October Novel Essential Information

 Novel Title: Whatever It Takes

Time Setting: 1840

Genre: Historical

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: August–May

Locations: Linlithgow, West Lothian; Glasgow, Lanarkshire; and Edinburgh, Midlothian¹, Scotland

Main Characters: A. Josiah MacEachern

Background Information:

Conceived in Canton², China, where his Scottish-born parents were serving as missionaries with the London Missionary Society, Josiah was actually born at his maternal grandparents’ estate in Linlithgow, West Lothian due to his father’s death while his mother was pregnant.

Josiah was the youngest of seven children his parents had, but was the only son who lived to adulthood; his first brother was stillborn, his second brother died the year before he was born of the same disease that claimed his father’s life, and his last brother drowned in the Firth of Forth when Josiah was two years old.

Only one of his three sisters failed to reach adulthood — even though his middle sister did nearly drown with his last brother — and that was the youngest one, who was stillborn two years before Josiah came along.

Having enjoyed the missionary life, Josiah’s mother wanted to return to China, but the London Missionary Society refused to send her unless she remarried or left her children in Scotland; not wanting to do the latter, she pursued remarriage, but to no avail.

Because of her desire to return to China, Josiah’s mother kept up the Chinese she’d learned by teaching her children the language, and using it around the house with them, as well as telling them tales about life in China that induced Josiah to nightmares.

Josiah’s maternal grandfather became his closest companion — as his sisters were six and seven years his senior and not keen on his being their playmates — taking him on walks, and later rides, through the West Lothian countryside, reading him exciting tales of adventurers in the British Colonies and other places that weren’t China, and fostering in him an overall interest in the natural world.

Unfortunately, age claimed his grandfather’s life when Josiah was ten years old, which was a devastating blow to him. His mother was displeased at how broken he was, telling him he needed to get used to death if he was going to live with her in China, but his grandmother came to his defence and became his go-to confidante until her own death two years later, also by age.

Following his grandfather’s death Josiah’s oldest uncle and his family moved into the house, granting permission to Josiah’s mother to remain, even though relations between his mother and uncle have become particularly tense since their mother’s death.

The tensions have been fuelled in part by Josiah’s mother’s plans for Josiah’s future, which she decided on when he reached the age of ten — an age none of his brothers reached — which was that, since she wasn’t finding a husband, it would be Josiah who would go to China as an ordained Presbyterian minister, like his father, and take up the work his father had been unable to finish.

Josiah’s uncle was of the belief that Josiah should choose his own future, after all, his sisters were allowed to marry local men — with his older sister marrying the heir to the Earldom of Uphall³, and his younger sister marrying the son of a prominent merchant from Glasgow — with no expectations of what they should do with their lives, for which Josiah has been heartily grateful.

His mother, unfortunately, has been stubborn, forcing Josiah to speak to her in Chinese by ignoring him when he responded to her in English or any other language he learned in school, and otherwise subjecting him to unpleasant trials in training for his life in China; plus, her constant proclamation that such is his future to those around her has prompted everyone around to presume that going to China as a missionary is what he actually wants to do for himself.

At first Josiah wasn’t sure what he wanted to do for himself, but when he was granted the opportunity by his uncle to participate in a fox hunt — against his mother’s wishes — when he was fifteen, shortly before his middle sister’s wedding, he and a party of younger men, all sons of the men his uncle had invited, got separated from the main group, and one of the boys’ horses refused to jump a wall, throwing its rider, whose arm broke so severely that the bone could be seen.

Despite having never seen such a wound, and only knowing a little bit of medicine from the adventure stories his grandfather had read to him until he could read them on his own, Josiah calmly, quickly set and splinted the arm and staunched the bleeding while other, older boys blanched and the most upset of them fled for help.

When the doctor arrived he was impressed with the job Josiah had done, especially when he found out that Josiah wasn’t related to any doctors, and had never seen one in action. The doctor encouraged him to pursue medicine, and, as a result, Josiah started reading medical books, which he found wholly engrossing.

As time progressed he became hopeful that by becoming a doctor he would be able to avoid the mission field, however, he didn’t tell his mother about the incident or his desire to become a doctor until he was eighteen, at which time she enrolled him into seminary to become a Presbyterian minister.

Just weeks before he was supposed to leave for the seminary he finally got up the courage to tell her he wanted to be a doctor instead. To his supreme distress, although his mother was a little shocked by the news, she expressed satisfaction that he still wanted to do something that would be useful on the mission field and had him enrolled into medical classes in Edinburgh, as well as telling people that he was going to be a medical missionary to China.

As much as Josiah has enjoyed the medical courses he’s been taking for the last two years, the fact that pursuing medicine has not been the way out of going to China he hoped it would be still weighs on him and has left him desperately looking for medical positions that he could possibly be given before his mother can succeed in getting him to China, such as possibly becoming a doctor in the Army or Navy, or even getting some sort of a position in one of the Colonies like Canada, South Africa, or Australia, but he’s not far enough along in his education to apply for any of those positions yet.

¹to my understanding, Edinburgh was in Midlothian until 1921; ²Guangzhou, China; ³not an actual earldom in the Peerage of Scotland or the United Kingdom.

