The River Girl and the Jeweled Mask — Part Four
The Paranormal Perspective
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An ancient African mask was stolen from a local museum and used in a bank robbery. After learning how the victims were coerced, Detective Wendell Hughes knows the paranormal is at work. He hopes to learn more when he questions the victim over lunch.
Wendell and his partner, Randal, arrived early at the Safe Harbor Seafood Restaurant in Jacksonville Beach. Wendell ordered an appetizer plate of conch fritters. Jacksonville detectives Bill Bailey and Harry Chowder arrived with Paula Pierce. The bank teller was in her forties and not unattractive, but Wendell could not see why the bank robber had forced her to expose herself.
Wendell stood and extended his hand. “Mrs. Pierce, thank you so much for meeting with us.” He introduced Randal and they also shook hands.
“I don’t know what more I can add,” she said.
“Yes, your report to Detectives Bailey and Chowder was quite complete, but we detectives always like to hear things for ourselves.”
“You are investigating a similar crime?”
“Not exactly. We think we know where the mask came from, and we are working with Bill and Harry. We think the bank robber stole the mask, and if we can solve that crime, we will know who the bank robber is.”
“Yes, I understand.”
The waitress arrived and they ordered. Paula had been to the restaurant before and ordered the basket of mixed fried shrimp and scallops. She had forgone the coleslaw for extra hushpuppies. Wendell ordered the basket as well; it was the house specialty. However, he had his filled with blackened shrimp. He did not trade away his coleslaw.
After the waitress left Randal began. “Now, Mrs. Pierce, have you remembered any more details since the robbery — that was two days ago now, correct?”
“Yes, that’s when it was, but no. I’ve nothing to add.”
“So, you don’t remember what the man said to you? Did he have a gun?” Randall asked.
“I don’t recall him saying anything. I didn’t see a gun, but I only saw him for a second or two — at least, that’s all I remember. I saw him walk in and I knew from his dark clothes and hoodie that he was trouble. I’ve never been robbed before, but he had that ghetto look to him. Then I saw the mask and looked into his bloodshot eyes.” She sighed. “That’s all I remember. The next I knew I was…” She dabbed her eyes.
“Yes, I’m sorry for making you relive that experience. You say you immediately concluded he was trouble, but you didn’t sound the alarm? What did the other two people in the bank lobby do?”
“It was so fast. I saw him walk in, I saw the mask, and that was it. I didn’t see what he did to the others.”
Their meal arrived and they began eating.
Wendell said, “You don’t recall what he said, but I’m sure you remember the Cajun drawl he had. He almost sounded French, isn’t that right?”
Her jaw dropped. “Uh, why yes, you are right about that. He had that…” She paused, and a distant look bloomed on her face. The corners of her lips dipped into a frown. Unable to add detail, she silently dipped a fried shrimp into the red cocktail sauce and bit off a piece.
Randal started to say something, but Wendell waved a hand to silence him. Bill and Harry took the hint and changed the subject to the weather as the five finished their lunch. Wendell bypassed any awkward conversation and scooped up the bill.
Bill drove Paula back to her job at the bank while Harry road in the backseat of Wendell’s car to the police station.
“What was that all about? The Cajun thing?” Harry asked.
“Oh, I was testing a theory. She was hypnotized, but not properly brought out of the suggestive trance. She is still overly susceptible to suggestions. Y’all were asking question, trying not to suggest what you wanted to hear. Thus, she told you nothing.” Wendell was a good detective even without Cassie’s help. To some extent, her support encouraged him to speak his mind and act upon his impulses. In this case, he was not at all sure of what he was saying, but he was speaking with certainty in his voice. “I turned it around and suggested what I wanted to hear, and she complied. This is what the unsub wanted to happen. Had you been sloppy in questioning her, she would have sent you off on some wild goose chase telling you what you wanted to hear.”
“So, you’re saying we questioned her correctly and got nothing?”
“Indeed, but it is this detail which is our best clue. Your man is a hypnotist.”
“You mean like those sideshow illusionist?”
“Not exactly. Hypnosis is a real thing. There are skilled practitioners who can make a group of people so open to suggestion that they do weird stuff.”
