Cale Dixon and the Moguk Murders

by David Dagley

  “This is the third tragedy to hit the Stell family ranch within an eight-year period; the mysterious poisoning and unfortunate death of Rayman’s mother, Luanne, the disappearance of his father, Robert Stell, and now the disappearance of his uncle, John Stell. Foul play is now being considered much more seriously in all three cases, although much of the evidence of the previous two Stell cases has already been lost in time.

  Victoria looked up at Cale, wondering why she felt his distance, but ignored it, and asked, “Have you seen the captain yet?”

  “No. I’m heading there now. I’m going to need his okay to go to Idaho and meet with Rayman Stell. Then I’m heading over to the Cho Museum for a little while. Do you want anything while I’m out?”

  Victoria shook her head. “What’s at the museum this time?”

  “I want to show the knife to an Asian artifact guy there and see if he can get some more details than what our guys have done. No one has told me what the saying is on the other side of the knife. I know what one of them says; it’s on a lot of the Korean knives. But the opposite side saying is just a little different.” Cale shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “It’s worth a try.” He got up and headed for the captain’s office.

  Cale knocked on the captain’s door and looked in through the glass window.

  The captain was on the phone when he looked up and saw a tan Cale Dixon standing at his door. The Captain waved him in as he finished his phone conversation. “Dixon. I was wondering when you would show up to work again. You’re a few days over your holiday, aren’t you?”

  “Yes sir. I used a few sick days and some personal days I had saved up,” responded Cale with a sheepish grin.

  The captain held up his hand and stated, “As long as it works out on paper. How was it?”

  “It was a disturbing adventure and too short.”

  “Every vacation is too short, only because you have to go back to work at the end. I’m talking about a vacation now, you know, not a holiday with family and the mother-in-law and such. I like the holidays when they are over, because family members are out of the house and this job can seem better than at other times.” The captain smiled as he nodded.

  Cale laughed through his nose and said with a smile, “I did notice a majority of villagers with three generations living under one roof.”

  “Yeah, well, if my mother-in-law moved in, one of you detectives would have another case on your hands,” the captain said jokingly. He then asked, “Knowing you, Dixon, I’m sure you did some digging around on your old case. Did you get any closer on that one?”

  “Actually, I didn’t even think about it, but I did have an opportunity to find out a bit more about the Moguk stones, which are the red rubies in this present case. Do you want to hear about it?”

  The captain nodded and recalled, “The stones in the victim’s mouth and all over the floor.”

  “Yes. I spoke with some people in Thailand and in Burma who seem well connected and aware of the movements of large amounts of these stones. Apparently, these stones are popular amongst stone collectors. Burma’s mines have somewhat been depleted, which has raised the price and the demand for quality. There are a lot of other countries that try to imitate some of these stones qualities, but experts can tell the difference.”

  “Dixon. What you do on your vacation is your business. You obviously learned a great deal about the stones over there. That’s great. Did you learn anything that can be directly related to the case?”

  “I think so. I was given two names of Westerners who have bought large amounts of these stones in the recent past, Christian Bower and Rayman Stell. Bower, we think, is Austrian. Victoria and I are going to dig him up through passport activities and collectors’ auctions. Apparently, he’s well known in his field, just not to us yet. The other person lives here in the United States, in Idaho. His last name is Stell. Rayman Stell.”

  “And what do you plan to do with these names?” asked the captain.

  “I’d like to go visit Mr. Stell and ask him some questions. Maybe he can shed some light on the case, if he’s not involved.”

  “Either way, whether he’s involved or not, he can help. All right, you can go. Whereabouts in Idaho does this Stell character live?”

  “Driggs.” Cale wanted to make sure the captain understood and clarified, “Captain, I’m not arresting him or anything, just asking some questions.”

  “I understand, but he’s the closest thing you have to a suspect at the moment, right?” argued the captain.

  Cale retorted, “No. He’s a shot in the dark with possibly some useful information about the stones. Everything at this point would be circumstantial, nothing more.”

  “So push him with circumstantial evidence; see how he responds. When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow, if possible.”

  “I’m going to call the Driggs police station for you. Let them know that you’re in the area.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you.” Cale didn’t get up.

  “What else do you want?”

  “I was hoping I could get permission to take the knife back to the Cho Museum and find out more, like what the etchings mean, the age of the knife, and whatever else their experts can tell me. There’s staff on hand that does this stuff for a living. I thought it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s okay with me. The lab is finished with it and gotten all the information they can from the knife. Oh, and Barbara was curious where the victim’s clothes are because Mr. Won was furious that he couldn’t take them with him. He wants them back ASAP. You’ve got them at your place, right?”

  Cale nodded and raised a hand, “I’ll have them here tomorrow morning.”

  “Good. We told Mr. Won that the clothes were still in the lab for another week a week ago. And I’d like to know any extra details you learn at the museum, so let me know when you get something.”

  Cale nodded as he stood up to leave, “Thanks, Captain.”