Pronunciation:

MacEachern: mahkehkrihn

Found Missing: Day 20

 Word Total: 120,005

Year to Date: 780,171

Summary of Events:

Dallas pursued the red SUV until it blew a tire and rolled, he then chased its driver on foot and caught up to him with superior foot speed. He discovered the man was Talbert Brauer's great-grandson, Orlando, whom evidence proved had kidnaped Mrs. Hardwick and delivered her to his great-grandfather, having discovered who she really was by way of becoming the boyfriend of one of Mrs. Hardwick's granddaughters, who'd showed him family photos, including wedding photos featuring the chain. Dallas' Oma was called on to translate some German papers found in Orlando's SUV in hopes of establishing to whom the chain belonged, and once she was done, Dallas was summoned to S/Sgt. Colvin's office . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Thanks to the clues your grandma found in those papers, we’ve determined the identity of the chain,” S/Sgt. Colvin said.

“Okay,” Dallas said.

“It turns out that palace at Sieniawa that Jarman Brauer raided had been a place where items from the Czartoryski Museum of Kraków had been sent for safekeeping when the Germans invaded,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “But, unfortunately, someone who knew the stuff was there was a Nazi sympathiser, or at least a German, and told the Nazis where it was.”

“That’s a shame,” Dallas said. “Those types ruin everything.”

“I know,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “Anyways, according to Polish authorities, the casket described by Jarman in the entries your grandma translated is likely the Szkatuła Królewska, or the Royal Casket of Poland.”

“You’re good at saying all these Polish words,” Dallas said.

“That’s only because I’ve never read them written down,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “I’m sure if I did I’d be hopeless.”

“But anyways,” Dallas said.

“Yes, anyways, it was known that the Nazis who looted the palace at Sieniawa had divided up the contents of the casket among themselves, but none of the pieces had been found, until now,” S/Sgt. Colvin said.

“So what did we find?” Dallas asked.

“We found the chain of Queen Ludwika Maria Gonzaga of Poland,” S/Sgt. Colvin replied. “She was Queen of Poland in the sixteen hundreds, first as wife of King Władysław the fourth, and then his brother King John the second Casimir.”

“I’m presuming that was owing to death, not divorce?” Dallas asked.

“Yes,” S/Sgt. Colvin replied. “Poland is way too Catholic to do a lot of divorcing.”

“Catholic?” Dallas asked. “I would’ve thought they’d be Orthodox.”

“Pope John Paul the second was Polish,” S/Sgt. Colvin replied. “And from what I’ve heard Poland is very Catholic.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise that,” Dallas said. “I knew they were steamrolled in the Second World War, and that they were behind the Iron Curtain, but I didn’t even know they had their own kings and queens. Why didn’t I get taught about this in school? It’d be more interesting than Calculus and Trigonometry and Chemistry.”

“Not big into the maths and sciences?” S/Sgt. Colvin asked.

“Not really,” Dallas admitted. “But I think that knowing a bit more, like, geography, and foreign culture and customs, would reduce the amount of dumb tourists making major faux pas.”

“It could,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “Then I guess you may want to do some more reading up on Poland.”

“Why?” Dallas asked.

“Well, owing to our having found an over eighty-years-lost treasure of Poland, the Canadian and Polish governments have agreed to have the return occur ceremoniously, restoring the chain to the Czartoryski Museum in Kraków — which still exists,” S/Sgt. Colvin replied. “And I’ve been told to select two men from my detachment, as this is where the chain was found, and we were instrumental in determining its identity for the purpose of its restoration.”

“You mean I’m going to Poland?” Dallas asked.

“Yes,” S/Sgt. Colvin replied. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Pronunciations:

Sieniawa: sheeehnyahvah

Czartoryski: chahrtohrihskee

Szkatuła: shkahtoowah

Królewska: kroohlehvskah

Ludwika: loodveekah

Władysław: vwahdihswahv

Next Post: 30 September

Found Missing: Day 19

 Word Count: 114,101

Summary of Events:

Dallas was one of several RCMP officers who attended the funeral of Mrs. Hardwick; unfortunately Dallas was discovered and yelled at by Mrs. Hardwick's second daughter, but S/Sgt. Colvin told her that she had no right to blame Dallas, of all people. A couple days later Dallas was back at work on a speed trap, but going to grab lunch when he was approached by Mrs. Hardwick's second son, Kim, who asked him if he'd been told about the wall in the basement, pleased that his suspicion about the basement had been vindicated, Dallas went with Kim to find out which wall it was before telling Det. Sgt. Nash and heading outside to eat his lunch while waiting for Det. Sgt. Nash and others to arrive . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He followed Kim up the stairs and out the back door before heading toward his SUV, hearing, as he walked, the sound of a nearby vehicle slowing down.

Coming past the corner of the house to where he could see the full driveway, Dallas startled to see a sporty red SUV pulling into the driveway, behind whose wheel was a dark-haired man.

Immediately alarm came over the man’s face and he started reversing.

Dallas ran over to his SUV as the man reversed out of the driveway and took off toward Highway 4.

Climbing into his SUV, Dallas started it and took off, flicking on his lights and sirens while putting his foot to the floor, as he was sure the SUV ahead of him had done, since it was already a long ways ahead of him.

“Sorry Hammy, I’m not getting back to the trap anytime soon, I am pursuing a suspicious man in a red Nissan SUV,” Dallas said over the radio as he gained on the SUV, which was stopped at the intersection with Highway 4 and signalling left, only to turn right — probably because he saw Dallas gaining on him quickly and the traffic coming from the north was too close for him to chance it while nobody was coming from the south.

