INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#15,  The Seminar, ©2016-2023 by T.K. Naliaka

“Inspector Pascal?”

He took the note, read it, then left discreetly. Two police officers closed the big wooden doors.  Pascal walked down the corridor to the large, broad-shouldered uniformed man standing by the elevators. “Sergeant Braque, I thought you were going to the precinct.”

Braque glanced surreptitiously at the two officers at the other end of the corridor and whispered. “I came back.  Sergeant Roscoe happened to mention to me that Captain Gryzynsky is in Spain.”

“Spain?” Pascal blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“The man who’s leading this seminar is not Captain Gryzynsky!”

“Did he confuse him with another Captain Gryzynsky?”

“No! There isn’t another Captain Gryzynsky!  I just checked!”

Pascal controlled himself from glancing back.  He exclaimed disbelievingly. “Sixteen top investigators are in a day-long seminar with an imposter?” Pascal raised his hand to his head. “Are we all that gullible?”

“We’ve never met Gryzynsky before.  How were we supposed to know?”

“Obviously no one else here has either or someone would have reacted.”

Braque nodded, then he added. “The invitation was for Inspector Callahan; he sent you because he’s testifying in court all this week.” Braque glanced at the guarded wooden doors, then back at Pascal. “You know sir…that’s a lot of accumulated critical criminal investigation knowledge packed into one conference room.”

Pascal frowned as he stared at the floor.  He looked up. “That’s true.  I’m the only junior investigator there.  They’re all on the biggest cases.”

Braque straightened slightly. “How many men does he have?”

Pascal replied. “There are four - him, his assistant Tosi, and those two men posted right there.”

“What do you want to do?”

Pascal rubbed his neck. “I wonder what the plan is and how much time is left before he pulls the trigger.”

“Why hasn’t he killed everyone yet?  He’s got them!”

“I can guess. There’s a lot of information being exchanged in there.  Why not learn a few things first?  They’re talking freely.  They all have confidential clearances.”

“The problem I see sir is: if we call in for reinforcements, everyone’s phones will be messaging. They’re all inside together; he’ll know and he controls the exit.”

“First, we take back that control. Who is here, on-site?”

“Sergeant Jann, Sergeant Vankat, Officer Leon, Officer Saradan - with us, that makes six.”

Pascal glanced at his watch. “It’s forty minutes to noon lunch break.  That’s the most likely time he could be exposed – everyone will turn on their phones, get their messages, one or two of them might have to leave.  He’s got a perfectly closed and controlled environment for only a few more minutes.”

“Not perfectly - not anymore, sir.”

Pascal gave him a rueful smile. “That’s right, Sergeant.”

Pascal and Braque walked together back to the conference room doors.  Pascal stopped before the two guards, finished writing his note, tore off the small page and handed it to Braque. “If the forensics lab continues to give you excuses about why it’s taking so long for the DNA tests, call Inspector Diallo and get him on their backs.  I’m going to be here all day, and we’ll need that information tomorrow by 2 p.m. latest.”

Braque saluted. “Yes sir, thank you for intervening. Sorry to have bothered you.”

Pascal glanced at the two uniformed men cautiously monitoring them. “I can’t just keep going in and out.  Bring Sergeant Jann and SergeantVankat so they hear it directly from me, not just you.”

Waiting, Pascal paced slowly just in front of the guards.  He paused.  Three sergeants strode quickly as if to meet him; he smoothly stepped aside and they charged.  A minute later, Pascal slipped inside and went back to his seat.  The imposter Gryzynsky clicked to the next slide. “In five years, the drug routes have shifted from this corridor to a new one further east.”

Pascal leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.  He watched Tosi lift several cardboard boxes from the floor to place them on the table.  Gryzynsky paused to listen to Inspector Faraday.  Pascal checked his watch.  11:42 a.m.

“Pardon me!” Pascal raised his hand and stood up.

Gryzynsky paused. ‘Yes?”

“Do you have the longitude, latitude and GPS coordinates for this new corridor?”
Gryzynsky looked at him. “Who are you?”

“Inspector Pascal!”

“I don’t recall having a Pascal on the list.”

He held up his conference badge. “I am representing Inspector Callahan!”

