The Mystery Of The Great Blue Heron

By Donald Harry Roberts

A renouned international thief is threatening to steal a painting that is heading for fame. Zak Vancura, owner and Editor in chief and Detective Sergeant MaKan have to stop him, but how can a couple of small town sleuths stop an international pro?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donald Roberts
• Release date: Mar 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393226338

Donald Harry Roberts

The characters in Donald's quirky Stories, Novelettes and Novellas are all developed from aspects of himself and his imaginary friends. In real life, this mundane world with tunnel vision reality he has endeavoured to live it out in many ways. He has been a sailor and soldier, a farmer, a hobo, musician, mountaineer, hunter-gatherer, fisherman, author, editor, teacher, and student, Astral Traveler/Windrider, to mention only a fraction of his experiences. "It has been a beautiful life and I hope for more decades to learn and experience a great deal more." In these pages he will share what comes from deep within the chasms of his imagination. He lives now in near isolation on an island, with his wife/musician, Mary and their pack of mostly black dogs. His favourite past time is day dreaming.  

Book preview

Chapter One

It was getting on in the spring, with the ferry a week from start up after a long hard winter. Life in the news business was going on smoothly with everyday news and events to fill the pages of The Twin Bluffs Harbour Mirror. I was writing a story about days gone by when there were two ferries plying the waterway between Tobermory and South Harbour. It was filler.

Bridget Barbier pushed the door open after a quick knock and a soft little greeting I could barely hear. She was wearing a big smile, which was alright by me. The days were getting warmer  and the doors that had been closed all winter were opening.

I smiled big back and said. So, what can I do for our lovely, local Museum and Art Gallery Curator today.

In her Swiss, Canadian English, broken accent she replied, The estate of the late Alistair Bellgradon has kindly given the Gallery permission to display his master piece, The Great Blue Heron. I would like to place an ad describing its showing dates and times across the season May 24th weekend to Labour day.

I replied, I shall work something up for your approval and run an ad for the summer, with the first two weeks running as a community event. That meant free which is always good business practicing in a small town, which Ms. Barbier cheerfully accepted and retired to the street.

Three weeks later.

Nestled  between the golden glow of the md-morning sun and the dark blue scape of Lake Huron  the ferry from Tobermory docked and in minutes released a jam of disembarking vehicles and walk on passengers like ants emerging from their hill. Among them came a personage whose fame in certain quarters of society was renowned. Our paths had cross on small occasions when I was in the south of the province following a lead on an old adversary.

There was nothing remarkable about him except he did not quite fit in with most of the other walk ons.

He was dressed much the same as he always did, very businesslike, in a plain grey suit with a vest and matching fedora, with a white shirt and blue tie and plain brown shoes with thick soles. His complexion was of a natural tan and his hair was a reddish black cut short but wiry. His face was immaculately shaved except for a pencil thin moustache that looked almost painted on.

What the average observer would not have noticed is his acute awareness as he took in his surroundings, forming a mental collage of his environment. No one would notice the gun tucked under his arm or the badge inconspicuously clipped to his belt, hidden by his suit coat. I suppose no one would notice his arrogance with out speaking to him, though one might exchange arrogance with complete confidence in himself. I have often wondered if those two states aren’t one in the same. This was Inspector Leveen Waters.

He had chosen to walk off while his driver extricated the car from the bowels of the boat, obviously paying close attention to the crowd he moved down the stairs with.

Enigma was in Ontario. The police from three cities and the OPP had tracked him from London to Guelph and then Brampton where he disappeared like a puff of smoke in the wind.

Inspector Waters was uncertain , but his sense of criminal direction had caused him to rifle through the internet in search of something that might be of interest to this creature known to the police as Enigma. It was when he came across my ad for