“Why is he suspicious?” someone asked.

“I was at Mrs. Hardwick’s property with her son, he was showing me something in the house, and when we came out this SUV pulled into the driveway, only to panic at the sight of me and take off,” Dallas replied. “He’s heading north on the Four.”

Dallas took the corner wide and fast in hopes of gaining back what he’d lost once the SUV had turned and accelerated. He would be able to catch up to the SUV, and probably be able to use his PIT bars to, well, execute the PIT manoeuvre.

The man ahead of him passed slower traffic ahead of him recklessly, prompting several vehicles coming from the north to swerve out of the way to avoid colliding with him, while those same vehicles he passed pulled over quickly for Dallas’ flashing lights and shrieking siren, allowing him to maintain speed without inducing nausea.

Dallas saw the blinking amber lights of a tractor ahead, likely someone who was doing hay harvesting, as nothing else was suitable to be harvested yet, and watched as the SUV pulled out to pass it right into the path of a semi.

Just as swiftly the SUV driver swerved to drive on the opposite shoulder while the semi driver blasted his rail-engine-like horn in indignation at the recklessness.

Instead of making the tractor pull over, Dallas engaged the four-wheel drive on his SUV and took off to the right-hand side of the road, flying past the tractor on the grass and climbing back onto the road to find the red SUV was still in front of him, and had regained its place in the appropriate lane.

Found Missing: Day 18

 Word Count: 108,015

Summary of Events:

Dallas existed in something of a fog for the rest of the day, and several days following, unable to believe that Mrs. Hardwick was dead. Upon returning to Strathmore, Dallas actually spent his nights in Blake's spare bedroom as opposed to staying in a hotel because nightmares of the incident tormented him and he didn't really want to be alone. Once everything had been done in Alberta that could be, Dallas and Det. Sgt. Nash returned to North Battleford, where all their fellow officers were gathered to greet them and offer condolences for their failure to bring Mrs. Hardwick home alive . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Cpl. Richard found Dallas and swallowed him in a bear hug. At once the image of Mrs. Hardwick’s killing sprang to Dallas’ mind and the tears he’d been wanting to cry for the last four days finally came out. He clung to Cpl. Richard and sobbed.

“It’s tough, I know,” Cpl. Richard said. “I know. I cried when I found out and I was over here. I felt bad for you, kid. You’ve worked hard on this, and I wanted to see you have a sweet victory, not a bittersweet one.”
Dallas felt another hand touch his back.

“Come here,” S/Sgt. Colvin said.

Cpl. Richard released Dallas, who reluctantly released him and accepted S/Sgt. Colvin’s embrace.

Dallas sobbed into his shoulder for a long time, hearing the sounds of the other officers talking with Det. Sgt. Nash as he accepted their embraces and condolences at the bitter turn in the case.

“You’ve done a good job kid,” S/Sgt. Colvin finally said. “Even if it didn’t end how we wanted it, we owe a lot to you for having even found her in the first place. Don’t think you’re a failure for this either. It happens to the best of us. We’re only human. Alright?”

Dallas nodded, not lifting his head.

“Let me see your face kid,” S/Sgt. Colvin said, letting go of Dallas, who released him reluctantly and attempted to swipe tears from his eyes with his bare hands — which was always easier said than done.

Cpl. Richard handed him a tissue, with which Dallas immediately dabbed his eyes and nose.

“If you need a couple days, let me know,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “Do you want to take a couple days? Maybe go spend some time with family?”

“I don’t know,” Dallas replied.

S/Sgt. Colvin nodded.

“And AL said you spent the night with a friend before coming back,” Cpl. Richard said. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“I need to try,” Dallas replied.

“But if you need someone, just call me,” Cpl. Richard said. “Okay?”

Dallas nodded.

“And you let me know if you need some days,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “I don’t want you to tear yourself up.”

“I will,” Dallas replied, nodding. “I’m just glad I can cry.”

“What do you mean?” S/Sgt. Colvin asked.

“I’ve been trying to cry since she was shot,” Dallas replied, dabbing the blur out of his eyes. “And I just couldn’t do it.”

“I’m glad you wanted to cry,” S/Sgt. Colvin said.

“I just feel like it’s taken pressure away,” Dallas said. “I just, I feel like it’s real now.”

“That’s good,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “That’s good.”

“I kind of almost feel like I could get on with life now,” Dallas said.

“Well, don’t fake it if you can’t,” Cpl. Richard said.

“I won’t,” Dallas replied, shaking his head.

Found Missing: Day 17

 Word Count: 102,024

Summary of Events:

Dallas wasn't assigned to interview neighbours about Talbert Brauer, but learned some of what the neighbours had to say from Blake, which mostly was that Mr. Brauer was a savage antiSemite, and generally a disagreeable and unkind man. After a day and a half with no success finding either the genuine chain or a believable decoy, a decoy was found and the negotiator offered it to Mr. Brauer, who opened the door, revealing himself for the first time . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He wasn’t unlike his driver’s license had described him, about Ded’s height, with white hair that had maybe receded a little bit further, but was still severely pulled back and not looking like he’d mussed it up by sleeping somehow.

There was more weight on his body than Ded carried, as he had a protruding stomach, and was wearing a knitted burgundy sweater with a white collared shirt underneath, over top of beige pants that looked crinkled, like they’d been worn for a few days, and white socks topped by well-worn burgundy slippers.