Gryzynsky exchanged guarded glances with Tosi.  Pascal quickly walked forward to the podium as he pointed to the projected slide. “Do you have a zoom out picture so we can see exactly where this corridor is?”  He walked around the tables, stopped beside Tosi, propped his hands on his hips, tipped his head and peered up at the big screen.

Gryzynsky glanced at the room of investigators, their concentrations disrupted, slightly annoyed, shifting around in their chairs, glancing at their watches.  Tosi reached out to rest his hand on a small cardboard box.

Gryzynsky put his pointer down. “Excuse me everyone, one moment.”  He walked past his audience to the doors.

Pascal watched Tosi watching Gryzynsky.  Gryzynsky raised his hand slightly and signaled with his fingers as he went out. The doors closed.  Pascal’s hand shot out, seized Tosi’s wrist and Pascal slammed him hard against the head with his pistol.

Sixteen top criminal investigators drew their handguns and leaped to their feet.

The two big entry doors burst open.  They all turned to see five stern-faced uniformed police. Sgt. Braque announced. “Our orders are to evacuate these premises! This seminar has been infiltrated by an imposter!”

Inspector Groton called over, “Indeed!  We have arrested him!”

Perplexed, Braque hesitated. “No…we… arrested him.”

They marched their suspect forward.  Braque suppressed a smile, considering Pascal with his hands handcuffed behind him, in the firm grips of two top inspectors, “Sir! This is… unexpected!”

Pascal replied dryly. “Somebody needs to stop them giving that accomplice first aid and put him into custody before he wakes up and detonates the explosives in those boxes on the table.”  ©2016-2023 by T.K. Naliaka, All rights reserved

 
 

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#14, Persist by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

 Her head tipped back and her brown eyes were full of tears as she looked at the white disk of the full moon. “I have nothing.”

He sat down as close as he could. “I don’t understand.  Can you tell me?”

She shook her head sharply. “No one understands. I give up.”

“Ah… I don’t speak English all that well.  It is my second language. Can you explain to me, in a simple way?  What they didn’t understand?”

She frowned slightly, then she turned her head to consider him. “That’s crazy! If everyone who speaks my language doesn’t get it, how can you?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes you must... you know, rephrase it. Then sometimes there’s a better word or someone assumed you used a word a certain way, but you didn’t; you had the other meaning in mind.  If you have to explain to someone like me - to help me understand, then sometimes it becomes very clear.”

Her mouth curved ruefully, then she asked. “Can you say something to me in another language? I never met anyone like that.”

He nodded, “Of course.  What would delight you… a poem?”

She laughed bitterly, “Delight me! What a thing to say! Nothing does anymore! Everything has been spoiled!”

“Well, let’s try anyway.”  He thought for a long moment then he recited:
"Ils m’ont traque et pris au piège.
Chez moi, ils m'ont fais prisonnier.
La meute hargneuse m’assiège.
Pourtant, je sais la liberté."
 
The breeze tousled her long blonde hair as she gazed over the dark river.  She looked at him at last. “That’s so pretty. What does it mean?”

He told her. “It means this:
"They hunted and trapped me.
In my home they made me a prisoner.
The ferocious pack besieged me.
Still, I know liberty.”
 
She gasped. “Is there more?”

He nodded, “Of course. When a person cries out like that, they have much to testify.
"À droit, la forêt très noire
 À gauche un pin couché, un lac ;
 Il ne me reste aucun espoir.
Tant pis! Advienne que pourra !"
 
She was listening intently.  He explained.
“To the right, a very dark forest,
To the left a fallen pine, a lake;
For me, there’s no hope left.
So what!  Come what may!”
 
“My God!”  She cried out, “How!  How?”  She reached out and gripped his hand. “More!”
"Jusqu’au bout, je persiste à croire
Que les envieux et les larbins
Devront admettre la victoire
 À venir de l‘esprit du bien."
 
He whispered:
“To the end, I persist to believe
That the envious and the minions
Must admit the victory
To come of the spirit of goodness.”
 