  —

  29

  —

  Late in the afternoon, Cale walked into the museum and up the spiraling stairs to Mr. Madison’s office. He stopped at the receptionist desk, “Hello, I’m Detective Dixon. Is Mr. Madison in his office?”

  “Yes. He’s with an appointment right now. Would you like to have a seat, and I’ll tell him you’re here. He shouldn’t be too long.”

  Cale sat down on a couch with a low table covered with various magazines in feathered rows exposing the titles. The knife sat awkwardly in Cale’s pocket; the sheath jabbed the couch cushion through his coat as he leaned back. He pulled it out. The knife was still in the evidence bag. Cale pulled the knife out of the bag and admired the craftsmanship. The knife handle and the blade sheath formed one continuous design curling in opposite directions at each end. A gold ring attached to the tip of the sheath. Cale could tell immediately that the inlayed stones were rubies and sapphires. Pulling the sheath from the handle, the knife separated silently, exposing a slightly curved blade sharpened on both edges all the way from the point to the handle. The etchings were in the middle of the blade in a small, polished, flat, rectangular space. Cale looked closely at the etchings on one side of the blade then rolled the knife over to look at the other set of markings.

  Mr. Madison opened his office door, talking and holding an envelope, and said to his appointment, “I appreciate you coming by and introducing yourself to me. It means a lot to me and the museum. And again, I’m sorry for your tragic loss. If there’s anything I can do to help while you’re in San Francisco, please call.” Mr. Madison held up the envelope, “And thank your father and the rest of your family for the continued support of the museum. Everyone here is grateful. Khum sam ni da. Ani ke sayo.”

  Mr. Won shook Mr. Madison’s free hand, walked past the reception desk, and saw Cale holding the Un Jang Do in his hands, the blade in one hand and the sheath in the other. Mr. Won bowed his head slightly in greeting Cale and looked at the knife in Cale’s hands. Mr. Won recognized t
he knife immediately and slowed his steps as he passed Cale, warning with a smile, “Be careful. You could hurt yourself with that.” Mr. Won continued on towards the door.

  Cale flushed a smile and nodded as he put the knife back together and back in its bag. He stood up and walked towards Mr. Madison’s office, where he stood waiting.

  “Detective Dixon, come in.”

  Mr. Won backed out of the doorway, taking one last look at Cale.

  Mr. Madison closed the door behind them and asked, “What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping I could run this knife by John and your staff artifacts experts to see if they can help me out with a little more detail on the knife’s construction, besides being silver, gold, and heavily jeweled. I’m particularly interested in the sayings on each side of the blade. I know what it says on one side, but the other side is slightly different. I’m just curious.”

  “The staff would be thrilled to take a look at it,” assured Mr. Madison. He looked at his watch and added, “John should be just finishing up his last tour of the day. You can catch him at the bottom of the stairs in about five minutes.”

  “I appreciate it, really.”

  Mr. Madison asked, “Tell me. Have you figured out how the perpetrators got past our cameras yet?”

  “I believe they used bocce balls to distract the motion sensors. From the height of the balls and the height of your lowest infrared beams, the balls fit just underneath so as not to set off the alarm at the guard’s desk or at the police station. One of the perpetrators actually used a ball float of glass, which landed, I believe as planned, at the foot of your fisherman statue. The balls were mainly used to move the cameras away so the perpetrators could move around. They obviously knew the layout of the entire system, plus had the help of a predictable guard.”

  “Are you saying Mr. Peck is involved?”

  “No, just predictable. They knew he would go for coffee at the café. They may not have known the exact time he would go, but they knew he would go. All they had to do was wait. He turned off the alarm in that section to go out, making some noise, which registered and drew the cameras. The perpetrators may have continued making noise after Mr. Peck left the building, making it all seem like one continuous noise. It only takes a few seconds, which would be virtually undetectable to a guard expecting to have a reading on his exit and entry of the museum. The footage shows him with his hands full on the way back in, meaning he couldn’t turn the infrared on until he put his stuff down from the café at his desk. But he didn’t turn the infrared on. He saw that there was a registered noise in another part of the museum that he hadn’t been in yet. It just so happened to be the room where the murder took place and not coincidently next to the fire exit that he went in and out of to get to the café. That room is on the same infrared circuit as the side door. Mr. Peck didn’t mention it in his report, but the footage on the disk shows him walking passed the panel on his way back in. He checks the room for a disturbance and sees nothing. The infrared is still off in order for him to walk in and take a look around. He only turns it on when he realizes there is someone in the room and he sees the victim struggling on the floor. When the cops show up approximately six minutes later, it’s off again and remains off for the duration of the day. I’m actually interested in how they got in, because I think there should be some footage of at least one of them in the museum before it closed the day before. I’ve asked our lab to look into it. I’m also counting heads of those who entered the building that day through the front door and how many left that evening. I believe one or possibly two were hiding under or in two of the black urns. Did you know there’s a large space underneath each of the black urns out there, big enough for a grown man to hide?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of that. You say rolling a bocce ball under the alarms, simple as that,” commented Mr. Madison.

  “I’m afraid so,” admitted Cale.

