by David Dagley
Cale sat back in his chair a moment and played with the victim's belt as he thought through various scenarios. Cale folded the belt in half and quickly pulled it tight with a snap. He then looked at the box Mr. Madison gave him and decided to take a look at the disks. The disks were collected in chronological order in a shoe-box-size metal container. He pulled them out and grabbed his beer before moving to the couch in front of his television set, where he shuffled through the three-hour segments of time-lapse labels. Looking at the camera layout sheet, Cale found camera five to be the only camera in the hallway across the room from where the murder took place. He pulled out a disk titled “Camera 5, 6-9 a.m.” He put it in his DVD player, sat down on the couch, and hit the play button on his remote.
Camera five roamed over the murder scene methodically for a few minutes. Cale looked at the box of disks and added up the amount of hours it would take him to watch them all. He pushed the fast-forward button. As the camera swung back and forth through the room, the digital time raced by in the lower left-hand corner of Cale's television screen. At 6:32 a.m. the camera suddenly changed direction mid-swing, turning down the hall and attempting to focus into the darkness. Cale pushed play to slow down the action. He could hear footsteps and the jingle of keys in the distance. A shadow moved below the exit sign. The crossbar on the door sounded loudly, and the door opened with a thunderous echo. The camera didn't have a clear picture of the exit door because it was mounted on the same wall with two ten-foot-high glass display cases on each side of the door. But the camera did pick up the guard's reflection off an adjacent glass costume case. Cale pushed pause to stop the disk. Mr. Peck could clearly be seen standing on the loading dock, holding his thermos in one hand and closing the door with the other.
Cale hit play, and the door shut with a mechanical shudder, and the hall went silent. The camera remained fixed on the exit door and the darkness for five seconds before it returned to its programmed path over the room. Cale stopped the disk again, went to the guard's file, and looked for his scheduled rounds; this particular round ended at 6:38 a.m. He pushed play. Camera five panned from the hallway back to the right then immediately back into the room where the audio picked up a new noise. Dipping its view, the camera struggled to focus on a brown bocce ball rolling across the marble floor between the display cases. The bocce ball hit the wall just below the camera with a solid knock against the marble base trim and rebounded back into the room, coming to a wobbly stop between two central display cases. The camera focused tightly on the bocce ball for five seconds, leaving the rest of the room out of view. The camera panned out and resumed its regular automated duties back and forth. Cale stopped the disk and reversed to again watch the camera change direction as it picked up the guard's keys and his footsteps walking down the hall; he watched the flash of his reflection leaving the building. As the camera began its path back into the room, Cale listened for the bocce ball making contact with the floor. Again the bocce ball rumbled across the floor, and the camera reacted, zooming in on the ball until it went behind a showcase; the camera widened and picked up the ball as it reappeared on the other side of the showcase. The camera corrected and zoomed in again. The ball traveled behind another case, and the camera reacted the same, widening, correcting, and zooming. The camera followed the ball to the wall, looking straight down and then back out into the room. Five seconds passed, and the camera returned to its normal surveillance path for five and a half minutes. Keys erupted in the exit door lock, and the door opened, drawing the camera's attention. The camera arrived just in time to catch the reflection of Mr. Peck walking in with his thermos in one hand and a to-go box in the other. He didn't turn on the exterior alarm as he hooked the door with his foot and slammed it shut. The camera followed the guard's silhouette until it blended into the shadows. The rhythmic chime of keys and footsteps stayed the camera's sway into the darkness of the hallway, where it remained until Mr. Peck got to his desk at 6:38 a.m. and sat down.
While Cale flipped through both of the guard's reports, finding no mention of the exterior alarm being turned on, another bocce ball bowled into play. The camera reacted, turning from the hallway and chasing the sounds of the ball. Cale and camera five focused on a red bocce ball as it rolled across the back of the room towards where the first bocce ball originated. Cale recognized the blind spot where he stood earlier in the day between the two urns and the French doors, partially hidden by one of the ficus trees. Cale scanned the empty balcony for shadows but saw nothing besides the dark before morning. The speakers began a faint whispering. Cale stopped the disk and replayed the last minute. He turned the volume up and hit play. The camera picture shook slightly; the red bocce ball rolled to the far side of the room. There was silence and then the whispers. Cale could hear the first few words, “Oh, very nice. Good quality.”
A second voice whispered, “Where is he?”
Cale strained to listen to the silence. The camera scanned the room, never showing a glimpse of either of the perpetrators. The surveillance camera shook slightly. The guard's keys began to jingle. The camera turned down the hall. Cale shook his head pathetically at the noise of the guard drawing the camera away. The camera focused on the guard cautiously coming into the room. He checked the double doors by hand and walked around the perimeter of the showroom and between the cases in the middle of the room. Cale realized that the red and brown bocce balls had been removed. The guard looked around and headed back down the hall. Camera five followed him as he returned to his desk.
