Chapter 11

"A witch box?" Joe fingered the carved, raised symbols on the container. "What the heck is a witch box?"

Duncan gulped and surveyed the wooden box, which sat so innocently on the table in front of him. "They were used in the sixteenth century to ward off witches." He cleared his throat. "They, um, were generally sold to someone who was in need of protection from evil. The box would contain something, usually herbs or even human bones, which would defend whoever was in possession of the box from spells that might have been cast on them."

"Wait," Frank interrupted. "You're talking real witches? Or what people thought were real witches at the time, since nobody believes in that hocus-pocus nonsense anymore?"

Duncan looked at him sharply. "As I said to your brother, don't be mocking something you don't understand."

"Um, what I understand is that there is an artifact in that container that was not requisitioned and not accounted for," Evan said, grabbing his clipboard and flipping furiously through the pages attached to it. "Where in the hell did it come from?"

Joe turned the box over and began examining it. "So this is real then? It's from the sixteenth century?"

"I, I can't be sure without a closer examination," Duncan hesitated, then backed away from the box, clearly disturbed by its presence.

Emily touched Joe on the arm. "Let me have a look."

He set it back down on the table and she reached for the movable magnifying light attached to the table. She pulled it over and turned it on, adjusting it so she could see the markings on the box more clearly. "It's definitely old. Not a reproduction." She looked over her shoulder, "Evan?"

He set the clipboard down and as Emily stepped back, he peered into the magnifying lens. After a moment, he looked up. "Late fifteenth, possibly early sixteenth century, made in England, near the Scottish border, rather a crude design, but still attractive enough. Value undetermined without closer analysis."

"You sound like an auction catalog," Emily smiled.

"What about this crystal thingy?" Joe asked. "Is this another charmstone?"

Evan took it from him and held it up to the light. "Yes, and a very nice one, I might add." He glanced at Duncan, who was pale and sweating. "I think someone in Scotland is playing a ridiculous prank on you. And, I hope it was worth their getting fired for, because when I report this to Edinburgh, heads are going to roll."

"It's a message." Duncan's voice was hoarse.

"A message?" Frank asked. "For whom?"

"I don't know." Duncan shook his head and walked over to the water cooler against the far wall. His hands shook as he filled the paper cup. He gulped down the water then turned to face them. "But the message is very clear. Someone here needs protection against evil."

Joe set the charmstone back down in the box and put his hands on his hips. "So, let me see if I've got this straight. These charmstones have been turning up, either as a sign of evil or some sort of protection against it, but you don't know which? And, you don't know who the warning or protection is intended for?" He looked at Duncan. "Don't you think that's a little vague?"

"Like I said," Evan began as he walked around the table, "I think it's someone's idea of a joke. Someone in Edinburgh knows you're a superstitious nut job and wants to freak you out to the point where we need to get some men to bring you a little white jacket with the arms that tie in back." He picked up the clipboard and moved to the door. "Now, I'm going to call Edinburgh and get to the bottom of this, because I will not be responsible for carelessly shipped and undocumented artifacts." He shook his head as he stepped through the doorway. "Try and pull yourself together, Duncan."

As Evan left, Emily cleared her throat and moved to the phone on the wall. "I'll just have security come and make sure all of this stuff gets locked up."

Duncan nodded, but didn't move.

Joe looked at Frank. "You think we should tell Collig about this?"

"Not until we know more about what's going on. Duncan seems to view this as some sort of threat, but maybe it was just a shipping error."

Joe reached back and touched the crystal again. "Somehow I doubt that."

Frank sighed. "Yeah, me too."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Twenty minutes later, while Mitch and the security team were in the shipping room with Emily and Duncan, Frank and Joe headed for Mitch's office. Still wearing the latex gloves he had on earlier, Joe began searching Mitch's desk while Frank moved over to the bank of monitors.

"Make sure you have on the feed for the stairwells and elevators on the main floor. I want to know when someone is headed this way." Joe reminded him.

"Will do." He pushed in the code Mitch had given him the day before to pull up the video from the day Emily's office was ransacked and the day she got the note in her locker. "Find anything yet?"

"Nothing interesting." Joe closed the middle drawer in Mitch's desk. "How about you?"

"Not so far." Frank reached into his shirt pocket for the tiny spiral notepad he kept there. "I'm just writing down who got on the elevators or used the stairwells and where they got off."

They worked in silence for a few moments, and then Frank said, "Hey, Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Come look at this."

Joe walked over to the bank of monitors. "What's up?"

"Here," Frank pointed to the screen. "This security guard takes the elevator to the third floor offices and gets off, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"But then look." Frank pressed the remote control to speed up the scene. "He exits the stairwell from the basement to the lobby. Without ever having gotten back on the third floor elevator or having gone down the stairs from the third floor to the basement. See, it's the same guy. Look at his shoes. They're brown, not black like the rest of the guards."

"What?" Joe leaned forward. "Let me see that again."

Frank replayed the tape and Joe looked at him. "What time is on the video?"

"Um, around one forty-five."

"We went down to Emily's office right after two p.m. on that day, remember?"

Frank nodded slowly. "Whoever this guard is..."

"Is the one who ransacked her office," Joe finished. He began to pace the room. "He obviously didn't want anyone knowing he'd been in the

basement. And, he kept his head down in front of the cameras so nobody could identify him."

"So he took the elevator to the third floor and somehow from there, got down to the basement," Frank surmised.

"And, I'll bet he was still in the office when he heard Emily and me coming down the stairs."

"That's why he couldn't take whatever secret passageway, hidden staircase, or fire escape he used before to get back up to the third floor and get on the elevator there."

"If he'd done that, no one would be the wiser looking at these tapes."

Frank turned off the video and stood up. "We need the floor plans for this building."

