It began with a beast stalking the darkness…
A jaguar to be precise. Lean and graceful. The creature stealthily moved towards her, full of cunning, and before she could react, it leapt and pounced on her.
Ravaged her.
She woke up with a start amid a pile of books and files.
As her vision came into focus, she became aware of someone standing on the other side of her desk. She gasped.
“Pardon me, Ms. Nova,” the man said in a smooth clear voice. It made the hairs on her arm stand on end like electrostatic. He tipped his hat slightly but didn’t take it off. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Who are you? The museum is closed today. How did you get past security?” She was truly annoyed at this intrusion, at having been found in such a vulnerable position. She had been working late hours at the museum for an upcoming exhibition, and she had been taking a quick catnap to catch up on some sleep.
“My name is Clyde O’Neill, and I’m a private investigator,” he said handing her an ornate card that had only one piece of information on it: a barcode.
“I am here following a lead. I have reason to believe there has been a theft in this museum.”
“A theft?” Mia said standing up. “I assure you, Mr. O’Neill, no theft has been reported in this museum.”
“My client is a collector of rare antiquities, you see, and he was recently contacted by an anonymous caller offering to sell him a piece from a museum exhibition. The man said it was a genuine meseo-American artifact from the Campo M collection. My client thought it would be prudent to investigate further and alert the museum authorities to ensure no crime has been committed.”
He fished out a faded photograph from a leather folio and handed it to her. It depicted the image of a jade figurine carved in the likeness of a kneeling man with feline features.
“The caller said that he had gained possession of this particular item. The picture itself could be a forgery, of course, but my client just wanted to confirm that nothing was amiss.”
“This is indeed one of our artifacts,” she said. “But the collection is intact.”
“Perhaps, you could double check, just to be on the safe side.”
While doubtful that anything was amiss, she told the man to wait in her office while she checked the storage room. She then made her way across the archives, where collections were stored in sliding drawers.
She did not exactly know the piece by name, but it didn’t take long to find it. The caption on the label read, The Were-Jaguar: religious practitioner undergoing zoomorphic transformation.
With heart racing, she opened the drawer. A sharp intake of breath.
It was empty.
Her face grew pale and she felt faint. It couldn’t be. Security was tight in the museum and…
Remembering the stranger, she raced across the storage room until she reached her office. The man who called himself Clyde O’Neill was no longer there. She alerted security. They searched all over the museum for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Not even the cameras had recorded his coming and going. How could it be?
The only evidence she had that he had ever been there was the faded photograph and the card with the barcode imprint.
Later that evening, on her drive back home, she remembered the dream in her office.
“A jaguar,” she said. “I was dreaming about a jaguar when the man came in.”
She shook her head and looked at the city lights across the bridge. Just a coincidence, no doubt, but it gave her an odd feeling. What she needed was a long bath, and a nice glass of Chardonnay. Forget this whole day ever happened. Forget all about exhibitions, mysterious strangers and stolen artifacts. She sighed. The next few days were going to be pure madness.
