by S. C. King
Table of Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Thank you
Booklist
MYSTERY: Stolen
(A Suspense Thriller Mystery novella)
Alaska Mysteries, Book 4
S. C. King
Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House
MYSTERY: Stolen (A Suspense Thriller Mystery novella)
Alaska Mysteries, Book 4
Copyright 2015 S. C. King, Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House
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Chapter 1
It was a beautiful late summer morning when Sergeant Wood was called by the curator of the local history museum. Mr. Burck had sounded very worried on the phone, but had also refused to say what it all was about. Wood’s instincts were immediately awakened, and he headed towards the museum, hoping against all hope that it wasn’t something too serious.
After the last mysterious investigation about the murder of the mystery writer’s son, things had gotten quiet for a few months. Detective Davis had been calling now and then, but there had been nothing for him to investigate in Stronghill, so far. Wood really hoped that it would continue that way for at least a few more months.
The door of the museum was closed when Wood arrived, and he had to knock on it several times before the security guard and the curator came to open it for him. “Thank God, you are here, Sergeant,” Mr. Burck said fearfully, and made sure to close and lock the door once the police officer was inside the museum building. “Something horrible happened here,” he said then. “The most precious artifacts of our museum have been stolen.”
Wood felt fear fill his heart. He was well aware of the kind of artifacts displayed in the museum, and it was scaring him even to think about which ones might be missing. “Is the Totem pole one of them?” he asked carefully.
“Unfortunately, yes...”
Wood let out the breath he was holding, and followed the curator towards the biggest museum hall. In the middle of it used to stand the most beautiful and precious Totem pole of the Haida tribe. “What else is missing?” Wood asked carefully.
“We are not sure yet just how many artifacts and which ones are missing,” the other man explained. “I noticed that one of the canoes had been stolen too, but about the rest I would need time to find out.”
“That is okay,” Wood murmured, while looking around the large room used for the exhibition of the precious artifacts which once belonged to his own ancestors. “From where did they enter?”
“We have no idea,” the museum’s security guard said, shaking his head. “When I came in this morning, the other guard, John Willis, hadn’t noticed anything. I was making my first rounds, when I noticed that the pole was missing and called the curator.”
“Did you notice something else unusual?” Wood asked him. “Maybe you saw an open door or window?”
“No,” the guard shook his head again. “Everything was closed and secured, as it should be. I called John immediately, but he insisted that nothing unusual happened during the night. By the way, he is coming here, so if you have questions for him, he would be available soon.”
“Thank you, Rick,” Wood thanked the young man, whom he had known all his life. “I will look around, and you make sure that no one but the police comes in.”
“Sure, Charlie, don’t worry, no one will be coming in.” Rick turned around and walked towards the front of the building, where his desk and the monitors were situated.
“Please prepare the video footage for us to go through later,” Wood called after him.
He was standing in the middle of the room where the big totem pole had been standing only a few hours ago. Wood knew that it had been given to the museum by his people, so that more people could appreciate the rich culture of his clan. He remembered well the day when his grandmother, accompanied by a big part of the clan, brought the precious artifacts to the museum. The moment had been special for everyone who lived around here, and Wood knew that the robbery would make a lot of noise. He needed to act quickly.
The phone call to the city police department was answered immediately, and Wood was glad to hear that Detective Davis was assigned to the case. In the meantime, the sergeant made sure to secure the perimeter, and to ask everyone concerned to stay close. The museum staff had already arrived, and Wood was asking them a few questions, when the security guard came in.
“Can you tell me how did it happen that a Totem pole and a big canoe were stolen without you noticing anything?” Wood asked him, after taking him to an empty room. “John, the situation is serious, nothing has been broken into, and there are no visible traces of anyone being in the museum.”
“You suspect me.” John Willis stated calmly. “But I had nothing to do with the robbery, Charlie. I did all of my rounds, and never left my post in front of the monitors. No one came in, and no one called during the night... I really have no idea how someone managed to steal anything from here, let alone the big Totem pole...”
John Willis was a middle aged man who, after retiring from his job as a builder, took a position in the local museum. Wood knew him as a calm and respectable man, with a large family and many friends. No one who knew him would ever think of him as a man capable of committing crimes, and the sergeant thought the same himself.
“We will find out the persons responsible for the robbery, don’t worry,” Wood smiled at the older man, and walked out of the room. Wood was worried, because after two hours he still had no idea what had happened, or at least how the robbers got inside. His only hope was Davis...
