Mortis instructed Captain to call the police to inform about the corpse and hand over the gang members, then the Detective collected set gang member's names and ID's for research and went on his way to his next stop with more questions than answers. If his reasoning was right Mortis deduced he was after a killer wielding something that could kill a man and drain their blood in a two for one special, and those things are not as common as people would like to believe. Either his killer was a vampire with a metal straw and the world's most powerful lungs, or he was out of any real lead or clues.
Having lost half-an-hour from his original schedule Mortis took to a quieter part of East Central Nashville in search for an Antique shop.
Piker's American Antiques had been a place of certain repute for over a Decade now. Mortis had the address Piker's American Antiques in his ledger, like he had of any other antique shop, pawn shop, or shop approached to sell stolen or curious merchandise and operated in Nashville or nearby town, as a man on his line of work had to know every place a crook would unload a piece for quick cash, and where strange and unusual things may pop from. Eric Piker had run a reliable an efficient business as a man that could get weapons and war-related memorabilia for the right price. Unlike others of his kind Piker forgo the overcrowded American Civil War market, rather specialized in sourcing artefact brought from the old continent between the early nineteen and mid twentieth century. It was surprising how many military relics and the like had been smuggled into the United States by determined European Immigrants and refugees hoping their family or local treasures would not fall into the wrong hands; although some times it was the wrong hands that brought the treasures all the way to the New World. Now Eric Piker was six feet under, killed by the new menace roaming the streets, leaving behind a heartbroken widow, devastated children, and a trail Mortis was following.
Mortis step down his car, leaving Cicero to nap inside as he went for a quick talk to the widow. A big sign at the entrance with the words 'Closing Down Sale' on the window hinted the Detective of the mood he may encounter as he pushed into the heavy door and the quaint little bell rang to indicate the entrance of a new person into the store. No one was there to greet Mortis, only a lonesome electronic eye kept tabs on people coming in and out. As the door closed behind him he took stock of the place: Military sabers, Emblems and wood works that once may have been part of the homes of rich families long forgotten, collections of knickknacks and forgotten memorabilia of centuries past, and quaint artifact that suggested a transition of past and a long gone present, and an a transition between old continent and new, all curious items that did not interested Mortis in any way, all covered with a thin layer of dust that continued the story told by the Closing Down sign.
"I am Coming! I am Coming!" informed a nasally voice from an open door behind the counter. Popping from the back entrance was a not tall and slightly chubby woman in her late forties or early fifties, her eyes were red from crying, and her movements where a little bit erratic, but she still conducted herself with an air of propriety that, combined with the picture on antique frame where she looked radiant on a vacation trip to Florida besides Eric Piker and two children, suggested that she might be Deborah Piker, the wife of the late owner, most probably co-proprietor and co-worker of the late Mr. Piker.
"Good Morning, how may I help you today Mister?" asked the woman with a light sniffle at the end of her sentence, which was followed by a conscious attempt to reach for a handkerchief and blow her nose. "I am sorry, it has been a rough couple of weeks ever since my husband's passing and all."
"I am sorry to hear that madam" apologized the detective.
"I am not supposed to be a Debbie Downer. What are you coming for Mister? Any appointment with my late husband? Looking for a cheap antique perhaps? You look like a man that collects unusual Antiques. Well, I do happen to have a safari pistol in excellent condition looking for the right owner. Made in Africa by a subsidiary of the East India Company, the handle is made of genuine elephant Ivory. A relic the kind you don't find very often." The Piker widow did her best to be friendly and energetic, but it was clear she was half of an act. Mortis deduced this might not have been just a store, but a passion project between two people.
"I am sorry to say madam I am not here to purchase anything, Not today" as Mortis finished his sentence the face of the widow changed from forceful happy to frowning sad as she assumed what was coming next.
"Oh, are you a journalist or some blogger? Get out then, I don't want you in my store" ordered the woman.
"You misunderstood me madam, I am here to ask questions, but not to prey upon your grief" stated Mortis as he handed the widow an elegant contact card: 'Sebastian Mortis, Private Investigator & Security Consultant', the words where printed in elegant black and white, and behind it a black coat of arms of a wolf's head and a morning-star separated by a band. "I have been hired to investigate a recent murder my employer believes to be linked to the death of your husband" lied the Detective with skill.
