Criminal Unsuspected

Criminal Unsuspected

By Nathan Hartanto

It was evening at Bayport, south of New York. People were gathering int the wide, old, two-story building known as the museum. They gathered to see the jewel that was brought just yesterday. This small, spherical, shiny transparent green gem was displayed at a secured brown table at the museum hall. It was bigger than a pearl, but smaller than a diamond. Scientists identified it as Pharaoh Cheops' amulet, and that was why so many people wanted to see it. But, in the next morning, someone rushed to the curator's office. It was the guard. He panted, then opened his mouth. “Sir!... The jewel... is stolen!” he said, frantically. So, the curator wasted no more time and dialed the police. That day, at the police office, many people were working in the one-story, red brick building. The garage there was packed with police cars. The phone rang, Inspector Detective Ken Rosenberg picked it up. He talked for a while, then said, “Okay, curator. I'm on the way.” He then said to the policemen, “Okay, boys. Follow my car.” as he entered his silver Chevrolet Camaro. He zoomed to the museum, followed by some police cars.

At the museum, half an hour later, a man, aged 30s, stepped out from his Chevy Camaro. He was tall, strapping, quite handsome, and wearing a white button-up shirt and a black tie. The curator greeted him, “Ah, Detective Rosenberg. They said you're the calmest, smartest, cleverest detective PD can get. Come, let me show you the crime scene,” he said. He took the detective to the now-vacant table. Immediately, he saw broken glass shards near a rectangular, glazed window. Surely, a man couldn't fit inside. Also, he found out that all the fingerprints near the table was the visitors'. After that, he questioned the guard. “Did you hear any noise or alarm?” he asked.

“Nope. The alarm was broken yesterday, and the hall is quite far away from my post,” the guard replied.

“Do you notice anyone very interested in the gem yesterday?” The detective asked again.

“I can tell you that there are three people that showed the VIP tickets, John Dwayne, Alan Forges, and Grant Galloway seemed very interested in the gem,” the guard answered.

Detective Ken noticed that the hall's door locks weren't broken. Then, he thanked the guard and the curator, and sped off to the Dwayne Estate. On the way, he thought about the evidences. The physical evidences lead to one conclusion... the criminal stole the gem by a grappling hook or fishing pole, he thought.

After driving for a while, the detective reached the gate that led to a vast open grounds. The Dwayne Estate at the end was still being painted with peach color. They entered a huge door. An old, bald man greeted them. Arrogantly, he said, “The crime, huh?” Detective Ken said, “Yes. Are you Mr. Dwayne?” The old man spoke loudly, “John Dwayne, yes. All I know that, all night I was sleeping,” he said. The detective was surprised. He asked John's wife, then she acknowledged it. Getting all the info, the detective went to Alan's home. It was blue, It had no yard at all. From its big, opened windows, they smelled dogs and heard them barking. They knocked. A thin, tall, bearded man answered. He looked like a drunkard. He was Alan Forges. The detective looked him in the eye. “where were you at 6 AM?” he asked. Alan hiccuped. ” Well, I -hic- was at -hic- the bar. -hic- ask my -hic- friend there. -hic-,” he replied, hiccupping every two words. Hearing that, the police went to the nearby Rock Bottle bar. The distinguished chief bartender confirmed that Alan was there at six. One blonde man, normal height was probably Alan's friend. “Sam Daneston,” he introduced himself. “Inspector Ken Rosenberg. Nice to meet you. Where were you at six this morning?” the detective asked. “Here. Well, if you wanna know more about my friend, Alan loves artifacts and he loves fishing,” he answered. “It's getting late. Thanks, goodbye,” the detective said. After that, he went home.

The next morning, detective Ken and some NYPD police went to Grant Galloway's home. Inside, a young man, not-so-short, thin, and has spiky orange hair greeted him. “Hello. Just coming to ask, where were you at six?” detective Ken asked the man, who was Grant Galloway. “I'm outta town,” he said with a Texas accent. “y'know, getting loans and visiting my dad's funeral,” he almost cried. “Wow. I'm sorry for your father. I better go now,” the detective responded. He went out of the house, then drove back to the police office.

On the way there, he heard a program about magpies on the radio. “...Magpies are interesting birds. But be careful, though, because it will stop at nothing to steal anything small and shiny that is not hidden away,” said the woman who broadcasts the program. Hearing that, the detective turned back to the museum. There, he entered the main hall and turned his attention to the teak tree outside the broken window. He shouted. “stay here. I know where the jewel is,” he said. Feeling excited, he went out of the museum building and approached the teak tree, which is as tall as the museum. He climbed up the tree, and there, he saw branches, leaves and a nest. The detective's suspicions are correct. In the nest, he saw a magpie, still brooding her eggs. Anyway, the detective shooed the magpie. In the nest that is made out of sticks and mud, he saw three eggs, some grass, and... the jewel! He grabbed it, and told the curator about everything. It was evident that the curator was happy. Soon after, some journalists, reporters, and cameramen came. They interviewed the curator and the detective. “Another job well done, detective Rosenberg?” he asked. “Case closed,” the detective replied. They both look tired, but happy to see the end of the mystery.