The Mysterious Case of the Mayflower Dame

Chapter 1: A Distant Star

                                                                      Several weeks ago...

   A beautiful and scoffed up morning here in Hampshire. I’ve been stuck here in front of my typewriter glistening all of my thoughts if ever there’s something interesting to squeeze out of it. The usual scent of Dorogne cigars that I’ve smoked a while ago still lingers on my area. The morning breeze can be felt all throughout the surroundings with the fresh smell of chamomile tea emanating from my neighboring room’s window. As I lean back on my chair, I pulled out my butterfly knife and started flipping it in the air while thinking of this week’s endeavors and setbacks. My office here in Almond lane is peculiar enough to leave me in a helpless state, trying to hitch a ride or two every single day just to arrive as early as five in the morning.

  Scattered newspaper clippings on my bulletin board are still present, reminding me of the nuisance that I had to undergo due to the long list of cases that I somehow managed to wrap up. Time is around 5:30 in the morning, the date would be February 13th of 1967. Getting my composure up while trying to get my mind to work really is a difficult task to do. Crossword puzzles and playing chess against the janitor is the only past time that I have in this demented place; going down the drain without inspiration as most individuals might call it.

   My name is Jonathan Simons, I was a privateer before I became a forensic investigator due to the sudden turn of events that happened in my life. It is easy to get your dough with that line of work especially if you are affiliated with tough nuts in the industry. Dealing with drugs and politicians can be something that you usually see in movies and as a matter of fact, it has been widely accepted by the public. Little do they know that not all things were purposely made for the general audience.

 I suddenly remembered that I have to pass something later on during lunch, a report that I made last night with the signature of one of our resident lawyers affixed to it.

“Where did I put that file?” I asked myself as I looked at the ceiling wondering about its whereabouts.

Due to the altered schedule and relentless transfer of files from department to department, they weren’t kidding when they said we already have a library full of stacks and personal effects from notorious suspects too.

  As I stood up from my chair, I kept my knife inside my pockets and pulled my trench coat out of the hanger near the door. Going outside my workplace the hallways are indeed quiet in contrast to the usual atmosphere that I know. Walking through each room, some offices are closed for some reason. It is just 6 in the morning though, but usually, I can hear the resonating voices of the employees and the officers. I don’t think that my calendar is off-scale or if on a very mischievous occasion, I forgot to change it.

“Good morning John!” greeted the person behind me. It appears that someone is in his office pretty much at the same time as me.

“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Salvatore,” I replied to him as I got closer to shake his hands.  

“Another case in your office I presume?” I added, curious with the eagerness of this man to go early today.

Fixing his tucked long sleeve, his stomach is almost perfect to hold a coffee mug when he sits down. After a brief few seconds he got his composure and replied “Well, you got that one right. But I gotta say lad, this ain’t nothing compared to what I usually handle.”

  On my own observation, he has been around the company for ten years now. People consider him as a tenured employee due to the number of hounds and criminals he placed behind bars. Another thing that is evident to his personality would be his absolute sucker punch for sweets and honeyed-tea. The police department already has this culture and entitled state about those, apparently, he is the best example to vouch for that.

“Is it a cat and mouse chase? If it is then sign me up, I’d rather have those than do paper works with that damn forsaken typewriter.”

“Not my choice boy, I would get ye if I could. Admins already placed a leash on this one, can’t go overboard. It’s just a missing person type of shenanigans but the bounty is quite the deal.”

“Then if ever you find something interesting, feel free to knock. I’ll be banging my head on the desk.”

Chuckling at my current state of affairs, “something tells me that you’d be doing that for a while.”

“Not a good joke, definitely not a good one,” I said to him smiling as I went downstairs. Walking towards the records room to get some important stuff, people are suddenly moving constantly. Quite the opposite of what the place was a while ago.

Reaching the office ground floor lobby, there are five police officers waiting in the lobby with a familiar figure behind them. Wearing my coat I got closer to their position and was immediately blasted with the words

“Where are they now!!???”  Upon further inspection, it was the chief director himself, Mr. Rubik smith.

“You!! We need some extra manpower here.” He said pointing at me with a faint expression of anger.

“Roger sir!” An immediate salutation along with those words. “How can I be of service sir?!”

“That’s more I like it! This is a bodyguard duty for darn sake, we need the best of what’s left here and apparently, there are not enough souls of those damn men to fill the job!” From his own perspective, I’d understand that especially with the current state of affairs as early as this. So much for the thought of being a good boss. Another way to define his definition of good is best applicable in this situation.

“What are the specifics, sire?”

“You guys will be guarding the entrance and backstage of the London theatre. The actress Eleanor Narcissus and her manager personally requested this and was approved by the mayor for some stupid reason!”

  That’s an awful circumstance then. Who the hell is capable of letting such feats to surface like a mushroom? Well, that appears to be show business alright – the peculiar twist and turns and publicity is pissing me off. This is far from the task that I was supposed to finish for the rest of the day. Indeed that file can wait for some time as long as I can reason out that I was pulled by the devil himself.

“When is the deployment sire?”

“ASAP! As a matter of fact, get your sorry asses there now!” With that tone of voice, he sure knows how to rally his troops into war, or so that’s what we thought for a moment.

(To Be Continued)