He stretched his arms out and drew her close as she clung to him and wept. “It’s all right now.  It’s time to take back your life from all that’s wrong and build it better and stronger.  There’s no mistake you made that can’t be forgiven.  Don’t carry that with you from now on.  This time, you surround yourself with people who care about you.”

They sat together as the night cooled and the moon set.  His arms were warm against the chill, strong and protective.  He murmured. “The moon departs to make way for dawn, a new day.  See how beautiful it is?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder wearily and looked at the river; the rippling liquid shifted from black to bronze as the golden light strengthened in the east.  She rested her head against him again wistfully. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“How much you didn’t notice was here, waiting for you?”

She sighed. “Is it a dream, a magic fantasy that will vanish?”

He replied. “Magic always vanishes, but what you have now is real. I will stay with you this new day, to show you what a true friend does, and you tell me who is good and who is bad, so you never go back again to what you fled.  You were right to leave; just not on this path.”

“They made me feel so worthless.”

He shook his head. “If God thought you worthless, why did He send so many people to help you?  Who in this city knew you were here?”

She shook her head, “No one.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You made sure, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” She finally admitted. “I suppose… it is a bit unexplainable, when you put it that way.”

“Will you come with me?”

She sighed watching the dazzling golden rays of dawn illuminate the green of stirring city trees, light the glass of the buildings like copper mirrors.  She nodded.

“Here.” He reached between the steel bars and held on to her, then they stood up together and he guided her carefully as she stepped on the steel girders and then eased around the frame of the metal barrier.

She hesitated when she saw the size of the waiting crowd, so he sat down.  She sat next to him. Finally she asked. “Are you a preacher?”

He shook his head. “I’m a homicide investigator.”

She shrank away from him, so he explained. “I’m on holiday.  I heard your city was beautiful so I came to see it.”

She exclaimed. “You’ve never been here before!”

“Never.”

She considered him. “Disappointed?”

He looked at her. “No! I work for justice for the dead.  But that can’t ever bring them back. Sometimes, I need to help the living; to encourage me.” He shrugged wryly. “But, you know - we’re not quite all the way there, yet.”

She took a deep breath, then she clasped his hand.  “Ok.  I’m scared, but I want to come back, now.”

Together they stepped carefully along the beam. Many hands reached out and pulled them onto the tower platform.

She turned to him. “I have a question, how did you know?”

He slipped his hand inside his jacket, then held out a slightly crushed flower. “It’s not every day that a rose just drops out of the sky onto my head.  So, I looked up.”
 
by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved
 
The poem, Le Prix Nobel, 1959 by Boris Pasternak, author of Doctor Zhivago,  from Fleurs d’encre, Français 3e, Bertagna and Carrier, Hachette
 

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#13, Verify by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

“Inspector, I came back - our room was this!”  She wiped tears from her eyes as her hand swept around at the disarray.  “I’m frightened of him! He’s crazy jealous and wants to kill me!”

From the hallway, Pascal considered the bedroom, then he stepped inside and walked slowly around without touching anything.  Dresser drawers of disheveled lingerie were open, clothes that had been hung in the closet were dumped on the floor of the closet, half of the master bathroom towels and toiletries were strewn on the bathroom floor.  He turned and came out of the bathroom.

“You have nerve bringing a man home today - on our anniversary!”

Pascal was still.  A very angry man stood in the bedroom doorway with a large pistol in his grip. Pascal raised his hands slowly. “I’m Inspector Pascal, with the police department.”

The man kept the pistol aimed at Pascal as he snorted sarcastically. “Good catch Verona!  A detective!  Covering your tracks?"

She gasped. “No Jeremy! It’s not like that! He doesn’t mean anything to me!”

Pascal considered her in her robe and nightgown, then the irate husband in his canvas jacket, jeans and work boots.  He spoke up. “Sir, she called the police department with a complaint.  I was dispatched to do the report. I take it that there has been a history of this?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes at Pascal. “Nice try! Drop the fake accent”

“Well,” said Pascal. “It would only be fair if you would take a minute to confirm my statements rather than dismiss them.  I have my own life and plans, which didn’t include either of you up until ten minutes ago.” Pascal gestured slightly with his chin. “Permit me to give you my phone so you can call and verify.”

She flushed. “This is ridiculous!”