The detective arrived almost three hours later and before looking around, asked Wood to give him all the information they had so far. They walked together into a side room and Davis sat down, ready to listen, while Wood preferred to walk up and down the room.
“This morning, when the museum security guard was changed, Rick Brown, the second security guard, did his first rounds and noticed that the Totem pole was missing. He called the museum curator and later the curator called me. No door or window had been open or broken into, and no one saw or heard anything during the night. The night guard, John Willis, is very surprised that something had been stolen during his watch, and has no idea how it happened.”
“How many rounds do they make each night?”
“Four,” Wood said, and took out his notebook. “The first one is around eight, the next is at eleven, then two in the morning and finally around six. The change of guards happens every morning at seven, and the new guard makes his first rounds around seven thirty.”
“So, if I understood you correctly, the artifacts disappeared somewhere between 5 a.m. and 7:30 a.m.?”
“Yes, John Willis insists that nothing was missing when he made his rounds at 5 a.m., and Rick discovered the robbery around eight, when he entered the big museum hall.”
“Therefore, Wood, this is yet another of Alaska’s mysteries,” Davis smiled at him, looking worried.
Sergeant Wood averted his eyes, knowing only too well how the thing had played out. All this mystery was not a mystery to him at all. He could almost feel the presence of his brothers inside the museum, and could imagine how they did the job. He hated this – the duality and indecision were something he was not accustomed to.
Chapter 2
Davis and Wood spent the rest of the day examining the museum building, paying special attention to its doors and windows. Unfortunately or fortunately, they still were unsure about how to feel about the fact that they were unable to find the point of entry or any other trace of breaking in. Davis called for the forensic team, and Wood used his own abilities to search the place, but nothing significant was found by either of them.
“We should look elsewhere,” Davis said, sounding exasperated. “Tell me about the artifacts that were stolen.”
“They are all precious objects, with special importance to my tribe. In the past, they were used in ancient rituals...” Wood explained. “Whoever did that, committed a crime against the very soul of my people.”
“So, the artifacts are of a great value to collectors, right?”
“Yes, especially the Totem Pole... It is very rare, and this particular one is old and very well made. My grandmother donated it to the museum, so that it could be protected from things just like this one.”
“When did your grandmother donated the Pole?” Davis asked.
“Five years ago… it was a big celebration for the whole town,” Wood smiled at the memory.
“We should alert the airports and all other exit points, it will not be easy to take something as big as the Totem Pole outside the state without someone noticing.”
Wood agreed with him, but there was something deep inside him that was trying to tell him that they should look elsewhere. His people were children of Nature, and Wood was aware that many of them were against the donation of the artifacts to the museum. It was incomprehensible to them how something as beautiful and significant as the Totem Pole would be closed inside a building.
Athabascan people, to whom his own tribe belonged, traditionally inhabited the areas around the Alaskan rivers. Their lives were following the circle of Nature and they lived in small nomadic hunting groups. Each group was kin-based and followed traditional customs, living in sharing and community. The women had a special place in those groups, and the children always belonged to the mother’s clan.
Physical strength and endurance were highly prized among them, and the hunt was often run down on foot. Their usual game was the caribou, the bear, the rabbits, and the salmon, which filled the Alaskan rivers.
Wood had noticed that a big part of the stolen artifacts consisted of spears, arrows, bows, snares, and clubs. Although these artifacts were precious and difficult to find nowadays, they were of no great value or importance to people outside his clan. That was why Wood was slowly forming the idea that whoever stole the objects was more interested in their spiritual value than the money he or she could receive for them.
The Haida people thought of animals as a special type of people, who were more intelligent than humans and could take human form. The traditional ceremonies of Wood’s people included the giving of offerings to the masters of the game animals and to other beings, who gave wealth to the people. The high ranking men of the clan used to hold feasts, potlatches, and dance performances. The Pole also represented a mixture of those beliefs and was an important part of the ceremonies.
The Haida people were well known for their artistic abilities, and especially for the beautiful Totem Poles they crafted for different occasions – memorial poles, house-front poles, and mortuary columns. The poles were usually painted in black, blue-green, and red, and represented a number of animal crest figures.
That was the moment, when Wood realized that there must be another reason for the robbery. “Detective,” he called at Davis and motioned him to follow him in the private room. “In my culture, the pole is used also as a mortuary pole. Today, fewer poles are made for such purposes, and the one stolen had a special importance because of its beauty and age. I think that whoever stole it intends to use it as a mortuary pole.”