Cale heard something else on the audio besides Mr. Peck still moving towards his desk. The camera reacted, turned into the room, and caught a light blue fish float as it rolled out of the room towards the oversized fisherman statue. The camera tried to focus, opening and closing its lens erratically as the glass float rolled into the dark. The audio continued to hold the camera to its task until Cale could hear voices again.
An angry whisper, “You!”
A quick and quiet scuffle ensued out of the picture. The camera began to sweep and widen on the screen, trying to pick up the whispers and the quiet battle as it turned into the sound of anguish. Someone dropped something on the marble floor that didn't bounce. A man's voice groaned and began rasping in pain and rage. The camera swept in and focused on an Asian face as the body fell backwards to the ground, staring, presumably, at his adversary.
Cale pushed pause to stop the disk and looked at what appeared to be toes in socks sticking out from behind one of the black urns. He pushed play and watched the socks move out of sight. The camera narrowed its focus on the twitching victim until he lay motionless. The alarms went off. Jingling keys and the footsteps grew heavy and louder. The guard's feet were now slapping down the hallway. Cale could hear rustling, but the camera had already moved on towards the guard coming out of the shadows, gun drawn, coming to search the room. The guard saw the body on the floor and yelled, “Freeze!” The guard edged towards the body, circling as he searched the room from behind his gunsight. Finding the room empty, he knelt down and checked the Asian man's pulse at his neck. He adjusted his fingers on the man's throat and tried again. The police banged on the front door of the museum. The police called the guard on his radio, and he backed out of the room and ran down the hall, drawing the camera with him. Cale could hear noises in the foreground, but the sounds weren't enough to draw the camera. Cale knew that the stones were now being exposed and stuffed in the man's mouth. The guard was talking loudly to the police as he unlocked the front doors to let them in. Cale could hear the stones being spilled on the floor and an impatient grumble. The police and the guard chorused with their footsteps hammering down the hall. Radio dispatch static and responses of eight police cars cracked out a harmony of chaos on their radios.
Cale leaned back and had a draw from his beer as he watched the police enter the room, moving towards the body. The guard explained about the stones and the money. The police jumped into action and began a vigorous search and lockdown of the building.
The camera crossed over the victim's face, with the red stones packed in his mouth and currencies strewn over him. The camera widened over the mayhem in the room and began swinging back and forth abruptly with all the audio and motion stimulus bombarding the sensors. Cale spit out a laugh of disgust and frustration and said to himself, “State-of-the–art, my ass. A state of confusion is all I see.” Cale stopped the disk, went and got another beer, and started the disk all over again.
—
9
—
Mr. Won ran up the stairs, burst through the front door of his brother's house and yelled, “Lyin! Lyin!” He kicked off his shoes automatically as the door slammed shut behind him.
“Yes, Mr. Won. I am here in the kitchen. Is everything all right? Lyin wiped his hands off on a towel looped over his belt.
Mr. Won walked briskly into the kitchen. Lyin could see the rage in Mr. Won's face before he spoke. Mr. Won slapped an open issue of an international newspaper on the chopping block island and exclaimed angrily, “I found out why my brother is late!” Mr. Won paced around the kitchen island looking at the floor.
Lyin read out loud, “An Asian man was found murdered in the Cho Estate Museum in the early hours of the eighteenth…” Lyin's voice trailed off.
“Read it out loud! Please, because I don't believe my own eyes. Start again!” Mr. Won began to pace, irritably switching his hands from his hips to the sides of his head and neck.
“Yes, sir.” Lyin read out loud, “An Asian man was found murdered in the Cho Estate Museum in the early hours of the eighteenth, stabbed through the back. An alarm went off at the police station, and the guard on duty confirmed an intruder. Squad cars were immediately dispatched to the scene. No entry alarms had been set off, and apparently no surveillance cameras have identified the perpetrators. The assailant vanished without a trace. The identity of the victim has not yet been released, and there is speculation that the authorities may not yet have that information. A research specialist at the museum said that the murder weapon was a knife of Chinese or Korean royal origin, with a handle and sheath of silver. Red ruby and sapphire inlays adorned the weapon in rows. Detective Martin Hanna and Mr. Cale Dixon, from the research department, arrived on the scene soon after the police had secured the building and grounds. They have not been available for comment.” Lyin averted his eyes, “Mr. Won. I am truly sorry.”
“I know. Thank you, Lyin.” Mr. Won stopped at the island where Lyin had been chopping garlic for a new batch of kimchi. Mr. Won picked up the knife and stared at his own eyes in the reflection from the blade, speaking slowly, “I must go to California and claim my brother's body.”
