Braxton Snow P.I. (The Snow Adventures Book 1)

by Danny C Estes

  Juan came upon a door. A check of his front pocket revealed a key which he used. “Here we are.” He pushed open the door and allowed me to walk into a large room filled with twenty rows of wooden filing cabinets that towered over our heads.

  I whistled. “An animal could get lost in here.”

  Juan smiled. “Not really. Just hike it to one or the other end of the rows and you'll soon come to the right door out.”

  “As in there are other doors out?” I questioned as he replaced his key in his pocket and closed the door, which locked automatically.

  “Of course. Fire regulations demand two exits in such a large room,” Juan reminded me.

  “Yes, well, being everything in here is important to learning our history, I wouldn't suppose the other door leads directly to the outside of this building?”

  “It does,” Juan admitted. “But you'd need to push through two sets of doors with different locks on each.”

  “Two sets of keys, smart.” I watched Juan walk up to a clipboard hanging on the side of the cabinet row before us.

  “Let me sign us in and I'll show you the book.”

  After Juan finished I took up the clipboard and ran a fingernail up the page. “I see you and the others of your team come here often.” I flipped the page, still looking.

  “Yes, well, although we are a team gearing up for a site, Mr. Sullivan gives all his students small projects to investigate. Nothing hard, just research that helps the group learn where everything is in the museum. At least that's what I've been told by the others.”

  “Mmm…” I flipped several pages and found what I was looking for. Mr. Sullivan's signature. The date: March seventeenth. Okay, I now have a date to work around. I let my fingernail travel down the page and onto the next page until it showed some days had passed before Mr. Gatura signed in the police to inspect the room. Mmm…March twenty-fourth. Mr. Sullivan had been missing seven days before any authorities started a search. But this doesn't quite jive with Ms. Nelson's statement. She said she'd reported him missing two days after he went missing. I glanced at Juan a moment, then at the door in. By rights the police should have been here by the fourth day. I scratched my neck, thinking. Ms. Nelson wouldn't have recanted her statement, so why the three days' delay? I flipped the pages back and forth to make certain I hadn't missed anything and that's when I noted the day after the police signed in, a Detective Zoe Pierpont signed in. Not exactly unusual, as detectives have a lot in their dinner bowls, but I thought Lieutenant Barkly had caught the case. I took another whiff of the page and looked off into space to run over the lingering scents and the name together but came up empty. Not that I knew all the detectives in the city, but I'd had a few run-ins with them in my work, as well as a few street cops, and not all were peaceable. I pulled out my notepad from an inner vest pocket and wrote the name down to make certain I had it right and then re-hung the clipboard. With mounting questions and no answers, I nodded to Juan and followed him as he led me to row thirteen of the twenty rows.

  “So tell me, what did you think of Detective Pierpont?”

  “Who?” Juan glanced at me, having misheard, or more likely so tied up in his own thoughts he had not heard me.

  “The detective from the police department assigned to locate Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Oh her,” Juan clarified her sex as he found the row and turned down the aisle. “She seemed okay.”

  “What questions did she ask?” We passed thirty-seven file cabinets on either side of us before he stopped at one that was three cabinets from the end.

  “Not many, really. When was the last time we saw him. What drew his interest in this room.” He shrugged. “Not much else.”

  “So she didn't consider any of you as viable suspects in his disappearance?”

  Juan gave me a perplexed look as he pulled over a tall ladder. “Why would any of us do anything to Mr. Sullivan? We all admired the fox.”

  I ventured a guess. “Jealousy is a powerful force.”

  “Jealousy?” Juan climbed the ladder to a drawer ninety centimeters, {3'} over my head and pulled it open. “Of what?”

  “You tell me—you were the one who told me Mr. Vetrov was jealous of Mr. Sullivan.”

  Juan's eyes grew big and his tail swished in agitation as his ears laid back. “Uh oh.” He looked at the drawer he'd opened and those near to it.

  “Something wrong?” Asking this question after such a reaction seemed stupid, but many animals didn't elaborate on the problem they'd discovered unless it was asked.