“How is it used?” Davis asked, listening carefully to the young man.
“When a person of high rank dies, his body is first left in the house, then it is buried in the grave house, and finally the body is placed in a mortuary pole. Once the pole is erected, the family of the deceased holds a potlatch to honor him and to recognize his successor. My people believe strongly in reincarnation, and in the fact that the soul of the deceased is transported by a canoe to the Land of the Souls, where it awaits reincarnation.”
Wood was speaking excitedly about the Haida culture, and Davis started realizing that he knew too little about the young man and his past. What Wood was saying was that someone from his very tribe was responsible for the robbery, something that only complicated things. It was always easier to deal with money than with religious beliefs.
“I noticed,” Wood continued. “That all the missing artifacts once belonged to my tribe and were usually used in ceremonies.”
“Okay, but how did they do it? How did they manage to enter the museum building and steal all these artifacts without anyone noticing and without leaving any trace?”
“We should go to my grandmother, detective, she is the best person to explain this mystery to you.” Wood smiled mysteriously.
Chapter 3
The police specialists worked throughout the night, and early in the morning they had the results for Detective Davis. According to their findings, inside the museum were found the fingerprints of multiple people, but there was nothing unusual that could be connected to the stealing of the artifacts. All the doors and the windows were in good conditions and without any sign of forced entry.
The only strange thing that they found was that the museum cameras stopped working at 6 a.m. and went back on at seven o'clock in the morning. On the recovered footage could clearly be seen the guards, making their rounds, and the moment when the second one realized that the Totem Pole was missing. Nothing in their behavior suggested that they were part of the robbery, and both Davis and Wood could see that the job was done perfectly.
“I think,” Davis said, after they had gone through the reports for a second time, “that it is time for us to visit your family, Sergeant Wood.”
“Yes...” Wood agreed, but Davis could see that something was troubling him.
“What is it, Sergeant? You know that you can tell me anything, right?”
“Yes, sir...” Wood repeated in the same voice. “This whole thing... it was done by someone who can move unnoticed... like an animal.”
“Don’t tell me that you still believe that animals can turn into people, Wood?” Davis dismissed his comment. “I know that the whole thing seems very mysterious, but I am sure that we will be able to find a very logical explanation with time.”
“Yes, sir, I also hope that we will.”
Before their trip to the Haida grounds, Davis gave his orders for the museum to remain closed for the time being, and a policeman to stay on guard inside it. Although the museum gave them no clues about the people who robbed it, it still was the only connection they had with the robbers. It was important to keep it untouched, so that they could reexamine it at any moment for new clues.
Around midday, after eating a sandwich for lunch, Sergeant Wood and Detective Davis started their journey towards the big river, where the remains of Wood’s clan were still living. The nomadic life of his people had long been forgotten and today, Wood’s family inhabited small houses, constructed of wood. The small Haida village was situated in a clearing near the river, and Wood’s grandmother was the one watching over its people.
Davis listened carefully to everything Wood told him during their ride, and once again wondered how he had missed all this. He h
ad been aware of Wood’s family blood from the very beginning, but he thought of him as one of those Indians who had long lost all connections to their past and traditions. He was surprised to find out that sergeant Charlie Wood was still very strongly connected to the traditions and culture of the Haida Indians, to which he belonged.
“We are children of Nature,” he was telling him. “We love to live in it and through it. All we have is given to us from it, and one day we know that we will return to it. My ancestors used to hunt and move with each change of the seasons. They dressed in clothes made from the material Nature provided for them. Their clothes were made of animal hides. Our groups in the past consisted of a few families, guided by the best warriors and hunters.”
“What about now? I suppose your tribe has changed a lot?”
“Yes and no,” Wood smiled sadly. “There are many of my people who chose to live like you, the white people. But there are also many who still want to follow the ancient way of life and stayed behind. My grandmother is one of them. She chose to stay in the village near the river, and live her life the same way her ancestors did.”
“What about you, why did you become a policeman?”
“My parents wanted something different for their children, and when my sister and I grow up and needed to go to school, we all left the village. It was difficult for all of us, but my father wanted to give us the possibility to choose for ourselves. Every summer, we returned to the Haida grounds, but during the winter we went to school and prepared for our future. When we were big enough, my parents returned to the village, but my sister married and now lives in the city, and I became a policeman.”
“Why?” Davis insisted.
“I don’t know... maybe it was because of the possibility to both protect others and still be able to protect my people. I really don’t know, but what I know is that I made the right choice. I am happy and I love my job.”