His face was cold, and he seemed unfazed by the presence of seven men facing him, four of whom were holding firearms.

As he let go of the door to look at the chain the door fell open naturally and revealed Mrs. Hardwick for the first time as well.

She looked rougher, and was dressed in a white nightgown, tied to a chair, with her hair looking a terrible mess.

The negotiator gave the chain over and Dallas watched as it was run through and over the old fingers for a long time while the face creased and furrowed, at first in thought, then confusion, and finally in a stomach-churning rage.

“Es ist falsch!” he shouted, throwing it across the room before turning, shouting something else Dallas couldn’t understand at Mrs. Hardwick, who looked at him with a grimace that turned to wide-eyed terror.

Dallas suddenly noticed the burgundy-sleeved arm pointing to her had a gun in its hand and before he could react there was a crack of exploding gunpowder, a small flash at the muzzle of the gun, and then blood in the middle of Mrs. Hardwick’s forehead and spattered on the wall behind her.

Another shot rang out, followed by a cry and a clatter. Dallas felt rooted to the floor in utter horror as he watched the aged, angry old man crumple to the floor, clutching at his shoulder, in which Dallas could see a wound only just, owing to the burgundy colour of the material.

It was only as he dropped his gaze with the crumpling figure that Dallas saw his gun was pointed forward, with both of his hands seized about the grip.

Had he fired the shot? He had no idea. His hands shook as they held onto the gun, as if somehow the weapon would keep him upright when it wasn’t fixed to anything.

Slowly, and with hands still trembling, Dallas drew his pistol back to himself and opened the magazine to check and see if a bullet had advanced, yet careful to not drop the others onto the floor despite his shaking.

One bullet was missing. He had fired his gun.

Shoving the magazine back into place, Dallas holstered his gun and looked at the man moaning on the floor, not daring to look up. He wanted to cry, but at the same time he felt completely numb.

He’d come all this way from Saskatchewan on something of a lark, based on the most off-chance supposition, hoping to find clues to Mrs. Hardwick’s disappearance, only to succeed in finding her, but then only to fail in getting her home.

Pronunciation:

Es: ess

Falsch: fahlsh

Found Missing: Day 16

 Word Count: 96,046

Summary of Events:

The hostage negotiator tried to negotiate with Talbert Brauer, but because Dallas only knew the words in German that sounded like their English equivalents, for the most part, and no one else knew German better, the effort foundered owing to Mr. Brauer's not only using German terms, but speaking some sentences entirely in German. After spending the night at the local motel while some officers called in from nearby detachments kept a night guard to keep Mr. Brauer from escaping or harming Mrs. Hardwick, they returned to the house only for Mr. Brauer to refuse to speak in English at all, leading to a bit of a committee meeting about what to do next . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Bluff?” an officer asked. “Find the closest match we can, and offer it to him, even if it’s not gold?”

“But still gold-coloured?” the negotiator asked.

“Yeah,” the officer replied.

“Unless we can find the actual chain, yeah,” the negotiator said.

“But, this guy was a Nazi, and still identifies as one,” Dallas said. “He still has the uniform in his closet.” Several eyes went wide around the table. “Who says the chain is actually his, or was actually his brother’s? Hordes of valuables in Europe disappeared during the war, and there’s rumours the Nazis pitched a bunch of it into lakes to hide it when it became clear they were going to lose the war. Who says this chain doesn’t actually belong to someone else? We can’t actually mean to permanently give it back to him, can we?”

“And you’re only a constable?” the officer immediately beside him asked.

Dallas nodded.

“Don’t stoke his ego,” Det. Sgt. Nash complained.

“Well, considering that the chain wasn’t stolen from him personally, as the documents attest,” Cpl. Hurnanen said, gesturing toward Det. Sgt. Nash. “And he’s been trying to steal it back, I don’t think he has a legitimate claim on it, if anything it’s just bait, so we couldn’t permanently give it to him, but, at the same time, Klybanowski is right that it’s not even necessarily Mrs. Hardwick’s rightful property, so, once we find the chain, we have to find a way to trace its history and determine where it came from so that we can determine who it’s actual rightful owner is and restore it to them, or, more likely, their descendants.”

“Yeah, basically we want to put the best worm on the end of the line in order to get our fish,” the negotiator said. “So we need to find either the right chain or the best imitation before we have any hope of getting him out at this point and getting Mrs. Hardwick to safety.”

“It is impressive she’s still alive, though,” Man said.

“And then we need to focus on his accomplice,” Dallas said.

“Accomplice?” an officer asked.

“We don’t think he drove out to Saskatchewan and kidnapped her,” Det. Sgt. Nash replied. “We’ve discovered that both his vehicle registration and his driver’s license are two years or more past their expiries, so unless he has another vehicle and has been driving with an expired license, someone else kidnapped her on his behalf.”

“Maybe we can get some guys on that even now,” Cpl. Hurnanen said. “Ask neighbours about activity and stuff like that. I mean, that’s probably important anyways, but with that specific goal in mind.”

“We have more than enough guys here and not enough to keep them busy,” Det. Sgt. Cooke said. “I don’t see why we can’t.”

Everyone nodded.

“So just to review,” the negotiator said. “Sgt. Nash is getting the people back in North Battleford to do another search for the chain, we need to get someone working on finding a replica just in case, and any spare people are going around interviewing neighbours about an accomplice.”