Deborah looked at the card and they at Mortis, she was not in the mood to talk, yet she felt she had to talk to Mortis, that he would listen to what she believed.
"Police said that it was a robbery gone wrong, but somehow I knew, somehow, they were wrong" said the woman with a combination of determination and desperation pour through her voice as an emotional damn was being released.
"Recent events may suggest a pattern to crimes linked to your husband's death" explained the detective.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Your husband did not fit the mould of the victims at the time, maybe there is a reason beyond a simple robbery" said Mortis.
The upper lip of the widow trembled as the possibility dawned her mind "Are you telling me someone wanted to kill my husband?"
"It is a possibility I am exploring" stated the Detective.
As the face of the widow shifted Mortis could see the gears in her head turning, there was something dawning her mind, something she was having trouble dealing with, something that she wanted a different explanation for, any explanation would do in her current state, and the man opposite to her could bring set information. Mortis saw, and thus pressed on.
"Is there is a possibility that something disappeared from your store recently?"
The Detective saw the light of reason shining on the Piker Widow, her mind was connecting the dots now. "Now that you mention it, there was a missing item."
Mortis pulled his notebook "Do your remember the item?"
The widow nodded: "Yes, it came to the store about a month or so ago, a strange object sold by a man who said he found it when cleaning his uncle's attic, a coffer containing a single item."
"Can you describe the item in question?"
"Yes, it was silver box, tarnished silver but not too tarnished, pre-turn to the nineteen hundreds according to the man" explained the widow.
"Any details on the item? Motifs? Decorations?" further inquired Mortis.
"Give me a moment" the widow retired to the back of the store, Mortis could hear the sound of frantic rummage, as she shouted "I know I have it here somewhere!" A couple of minutes later Deborah Piker came back carrying a silver box the size of a big lunch box and placed it in front of Mortis, much to the Detective's confusion.
"There you go, this is the box" Deborah tried to clean the dust accumulated from being left unattended with her hand as best she could to make the piece look better.
"This is the box?" asked Mortis.
"The very same" stated Deborah proudly.
Mortis lowered the notepad, and did the best he could to point the confusion of the situation to the Piker widow without sounding condescending or rude: "Is this a replica of the box that was stolen?"
"No, this is the box I was talking about" said the woman as she caressed the box. "Key was missing, but we managed to open using some lock-picks and AW-40. The lock was in amazingly good condition".
Mortis tried again, this time being more specific: "Is this the box you claimed was stolen?"
The woman looked at Mortis as if he had pooped out of nowhere with two heads, confusion reigned supreme for a small time until reason dawned again into the room and the woman blushed as she recalled the conversation she had been having a few moments ago, and adjusted the information given.
"I am so sorry, I did not mean the box, I meant the contents of this very box. I am sorry, I have been such a mess it has been hard to put things together" apologized Deborah.
"So, it was the contents of the box that was stolen?" asked Mortis.
"Yes, it was the most curious thing you see: A week after my-my-my husband's death" stuttered the widow as she went for a tissue to blow her nose and wipe the few tears rolling at the memory of her husband. Mortis waited patiently for Deborah to put herself together as the memory of lost love stabbed her heart and saddened her soul, Mortis knew such pain all too well. "I am sorry."
"It's okay Deborah, mind if I call you Deborah? Or do you prefer Mrs. Piker?"
"Deborah is fine."
"So, Deborah, you were saying…"
The widow came back for her detour into the land of heartbreak, and continued narrating the story.
"So, we got this box, man was asking for a reasonable price, just a couple hundred bucks, nothing not worth betting on. So my husband took it in. He had a few tools to tell if it was silver or not, happened to be very old silver, and the box was far older than we had originally anticipated."
Mortis nodded gently, he could see at first glance that the box was an artefact too valuable to sell for cheap: The wood warped in thick silver sheets depicting pictures of various coats of arms and crosses, clearly a box built to hold something valuable, or to seal something potentially dangerous.
"Can you describe the seller in question?" asked the Detective.
"I did not get a good look at him, my husband did most of the interaction with the seller in question, he left behind a name and signature somewhere, although it may take a while to find" stated the widow.
"Probably a fake name and a fake signature, not strange since if the item is thought to be of low value. The guy selling it must have thought of a plausible story to get rid of it" thought Mortis, to the widow he asked: "Would you be able to find the paperwork?"
