Cindy gave me one of her looks. “He is your father…”
I gave her the look right back. “Yeah and I’m his daughter. Doesn’t that count for something?”
She shrugged. “You’re so down, Lucy. I’m usually able to jolly you back to your smart-alecky self by now. Are you okay?”
I read with appreciation the concern on her face.
“You need a break.”
“…I sure need something.”
“Why don’t we get out of town this weekend?”
“It’s just not a good time.”
She fixed a pointed stare at me and shook her head.
“Let’s get out of the bathroom.”
We walked through the mall a little quicker than when we’d walked in.
It was fall and many stores displayed warmer clothing now and fall sporting items. A few autumn decorations…Thanksgiving…
Cindy had combed her curly hair and refreshed her pale pink lipstick in the bathroom. Several men glanced her way – She’s prettier than me, but that’s okay. I’m sure I have qualities that she doesn’t. I just don’t know what they are right this minute…
She poked me in the arm. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to find the owner of that umbrella? I know you’re still tossing that over.”
I waved both hands in the air. “Are you kidding me? When have I had a moment to think since you asked me? Tonight’s dinner has been a little exciting, if you’ll recall.”
She fluffed her hair. “…Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“Why on earth do you care?”
“I don’t. You do…”
I stopped in my tracks. She was right, of course. I hate when that happens.
* * *
CHAPTER 3
Joe had to get a new tie. He’s been wearing that bright red bowtie for the ten years he’s been my advisor. The ends were shredding and there was lint on his dark blue jacket. Couldn’t he see it? He’d walked out of his office to get something and I glanced at his brown elbow patches as he strolled by. Elbow patches? The guy could seriously use a makeover.
But who am I to talk? I took a good look at my jeans – huh… I noticed a few rips for the first time. My tee shirt is the same kind of top that I’ve been wearing for the past ten years too. Maybe he’s saying the same things about what I wear. Cindy definitely dresses better. Her jeans are clean with no tears and she wears frilly blouses…
“I got you something, Lucy. You know, to commemorate our ten year relationship.”
He handed me a medium-sized box with Ninja Turtle wrapping paper and a big pink bow. Probably Joe’s idea of femininity…
I’m sure my face registered surprise. I thought he was pretty sick of me coming in whenever to moan about my inability to commit. He probably is… I glanced up into his smiling face – The round, black glasses and trimmed gray beard may make him look studious, but I know for a fact that he plays X-Box…
“Mr. Warner, you shouldn’t have,” I said while shaking the box by my ear. “Diamonds?”
“And normally I wouldn’t, but Lucy, we’ve known each other for a decade now. When I first became your advisor, ‘Lord of the Rings’ had just won eleven Academy Awards!” His smile showed lots of straight, white teeth.
“You and I are probably the only people to even remember that fact, Mr. Warner.”
“Hurricane Ivan hit Alabama?”
I shook my head. “…Only you and six meteorologists…”
“Well, lots has happened, I’m sure.”
“You skipped conveniently over the fact that I’ve had seven majors in the last ten years. That’s kind of momentous, don’t you think?”
I ripped off the bow and paper and was getting to the good part – opening the box. I wasn’t this excited last Christmas… Probably because my dad gave me a self-help book on ‘Finding Your Place in Life’. Right…I was still looking.
I lifted the corners of the dark brown box and peered inside. No! Not really!
“Is this what I think it is?”
Joe nodded, pushing back his glasses on his nose.
I plucked out a hat – But not just any hat… This was a black and white houndstooth, wool Sherlock Holmes cap, complete with earflaps neatly tied up on top. It had a bill in front and one in the back, I guess to keep the rain off Sherlock’s neck. And it can get rainy in Merry Old London.
My mouth opened but no words came out. I sat there holding Sherlock’s cap, marveling that at least there was one man on the face of this earth who understood me – a little…
“Thanks, Mr. Warner. This was really very nice of you and… unexpected.”
“You’re welcome, Lucy. It began as a bit of a joke, but I can read in your frozen expression that it means more to you than that.”
“…Um…”
“Listen, can I be blunt here?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be, as my advisor?”
“…Well, yes, but I’m usually wearing my tactful gloves.”
“…Take them off.”
“Good. Listen, Lucy… You must know you’re a dreadful student.”
“…Ah…”
“Can you still take it?”
“Yeah, shoot.”
“I think you’re a wonderful person, but you’re just a hopeless student. I bet even the university feels badly taking your money year after year.”
“Mine and my dad’s…”
“Yes, well…”
“… And?”
“You need to find a vocation and not an academic course of study. This just isn’t for you. You know – the Ivory Tower stuff.”
“But…”
“And I thought about what you really like to do -- solve puzzles. Puzzles that come up in life and manifest themselves as little things such as losing your glasses… all the way up to bona fide crime.” He looked at the cap. “You must know where I’m going with this.”
I put the cap on my head and modeled it. “You want me to be a hat model?”