“Sir, if I may; by your father's request, your brother went to go tell Rayman Stell where his father was being held.”
“I know.” Mr. Won raised the knife and stabbed it deep into the wood of the chopping block, burying the point of the blade. “But that was after my brother was to make sure Rayman's father was dead!”
“Sir, I'm sorry. I don't know that much.”
“I must tell father and hear what he has to say before I go to California.”
“The knife sounds uniquely familiar, silver with gold and rows of red stones. But I thought it was buried with your sister in honor of her death.” Lyin stopped talking for a moment before he changed his direction, “What shall I do, Mr. Won?”
The knife in the chopping block continued to waiver slightly as Mr. Won began to think out loud, “You're right, Lyin. It does sound like a family knife.”
Lyin could see the raging wheels turning in Mr. Won's head and a renewed burning hatred growing.
“There is only one man that I can think of who could have kept the knife. I must speak with Father. Lyin, keep up with your schedule, and go to my house for dinner every night. I'll tell the agima that you are coming and inform my other brothers of our loss. Look after the family. I'll arrange for them to call you if they go out of the house. You go with them. And Lyin,” Mr. Won paused and looked sternly at Lyin, “carry a weapon at all times. Lock the doors and windows on the first floor. No visitors are allowed in this house, and only your family and my family go in and out of my house until I return. No one else. No exceptions. I'll phone you if I need you. Have your passport ready and a bag packed. I will make preparations for you.”
Lyin bowed his head slightly and answered obediently, “Yes, Mr. Won. I will do all you ask.”
—
10
—
Cale opened the door to his office. Victoria wasn't in yet. Cale put the box of disks down on the shelf behind his desk and a manila folder next to his computer, then turned for the kitchenette to make a pot of coffee for Victoria, and brew a cup of tea for himself. He put his teacup on his desk, grabbed the box of disks, and walked down the hall towards the lab.
Barbara, the lab receptionist, was sitting behind the counter when she looked up and smiled, saying, “Hello, Detective.”
“Mornin’. How's it going?”
“Good. I've got your list for you.”
“Thanks. I've got a film chip from my camera to turn in as evidence. Can I get a full set of copies for me? They're from the museum. I'd also like these disks looked at on the computers, both audio and visual. Tell the engineers lunch is on me for whoever can count the most people hiding in the shadows and reflections. Here's a list of particular disks and segments with reflections that I want dissected. I found a pair of stocking feet. Let's hope the lab rats can find more.”
“Sure, but they won't be in for another hour and a half,” explained Barbara.
“Not a problem. I just wanted to get the disks here; that's all.”
“So you took a look at them?”
“Yeah, the cameras are high-tech. They focus on sound as well as movement, so the guys distracted the cameras with bocce balls. Then with the help of the guard, the cameras get called off by the slap of footsteps and the sound of his keys. The footage is almost useless to I.D. the perpetrators. There's a chunk of sound track that might be promising, but we won't know until it gets checked out. Has an autopsy been performed?”
“No. But the knife has been removed. I don't think they're going to cut him up just yet, if at all. His blood has been taken, fingerprints, all that, but I think they're hoping someone files a missing persons report and can come in to identify him,” Barbara explained.
Cale shook his head doubtfully and responded, “I don't think they'll find anything in this guy anyway. Was there anything in the blood test?”
“He's clean in that regard. All the blood on the body appears to be his. The report says, ‘no drugs, diseases,’ nothing like that. He suffered a broken arm in the fight.”
“All right. I'll check in this afternoon. I'm going to see a jeweler and stop by the museum, then home. Call me there and leave a message when the lab guys get something, anything.” Cale turned to walk out.
Barbara called out after Cale as she opened a file drawer, “Wait a minute. Here are some of the test reports from the coral sand you found in his shoes, the type of stones in his mouth, and the results on the knife.” She held out three folders.
Cale turned back and grabbed the folders, opening the top one, “Coral sand from Southeast Asia.” Cale flipped to the second file, “And the stones are from Burma, Moguk stones.” Cale looked hard at the information in the third folder. “I better take a look at the knife while I'm here. May I?”
“Of course. You want to sign for the folders?”
As Cale bent over to sign for the folders, he asked, “Do you still have that instamatic camera behind the counter?”
“Yep. Want it?”
“That would be great.” Cale took the camera into a small room and waited for Barbara to bring the knife to him.
Barbara retrieved a large, heavy–duty, ziplock, style bag in a plastic box and handed it to Cale.
“Thanks, Barbara. If you want to wait a minute, I'll give it right back to you.” Cale reopened the knife folder, “It says her
e that there are two types of blood, both human. There's old blood in the seams of the scripture and new blood all over the place. Both bloods are undergoing DNA testing. Barbara, will you let me know when any new information gets to you?”