  “The book. I'm sure it was in this drawer.” Juan reevaluated his position and pulled the drawer all the way out.

  “Try the ones above and below.”

  Juan did, without success. “Mr. Gatura is not going to be happy about this.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  Juan got down so we could trade places.

  “So tell me, who was the last animal to see the book?” I eyed the felt next to the book label and took a deep whiff of the fabric, the wood sides of the drawer and lastly the wooden drawer knob to allow my olfactory to imprint all the odors. I closed my eyes to aid in distinguishing the team of college students I just met. With these tagged, I noted two scents that had signed in on the clipboard were present. One, of course, had to be Mr. Sullivan's. Yet the other couldn't be from one of the investigating officers. If Juan didn't know the book was missing, neither did the staff. This meant the police wouldn't know to have a look in this drawer. So someone else in the museum must have looked at the book. Another scholar, perhaps? With eyes still closed I remained a little longer, taking regular breaths to allow these scents time to declare which of them held the most depth. This scent I separated out and reasoned it to most likely be Mr. Sullivan, as according to the college students, he'd been all over the book many times.

  Juan scratched his chest. A grimace covered his face as he considered he was the one who had to bring the unhappy news to the curator.

  Confident I held Mr. Sullivan's scent, I got down and took a hold of the Ocilla's arm, as he was panicking. “Juan!” I snapped and gained his attention. “Who was the last animal to see it?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Juan said excitedly.

  “If you'll settle down and think about this, we might be able to figure that out.”

  Juan wrung his paws before him, his tail twitching a mile a minute.

  “Do you know if it was there when Mr. Sullivan last signed into this archive?”

  Juan shrugged.

  “Okay, let's try it this way. Mr. Sullivan would have had a fit if it were missing, right?”

  Juan nodded slowly.

  “Thus it had to have been still here the day of his disappearance. So, have you sought to look at it any time after that date?”

  Juan shook his head no. A moment more and his eyes got big then his tail stopped. “I'm not at fault!” Juan's exasperation relaxed. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Snow. Oooh,” he let out a long breath. “That's a relief.” He fell back on the cabinets for support.

  “All right, with that established, do you know who might have seen the book of late? Perhaps the other scholar?”

  “Other scholar?” Juan looked puzzled. “No other animal bothers with the ape books. That's why they're in the back of this archive.”

  “I see, hmmm….” If that's true, what's this other scent doing here? “Juan, does a custodian ever come in to dust off these cabinets?”

  “Not really. Mr. Sullivan's the only one who pays any attention to the ape books. Anything of value is kept closer to the beginning of each row.”

  “All right. How about checking out the log and tell me if you think anyone you see on the sheets might have looked up this book.”

  Juan ran a paw through his head of yellow-and brown-tinted white hair. “If someone from this museum has it, there would be a card left in its vacant spot with a name, department and when it was removed.”

  “Not exactly what I asked, but good to know. Still
, if you could humor me on this?”

  Juan nodded and padded past me. He reviewed the clipboard as I drew near but found no animal he could be certain of listed on the sheets.

  I sighed, “Fine. Let's look at the emergency door before we head back to your group.”

  “Shouldn't we let Mr. Gatura know about the missing book?”

  “Eventually. But as I want to look at the door before Mr. Gatura turns this place upside-down in search of the book, a few more minutes won't cause any harm.”

  “You really think he'll do that?”

  “I'm being facetious, Juan.”

  “Uh?”

  “Exaggerating.”

  “Oh…”

  After a long walk between tall wooden cabinets, Juan gestured to the solid oak back door as we approached. “I'm afraid my key doesn't fit this lock. Without it, the alarm will sound if it's pushed open, so be careful.”

  “Gotcha.” As I wanted to see if the doors had been picked from the other side, I turned my back to Juan and sought to remove my tool kit, but thought of something. As excitable as Juan is, it might be best if the oncilla doesn't know how I open this door. I glanced over my shoulder at Juan and said, “As deniability has saved more hides then I can count, you might wish to turn your back until I say you can look.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Juan.” I sighed, as he was distracted to the point of being slow-witted. “To give a convincing denial, you can't know.”

