guy. They brought a cake!” he said ecstatically
Madison and Mason exchanged glances.
“Well, thanks a lot, um, what was your name?” Mason asked.
“Oh yeah, I’m Jackson Roy, but people around here just call me Jack.”
“Roy?” Madison asked swiftly. “As in related to curator Roy?”
“Yeah! Wow, you two are sharp! He’s just uncle Frank to me,” Jack said, smiling profusely.
Three guesses how he landed that job, Madison thought.
The twins said goodbye and began walking away. Jack remembered something and called for them to come back.
“Hey guys! If you want to see the sword exhibit again it’s going back to Japan this Friday so you better hurry!”
Madison and Mason thanked Jack for his help and made their way back to the MAX station, waiting only a few minutes for the correct blue line to come. The sun was just beginning to set and the streets were becoming less safe with each minute that passed. They breathed a sigh of relief when the train slowed to a stop.
“This is getting bigger and bigger Madison,” Mason said as they boarded the MAX.
“We know that the only people that could have switched the tape were Curator Roy, Tanya, or Kenji.”
“I’m still leaning towards Tanya,” Mason mused. “She had motive, the hairspray, the know-how, AND she’s a real witch.”
“We shouldn’t rule out anybody just yet,” Madison reasoned. “We should talk to Ezra as soon as we can. He’ll want to know about this.”
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