Pascal countered her dryly. “I don’t find having a .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol aimed at me to be any sort of ridiculous, but a very serious and dangerous matter.  I want him to confirm.  There is no way we can communicate effectively if he doesn’t believe I am what I say I am, and more critically, the reason I am here, and  I don’t like being accused of something I haven’t done.”

She was conciliatory as she adjusted her robe. “Honestly, there’s nothing between us.”

Jeremy ordered him. “Keep your hands up, turn around and put them on the wall, with your legs apart! Where’s the phone?”

Pascal did as he was told. “It’s in my left pocket.”

“Your gun?”

“I have a belt holster on my right.”

Pascal felt the gun press against his head, then Jeremy’s hand feeling along his belt then tugging out his pistol.  A moment later, he was quickly frisked for any other weapons, relieved of his wallet and badge, then the man stuck his hand inside Pascal’s pocket and took his phone. “All right - sit down there with your hands on your head!”

Pascal sat on the floor as Jeremy went back to the bedroom door to set Pascal’s gun and phone on the corner of the dresser so he could monitor Pascal as he scrolled through to peer at all the numbers on Pascal’s phone. Finally he demanded, “OK, which one?”

Pascal replied. “Call SB.”

He found the number and called.  A moment later, Jeremy frowned, perplexed and looked at the phone as he heard a loud ringing.  He turned around.  Behind him a large, uniformed police officer pushed a pistol against his face.

Sergeant Braque reached out quickly and yanked the gun out of the startled man’s hand. “Now, you sit down with your hands on your head!”

Pascal climbed to his feet. “Thank you Sergeant!”  Pascal held Braque’s pistol until  Braque finished hand-cuffing Jeremy.  Pascal jerked his head towards Verona. “Handcuff her, too."

She stepped back, “Wha...?”

Jeremy’s frown eased slightly when he saw Verona sitting on the floor like him with her hands secured behind her back with steel cuffs.

Pascal collected his gun, wallet, badge and phone, then sat on the bed.  “I need to check their records.”  He was silent as he accessed the databases.

Verona started to complain, “Is this really necess…”

Braque glared at her. “Be quiet! He’s working!”

She cringed.

At last Pascal stood up. “I think you two have finally found the ultimate solution to your marriage incompatibility.” Pascal shook his head somberly. “Jeremy, you committed at least three crimes holding me here hostage at gunpoint, even for only ten minutes.  You don’t seem to have any other history apart from a couple of speeding tickets, so this is rather sad, actually.”

Pascal turned to Verona. “You however, tried to use us against him, hoping that he would be killed by either me or Sergeant Braque or he would have killed me – a murder by proxy.  Either outcome would have suited you just fine – Jeremy dead or in prison, at only the cost of one life – possibly two, killed in the exchange of fire, just so you could move on with his money to your next conquest.”

Jeremy paled as he stared at her, then he flushed.

She shook her head, “No! That’s insane!”

Pascal considered her coolly. “I have no problem asking the judge for leniency for him.  Despite his fury, he didn’t shoot me outright and he did indeed give me the benefit of the doubt by agreeing to verify.  You however, did not manufacture this confrontation just today.  You planted the seeds of distrust early on so Jeremy would rush to get here at the precise moment he would find another man in his bedroom, which you provided by calling the police department.  Then you kept feeding him insinuations that only served to make him doubt me, made him angrier, putting us all at greater personal peril.  I will advise the judge that you are a very cold and dangerous person who should not be allowed to roam free any more to use, manipulate or harm other people.”
by T.K. Naliaka ©2016 All rights reserved
 
 

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#12  Harmless by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

Appalled, Inspector Durant turned to him. “Pascal!  He only had a flute!  Why did you shoot him?”

Lady Gayle screamed as she ran to Neophytos’s body.  As she cradled Neophytos’s head on her lap, with tear-filled eyes she accused Pascal, “Why?? He was harmless!! You’re a horrid, brutal monster!!”

Durant ordered his officers to pull her away from the body.  She pushed away from them and pointed at Pascal, “Murderer!  You just wanted him dead!  He was a genius!  When you couldn’t prove anything, you decided to kill him anyway!”