  “Oh.”

  He didn't turn, and I remained looking at him over my shoulder with a bland face, ears squarely oriented on him.

  After a moment, his eyes grew wide and he said, “Oh…” with more depth, and then turned his back.

  With my only witness made a non-witness, I squatted. I opened my vest, felt for the double seam, and pulled out my lock picks. Nimble fingers with my tools had the door unlocked in moments. I replaced my tools to keep them out of sight, as they were illegal. I gave a quick check on the oncilla to make certain Juan's back remained turned then I opened the door. I swung around to the other side to first eye the lock for obvious picking-tool scratch marks before I gave it the whiff test to detect any oddities in scent. As the doorknob had not been cleaned with a germ killing solution, I came away with several scents, but no metallic scent that shouldn't be there, like the tools I'd used on the other side of the door. Combining this information with the lack of tool marks, I deduced no entry had been made by a competent burglar. Ergo, no unauthorized entry. This opened an alternative theory of the crime.

  I put knuckles to the floor and stretched out my back to get my nose close enough to the second doorknob to take a big whiff without stepping into the space between the doors. The smells hit my olfactory and I came away with four scents. The first being Mr. Avery Gatura, which was only natural, as he was responsible for the museum. A second and third scent I could not identify layered with Gatura's, but if I had to guess, I'd say the janitor and security guard. The forth and last odor, however, stood out.

  I retracted, swung back inside, and closed the door then stood. That last scent had been the strongest scent back inside the file cabinet. In my book, this meant Mr. Sullivan had left the museum by way of these two doors. As for the other animal who'd left scent in the drawer, I'd found no trace on the doorknob, but that didn't clear this other animal from part of the crime nor did it mean the animal was even involved. I turned to Juan to see if any facts could be applied in aid of my hunches.

  “Juan, did Mr. Sullivan have a set of keys for these doors?”

  Juan glanced my way, took notice I was facing him and turned. “Not that I know of.” He tilted his head. “But then, he is the main archeologist for this museum, why do you ask?”

  “I'm trying to establish whether he left by these doors or by another way out.” I looked left and right while I readjusted my shirt and vest.

  “There is no other way out of this archive,” Juan assured me.

  “Then I'm done here.” I motioned for him to lead the way back and asked. “As I do not yet have anything with Mr. Sullivan's scent on it, could you lead me to his office?”

  Juan glanced at the door behind us, gave me a curious look then started off after one last look at the door. “I'm afraid Mr. Sullivan doesn't have an office.”

  The sound of the entrance door opening had Juan and I looking ahead of us. Muted voices could be heard, after which I saw a fluffy red tail with scattered strands of black and white protrude from beyond the last file cabinet. A whiff of the air said nothing about the owner of the tail, as the scent had yet to circulate around the large room. It wasn't until the owner backed up that I recognized Ms. Catharine Nelson, who today wore an off-the-shoulder, pullover, bell-sleeved olive green dress. Her guide, wearing a simple denim, knee-length bib overall and a white t-shirt, next appeared as we drew close enough to talk with them without raising our voices.

  “Ms. Nelson,” I greeted. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Both Catharine Nelson and Kaia Sundell the snow leopard turned to my voice.

  “Mr. Snow, how is it that you are here?” Ms. Nelson glanced back and forth along the aisles as if looking for someone. “I thought my brother had talked you out of looking for my uncle?”

  “I wasn't talked out of anything. A business partner of your brother's, a Mr. Uchi, rescinded my services after you left, on behalf of your brother.”

  Ms. Nelson lowered her head. I swiveled an ear to catch her mumbled obscenity. She saw this; her ear twitched in embarrassment over being heard as she eyed me. “Then why are you here?”

  “In point of fact, I'm here to see if there's any validity to your story, and though I see no foul play involved, I have discovered he may be made unavailable do to a breakthrough on his special project.”

