A Fertile Investigation
a mystery story by Ed Ahern
Here is a straight forward investigative story about a missing statue. What makes it underside? Well, this isn’t just any statue. And this isn’t just any investigator…
A Fertile Investigation
by Ed Ahern
The outsized house looked to have the multiple bedrooms and bathrooms of a resort rental, but was tucked into a suburban neighborhood. The storm door was intact, but the extensively carved front door was broken open. Richie rang the doorbell and nodded to the woman who came to the entry.
“Mrs. Jasper?”
“You’re presumably Richard Shifkin?”
“The same. When you called you said you wanted my help to find something. Was it taken during the break in?”
“Yes.”
They eyed each other. Neither seemed impressed. Richie was an inch short of medium height and wore thick glasses. He carried a large and apparently heavy briefcase. Thelma Jasper outweighed him by a few pounds.
She shrugged. “Come on in.”
She pointed to a sitting area in the front hall where they sat side by side. When Thelma didn’t offer Richie anything to drink, he restrained a smile. Keeping him as hired help, not acquaintance.
“I assume the police have been here and investigated?”
She nodded. “They did a cursory check for fingerprints and took some notes. I wasn’t impressed. They didn’t seem to consider the break-in as serious.”
“Who lives in the house?”
“Just my cook, Beryl, and me.”
Richie nodded. “I’ll need both your fingerprints. What was taken?”
“A gold statuette of a god.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Inanna, she’s also known as...”
“Ishtar, yes, I’m aware. Do you use the figure in rites?”
Thelma’s lips pursed in a half-smile. “They said you were an occultist. Yes, I do. I provide fertility assistance to women seeking children.”
“Are you successful?”
“Very. It’s a profitable business.”
It was Richie’s turn to smile. “I’m guessing this is the Achenbach Institute statue of Inanna. I wondered who’d paid that much for it.”
“And I’ve been offered twice as much since then. Do you think you can get it back?”
“Hopefully. I require a five-thousand-dollar upfront fee to cover expenses, then, shall we say a twenty-thousand-dollar finder’s fee if I’m able to bring it back.”
“That’s outrageous.”
“Perhaps. If I fail, you’re out five thousand. If I succeed you can recover your costs in three babies. If you agree I’ll need the names and contact information for anyone who’s offered to buy the statue, as well as anyone else you think is interested. I’ll also need to review the police report, interview the cops who came here, and do a thorough investigation of the rooms where
the statue is stored and used.”
“The cops have already done that that last part.”
“Not like I will. Oh, and I’ll need a list of your last six months of customers.”
“That’s confidential.”
“So am I.”
Thelma stood up. “I don’t seem to have a lot of options, let’s proceed. Would you like something to drink?”
“Please. Just ice water.”
She walked Richie further into the house and a room that could legitimately be called a library, with perhaps fifteen hundred books lining the walls. While she left to fetch drinks, Richie did a quick walk around the bookshelves. She returned with a glass each of white wine and ice water. Richie broadly waved his hand.
“This is a magnificent occult collection. There are books here I’ve only heard rumors about. If you’ve read even a fraction of them, you must be adept.”
Her expression softened into a smile. “Thank you. Yes, I used to be a more general practitioner, but too few people wanted potions and curses, and I knew I had to specialize. Hence fertility. Inanna isn’t some extravagant objet d’art for me, it’s my livelihood.”
She sipped her wine. “I hesitated about contacting you. Those in the sisterhood who’ve used you say that you get results but that your methods can be shady. I don’t want to go to jail because of something you’ve done.”
Richie sniffed his water and put it down without drinking. “You know, it’s a funny thing about psychoactive drugs like scopolamine, there’s a certain aroma.”
Thelma sighed. “Old habits do die hard. Sorry. Would you like a replacement?”
“No thanks. To your point, I provide a money back guarantee that you won’t face any legal blowback from my methods. You’ve probably already heard that from the people you’ve talked to.”
She nodded. “I have. I also want to know who the thief is, so I can properly curse him.”
“Yeah, maybe not. Sometimes part of the deal in recovering artifacts is to absolve the perp of legal or magical consequences. Is it more important to get revenge or recover the statue?”
Thelma hesitated. “Inanna. But I want the bastard to suffer.”
“I suspect he or she suffers enough already. Is this the room Inanna was taken from?”
“Yes. Can you guess where?”
“If I were concealing her, I’d use a safe hidden behind some of the books, a spot not visible from outside the windows to the patio.”
“A good guess. Let me show you.”
Thelma got up and stepped over to the shelves. She carefully removed five large books. Behind them was a wall safe with a keypad. “It’s a foot and a half deep, plenty of room for the statue and a few other trinkets.” She punched several numbers on the keypad, opened the safe, and sat back down. “All yours.”
Richie set his briefcase on a coffee table, opened it, and took out a tactical flashlight rigged for UV work. He turned to Thelma. “You’re welcome to stay while I work, but this is apt to take a couple hours.”
“Thanks, I’ll stay. I’m sure I can find something to read.” She did, her eyes shifting back and forth between a calfskin bound tome of Jerome’s Latin vulgate bible, and Richie, moving from books to tables to chairs with his UV light and magnifying spectacles. He occasionally murmured to himself. Then he switched to an olfactory sensor, then to the fine dust used to detect fingerprints. He photographed several prints.