Found Missing: Day 15

 Word Count: 90,131

Summary of Events:

After several hours it was determined that the request for the hostage negotiator had been forgotten, so Blake tried to get one sent their way, but found it difficult, and even Dallas' effort to help didn't go well, but eventually the Strathmore detective succeeded in getting one sent out. Dallas also snooped around the house and discovered Talbert Brauer's drivers license had expired two years ago, before he and Blake discovered that the registration on the car in the garage had expired sooner than that. Once the hostage negotiator arrived Dallas showed Det. Sgt. Nash their discoveries before Det. Sgt. Nash started snooping around in the bedroom, including digging into the closet . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Brass buttons, olive green wool, crisp lines, impeccable tailoring, a brown leather belt with a shoulder strap going over the right shoulder, and a bright scarlet armband with a crisp-edged white circle that had a black swastika centred inside somehow staying in place around the left arm without an arm inside of it.

“He still has it,” Dallas whispered.

“Hm,” Det. Sgt. Nash said. “Obviously it has value to him, and that means he still must believe in all the hate they believed.”

Dallas nodded feeling dazed as Det. Sgt. Nash shoved all the clothes he’d pushed away back against the uniform to hide it from sight again.

“Oh look,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

Startling and blinking, Dallas turned to look where Det. Sgt. Nash was looking and saw a hat not unlike the black-brimmed, yellow-banded, navy blue hat presently perched on his head, but with a red band and olive green, and another swastika centre front where Dallas’ hat had the bison-headed crest of the RCMP.

In the shadows behind the hat, Dallas also spied tall, straight leather boots probably not altogether unlike the mahogany-coloured boots every RCMP officer wore with their red serge.

“A history museum might be super-keen on having all that,” Dallas said. “It’d all be original, not pieced together from here or there.”

“You really think a museum would want a Nazi outfit?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked.

“Well, you’ve got to show what the bad guys wore too,” Dallas said.

“Maybe,” Det. Sgt. Nash said, starting to draw the doors closed.

“Wait!” Dallas exclaimed, remembering something. “Is there, like, a stitching or a repair in the stomach area of the uniform?”

“Why?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked.

“Because he was shot in the stomach by Mrs. Hardwick’s father when he tried to get the chain back,” Dallas replied.

Det. Sgt. Nash pulled open the door behind which the uniform lay and Dallas pushed the clothes back, lifting the wooden hanger on which the uniform hung out of the closet and laying it on the bed.

He drew back the plastic and looked at the abdominal area of the uniform, but found no stitches. Unless he’d been able to get a replacement uniform, or he’d gained this uniform by promotion later on.

Dallas covered it back up and hung it in its place before returning everything as it’d been before.

“I can’t believe you would touch that,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

“I don’t think the clothes a guy wears can make him evil,” Dallas replied. “After all, these threads don’t make everyone who wears them good.” He pulled at his shirt.

Det. Sgt. Nash gave a concessional nod and closed the closet door before leading the way out of the room, with Dallas feeling a little uncomfortable now that he really thought about it and realised he’d actually touched a bonafide Nazi uniform that’d been worn by a coldblooded Nazi who was holding an innocent old woman hostage downstairs.

Found Missing: Day 14

 Word Count: 84,062

Summary of Events:

The following morning Dallas, Blake — because he was Dallas' friend — two other officers, and the two detectives set out for Beiseker, stopping for lunch at Irricana — where Dallas got to know the other two officers by their nicknames of Van and Man — before they arrived at the Brauer property, a small farmyard outside of town, where they discovered that Talbert Brauer was holed up in a room in the basement with a weeping woman and determined to get the gold chain before he came out . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Van nodded. “Gold chains are pretty easy to come by, how can we know which one is yours?”

“It is the ältest one of them all!” Talbert bellowed.

“Eltest?” Van asked.

“Oldest,” Dallas replied.

“You do not have it, do you?” Talbert demanded.

“Maybe we’re just double-checking,” Van called back. “Making sure we have the right one.”

“You have nothing!” Talbert roared. “You are lying!”

“How about you?” Van challenged. “What do you have behind that door? We can hear you have a friend who doesn’t sound like she’s all that pleased to be there!”

“Ich bin gegen sie!” Talbert shouted.

Immediately there was the subtly distorted crack of a gun being fired and Van cried out, dropping his gun at once and following it down as far as his knees, clutching at his thigh, blood oozing between his fingers.

Dallas, who’d lowered his gun, raised it and fixed his gaze on the door, ready to return fire if necessary, noticing toward the bottom of his peripheral vision the bullet hole in the door, which was actually quite clean, but that was probably because it was an MDF shell.

“Obviously he has a gun behind that door,” Van said through his teeth as he continued to press on his wound while thick, carmine blood oozed between his fingers.

Man came down the stairs, having been summoned by Det. Sgt. Cooke, and while Dallas kept the door covered Man helped Van move out of the way before taking up a secondary station facing the door, while Blake was tasked with radioing back to Strathmore that they needed an ambulance and a hostage negotiator.

Dallas saw out his peripheral vision that Det. Sgt. Nash removed the belt from his pants and fixed it as a tourniquet around Van’s thigh above the wound.

Det. Sgt. Cooke called for Blake to toss them a towel to put between Van’s hands and wound while Dallas and Man waited tensely.

No more shots were fired, nothing more was said from inside the room — even if the weeping continued — instead, things descended into a tense silence as Blake came down with a tensor bandage, as well as the towel, which they used to cover over the wound so Van’s hands were free before Blake helped him hobble up the stairs to wait for medical assistance, and maybe be able to take advantage of medical supplies in the bathroom up there.

