The Grotesque Corpse - Chapter 4

4: The Cultural Preservation Museum

A two-meter carved wooden bear stood near the entrance to the Cultural Preservation Museum. A bronze statue of the town’s founder stood on the other side of the entrance. Inside the front hall were two galleries, one dedicated to the town’s war heroes and the opposing dedicated to women’s fashions. Further down the hallway were galleries dedicated to local artists paintings and sculptures. At the end of the hallway were the two galleries that Sage had come to visit.

Her first stop would be the Native American gallery. There were several photos of native chiefs and their families mounted on the walls. Scattered about the floor were a few display cases of relics found during the expansion of the town into a small city. Several mannequins wearing tribal dress lined one side of the gallery while shelves full of dioramas filled the opposite side. Located at the back of the gallery was a small reading room.

The gallery docent had made a few additions to the library since Sage’s last visit. Sage pulled a book off the shelf and sat down to read the treatise on Native American myths and legends. There were plenty of references to bears and rabbits strewn through various native groups, but not a single reference to gorillas or apes of any kind. She closed the book and leaned back in the chair.

“It’s a very comprehensive text. It’s even signed by the author. I met him. He’s the real deal. He went and collected all the stories from the various tribal elders,” Mabel Long said as she walked into the room and removed the book from Sage’s grasp. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for, Spirit Walker.”

Sage sighed. “No, that’s the second time today that I went barking up the wrong tree.”

“Maybe you should check out the occult library across town,” Mabel said with a teasing grin.

“It’s a good thing you took the book otherwise I’d throw it at you.” Sage rose from the chair and gave Mabel a hug. “I was hoping to find a totem with the head of a bear, the body of a gorilla, and the legs of a rabbit. But found only the bear and the rabbit.”

“Do I want to know?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Sage took a deep breath and after a slow exhale, she replied. “I met a man with the head of a bear, the body of a gorilla, and the legs of a rabbit. Another man had shot him and he was dying. As far as the police are concerned, he is dead. The medical examiner won’t touch him until I ask her to pull him from the freezer. I need to undo whatever he or someone else did to change him. At this point, I’ve ruled out him being a skin walker.”

“Gorilla sounds African. Maybe Benedict knows something.” Benedict White was a Professor of Anthropology at the local community college. He was a frequent visitor to the Cultural Museum’s African-American Gallery.

“Is he in today?”

“He’s usually in by now. He likes to keep the books in order and to check up on his contribution to the museum.”

Sage paused before entering the gallery. One side of the gallery depicted the conditions on board a slave ship. The trappings of slavery featured manacles and shackles used to control the new arrival. Various whips used for discipline hung next to the irons. A copy of the Emancipation Proclamation hung on the wall amid photos of Civil War soldiers posing with their slaves and reproductions of photos taken at Gettysburg. That exhibit ended with a framed copy of the Civil Rights Act. On the opposite wall, there hung portraits of artists and scientists who contributed to the American culture.

At the back, Benedict had set up a small display of the pottery and carvings that he had purchased while in Africa researching his family’s roots. This was just outside of the gallery reading nook. Just inside the gallery reading nook, in a brown leather chair, a short wispy haired man sat with his nose in a recently published book. Practically every book in the small library bore a bookplate stating “Donated by Benedict White, PhD.” Sage quietly slipped into a nearby chair and waited. After reading the last few lines of the book, Benedict placed it beside him on a nearby table. He glanced at his watch, “Good afternoon, Ancestor. What brings you here?”

“A cosmic joke. A bear, a gorilla, and a rabbit wander down a back alley. A single gunshot fells all three.”

Benedict leaned forward in his chair “How is that possible?”.

“The three were all part of what had once been a man. I need to know the manner of the witchery if I am to undo it. I was hoping that you knew of some African magic that might apply.”

“My apologies, Ancestor. Although Africa has plenty of gorillas and rabbits, there hasn’t been a bear on that continent since the late 1800’s. And I know of no tribal practice of magic that would account for such a creation.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. I’m stumped for an explanation.” Sage sank back into her chair.

“Have you considered hiring a private investigator?” Benedict stood and carried the book he had just finished reading over to a shelf, sliding it gently between two other books.

“Already taken care of. It’s just a matter of waiting for his report.”