"It may take a while, but if it helps I will."
Mortis pointed to the camera looking at the door. "Any chance to get security footage of the day in question?"
"The camera is at the back, but it may take a while."
Mortis checked his watch "I do not have the time this morning."
"You can come back later" eagerly suggested the widow, hoping to be helpful in the investigation.
"Thank you. Now, getting back to the box, what was inside the box?"
"That is the strange thing, it was some sort of broken wooden and metal rod" explained the Piker widow.
"Come again?"
Deborah opened her mouth, then stopped a second and said: "Give me one moment" then went back to the back of the store, from there she came back with folder from where she produced a series of pictures of the box and its contents.
"My husband insisted on cataloging everything with pictures, just in case. When he opened the box he took pictures of both the box and its contents" Deborah took a picture and handed it to Mortis. "And this was the content of the box."
At once Mortis saw why the widow did not try to describe the object, it was not easy; it looked like a partially rotten, partially rusted wooden and metal baton that had some weird metal protuberances. The picture did not make the object easy to identify, but it made Mortis curious of what the object was and why it was worth stealing, it was the mystery down right his own alley.
"Any idea of what the object could be?" asked Mortis. The Piker widow shrugged to state that she knew as much about the object as Mortis did.
"Curious and curiouser" pondered the Detective.
"You know what was strange? A few days after we got the thing my husband began acting weird" explained Deborah.
Mortis curiosity burst at the sound of the word, in his line of work people acting weird lead to people doing strange things, with few limits on how depraved or gory they could get.
"Would you mind elaborating for me?" asked Mortis.
"Oh yes, it all happened after he gut himself with the object. My husband insisted that he had been wearing gloves, and yet he managed to get a gash on his hand. Luckily insurances covered his tetanus shot and I though the end of it. Then he began having nightmares, nasty nightmares" said the widow.
"After he got the box, not before? Are you sure?"
"Oh yes, definitely. He began rolling in bed, saying he had dreams of weird people being killed. After a few nights of nightmares he began taking sleeping pills. It was after that he started to get distant, losing weight sleeping less. It was all very distressing" said Deborah, tears rolling down her plump cheeks.
"What do you think may have encouraged the strange behaviour? Debts? Monetary issues?"
"Oh no, no. We made good money, got two kids in college, were planning a trip to Niagara Falls for our anniversary. Money was not an issue" explained the widow.
"Maybe your husband gambled?"
"If he did he did it with his own money. Part of our agreement to make the business was that we run the store through a joint account, no money could come out without me knowing it" said Deborah.
"What do you think triggered your husband change then?"
The widow slumped on the counter, eyes red, she shook her head in confusion and did her best to hold the tears. "I don't know. He began coming back late but he was mostly sweaty and absent minded, I was afraid he might be doing drugs but the Doctor found nothing in his system."
Mortis wrote everything down, his instincts as a detective and as a hunter told him there was a clue here, he just could not see it, yet.
"Could you tell me more? When did the changes began? Anything that caught your attention?"
The widow closed her eyes to reminisce, she spend a minute muttering until she open her eyes to recall the events in question. "It was shortly after he had the accident with that strange baton, he said he was having trouble sleeping, that he heard a voice when he slept, something deep, then he woke up when the screams began."
"Screams? Did he suffer from nightmares?"
"Terrible nightmares. He-he told me he saw people being killed, towns burning. I told him to start seeing a therapist, he refused, tried to take sleeping pills instead, but when it got very bad I forced him to go. Then, there was his obsession with the little baton thing, that may have been stranger than the nightmares."
"What do you mean by that?"
Deborah moved her arm to gesticulate as she tried to find words for what came next as she fought tears "My husband went crazy trying to figure out what the thing was, he stayed late to research, sometimes coming very late at night. It was also when he acted the strangest, right before…" tears rolled down Deborah's eyes, she turned around in shame "I am sorry, I can't keep going on".
Mortis closed the notebook. "I understand, thank you very much for your cooperation Mrs. Piker. I will leave you be now. Please contact me if you find the paperwork. If you remember anything else you think it may be important please give me a call" said Mortis.
"I-I will."
"One last thing before I go."
"Yes?"
"How much for the silver box?"