With Van removed from the scene, Dallas focused his gaze on the door and stiffened the brace in his arm. It seemed that Talbert Brauer wasn’t the Godfather-like Mafioso mastermind of the operation he’d expected a ninety-eight-year-old man to be, instead it seemed that he was an active participant, if not maybe even the sole perpetrator.

As a result, it was likely Mrs. Hardwick whom he was hearing weeping behind the door. He hoped it was. Even if he hadn’t come five hundred kilometres from Saskatchewan to find her, he wasn’t going to complain about getting more than he’d bargained for in that regard.

Pronunciations:

Ich: ih+ ch as in Bach

Gegen: gehgehn

Sie: zee

Found Missing: Day 13

 Word Count: 78,046

Summary of Events:

After a quiet and rather tense drive through Saskatchewan and Alberta, Dallas and Det. Sgt. Nash arrived at Strathmore, where they discovered that the hotel that had been recommended by Det. Sgt. Nash's cousin was next door to the RCMP detachment, and Dallas was assigned to get himself a room there while Det. Sgt. Nash went over to the detachment to talk to their detective; he wanted to drive over, but Dallas thought that was a silly idea and refused to give him the keys, leading to Det. Sgt. Nash calling Dallas a profane name as he acquiesced . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Dallas didn’t appreciate the epithet, but he elected to say nothing, as it wasn’t like S/Sgt. Colvin was there to adjudicate the disagreement, instead he carried on into the hotel and up to the reception desk.

“Hello officer, and how may I help you?” the female receptionist asked amorously.

“I was wondering if I could book a single room for three nights,” Dallas replied.

“Certainly,” she said. “What size of bed would you like?”

“I don’t really care, so long as there’s a bed,” Dallas replied. “You pick.”
The receptionist nodded and guided Dallas through the rest of the check-in procedure before giving Dallas the envelope containing the plastic card which was the key to the room.

Dallas headed for his room and placed his stuff inside, as well as otherwise assessing the accommodations before he headed out and over to the RCMP detachment.

“Am I seeing things?” a familiar voice asked.

Turning, Dallas startled to see Blake in his full uniform staring at him.

“You’re kidding!” Dallas exclaimed.

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s kidding?” Blake asked, stepping forward and embracing Dallas in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, our detective and I are here to talk to a guy who might have some information in an investigation of ours, and we were told to check in here,” Dallas replied.

“You’re on investigations?” Blake asked.

“Not formally, but, um, yeah,” Dallas replied, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh?” Blake asked.

“Basically I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong,” Dallas replied. “I interviewed a family member I shouldn’t have and looked at evidence he had, had Oma translate it, and was talking to German and Canadian officials, and then I realised that I was overstepping my authority, and, well, yeah.”

“But if you’re in the wrong, then why are you here?” Blake asked.

“Because I have the second most knowledge on the investigation,” Dallas replied.

“Oh,” Blake said.

“I mean, I have been punished already as much as the rules demand, which is as much as our commanding officer intends to punish me, but, um, yeah, the detective isn’t happy I was tagged to go along,” Dallas said. “I thought I was out of a job.”

“Wow,” Blake said.

“But I think our commanding officer wants to put me in the investigation unit,” Dallas said.

“To keep you out of trouble?” Blake asked.

“Partially, maybe,” Dallas replied. “But I also think he was pleasantly impressed by what I achieved.”

“That’s kind of funny,” Blake said. “But he’s probably talking with our detective, so I guess I should escort you accordingly.”

Found Missing: Day 12

 Word Count: 72,006

Summary of Events:

Dallas continued working, admittedly disappointed over his inability to be involved in the investigation, but yet kept busy by a significant amount of work over the next couple of days. Before too long, however, Dallas was called to S/Sgt. Colvin's office and told that he would be going to Alberta with Det. Sgt. Nash to interview Talbert Brauer — who was still alive — about his knowledge of Mrs. Hardwick's disappearance because he had the second-greatest knowledge of the case facts. As they prepared to leave one of the officers on the criminal investigation unit approached them . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I hope you two have a good trip,” Cpl. Richard said. “I’ll keep seeing what I can find here A.L.”

“Thanks Ritchie,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

“Who’s driving?” Cpl. Richard asked.

“Me?” Dallas offered.

“We’re each driving half,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

“And what’s half?” Cpl. Richard asked.

“Two sixty seven and a half,” Det. Sgt. Nash replied.

“Who’s driving which half?” Cpl. Richard asked.

“I’m driving first,” Dallas said — at the exact same time as Det. Sgt. Nash.

“Hm,” Cpl. Richard said. “How about a coin toss?”

“Sure,” Dallas agreed.

Det. Sgt. Nash nodded.

Cpl. Richard produced a quarter.

“Caribou,” Dallas replied.

“You could just call it tails,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

“But it’s a caribou head,” Dallas said. “And to me the animal face sides have always been the front of the coin anyways.”

“There’s no animal on the dime,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

“There wasn’t on the penny either, but still,” Dallas said. “I’ve always considered that side the front side. It looks like a front side should look.”

“Nonetheless,” Cpl. Richard said. “Caribou and queen. Here we go.”

With his thumb he expertly flipped the coin high and made it spin quickly before catching it in the palm of his opposite hand and sandwiching it against the back of the hand that had flicked it.