"We also need to look at the video Collig has from the day Ayres was murdered again. Except that now we need to pay attention to who got on and off the third floor elevators and see if we can find a match for our security guard."

Frank sighed. "That's going to be tough. We don't even know what he really looks like. It could be anyone."

"Yeah, well let's get out of here. I'd just as soon Mitch didn't know we're that interested in these tapes. Just in case."

"I agree." Frank headed for the door. "I'll go downtown and try to get the blueprints for this building. The architect would have had to file them with the city during construction."

"And I'll head over to the police station." Joe grinned. "I don't think I've harassed Chief Collig near enough lately.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

As Joe walked through the lobby on his way out of the museum, he spotted Brian, the young man from the group home, taping some posters about the museum banquet to the main doors. "Looks like it's going to be an exciting night," he commented.

Brian smiled at him. "It's a big party," he said in a slow, measured voice. "Lots of people are coming. Are you coming, Joe?"

"I think so," he replied. "I don't have a date though." He glanced around. "I guess Emily will be there, huh?"

Brian nodded his head vigorously. "I heard her talk about it already. She has to come. She works here."

"I see," Joe said. "So that means she probably has to come by herself then."

"Oh, no. She's not coming by herself. She has a date." Brian gave a sheepish smile. "Emily is so pretty. Lots of guys like her. They're always coming in to talk to her."

Joe felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Well, you got your answer, Hardy. How many more hints do you need? "She has a date? You're sure about that?"

"Yeah," Brian said. He picked up the tape dispenser and walked toward the reception desk. "Bye, Joe."

Joe gave him a half wave and exited through the museum's main doors. He sighed as he headed toward the parking lot. Damn it, I really wanted to take her to this banquet. And, I thought by the way she was talking that she wanted to go with me, too. He shook his head. I guess I'll never understand women. He reached the van and inserted the key in the driver's side door. Clearly I need to move on though. I have to get overthis...this thing I seem to have for her. As he opened the door, he caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.

"I thought that was you, Joe." Heather Howell bounced up to him. "Wow, how weird that I'd run into you twice in one day."

"Yeah," Joe smiled then he paused. "Hey Heather, what are you doing this weekend?"

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Heather?" Frank asked Joe when they met up at home later that afternoon. "You're bringing Heather Howell to the museum dinner?"

"Yeah, you have a problem with that?" Joe got a defensive look on his face.

Frank shook his head. "Joe, describing Heather Howell as vacuous would be kind." He dropped the file he was holding on Fenton's desk. "I know you're not interested in her."

"You're right. I'm not. But she's fun. She knows how to have a good time."

"I'll bet she does," Frank said with a smirk.

"That's not what I meant."

"No. That's what I meant." He perched on the edge of the desk. "I thought you were a little more serious about Emily."

"I'm over her." He crossed his arms in front of him. "You know, maybe you were right. Maybe she really is interested in you. Because she could care less about me. Why don't you go for it?"

Frank waved his hand in the air dismissively. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend."

"Not one who lives in Bayport, anyway," Joe said, with a sly grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I've noticed that you haven't dated anyone seriously since we got back from that case in Hollywood six months ago. Not since that little episode in the hotel lobby with someone whose initials are 'N. D.'"

"You're imagining things."

"I imagined you kissing her?"

Frank's face turned crimson. "You were reading something into it that just wasn't there. We were celebrating the end of the case."

"Mmm, and is that how you usually celebrate the end of a case? Because...and correct me if I'm wrong...I don't recall you kissing any of the other detectives at the convention."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

"And, let's see..." Joe leaned against the filing cabinet crossing his arms in front of him. "Who are you taking to the museum dinner, anyway?

"Callie."

"Callie Shaw? Dad's office assistant? The girl you've been friends with since third grade but have had no romantic interest in beyond the Junior Prom? She's your date?"

Frank sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling. "Yes, she's my date."

"I rest my case."

"Okay, how did this conversation become about my love life?"

"I'm just sayin'," Joe remarked, a grin on his face.

"Let's make a deal. I'll stay out of your love life and you stay out of mine."

"Agreed." Joe stuck his hand out and Frank shook it.

"Although I do reserve the right to complain about Heather Howell if I'm forced to spend more than five minutes with her," Frank muttered.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll sit between you." Joe gestured towards the blueprints Frank was holding. "So, did you find our secret passageway?"

Frank spread them out across Fenton's desk. "I don't know." He reached for a stapler and a Rolodex to hold down the edges of the paper. "Here's the problem. The entire northeast section of the museum was remodeled six years ago. The city doesn't have the original blueprints on file anymore. According to these blueprints, there is no secret passageway or hidden staircase or anything like that."

"But if we could get our hands on the old blueprints, we might be able to see where it could be."

"What I'm thinking is that somehow during the remodel, a new wall was built over an existing staircase or even an old freight elevator or something like that."

"Makes sense," Joe agreed. "But how are we going to find out if these blueprints don't show it?"

Frank grinned. "It looks like we're going to have to get creative."

"Ah, creative," Joe smirked. "That would be the code word for 'illegal.'"

Frank rolled up the blueprints. "I never said that."

Joe clapped him on the shoulder. "You didn't have to."

"I figured the night of the banquet might be a good one to search the building," Frank proposed. "The guards will be busy downstairs and one of us can sneak up to the third floor and see what we can find."

"Sounds like a plan." Joe sniffed the air. "Are those chocolate chip cookies I smell?"

"I think so." Frank gave him a sideways glance. "What do you say we go sweet talk Aunt Gertrude?"

"Well, how about you sweet talk her? I'll just steal some cookies while she's not looking."

Frank rolled his eyes as they headed down the hall toward the kitchen.