Sergeant Braque stepped forward and stretched his arm out to keep her away from Pascal.  “Madame…”

She angrily cried. “Why are you protecting him?  There was no reason to kill Neophytos!  He was unarmed!”

Durant spoke up. “Lady Gayle, this is not the place for this! There will be a police inquiry and review board.  I assure you that Inspector Pascal’s actions will be subjected to the highest scrutiny!”

She gestured with disgust. “Look at him!  He knows he was wrong!”

They all turned to Pascal, standing silently staring at Neophytos’s body, with his gun in his right hand lowered at his side and his left hand over his heart.  Durant gestured irritably. “Sergeant Braque, stand down!  Sergeant Sanders, relieve Inspector Pascal of his weapon!”

Sergeant Braque reluctantly stepped aside.  Sanders shouldered past him to Pascal, “Sir, your weapon, please.”  When Pascal didn’t comply, Sanders loosened the safety loop and cautiously rested his hand on his own holstered service pistol and repeated it more firmly, “Sir, your weapon!”

They stared at Pascal, puzzled, then with rising unease.  His head sank lower, his left hand slid down, then his pistol fell from his grip and thudded to the floor.  Braque lunged forward, shoving Sanders aside and caught Pascal as he collapsed.

“Sir!” Shocked, Braque laid Pascal on the floor.  Pascal was completely limp, his face was pale, his hazel eyes were half-lidded and unseeing.

Durant crouched next to him. “What’s going on?”

Braque was disbelieving. “He fainted!” As Braque tugged to loosen Pascal’s tie and unbutton his collar, his hand caught on something sticking out of Pascal’s shirt.

Durant frowned. “What’s that, a fishing fly?”

Braque frowned.  The little bundle of feathers was surrounded by a small blot of bright red, stark against the white of Pascal’s shirt.  He pulled it out and held it up. “It’s some kind of…”  Braque gasped, then he quickly tore open Pascal's shirt to expose the small, bleeding skin puncture.  Aghast, he looked back at Neophytos’s body, the long reed pipes… then down at Pascal’s greying face. “Dear God!  He was shot with a poisoned dart!”  He pressed his fingers against Pascal’s wrist, then to his neck.  Braque looked up at Durant. “His pulse is racing!”

Durant scrambled to his feet. “Sergeant Sanders, help Sergeant Braque!  Officer Kowalski, call the paramedics!  Get the medical kit from the vehicles!”

Durant pointed at Lady Gayle. “She’s dangerous! Handcuff her!  She’s under arrest!”

Two officers grabbed her arms before she could move.  She writhed as they snapped the cuffs on her wrists. “You have no right to do this!”

Durant held up the dart so they could all see it. “Search the body - search her!  Take extreme caution! They are poison-tipped!”

“Sir!”

Durant ran to the officer crouching beside the body.  He pointed to Neophytos’ closed fist, then with a gloved hand eased the fingers apart. They all saw the feathers.  The officer exclaimed. “He has a handful of them!”

“Sir!”

The arresting officers called Durant back. “She had this in her pocket!” They held up a small box and opened it for Durant.

His jaw clenched angrily as he looked at the darts, then at Lady Gayle.  “Harmless was he!”

“Inspector Durant!  Inspector Pascal stopped breathing!  Sgt. Braque has started artificial respiration!”

Durant turned to Lady Gayle and demanded. “What did Neophytos use?”

Contemptuously, she sneered at him, “Eye for an eye.”

Durant went back to Pascal.  As Braque blew air into him, Pascal’s chest would rise slightly, then fall.  Sanders looked up, “Sir! It’s so strange!  His heart is beating, but he can’t breathe or move!”

Durant frowned. “Might be curare… it paralyzes the muscles, but not the heart.  The hospital could confirm.”

Sergeant Braque glanced up. “We have to keep his respiration going! Will it wear off?”

Durant replied. “I think it does, but I don’t know how long it takes.”

Officer Kowalski was there a moment later with the medical kit.  Sanders quickly connected the tubing for the oxygen tank as Kowalski knelt at Pascal’s head, tipped it back and carefully inserted the airway tube.  A few seconds later Braque was easily pumping in pure oxygen; after several moments, Pascal's skin tone became more normal and less grey.