Removing his hand exposed what was the fourth different bust of Queen Elizabeth II that had been used on Canadian currency.

Dallas sighed, disappointed.

“You’re driving front half, you’re driving back half, both ways,” Cpl. Richard said. “Is that agreed?”

“Yes,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

Dallas nodded reluctantly.

“Be nice to each other,” Cpl. Richard said.

Dallas and Det. Sgt. Nash looked at one another warily.

“Come on, you’re both adults,” Cpl. Richard said.

They both nodded, Dallas looking toward Cpl. Richard as he did so.

“Now get going,” Cpl. Richard said.

Dallas reluctantly went to the passenger seat and climbed inside. Det. Sgt. Nash climbed into the driver’s seat.

“So, which way are we going?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked.

“In reverse, to get out of the stall,” Dallas replied.

“No sarcasm,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

Dallas opened the map app on his cellphone. “Our destination is Beiseker?”

“No, Strathmore,” Det. Sgt. Nash said. “The detachment there want to talk to us about the case because it falls in their jurisdiction.”

Accordingly Dallas input directions for North Battleford to Strathmore.

“So?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked as he neared the exit to the parking lot. “Which way am I turning?”

“The direction that gets you to highway forty,” Dallas replied.

“Highway forty?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked.

“Four zero, yes,” Dallas replied.

“Hm,” Det. Sgt. Nash said.

He turned accordingly and, once they’d crossed the river into Battleford, turned onto the highway.

“Highway twenty nine,” Dallas said.

“What about it?” Det. Sgt. Nash asked.

“It’s where you’re going,” Dallas replied.

“Oh,” Det. Sgt. Nash said. “And then?”

“Wilkie,” Dallas replied.

Det. Sgt. Nash nodded.

Pronunciations:

Richard: reeshahrd

Beiseker: byezehker

Found Missing: Day 11

 Word Count: 66,055

Summary of Events:

Dallas continued to engage in general policing duties while he waited both for Det. Sgt. Nash to be done testifying and for answers about where Talbert Brauer had settled. On the day Det. Sgt. Nash was finally done testifying Dallas got those answers, and he immediately went to reveal it all. Unsurprisingly, Det. Sgt. Nash wasn't impressed that Dallas had compiled all kinds of information while he'd found nothing, and took Dallas to the detachment's commanding officer, S/Sgt. Colvin, to whom Dallas repeated what he'd told Det. Sgt. Nash, overwhelmed by paranoia that he was going to be fired on the spot . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

S/Sgt. Colvin’s eyebrows raised as Dallas relayed everything, and he read the papers he was handed with an apparent interest. Dallas’ heart pounded, especially as S/Sgt. Colvin read the last pages.

“And you compiled all of this while still carrying out your regular duties?” S/Sgt. Colvin asked.

“Yes sir,” Dallas replied. “All of the stuff that involved leaving town I did on days off and out of uniform.”

S/Sgt. Colvin nodded.

“It was a severe overreach and abuse of my duties and authority,” Dallas said. “I, I just, in a way, I, I felt like, like I found the puzzle, but when I, I guess, kind of, showed it off,  it was taken from me, and I wasn’t allowed to help put it together, and, and so I stole some of the important pieces, and put them together. But that was . . . childish of me to have done. I should’ve stuck to my duties, instead of doing others’ for them. I’m sorry sir.”

Dallas removed his hat and set it on S/Sgt. Colvin’s desk, tears threatening to rush into his eyes and down his cheeks. He was sure the only course of action was for him to be fired.

“You certainly did overstep your authority,” S/Sgt. Colvin said, his voice not angry, but not what could be considered altogether kind. “As good of work as you did while doing so. Notwithstanding, I can tell that you were not malicious in so doing, if anything, it was, as you said, a childish jealousy that made you want to be able to have a part in the investigation, and I can’t say that such an opportunity should have been denied you, for you did find it, and you did do a lot of good legwork before you even brought it to our attention. Indeed, you’ve always shown yourself to have a good attention to detail that would be valuable in an investigation such as this.”

Dallas kept his gaze locked on his hands, which clung to each other in order to hopefully hide how badly they were shaking with fear of having to leave the detachment never to return.

“I will have to examine protocol for this situation,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “But, seeing as you are very cognisant of your oversteps, and very penitent with regard to having done them, I see no reason to exercise any punishment on you outside of what is prescribed in protocol.”

“I understand,” Dallas said.

“No,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “I don’t think you do.”

Dallas lifted his gaze and looked at S/Sgt. Colvin, who stood up, came around the desk, and placed Dallas’ hat back on his head before he took a gentle hold of Dallas’ chin.

“You’re not out of a job,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “I’m not going to fire you for this.”

“Isn’t that what’s required?” Dallas asked.

“I certainly don’t think it is,” S/Sgt. Colvin said. “And I’m not going to act until I’ve double-checked the rules.”

Abbreviation:

S/Sgt: Staff-Sergeant

Found Missing: Day 10

 Word Count: 60,208

Summary of Events:

After doing a considerable amount of searching to pinpoint where would be the best place to start looking for information on Talbert Brauer in Canada, Dallas made contact with the people at that place, who questioned why a constable, and not a detective, was seeking the information; Dallas bluffed that he'd been assigned to do so and was able to make his enquiries without hassle, but once the call was ended Dallas was overwhelmingly aware of the fact that he'd done a lot of things he shouldn't have . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Certainly he ought to tell Det. Sgt. Nash everything — and face the music for working on something to which he wasn’t assigned — but he wasn’t appreciative of the woman’s emphasis on how the information was for Det. Sgt. Nash.