He grinned. “…Good sense of humor too. Lucy, do this.” He pointed at the cap.
I looked up towards the cap on my head, but mainly, I could only see the bill. I looked back at him. “Are you suggesting…?”
“Yes. Job shadow a detective around for a while. Go to the Police Academy… some sort of job that lets you figure out puzzles. Well?” He patted me on the cap. “What do you think?”
“So I should become like Sherlock, is that it?”
“I think you must be Sherlock’s sister with the kinds of things you’ve untangled in the past. Remember when you helped figure out who was blackmailing the mayor? That was a pretty big case…”
“Yes, and it helped that my father knew the mayor, so I had access.”
“Whatever… Don’t downplay this. I could have access to the mayor and never figure out something as complicated as that was.”
I took off the cap and put it back in the box. “Thanks, Mr. Warner. I hear what you’re saying. Do you honestly think I could make a living doing detective work?”
“I think you’d probably need to be a policeman first or sign up with a detective agency. Sam Spade didn’t happen overnight.” He laughed. “There was probably a training period.”
“My dad would say that’s dangerous work.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What would you say?”
I picked up the wrapping paper and tossed it in the wastebasket. Slipping the box under my arm, I stood up. “I’ve got to go, Mr. Warner. Thanks again… I appreciate the gesture.”
He stood up and stuck out his hand. “Good luck, Lucy, if this is goodbye.”
I choked, clearing my throat. “…Goodbye? Are you that sick of me?”
“No, but you may be starting down another path -- A path on which I wouldn’t be advising you. If that’s the case, good luck. If your dad wins the argument, I’ll still be your advisor. But Lucy…”
He stroked his beard in
thought. “In either scenario, I’ll still be your friend. Let me know what you decide.”
I shook his hand and gave him my bravest smile. “…Okay. Thanks again for the hat.” He really is the nicest man I know.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I walked in the front door of my apartment and was met by a flying ball of fluff. Coming in, I saw him briefly hurtling down the hallway as fast as his pint-sized legs would carry him. It’s nice that there’s one male in my universe who’s happy to see me when I come home.
“Baskerville! Have you been a good puppy while I was gone?” I lifted him up to give him a smooch as he eagerly licked my face. Being a toy poodle, I could cradle him in my arms with no problem… He’s happy and I’m happy. Happiness is not overrated…
I took him out for a short walk around the neighborhood, informing him of my day. I pretend that he understands and he pretends to listen. Works out for us both.
“So I saw Mr. Warner after work today, Baskerville. You know, he suggested that I become a detective or a detective-in-training. What do you think?”
Baskerville had stepped delicately over by a tree to sniff out the information that other dogs had left. Reading the nightly newspaper is what I like to call it. He rubbed his puffy white head in the grass and then walked over to pee on the tree. When he looked back at me, I could swear he nodded his little poodle head. I might be projecting…
“So you think it’s a good idea, huh? Okay, that’s one for the plus column to balance the one in the negative column. Who’s that you ask, Baskerville? My dad, of course, will think it’s a lousy idea.”
“Hey, Lucy! How’s Baskerville?” called out Mrs. Murphy, our closest neighbor. She was leading an immense, gray Great Dane named Hamlet down the sidewalk toward us. The dogs knew each other well.
“Hi, Mrs. Murphy. He’s fine and how’s Hamlet? Still got that flatulence problem?” I bit my lip trying not to smile.
She laughed… A big, round belly laugh to match her big, round belly. Mrs. Murphy’s a nice lady and cooks a mean lasagna.
“…Aren’t you the kidder, Miss Lucy. Hamlet’s just fine now, although that was a problem for a while, especially when the meter reader came by last week. My stars, I thought that man was going to faint when Hamlet let go a big one!”
What a sight in front of us – a five-pound toy poodle nipping at the ankles of a worried, one hundred pound Great Dane. Baskerville was being the alpha dog, since he’s the male to poor Hamlet, stuck being a female with a male name. It happens…
We started to go our own ways when Mrs. Murphy called me back.
“Oh, I almost forgot. The UPS guy left a package with me, since no one was home at your place and I said I’d take it for you.”
“Great. Where is it now?”
“It’s on my porch. Just go in and get it. Hamlet needs the rest of her walk.”
I raised an eyebrow. “…Sure she does.”
Our tiny apartment building was in the middle of a quiet residential neighborhood. The zoning was haphazard around here at best. Mrs. Murphy’s house was an old two-story brick with one of those great airy front porches. Baskerville and I walked up the steps to her porch where I found a big box from a sporting goods store. How exciting, yet curious. I didn’t remember ordering anything, but dutifully picked it up and lugged it home. Baskerville wanted his dinner. He’s been such a good dog listening to me that I’m giving him a few bites of pastrami tonight, his favorite.
Although the box beckoned, I got distracted feeding Baskerville and listening to a few messages left on the answer machine. I hadn’t opened the box when Cindy came dashing through the front door. She never walked slowly – that girl is always on the run.