Seven minutes later two people ran in, a police officer followed by a woman in a blue surgical shirt and pants.  She knelt by Pascal and told Braque, “Antidote!”  Sanders quickly cut back Pascal’s sleeve and tightened the rubber tube around Pascal’s arm as the doctor lifted out the syringe from her kit.  A moment later, she injected it into Pascal’s vein, then loosened the rubber tube.

Braque glanced over, “How long?”

“A few minutes…”  She waved to the paramedics crowding in the door. “We need to attach the monitors!”

A half hour later, Sgt. Braque looked down.  Pascal’s nose and mouth were covered by the oxygen mask and his eyes were closed.  Pascal’s right hand was rising up, brushing against Braque’s arm. Braque quickly clasped it, “Sir? Can you hear me?”

After a long moment, Pascal slowly nodded.

Durant squeezed Pascal’s arm, “Inspector! You’re going to be all right!”

Pascal’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.  His eyes opened woozily. 

Durant leaned closer, “Pascal.”

Pascal’s head rolled towards him. He blinked wanly, trying to focus.

“I owe you an apology.” Durant shook his head bitterly. “He had enough darts in his hand to kill us all!”

Pascal closed his eyes and nodded.    T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#11 On Leave  ©2016-2023 T.K.Naliaka

“Inspector Pascal, I apologize for yesterday.  I didn’t realize the suspect would actually attempt to choke you – so brazenly right in front of everyone.”

Pascal glanced up from his notepad. “It’s all right, Officer Pearl. No real harm done and he’s finally in custody.  Murderers as rule resent being caught - it bursts their egotistic bubble of superiority.  Anyone who concludes that murder is the solution to a problem has a judgment and morality grossly out of line with norms.  They habitually blame everyone else for their failings.  They personalize their grievances. So, never assume they have any shred of normal self-restraint when they hit the brick wall.” Pascal tugged gingerly at his collar. “That’s why we never go out without close protection.”

Pearl considered this thoughtfully as he pulled the steering wheel over to park the vehicle in front of the big warehouse office. “Who is usually assigned to you?”

“Sergeant Braque.  He’s off for the week, taking his wife on a second honeymoon.” Pascal tucked his pad into his suit jacket pocket, “Ready?”

“Yes sir!” Officer Pearl got out and hustled ahead to open the front door of the electronics warehouse for him.

“Inspector Pascal?”

He glanced up from his typing, “Yes?"

“This is Sergeant Iglesias.  He’s replacing Officer Pearl who has been reassigned.”  Lieutenant Klein stepped aside to let Iglesias step in and salute.

Pascal nodded absently and disinterestedly returned the salute. “I see.”

Lieutenant. Klein was very stern. “We’d like to apologize for the stand-off yesterday.  I’m sure it was quite harrowing being held hostage with a knife at your throat for two hours.  I have to mention that everyone was very impressed with your coolness under such stress.”

Pascal tipped his head slightly with a barely neutral shrug and dryly went back to his report. “Just one of those days, I suppose.”

"Well, this here is Sergeant Jansen, who is partnering with Sgt. Iglesias.”

“Sir!”

Pascal turned to look.  He raised his hand to return the salute, then he leaned back in his chair to consider the three of them.

Lieutenant Klein explained. “The department would be more comfortable if you were assigned two men this week.”

“I see.” Pascal closed the dossier.  He stood up stiffly, picked his brown suit jacket off the back of his chair, slipped his arms in the sleeves and shrugged it over his shoulders.

Lieutenant Klein quickly pulled a receipt out of his pocket. “This is a claim for full reimbursement for your grey suit.  We had the tailor look at it and she determined that the slashes really can’t be repaired.”

Pascal took it and tucked it into his pocket. “I appreciate that.”

An hour later, Sergeant Jansen turned the vehicle into a long driveway.  Pascal peered up as they drove under a big sign that read: Aubergine River Fishing and Verde Wilderness Shooting Parlor.  Sergeant Jansen parked the car.  Sergeant Iglesias hustled out and opened the door.  Pascal got out slowly as he looked up at the big glass entry.  A canoe hung over the entrance, framed by a stuffed grizzly on the left and a stuffed polar bear on the right of the doors. 

