"How long has this candlemaker been in business? Is he a well-known figure?"
The patchy-haired man nodded. "He's been in business for quite some time and is well-regarded."
"What else does he do with his time besides making candles?"
"He takes on various odd jobs for people."
Not just an artisan, but someone who also takes odd jobs.That's interesting. Shouldn't he be financially supported by the community if he's so well regarded? Why would he have to resort to taking on odd jobs… Perhaps it's partially as a hobby? I'll revisit this topic later. I need to understand the most important points first, in the interest of time.
"Will it jeopardize the case at all if I handle the physical evidence?"
The four on the stand slowly shook their heads no, as if they were confused why she would even ask.
Enza pulled out the uniform and examined it. It was covered all over with tiny flecks and seemed like it hadn't been washed in a while. Commentary came from the judge's stand as she looked it over.
"The flakes of wax on the uniform matched the wax that the defaced statues are made from."
"Who confirmed that? Was it also the candlemaker?"
"Yes."
Enza put the uniform back in the box and grabbed the handheld torch, which was unbranded and covered in scratches. It was a full-sized blowtorch and was rather heavy. She shook it, but there wasn't any fuel sloshing around inside.
"Was this checked for fingerprints?"
"This torch is frequently used by many people, so fingerprint detection wouldn't be reliable enough to be valid."
Enza frowned. "It's used by many people? Isn't there just one main caretaker? Including Dirt, that's two people."
The man with the orange suit replied this time. "Are you an only child who didn't grow up having to share with others? The wax museum may only have one caretaker, but every object in this world has value."
I don't know if I have siblings. I don't even know who my parents are.
But Enza didn't say that. Instead, she brought up an essential question she had almost forgotten. "Why would there be a blowtorch in a wax museum in the first place? That just seems like you're asking for something bad to happen; it almost sounds like an idiom. Doesn't a museum caretaker mainly do things like cleaning and filling out paperwork?"
The stand was silent for a second. Then, a woman who hadn't spoken yet stood up. She had greasy hair and a purple cardigan with black polka dots.
"It's used for self-defense by the caretaker if necessary."
Enza was extremely confused by this.
I can understand why this museum would need security. The value of the statues is enormous at 400 million, and people would surely be tempted to break in. But why wouldn't they hire real security guards? Only having one person staffed in a building worth multiple fortunes is asking for the worst to happen, and it's surely illegal for the museum company to demand the caretaker defend the statues with their life.
Also, why a blowtorch? It's totally impractical as a weapon. It's heavy and hard to swing around, has little to no range, and can't kill someone quickly. Why use it over a gun? I don't understand…It seems illegal, too. You don't exactly see police going around with flamethrowers, burning people is seen as obviously wrong by the general public.
A line from the document Azarias had left her flashed in her mind.
'This court, when it was in operation on Earth, operated completely outside the bounds of any national or international law.'
The gears in Enza's head were whirring. On Earth, where was this courthouse located? The decisions of a court represent the laws of a place. In the place this court was in, burning people with a blowtorch for self-defense is completely legal. I can't think of any country… Also, these people look European. Europe has strict laws regarding cruelty and weapons…
"What country are you all from?"
"We're from Finland," the four answered casually.
Finland… I don't remember Azarias saying anything about a country named Finland, and he said the textbook included all the countries. Is it a dangerous country where anything is allowed?
She looked up at the stand again.
"Can I have a photo of the museum from the outside?"
The four jurors/judges/prosecutors, whatever they were, nodded in unison. A split second later, a paper airplane rocketed out from a concealed corridor. Enza flinched as it rushed toward her face, but it lost momentum just in time.
She unfolded the airplane and examined the photograph. There was a building of alternating black and white bricks, glistening with dewdrops. It was covered with dark vines, and a pine tree was planted on the roof. The main door was stainless steel, and a red ribbon hung across the frame. Enza looked at the corners of the photo, but the cropping didn't let her see anything beyond the building.
How did they prepare this photo so fast? I can feel the heat of the paper; it's fresh off the printer. Printing on Earth could never be this good, at least according to Azarias…
"What is the purpose of the red ribbon? Does it mean the museum was closed at the time of the photo?"
The woman with greasy hair shook her head. "There was a new exhibit being installed at that time, unrelated to the one that was vandalized. The installation is why the museum was closed in the first place. It's usually open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year."
Enza was confused again, but tried not to let it show. What kind of museum is open 24 hours a day…? And if it's only the caretaker in the building, how are they ever supposed to get any sleep?
A detail from earlier crossed her mind. It was the way the ginger woman had been emotional over the evidence of the crime. Enza couldn't let go of the feeling that she was related to the case somehow, even if she wasn't a suspect. If the ginger woman was related, there was a chance the others could be too. With the permission to ask questions freely, Enza felt that she couldn't continue being totally uninformed about who these people are.