“Like walk around clucking like a chicken?” Randal interrupted.
“Yes, those are the party sideshow favorites, but I suspect this guy is a real professional. He might work with patients helping them stop smoking, lose weight, or cure erectile dysfunction — that sort of thing. But, now he must be down on his luck and turning his talents to commit these rather petty bank robberies.” Wendell turned to Harry. “Start checking the yellow pages.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“We’ll figure out who stole the mask, or at least why. The thieves are either the same person, or related. As we work, we’ll meet in the middle and arrest the bugger. Believe it or not.” Wendell smiled, reciting the trademark catchphrase of the museum.
After dropping Harry off at the police station, Randal drove south on Highway One to St. Augustine. Wendell silently stared out the window.
“So, we’re going to interview Dr. Jamison of the Ripley’s museum now?” Randal asked.
“Not yet.” Wendell still wanted to talk with Cassie first. “There was a disc with CCTV video in the folder. Let’s see what that shows and then call it a day.”
Once in their own squad room, they watched the video from the museum robbery. There was no direct view of the mask’s display. The museum displays were grouped in interconnecting rooms. The exhibit room containing the mask had two doors; patrons entered through one door, walked through the exhibits, and exited through the second door to the next room. Each door was covered by a camera. There were no windows. From the time the night staff locked-up until morning, there was nothing. Video surveillance of the building’s front door, rear loading dock, and two emergency exits also showed no sign of intrusion. In the morning, the museum’s first patron slowly walked from room to room. Thirty minutes later, Dr. Jamison hurried into the room. This was the discovery of the theft. The first patron had noticed the empty display case, and had mentioned it to the girl in the gift shop. There was a short video of the exchange in the gift shop as the patron purchased a commemorative shot glass and three post cards. The clerk did not report the patron’s comment at first but then thought better, and told Dr. Jamison.
There was ten hours of overnight video from each of the six cameras. Supposedly, the other detectives had watched every minute of it and had seen nothing. Wendell and Randal spent two hours scanning through various parts, but also saw nothing.
***
At five o’clock, Wendell left the station house and drove south on Highway One. Past the Highway 312 bridge accessing the beach, he pulled into a strip mall and parked in front of a mom’n’pop Mexican restaurant. This was where he ate most nights. It was far from the maddening crowd of tourists. He sat at his usual table and the waitress, Michelle, handed him a menu. She had not brought him the traditional chips and salsa. She stood with her pencil poised over her order pad while he took a long time examining the Mexican and American items listed. This was all for show, and they both knew it. They had performed this ritual countless times.
“I’ll believe I’ll try the special, uh, the enchilada casserole,” he slowly said, tapping the slip of paper attached to the menu with a paperclip. He always ordered the daily special. He was pretty sure Mama Lopez prepared a different dish every day just for him.
“Sure thing,” Michelle said, but she made no notation. She continued to wait. Michelle was shapely, but long past the age where she could pass as a college coed. No doubt, she had once worked in the traditional tourist haunts. While she waited, Wendell turned his attention to the thick folder Harry Chowder had given him — a copy of their investigation into the bank robberies.
When Michelle finally turned away, Wendell added, “Oh yes, an Elephant Beer.” It was his favorite beverage and he was certain the small bar stocked it just for him.
“Of course.” Michelle still didn’t record the order. Instead, she picked up a bottle from the table behind her and placed it on Wendell’s table.
“Thank you.” He raised it to his lips and sipped. With the ritual completed, he waved to Mama Lopez as she peeked through the window to the kitchen. His phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID on the phone’s screen, and answered, “Hello, Harry, how’s it going.”
“Rotten. Do you have any idea how many hypnotists there are in Jacksonville?”
“No, but how many of them are male and five-foot-nine?”
“Humph, anyway we have run down a few of them. I don’t think this line is going anywhere. We’ve been told over and over that hypnosis just doesn’t work this way. A person can be suggested to do all sorts of things, but they only do what they want to do. If they dance like a chicken in front of a crowd, they want to. If they forget it ever happened, they want that too. There is no way bank employees are going to be hypnotized into laying idly by while the bank is robbed and the teller is terrorized. And, no woman is going to disrobe just because someone tells her to unless she wants to. So, it was a good try, but you missed it on this one.”
Wendell was not surprised. He knew normal hypnosis could not be responsible for what had happened, but he knew no other way to describe what had happened. The four detectives had not discussed the words of the plaque describing the jeweled mask. Wendell was certain there was more to the mask than could be seen.
“I suggest you keep on it. What else can you do? Besides, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,” he said, quoting Sherlock Holmes.
Harry groaned. “When you figure out who stole the mask, let me know.” He disconnected the call.
Wendell’s dinner arrived. As he ate, Wendell read through the report of the first bank robbery. It was more or less the same as the second, except the perpetrator did not pause to look at the surveillance camera. He’s getting more confident, Wendell mused. After studying the report, and finishing his dinner, he called Harry back.
“Look, Harry, this guy is practicing. He hit these small banks and accepted a minuscule haul because it was what he could do while accepting no risk — at least no risk in his mind. He will surely hit more small banks until he gets the amount of money he needs. Or, once he is more confident, he will hit a juicier target. All of this will be happening soon.”
“Yeah, no surprise there.”
Without being asked, Michelle brought a second bottle of Elephant Beer.
“And, he must have cased these two banks thoroughly during the past month. Look at the old video. He won’t be in disguise and he will appear at both banks several times. And then again only a day or two before the heist; he will want to make certain the schedule has not changed. There is something vital to his purpose that happens at a particular time.”
“Yeah, we’ve had people pouring over the videos for the past thirty-six hours, but seen nothing. While he’s not wearing his black hoodie, he is probably mixing his appearance up sufficiently to be overlooked.”
“Okay, another thing, you might cross match the list of hypnotists with juvenile sex offenders. This isn’t the first time he’s looked up a girl’s skirt.”
“Hmm, yeah, we were thinking along that line, but not matched that idea with the hypnotists. However, like I said, we think that line is a dead end.”
“Whatever. I’ll be in touch.” Wendell unceremoniously disconnected the call.
He read more. Over lunch, Paula Pierce had said, “I saw the mask and looked into his bloodshot eyes,” but these words were not in the report. She had not previously mentioned seeing the unsub’s eyes. Wendell looked at the photograph of the man in the jeweled mask. The eyes were deep black holes. His eyes were not visible. As Wendell studied the eye-holes, he had a sudden sense of vertigo and had to quickly look away. A few minutes later he collected his papers and eased back in his chair.
“Everything okay?” Michelle asked as she sat in the opposite chair. The dinner crowd had cleared and he was her only patron.
“Never better,” Wendell answered. They chatted for several minutes, and then a couple entering the restaurant drew her away.
He never received a bill, but he put two twenty dollar bills on the table to cover a tab which couldn’t have been more than $20.
It was a short drive from the restaurant to his house. Stripping down to his swim trunks and t-shirt, he selected two bottles of water from the refrigerator and walked down to the dock. He sat in his white plastic chair and waited for the moon to rise. It made no sense, but nothing about ghosts ever made sense. The moonlight was simply reflected sunlight, but Cassie could not appear in her human form if the moon was not visible. During moments of scientific thought, Wendell presumed some mineral on the moon’s surface altered the reflected light in the manner a prism alters light. At other times Wendell knew the supernatural world could not be explained with the rules of the natural world.
He wanted to talk with her, badly. He could have taken his boat out to where she was in the bay. This was the reason he had purchased the boat; so he could visit and swim with her in her world. But, he waited instead. He spent the time thinking about the mask and its ability to reveal one’s inner soul and give the mask wearer powers over those he looked upon. In all probability, the text of the display plaque was a complete fabrication. Yet, it was the only reasonable explanation — even if it was totally irrational.
You are troubled, Wendell Hughes.
He looked into the murky water and saw the green, scaly tail of a mermaid slip under the dock. A moment later, a girlish face adorned with a long flowing mane of blonde hair drifted into view. The ghostly, intangible form emerged from the water. Cassie rested her forearms on the dock and her hair flowed over her breasts. She was not a mermaid who wore clam shells.
“Yes, I am troubled. Last night you indicated there was trouble coming and I think I found it. Were you referring to the bank robberies and the jeweled mask?”