  “And the surveillance disks?” asked Mr. Madison.

  “I’m sure you’ll get them back. Right now the lab staff is copying them and using them for awhile longer.” Cale looked at a clock on the wall and added, “I should probably go and catch John. Thanks again.”

  “Anytime, Detective.”

  Cale walked out and down the stairs and found his tour guide, John, finishing up with questions from his visitors. Cale walked over to the back of the crowd and waited patiently for them to disperse.

  Mr. Won watched from outside the museum’s tinted front window as Cale and John walked back into the museum towards the research department double doors.

  Cale pulled up next to John at a small table with a notepad on it, and Cale pulled the knife out of its evidence bag and asked, “Could you tell me what these markings say or mean?”

  John reached for the knife, “Let’s take a look.” He held the handle and looked at the blade, then flipped it over and looked at the other side, “This side has the traditional saying on it. The majority of the knives here have this on them. It roughly translates into; ‘One woman to one man. One man to one country.’ This other side has a much more recent etching. The first line is the same, ‘One woman to one man.’ This next line starts out the same as the traditional saying, ‘One man,’ but I don’t know the rest. See the cut in the engraved angles. This was stamped with modern technology and not too long ago, within the last twenty or so years. I don’t read Hongul personally, but a woman I work with does. She’s not here yet. She has another job during the day and then comes here after a bite to eat. The knife itself is quite old. See the dimpling around where the blade and handle meet. Someone pushed the blade into the silver handle while it was still in its mold and before cooling. See this ring? This is for traditionally holding chopsticks, and this little ring on the sheath side is for a chain, which goes around your neck. I’d guess around five, four hundred years old. Probably crafted in China, but the writing is Hongul, which means it might have changed hands along time ago, and the inscriptions were added later by its Korean owners. These other markings here on the handle, they look like art, but in fact these are from a different linguistic background altogether, possibly Altaic, and they don’t write very much. But it changes my first guess about the age of the knife to much older than five hundred years. I can’t even guess at this point. The knife is in great condition.”

  “Yeah, apparently it still works and serves its purpose,” Cale confessed. Frustrated, he sighed, pointing at the knife, “I need to know what this says.”

  “I’ll get that for you. Do you want to leave it with me? You can come by tomorrow and pick it up and any information we get off it. I’ll see to its safety,” offered John. “It practically belongs in here.”

  “True,” admitted Cale. “But if something should happen to this knife…” Cale shook his head insecurely.

  “The museum is closed. The only people allowed in here are staff and the guards, and they never come in here. The people upstairs are finishing up and leaving their offices by now,” argued John. “Since this is my only chance to look at this knife, I’ll put everything else on hold and just deal with the knife tonight. We can find out what was used to stay the stones, what kind of stones, the melting point of the silver, purity, age, that kind of thing. This part here at the butt of the handle looks like an ivory or a bone dome. We can find out what that is, as well.”

  “I’ll leave you to your work and see you first thing tomorrow morning,” said Cale.

  “Perfect, I’ll be in at 8:00 a.m., if I leave at all. And don’t worry, we’ll take good care of it,” assured John.

  Cale walked to his car and headed home. He felt like he hadn’t seen the inside of his flat in a long time. His mind drifted back to the jeweler in Burma and hoped he had his son back and that they weren’t all on the run from the Tatmandaw, racing through the jungle. There was no way of knowing.

  —

  30

  —

  “Yobosayo?”

  “Father, the knife is out of the police station and
moving.”

  “Oh?”

  “I saw it today myself. A detective I haven’t seen before has it, and he brought it to the museum to be checked out by the staff, I think. He left without it.”

  “How accessible is it?”

  “For the next five minutes, I have a window of opportunity but with two consequences.”

  “Hmm. Be careful my son; the person that used it against your brother may also be watching the knife and you. Bring it home if you can, but stay on your guard. Have you moved your brother’s body?”

  “Yes. He’s in the wine cellar at the Cho Estate. I’ve removed every last case of wine and turned the temperature down to minus seventeen like you suggested.”

  “Okay. Good. After you get the knife, I want you to go to your brother. You have to make an incision under his upper arm. His key is under the scar. Cut it out, and keep it with you always.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Actually, yes, but I’ll know more when you return. I’ll see you soon. Good luck, my son.” Father hung up.

  Mr. Won hung up the phone and walked over to his booth at the Outcast Café. A Korean woman got up and paid for her dinner and walked out towards the museum. Mr. Won paid his bill at the counter and followed the woman down the alley towards the museum loading dock.

  —

  31

  —

  Cale walked into his apartment, set down his briefcase and extra folders on his dining room table, and walked straight for an empty box on the floor. After gathering up the victim’s pocket contents and putting them in a bag, he set it in the box. He folded the man’s clothes. He slipped the still-bowing belt off the back of a chair, and the phone rang. Cale walked over to the phone with the belt draped loosely over his fingers, “Hello?” He cocked the phone on his shoulder and noticed the stiffness of the belt, raising and lowering it. The belt reacted like a pair of wings.