"You four, can you please introduce yourselves? Also, can you state your relations to this case?"
The man with patchy hair spoke first.
"My name is Arthur, and I was summoned to this court on a random basis. Honestly, I've felt my whole life like I don't have the same appreciation for art as other people, so the loss of an artwork like a sculpture doesn't mean much to me. But what does mean something to me is someone's hard work getting destroyed, and a precious piece of history being ruined."
The ginger woman glared viciously at Arthur when he said he didn't appreciate the arts. Enza raised an eyebrow when she saw this and also laughed internally at the dramatic answer.
As Enza looked at Arthur, she felt that he looked familiar. But it was just for a moment, and the feeling was quickly washed away.
The man with the severe demeanor raised his hand. "I am the same as him, randomly selected. My name is Arto, and I don't have any particular relationship to the wax museum."
The next one to stand up was the short, ginger woman. "I'm Jari, and I'm an art critic, so this act of vandalism breaks my heart. I'm also one of the gatherers of the museum's contents."
Enza leaned forward. "A gatherer? What does that mean? Are you involved with the source of the museum's art? Who's the artist, or artist(s)?"
Jari broke eye contact.
"We don't know the exact person who makes the statues. We just gather them."
Without giving Enza time to interject with another question, the greasy-haired woman stood up. "My name is Inka. At the time the incident took place, I was deep in a forest and had no way of knowing what was happening at the museum. However, I am the wax museum's primary caretaker, so I was naturally involved with the investigation that followed."
She's the original caretaker? Someone this closely related to the case is allowed to be on the prosecution? That definitely doesn't seem fair.
"Uh, alright. How well do you know Dirt? Who recommended him to be the substitute caretaker of the museum?"
"It's only natural that I've seen him around before, but I wasn't close with him or anything. I did not recommend him, but I imagine someone else did. Even though it's just a short, temporary position, considering it's his first job at one of the museums, he must have been great in other aspects to land it."
"Your vacation was for leisure, right? It wasn't sick days?"
Inka nodded. "I get four days per year, and I used three of them."
Only four days off a year? Seriously? I'd lose my mind.
"Where were you on this vacation?"
"I went backpacking up a big old mountain deep in the woods."
"Was anyone else with you?"
Inka shook her head. "I went alone."
"Who do you live with?"
"Nobody."
"Was there anyone who witnessed your departure or return, or saw you along the way?"
"I left very early in the morning. I wanted to make significant progress before the heat of the day really kicked in. The route I took is very secluded, and I didn't see anyone else out there. I also ended up returning before dawn and didn't encounter anyone."
Well, it's convenient that nobody saw, isn't it? However, if leaving at the crack of dawn is considered the norm for this kind of recreation, I can't use this point to fault her story.
"A question for the other three: Does Inka do these kinds of trips on a regular basis?"
Arthur, with the patchy hair and yellow suit, nodded affirmatively.
"Yes, it's normal for her to take a trip like this whenever she uses her vacation time. Actually, I can't think of a time she hasn't done it."
Enza fidgeted with her fingers. If I operate on the assumption that they cannot lie to me, any alibi given should be accurate to the word. These four obviously aren't actual people from Earth, since you can't survive on the Mountain without training, knowledge, and Instruments. They're most likely actors that Azarias selected from the Hymylän village. This means that they should follow the rules Azarias told them…
A thought suddenly popped into Enza's mind, something she had overlooked.
"When you all introduced yourselves, not one of you said your last name."
The four on the stand looked at each other in confusion.
"What's a last name?"
Enza's jaw went slack with surprise.
Huh??
They don't have last names?
Hmm, I remember that some regions on Earth have different naming systems. However, everyone in this room is speaking English. What English-speaking country doesn't use last names?
Enza cleared her throat. "Never mind that."
She turned to meet Dirt's eyes, but he was looking down. His eyes were both unfocused and focused on the table. It was like he was in a dream.
Enza gently rapped her hand on the table. Dirt snapped back to his senses.
She whispered into his ear, "I'm going to ask you a few questions. Give me your answers at a quiet volume, covering your mouth while you talk so they can't read your lips. First question, describe to me what happened that night."
Dirt nodded slowly, although he was unnerved. He began whispering back to Enza.
"I believe it was just before two-thirty in the morning when I first felt that something was off. It was due to the airflow changing… It was a gentle light breeze, but indoors. No matter how many times I think it over, I can't guess what might have caused it. After all, I was in front of the closed front door when I felt it, and the wax museum does not have windows or another entrance."