At the moment, however, Dallas couldn’t tell Det. Sgt. Nash, as although he was free, from what he’d been hearing, Det. Sgt. Nash was up to his ears in his third day of testimony pertaining to that past investigation that was finally on trial.

Dallas didn’t recall what the investigation was, but he was impressed that Det. Sgt. Nash’s testimony was three days long, and he got the impression that a lot of other people were also surprised at how long the testimony was taking, with some speculation being that the defence were ruthlessly picking apart the testimony, as the main defence lawyer in the trial was apparently quite notorious for testing practically every word that came out of the mouth of someone who was implicitly against his client.

Since Dallas had never actually had to testify at a criminal investigation before, he’d never met this lawyer, he’d mostly encountered lawyers who were involved in any field other than criminal law when he’d made his few visits to the courthouse — and he’d never actually been in the stand to testify either.

Others at the detachment, however, knew this lawyer well, and although they commended him on being thorough, they made it clear that they thought his relentless and ruthless questioning was a bit excessive, and suggested that he wasn’t the sort of person that judges liked to see in their courtroom because they knew what should’ve been a reasonably swift trial was going to take at least twice as long as it ought.

If Dallas was honest, though, a small part of him was grateful that he had some time before he was going to end up having the time to confess to Det. Sgt. Nash all that he’d done when the investigation was supposed to have been Det. Sgt. Nash’s, seeing how Det. Sgt. Nash wasn’t the fondest of him, thus hearing Dallas confess all he’d learn wouldn’t exactly please Det. Sgt. Nash, as he would proclaim it all ought to have been work that he did.

And he was right, really. As the detective, Det. Sgt. Nash was the one who should’ve been doing all the work Dallas had spent the last two months or so doing for himself, and he may’ve even been able to do a better job with it than Dallas had.

Nonetheless, what was done was done and Dallas was — whenever this ruthlessly interrogative defence lawyer decided to let Det. Sgt. Nash go — going to have to tell Det. Sgt. Nash about it, as well as take the punishment he deserved for having done it.

Found Missing: Day 9

 Word Count: 54,015

Summary of Events:

Dallas was called in to help control traffic at a major accident on the highway and ended up being accosted by Mrs. Hardwick's younger daughter, who was on her way to visit the older daughter in Lloydminster, and was convinced the RCMP weren't doing enough; Dallas countered that they'd probably be moving faster and doing more if they'd known about the disappearance sooner, but their argument was ended by the daughter having to take a call. Dallas got an e-mail of information from Germany that was, unsurprisingly, in German, so when he went to visit his grandparents for Canada Day he took the papers along for Oma to translate . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“So what do you have for me now?” Oma asked.

“I have information from the German government on Talbert Brauer,” Dallas replied.

“In German,” Oma said.

“Of course,” Dallas replied. “Canadian records aren’t kept in German, why should German records be kept in English?”

Oma smiled and took the papers Dallas handed to her and looked them over, placing the front one to the back once she was finished.

“This is a record of his birth,” Oma said. “If he’s alive he’s ninety eight.”

“That’s twenty years older than she is,” Dallas said, surprised. He’d not expected quite that large of an age gap, not that he was sure why.

“This is a record of his military discharge,” Oma said. “He was discharged with the same rank his brother had when he was killed.”

“That was sergeant, right?” Dallas asked.

“That would be what it would translate to, yes,” Oma replied.

Dallas nodded.

“These are birth records for two children,” Oma said. “A son and a daughter, both born in Kiel.”

“Kiel?” Dallas asked. “Where’s that?”

“In the north of Germany, reasonably close to Hamburg,” Oma replied.

“Oh,” Dallas said.

“And this is a record of emigration,” Oma said.

“Emigration?” Dallas asked. “What do you mean emigration?”

“It says that Talbert and Konrada Brauer, accompanied by five children, departed by ship for Canada sixty six years ago,” Oma replied.

“I didn’t actually expect that,” Dallas said. “If this is a wild goose chase I haven’t caught the goose yet.”

“The message says that enquiries after records of a wife or child belonging to Jarman Brauer der Jüngere came back negative,” Oma said.

“Der Jüngere?” Dallas asked.

“The younger,” Oma replied. “Junior.”

“Oh,” Dallas said.

“Obviously they found a Jarman Brauer der Älterer,” Oma said.

“Obviously,” Dallas said. “As there was no indication in the journal that there was an older and a younger.”

Oma nodded. “Do you want me to write up what all these say in English?”

“For now it should be fine,” Dallas said. “But, at the same time, if this pans out, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have the English for the courts.”

“They may want a certified translator, though,” Oma said.

“You’re certified enough for me,” Dallas said.

“I know that,” Oma said, standing and ruffling Dallas’ hair. “I’m probably also cheaper.”

“Free is the best deal going,” Dallas said.

Oma chuckled and shook her head, carrying the papers out of the room with her while Dallas stood and headed through the kitchen to get out into the backyard where he found everyone else he’d expected to see at this early of an hour on a family gathering day.

Pronunciations:

Kiel: keel

Konrada: kohnrahdah

Jüngere: yoongehre

Älterer: ehltuhruh