After an hour and a half, he turned to Thelma. “Could you please call Beryl? I need to take your fingerprints.”
While they were waiting, Richie’s cell phone rang. He glanced at its screen. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be very brief.”
Thelma nodded her assent.
“Hello Jill... Honey, I explained to you, this will take time, just be patient... Yes, I’m sure, just please relax... We’ll talk soon.”
Thelma raised an eyebrow. “Your wife?”
“Favorite niece. I’m afraid I spoil her. It’s just a little thaumaturgical project I’m working on with her, and she’s nervous. Sorry, let’s resume.”
He took fingerprints from the two women and provided them with alcohol wipes to clean their fingers, and while alone with each woman asked them fifteen minutes of questions. Then: “Let’s look at the front door now, please.”
Once back at the entry, Richie dusted for prints and carefully scanned the wooden door with his magnifiers. He turned to Thelma. “It looks as if the perp used a heavy sledge hammer to break the locks loose. That would have been really noisy. Who was home that night?”
“Unfortunately, no one. I was at an overnight alchemic conference and Beryl had the night off.”
“The alarm was on?”
“Yes, but it was apparently keyed off before the service would call the police.”
Richie looked back outside the house. “If you left the door open while keying the pad, someone nearby with binoculars could read the numbers. Who knew you were at the conference?”
Thelma shrugged. “I was preregistered, so any of several hundred other attendees.”
His tone softened. “I know what losing something like this means to you. We identify with, bond with, these talismans of power. I’ll do everything possible to bring Inanna back to you.” He handed her his card. “My email and text number are there. Please send me the information I requested as soon as feasible. My Venmo account is also on it. Once the money is transferred, I’ll proceed, and provide you with daily text updates.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shifkin.”
“Please, call me Richie, we’re going to be working closely together.”
“Richie. I’ll transfer the money today.”
He repacked the briefcase, said goodbye and left. True to his word, he sent a text late every afternoon, initially just acknowledging receipt of money and information from Thelma, then reporting halting progress. There were two weeks of brief messages: “No notable progress today.”
“Screen of online and in-person possible resellers indicates the statue has not yet come on the market.”
“List provided of those who asked to purchase the statue has been checked against their activity. Two do not appear to have alibis for the time in question.”
Thelma also received three texts from other magical practitioners complaining about Shifkin’s intrusive questioning. The one from a competitor was typical: “Asshole Shifkin questioning my professional ethics. You sic him on me, you bitch?”
Perhaps surmising that Thelma was impatiently awaiting developments, Richie also called twice a week. At the end of the third week, she interrupted his call before he could start talking. “You’ve accomplished nothing. Your leg work has only pissed off my associates.”
He gently interrupted. “Actually, there has been a development. I believe I’ve identified a probable culprit. Now I just have to verify enough information to be able to pry the statue loose.”
“Who is it!?”
“If I tell you that the statue is apt to disappear. As I’ve cautioned, it may be that the thief remains unidentified in order to get Inanna back.”
“Do I know him!?”
Richie hesitated. “You do know her or him, but not well.”
“Clearly not well enough. When will this happen?”
“Hopefully within the next week or two. Please, please say nothing to anyone about this until after the statue is retrieved.”
Thelma spent the two and a half weeks on previously ignored chores so she could burn off her increasingly nervous energy. Then Richie sent her a close-up picture of Inanna, with the note: “Got it! Will bring by this evening. Please arrange for funds transfer.”
That evening Richie arrived with a gym bag rather than a briefcase. Thelma had been waiting just inside the recently-replaced front door, now metal-sheathed and triple-locking. She hustled him into the library. “Where is it?”
He removed a velvet cloth-wrapped bundle from the gym bag, unwrapped it, and handed the gold-colored statue to Thelma. She grabbed it from him, picked up a magnifying glass, and began to closely examine the Inanna.
Richie smiled. “I figured you had ways to visually verify that this was the real god.”
She didn’t answer him for the next three minutes, then put down the magnifying glass while still holding onto the statue. “You did what you said. But now we need to renegotiate the price.”
He smiled again, more broadly. “You don’t want to do that. My investigation revealed irregularities in the auction process for the statue. Apparently, a competing bidder was peremptorily cut off. If that matter is made public you might lose the statue again.”
Thelma’s return smile was fixed. “As you say, that would be unfortunate.” She picked up her cell phone, typed for a minute and said, “You should have received the 50k. But I need you to tell me who stole it.”
Richie’s phone beeped. He glanced at it. “Thank you. Regrettably, I can’t tell you who stole it, but I did receive solid assurance that they won’t try to steal it again.”
“Then I think we’re done here. Thank you as well, Richie, I guess.”
“You’re most welcome.” Richie noticed that she hadn’t bothered to offer him anything to drink. He said goodbye and left, swinging the now-empty gym bag.
As he was tossing the bag into the back seat of his car his phone rang.
“Hello Jill... That’s wonderful news. You’re sure? ...Boy or girl, I’m sure you two will be thrilled.... You’re most welcome, honey, glad I could help.”
Sometimes the underside reveals an underhanded PI.
Meet the author:
Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had four hundred fifty stories and poems published so far, and seven books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he manages a posse of eight review editors. He’s also lead editor at The Scribes Micro Fiction magazine.
https://www.twitter.com/bottomstripper
Wondeful, the detective reminds me of Jacques Futrelle's The Thinking Machine...even if it wasn't quite deduction.