  Both Juan and Ms. Sundell looked startled, while Ms. Nelson sputtered. “His theory the hairless apes could have flown?”

  “As farfetched as that may seem, yes.” I made a paw gesture to the oncilla. “Juan has been kind enough to give me a clue to this theory while I found another.”

  The three animals looked at one another.

  Juan asked, “I did?”

  “Quite right. The disappearance of his favorite ape book.”

  “What book?” Both Ms. Nelson and Ms. Sundell chimed in simultaneously.

  “The book he's had all of you look over,” I said watching their reactions.

  Ms. Sundell reacted first. “You say it's missing?” She glanced at Ms. Nelson. “But why? No one can read it. Not even learned scholars. The ape language is so full of convoluted hieroglyphics that change from one book to another, it defies reason.”

  “If I had to guess, I'd say he's had a breakthrough in that field, which leads me to one of three clues.”

  Ms. Sundell looked puzzled. “Three clues?”

  “Indeed. You yourself gave me the first clue, though at the time I didn't know it.”

  “Come again?” Ms. Sundell inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  “Tell me, Ms. Sundell, did your family turn Mr. Sullivan down when he asked for that loan?” I watched her eyes to see if they shifted to the upper left, indicating she was lying. Instead they went upper right, which told me she was remembering.

  “I'm not sure.” Her ears and the tip of her tail twitched in a display that told me she was irritated. “Daddy had me leave the room.”

  I waved that aside. “Don't get upset over it. The particulars of how much money was asked for is irrelevant. However much he may have gotten was enough for him to drop everything and take off, even if it's not his wont to abandon his students.”

  “I'm sorry, Mr. Snow, but I can't believe that,” Ms. Nelson defended her uncle. “My uncle is a dedicated fox. He would no more abandon his students then he would abandon me and Bryn. Someone had to have abducted him. There's no other reason that I can see.”

  “Such a belief would have found a place in my mind as well, save for my discovery that Mr. Sullivan had keys to t
he backdoor exit of this document room.”

  “How can you know that?” Ms. Nelson demanded, showing us all she was miffed at my accusation by her ears flatting as she set her paws on her hips and twitched the tip of her tail.

  “By my inspection of this room's two exit doors. It's apparent no one has picked the lock from the outside to get in. Add this to what Juan has provided—that the fire alarm will go off if you exit by those back doors without the use of the keys. This leads me to believe Mr. Sullivan left secretly with his special book on his own accord by way of the emergency exits with the use of two sets of keys he must have acquired or made over time.”

  “When you say it that way, it kind of makes sense.” Juan rubbed his neck, looking sheepish.

  Ms. Sundell gave Juan's ear a slap. “Be still! You don't know nothing.”

  “Oww! Kaia?” Juan rubbed his ear in complaint.

  Ms. Sundell looked at me. “I can't see him dropping out of sight for that single book. This museum has over a hundred of them. And not a one would fetch over a hundred bank notes.”

  “Understood.” I nodded. “But did he pay any real attention to any of them?”

  “As a matter of fact he has,” Ms. Sundell enlightened me. “Oscar has spent any number of nights poring over every ape book in this museum and any he could find in other museums. You can ask anyone who's worked with him.”

  Well now, that is interesting. Also it aids in my hypotheses that missing book has become more to him than anything else. Hmmm. I rubbed my chin in thought as the three animals argued in Mr. Sullivan's defense. He must have discovered a cipher that helped him to decrypt enough of the hieroglyphics in that book to make it more valuable than anything else in his life.

  “Not to be disrespectful to any of you,” I cut into their argument. “As I've been doing this for some time now, I'll go with my own belief that that book and his disappearance are connected.”

  Ms. Nelson shook her head in denial. “Mr. Snow, you may be over-seeing the picture. Although the loss of the museum's book is tragic, perhaps my uncle was holding the book when he was accosted and just held onto it as he was forced out by the emergency doors. That would explain its disappearance.”