Jansen held up his hand. “Sir, Lieutenant Klein’s orders are that we reconnoiter first before you go in.  If you would just wait here for five minutes and we’ll come and get you.”

Pascal frowned disbelieving, “Wait… out here?”

Sergeant Iglesias nodded, “Orders, sir.”

Pascal watched them go inside.  He folded his arms and considered the sun-dappled green mowed lawns for five minutes, then leaned around to peer through the doors at the array of big game taxidermy displays, a wall of massive aquariums… but he didn’t see a soul.  Another minute ticked by and there was no sign of Jansen or Iglesias. He pushed the door open slightly, listened, then heard shouts.

Pascal un-holstered his pistol and eased inside.  He crept behind one display, then the next until he had a clear view of a group of four masked armed men standing in front of the fish tanks.  Twenty people sat on the floor looking down with their hands clasped on their heads, including Jansen and Iglesias.  One of the masked men held up a pistol, then aimed it at Iglesias.

Pascal fired.  A vertical line of bullet holes appeared like magic in the center of the huge fish tank glass behind the masked men.  Two seconds later, the entire glass panel cracked.

2000 gallons of water sluiced out of the aquarium.  The startled gunmen were just turning to look when the deluge crashed and swept their feet out from under them, spinning them around on their backs and stomachs, floundering amongst big flapping fish.  Two washed up almost at Pascal’s feet.  As they flailed, trying to get up on hands and knees, Pascal knocked out the closest man with one swing of a canoe paddle against his head, then dropped the other with a karate chop of the paddle.  The other two gunmen were swept straight into Jansen and Iglesias. They pounced, punched and wrested the rifles from the gunmen's hands.

The employees splashed and crawled away, scattering behind the racks and displays. Pascal intercepted two men, picked four coils of line from a shelf and tossed those to them. “Help out!  Tie them up!”  Pascal called out, “Jansen, Iglesias! Are you all right?”

They looked at him wielding a paddle, with two rifles slung over his shoulder, standing in the spreading puddle, then sheepishly at each other. “Yes sir!”

Monday morning, tanned and refreshed, Sergeant Braque opened the door with a sunny smile and a cheerful salute. “Good morning…” He frowned, “Sir! What happened to you?”

Pascal, with his left hand in a cast and sling, got up from his desk and handed him the file as he limped past. “I slipped on a wet floor last week and broke my wrist.”

“Sir. You need to be careful!”

Pascal agreed. “Every time you go on leave, so will I.”   T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved

INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 1000
#10 The Chimp Plot, by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023

“The chimp…”

“Bonobo.”

“OK, Bonobo the chimp had a…”

“No, Chup’s the Alpha chimp.  The bonobo is Buster.”

Inspector Hart shook his head slightly. “Chup, the chimp bonobo had a…”

“No, it’s a chimp or it’s a bonobo.”

Hart frowned at Jackson, the Apes Supervisor. “What’s a bonobo?”

“Well it’s smaller, chimpanzee-like species.  There, that’s a chimp…”  Jackson pointed to a black-haired male ape sitting on a rock watching them on the other side of the glass window. “… and that’s a bonobo.”  The black-haired male ape sitting on the green grass separated from the other ape by a smooth tall cement wall scratched his underarm as he stared at the group of humans staring at him.

“What’s the difference?”

“The bonobo is a bit smaller and has a full face-frame of hair.”

“I don’t see that.”

“Oh, well, they’re in captivity so it wore off.”

“Wore off…?” Inspector Hart growled, “For the love of…!  They’re chimps! I’m a homicide investigator!”  He snatched up the case and headed for the Apes House exit.  “Inspector Pascal, it’s all yours!” He pushed the briefcase into Pascal’s arms. “God preserve your sanity!”

Pascal watched him go, then looked at the zookeeper. He lowered the briefcase and tugged to straighten his suit jacket. “Ahem.”  He glanced at Sergeant Braque who was keeping a poker face, but barely as he watched with disbelief Hart’s abrupt departure.