Cassie contemplated the words longer than he thought necessary. Apparently, this was not what she had felt.
Maybe, her thought echoed in his mind. I feel there is a crossing between my world and yours. What was once good is now evil. Energy is flowing into your world. Energy that belongs in mine.
“Do you know anything about the jeweled mask? Are the jewels huaca stones?” Huaca stones were physical objects which had been enhanced with the energy of the non-physical world. They could be used by a shaman to communicate with the spirits, and vice a versa. Cassie had huaca stones she used to perform what appeared to be magic.
Cassie did not answer. Instead, she disappeared under the water. Undaunted by her reaction, Wendell opened a bottle of water and sipped. He waited for her return.
An hour passed. As the sun settled close to the horizon, a quarter-moon appeared in the east over Anastasia Island. Cassie, in her sexy human form, sat in the chair beside him. She enjoyed sitting on the dock, bathing in the moonlight. It was unusual for her to appear before darkness. Passengers on a passing boat would be able to see the nude female, so Wendell pulled off his shirt and handed it to her. Cassie was never particularly modest, but she held the shirt to her chest.
I think I know of the mask — the jeweled mask. It is a magnifying lens. It was created to help heal the sick. People keen on understanding what makes people sick could better see the causes of sickness with the mask.
“But, it can be perverted to evil uses?”
Cassie shrugged.
“There have been reports that the mask has killed some of its wearers. Can this be true?”
Cassie mulled the question, and then said, The huaca stones channel energy from my world to yours. The mask is intended to be used by a shaman who can focus that energy. When a lay person wears the mask, nothing should happen at all, but it is always possible for the person’s life energy to be pulled out of your world and into mine.
“And would this kill the person?”
Cassie shrugged. A person without their life energy is not living.
Darkness enveloped the area. Wendell glanced north and south along the river and saw no boats. “Follow me into the house. I have something to show you.” He walked along the wooden walkway followed by Cassie. Entering the house, he left the sliding glass patio door open and pulled the drapes full open to allow the moonlight to flood the dark kitchen. Cassie sat in the chair bathed by the moonlight. If she were to step out of the moonlight, she would be invisible.
Wendell handed her the picture of the bank robber wearing the mask. “What can you tell me about this man? Can you tell me who he is?”
Cassie placed the picture flat on the table and studied it. With a graceful finger she traced the circle of rubies around one of the eye-holes. Her finger followed the spiral of gems radiating from, and encircling the eyes. Looking at the pattern, it was impossible for one’s focus not to flow into the black eye-holes.
The picture contains none of the artifact’s energy.
The photograph might not contain the mystic magic of the artifact, but Wendell’s stomach churned when he looked at the black pits of the eye-holes. He had to look away.
I can see nothing. But, I can see that you already know this person.
This revelation nearly knocked Wendell off his feet. He quickly sat next to Cassie. “The only person involved in this case that I know is the bank teller, Paula Pierce. Are you saying the two bank tellers pulled the two robberies off together? Paula robbed the first bank, and the other teller is the one wearing the mask here?” This suddenly seemed possible to Wendell. The underwear peepshow had been a ruse, which had effectively thrown them off.
I don’t know anything about what you are asking. I only see that you already know who this person is.
“Okay.” Wendell wanted to know if the other bank teller was five-foot-nine. He knew this information was not in the investigation reports.
Wendell stood. Cassie got up and walked back to the dock. Wendell followed. Watching her bare derrière he thought how badly he needed to get a flesh and blood girlfriend with a pulse. He wondered if Michele would go out with him.
Back on the dock, Cassie stretched to absorb more of the moonlight, then she said, I see a dark cloud obscuring your aura. Evil is coming for you. You need to be watchful. She stepped off the dock and slipped into the water.
“Goodnight,” Wendell called out to the ripples.
Goodnight, Cassie answered, but she had already disappeared.
Walking back to the house, Wendell wondered if Cassie’s warnings were really related to the bank robberies. There was no apparent connection between him and these events.
THE END of Part Four
Part Five, Cassie Provides The Thief’s Identity
Copyright ©2023 by S. M. Revolinski All Rights Reserved
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