Little did Murdoch or Brackenreid know between the time the butcher found him and the police arrived, Best had made his way home and was quick to change and back into bed before his wife even woke up. His head was spinning with though of the Egyptian amulets and Raquel. He had to get the money for her, but he had no idea where the sack went once he awoke in the alley. He sighed and closed his eyes thinking he'd have to take something from the stash of stolen antiquities that had he stored in the shed out back. Best had hope to keep them until he found a willing buyer; one who was able to turn a blind eye and moved the objects quickly for the money alone. Slowly he had drifted off to sleep, probably not for more than twenty minutes when Florence awoke.
Florence sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, while picking up her cotton dressing gown. With out-stretched arms, she yawned widely as she studied her sleeping husband. For some reason she decided to let him sleep a while longer, based on his strange behaviour the evening before. Sticking her dainty feet into the plush slippers, she then stood closing the dressing gown around her waist.
Florence fussed with her hair slightly while the looked in the mirror, before she left the bedroom. She shuffled along the hall and then down the stairs just as there was a knock at the front door. "Who would be knocking at this hour of the day?" she grumbled, hoping to ignore whoever was at the door. Again, there was another knock, this one sounding more impatient. Florence drew her lips tight with disapproval as she unlocked the door, opening to see the Detective and the Inspector standing on the stoop.
"Mrs. Best," Murdoch tipped his hat slightly. Brackenreid was more subtle as he just touched the brim of his bowler.
" What is it now?" Florence asked flatly and showing her disapproval by placing her right hand firmly on his right hip.
"Would your husband be home?" Murdoch asked.
"Yes he is. He's upstairs sleeping. Why?" Florence countered with her own question. Brackenreid's eyebrows lifted as he tried to comprehend what was going on.
"Did he happen to go out last evening?" Murdoch then asked.
"No. He came home later from a meeting, we ate and he went to bed," Florence stated. Murdoch looked over to his boss, who had the same look on his face.
"We'll be back later to ask him a few questions," Murdoch said as he tipped his hat again.
"What is all of this about?" Florence asked.
"It's part of an ongoing investigation," Murdoch replied.
"Well, I would really like to know what's going on," Florence sputtered.
"So would I," Brackenreid scoffed as he followed Murdoch down the stairs and off the veranda. Murdoch tried not to smile at the comment from his boss, but he did find it humorous. As they walked along Brackenreid stopped the Detective, "What if Best is crackers?" he asked.
"There is that possibility, Sir. Perhaps he's suffering from senile decay," Murdoch suggest as food for thought. Brackenreid ticked his head at the idea and they continued on their way. Their next stop was they University of Toronto.
Dean David Miller was clearly in a flap. The university corridor was filled with police constables from Station House No. 8 who were busy taking photos and gathering evidence. "Sir?" Constable Calderwood, tried to get his boss' attention.
Detective Munro pulled himself away from the conversation with his boss, Inspector Byers and Dean Miller, "What is it, Garrett?" he asked.
"I think the boys have everything that we could gather at the scene," Calderwood stated.
"That's good. Get it back to the station and begin processing it," Munro requested.
"Yes, Sir," Calderwood said as he gathered the men to leave. Just then Murdoch and Brackenreid then appeared on site garnering a look from Calderwood to Munro. Munro looked over to the two men, "Can I help you?" he asked halting from approaching further.
Murdoch and Brackenreid flashed their badges, "Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid, from Station House No. 4," Murdoch replied.
"What brings you here. This is our jurisdiction," Munro challenged.
"We're following up on a case we're working on," Murdoch stated.
"What case?" Munro asked. There was a tone of annoyance in his voice.
"One which involves a shrunken head and Councillor Best," Brackenreid spoke up.
By now, Inspector Travis Byers made his way over to the three men, "Brackenreid," he acknowledged Station House No. 4's Inspector. "Byers," Brackenreid replied. "What brings you here?" Byers asked.
"Like Detective Murdoch was just saying, we're following up on a case," Brackenreid squared himself to his coequal.
"I see," Byers said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And just what is this case?" he asked the Inspector.
"One that involves a shrunken head and perhaps Councillor Best," Brackenreid was getting his hackles up.
"A shrunken head?" Byers half laughed. "What the hell is that?" he looked over to Calderwood.
The Constable stepped forward, "It's a tiny shrivelled human head from South America," Garrett replied. Both Brackenreid and Murdoch exchanged looks as they both wondered if Calderwood and Crabtree were related somehow.
"If you need to see it, it's in the city morgue," Murdoch interjected.
"Interesting, but how does that relate to this?" Munro asked bluntly.
"It was taken from here, some time ago," Brackenreid answered.
"By Councillor Best?" Munro scoffed.
"That we don't know, yet," Murdoch stated. "However, while investigating an unusual occurrence, we did discover a sack full of what would look like Egyptian amulets," the Detective noted.
"Interesting," Calderwood stated. The other men looked at him. "Don't you have something to do?" Munro asked the Constable who quickly took leave of himself.
Dean Miller was near enough to the conversation to hear it, "Did you just say you found the amulets?"
"We found amulets, yes, but they are begin tested for fingermarks," Murdoch stated.
"Fingermarks? You can't subject those to tests!" the Dean shouted. "Good God, man! The are ancient pieces and I want them returned immediately!" he demanded.
Brackenreid had had enough, "Look here 'Sunshine'," he warned with his walking stick firmly gripped in his right hand, "I've had enough running around on his bloody case today. Your amulets will be returned once we're through with them," he firmly stated. Murdoch was rather pleased with his boss, as he too was growing tired of the seemingly dead ends that they were running into with regards to the case at hand. Miller thrust his nose in the air and turned on his heels, "My superiors will be in touch with yours," he huffed as he walked away.
"Blood hell," Brackenreid cursed.
"You were within your rights, Sir," Murdoch stated. "The amulets are evidence and shall be handled as such," he added.
Brackenreid turned to his colleague and friend, "Thanks Murdoch. You know, I really wanted to sock him. Who does he think he is?" the Inspector turned his head and watched the dean walk away. "Pompous ass," he then said.
"He's just concerned about the break-in and the missing antiquities," the Detective offered.
"Well, I'm just concerned about solving this bloody case," Brackenreid grunted as he looked back at Murdoch. "And what have we got? A shrunken head. A bag full of amulets. Initials in a book and a whole bunch of nothing! I'm going back to the station. You do what you need to do here," the Inspector stated as he trudged off to the the door.
Murdoch really couldn't blame his boss for feeling the way he did. In fact he shared his feelings more than he showed. It was a frustrating case, indeed.