This left the two, Pascal and Braque to consider the subtle distinctions to the untrained eye between the representatives of two species of apes intently considering the subtle distinctions of the two humans in return.  Unconvinced, Pascal finally asked. “Mr. Jackson, why do you see this as relevant?”

“Ah!  You see the bonobos and the chimpanzees will fight.  The chimps are bigger so they’ll kill them. We must keep them apart!”

“That’s sensible. What’s the issue we’re not yet seeing clearly?”

Jackson came over, leaning close to whisper. “Someone is trying to murder the bonobos and blame it on the chimps.”

“Murder the bonobos…” Pascal’s hazel eyes widened.  “… blame it on the chimps?”

Jackson nodded.

Sergeant Braque’s poker face failed him this time as his jaw sagged.  He managed to haul it up before Jackson noticed, but the chimp and the bonobo both narrowed their eyes at him.  The chimp got up, sauntered two meters closer and sat down.  After a moment, the bonobo did the same so the two could better monitor Sergeant Braque.

Pascal explained. “Every murder or planned murder is for a purpose.”

Jackson frowned. “Well, I-I don’t really know why.  I just know someone is trying to do it.”

“All right, it’d have to be someone with access - how many people would that be?”

“Four – Gerard, Sandra, Katlyn, Cecile.  But they’re all so dedicated!  It can’t be them!  They love the apes!”

Pascal sighed, “OK. I need to see all records and the security videos.”

Three weeks later, the bonobos, the chimpanzees and the five zoo staff watched Pascal pace slowly in front of the reinforced glass windows. “Once the problem is identified correctly, then it’s easy to make sense of all the disparate pieces.  The absolutes are few, but simple: complete access to the zoo - specifically the ape habitats; long experience with ape behavior; a motive.  Critically, nothing is gained by an ape brawl.  The zoo would simply obtain replacements and put in more chimp-bonobo barriers.  Therefore, the chimps and the bonobos are not the targets, but the means.”  Pascal turned to the staff. “Someone is trying to murder Mr. Jackson.”

Pascal’s stern gaze focused on the humans. “Who is next in line to step into the position here as Apes Supervisor after his unfortunate death trying to break up a chimp-bonobo fight?”  He held up a screen shot of video.  “You know how to avoid being recorded by the zoo cameras, but not the one I put up twenty days ago.”  Her mouth twisted bitterly as she glared back at Pascal.

The other four stared at Cecile. Katlyn gasped, “How could you do that?!  They’re endangered creatures!”

Sandra exclaimed, “Katlyn!  She wanted to kill Mr. Jackson just because she wanted his job!”

With a screech, Cecile drew a pick from her pocket and launched herself at Pascal.  He parried the stab but her momentum knocked him back up against the windows. The sharp pick gouged the glass.  The startled chimps and bonobos both tumbled over in their frantic scrambling to the far end of their enclosures as Pascal wrestled with Cecile for the control of the weapon.  A second later, a steel cuff clicked tight on her right wrist.  Braque hauled her off Pascal and pinned her to the ground.  He pulled her flailing left hand around and secured the cuff on it as she kicked and screamed.

Gerard ran out calling on his radio and waving to the security guards standing by the giraffe enclosure.  They ran into the building, then hesitated, hearing and seeing the crazed woman. “Wait… isn’t that Cecile?”

Braque shouted at them. “Secure her legs so she can’t run and get her out of here!  She’s under arrest!”  He turned quickly to Pascal, “Sir! Are you all right?”

Pascal nodded as he pressed his folded kerchief to his bleeding palm. “It’s just a shallow gash; it’s not serious.”

The screeching apes leaped from their perches, charged the lengths of their enclosures, slapped against the windows, then charged back howling.  Sergeant Braque drew himself up to his full height, clenched his fists, stepped to the glass and roared. “SIT DOWN and SHUT UP!”

Both species froze, then lowered their rears to the ground and sat mute with their arms crooked over their heads.

Pascal, Jackson, Gerard, Katlyn and Sandra stared at the animals, then at Sergeant Braque then back at the chastened chimps and bonobos.  Jackson exclaimed. “You’re a natural with apes! You want to work here?”

Pascal chuckled as Braque shook his head. “I get plenty of this in my current job already, no thanks.”
                                                         by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved