Stolen by John Wilson

Author:John Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV030080, JUV001000, JUV028000
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2013-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“How did this happen?” Bill asks. “In broad daylight!” We’re surrounded by shards of broken glass and staring at the empty pedestal where the Loch Ard peacock used to be.

“Somebody must have seen something,” Annabel says. “The peacock’s not small. The cops’ll get it back.”

“In how many pieces?” Bill asks miserably.

Annabel moves away from the pedestal, crouches down and stares at something on the floor.

“What is it?” I ask, joining her. She seems to be studying the silver lock. The halves of the lock lie side by side. They don’t look damaged, but one wouldn’t expect them to be, since the thieves shattered the case rather than forcing the lock.

Before Annabel can respond, the police inspector sticks his head around a display. “We’re done here,” he says. “I’ve got a couple of officers interviewing the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything suspicious. Forensics is still dusting for prints, so don’t touch anything, but as soon as he’s done you can begin cleaning up.”

“Thank you,” Bill says. “Do you have any leads yet?”

“Too early to know. We’ll review all the interviews and see what that tells us, and forensics will narrow fingerprints down to those that don’t belong to the staff. It’ll take time.”

“I suppose so,” Bill says. “Thanks again.”

We move through to the staff room. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Sturridge,” Penny says as we enter. “I should have seen something.”

Bill pours himself a coffee and we all sit at the table. “I know you’ve probably had to tell the police everything three or four times, but could you go over it once more for me?”

“Of course, Mr. Sturridge,” Penny says. She’s tiny, no more than five feet one or two, and so delicate that she looks more fragile than the peacock did. Her short hair is dyed jet black. Her face is red from crying. “I was just coming out of the washroom when I heard a crash from the museum. I thought something had fallen over, you know, after the storm last night.” Penny sniffs and blows her nose loudly.

“Did you go straight through?” Bill asks.

“No, I went back to the front desk to make sure everything was all right there first.”

“Was it?” Bill asks.

“Yes. The front doors were locked, and there was no one in the parking lot.”

“No suspicious vehicles?”

Penny shakes her head dejectedly. “Then I went though to the museum. It was like you saw it—glass from the smashed case everywhere and the peacock gone. I’m afraid I screamed.”

“I would have as well,” Annabel says gently. “Were the electricians still here?”

“No. They left about half an hour before I heard the crash. They said the alarms were fixed and not to forget to arm them when we left.”

“So it was just you and Pete here?” Bill asked.

“Yes. Ms. MacAuley called in sick.”

“I know,” Bill said thoughtfully. “She texted me this morning. Did you hear the crash, Pete?”

“I heard Penny scream. I was on the balcony having a smoke. When I came in, she was standing by the broken case.

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