“Hey all!” She yelled out, slamming the door behind her. Before I could say anything about the loud slam, Baskerville was running down the length of the hallway to her, barking his miniature bark.
Cindy crouched down with arms outstretched and called out, ”Now where’s that hound we call Baskerville?” She says it every night and it never fails to make me laugh.
Baskerville ran into her arms and she gave him a big hug and kiss. That poor dog never gets any attention.
The hat was sitting on the table in the hallway and I knew Cindy saw it right off. She’s got sharp eyes and is very detail-oriented, much like me. Could be why we’ve been such good friends for so long – We’re a lot alike, sort of.
“Where’d this come from? I love it!”
“What do you make of it, Watson?” I teased.
“…Elementary, my dear Holmes. It’s a… hat!”
“You have a real talent for the obvious, Cindy.”
“So?” She put it on and checked her reflection in the mirror above the table. “Where’d you get it? Can I wear it?”
“No!” I snatched it off her head and held it behind my back. “…It’s mine!”
“When did we become five again, Lucy?”
“Just now. When was the last time I got a present that I liked from a man?”
She tapped a finger to her chin and crinkled her eyes. “I’d say just about never.”
“That’s right.”
“What man gave you this?”
“Mr. Warner.”
“…Warner gave you that?” Her voice squeaked up a few decibels. “No!”
“Yes and he suggested that I become a detective.”
Her face took on a mysterious look – I couldn’t read her at all.
“What?”
She glanced around the room.
“Did a box come for you today?”
“Yeah, Mrs. Murphy had it.”
“… Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Did you open it?”
I shrugged and turned around to point at the box on the kitchen table. Cindy got a knife out of a drawer and cut it open, while I tugged on the box flaps. Apparently, this was my day for presents.
“It’s a coat.”
“Not just any coat. Try it on.”
I swung the coat out of the long box and took a good look. Reaching my hands through the sleeves, I felt the soft wool on my skin, and marveled at the beautiful dark color. It was a double-breasted cape coat that I tugged luxuriously around me and then did a couple of swirls, right there in the kitchen. I buried my nose in it and took a good whiff. Mmm…smells new.
“Looks good.” Cindy gave me a thumbs-up sign.
“Do I look anything like Benedict Cumberbatch?”
“…Spitting image, honey.”
While I modeled, Cindy’s brow drew together. “Which do you prefer as Sherlock on TV? Cumberbatch or Jeremy Brett?”
“It’s a toss-up, Cindy. They’re both terrific.”
She ran to the hallway and brought back the houndstooth Holmes cap. Handing it to me, she picked up Baskerville and they watched solemnly as I put the cap on my head.
“Is this from you?” She nodded. “…Cindy, thanks but it must have cost a couple hundred dollars.” I turned to tilt my head. “It’s probably taking my fascination with Sherlock Holmes a bit far, don’t you think?”
“Think of it as a new uniform.”
“You don’t really think I’m going out in public like this, do you?”
I walked down the hallway and checked my reflection in the mirror. Unbelievable… Just envision Sherlock with the cape coat and cap, but superimpose my face – green eyes with a small, heart-shaped face framed by shoulder length, dark hair. The picture seemed off to me.
Both Cindy and Baskerville nodded their heads. Of course, Baskerville had a little help.
“Yes. It’s your new uniform for your new job.”
“What new job?” I peeled out of the coat and laid it on a chair. The cap joined it seconds later. “… I work at a movie theater, remember?”
“So Mr. Warner and I are just thinking ahead. Keep it all for when you want to wear it.”
I leaned over to take Baskerville out of her arms and walked back t
o the kitchen to collapse on a chair. “Dad’s going to have a shit fit when he finds out I haven’t signed up for any classes.” Baskerville commiserated by licking my face.
Cindy folded her arms and looked at me sternly. “Have you thought about the umbrella?”
I blinked at her. “Oh, all right! You’re not going to let up on me until I investigate that stupid umbrella. So I will, okay?”
Cindy beamed and moved toward the refrigerator. “… Don’t think of it as an umbrella.” She opened the door and took out some leftover lasagna. “Mrs. Murphy?”
I nodded. She transferred it to a plate and stuck it in the microwave. Setting the controls, she turned to me. “…Think of it as a clue.”
Hmm…
“Actually, I can do that.”
“Great! Let’s have some dinner and then the three of us will wrap up in a couple of throws on the sofa and watch a mystery.”
“… Which one?”
“Our cute little dog’s favorite.”
“Gotcha… ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ it is.”
“… But which version?”
“As much as I like the new one, I want to see the classic tonight.”
“Jeremy Brett it is…”
Getting down plates and finding the forks, I thought that life could be a lot worse. Having a loyal best friend and a tried-and-true dog for a support system was pretty darned good actually. I hung up my new coat in the hall closet and set the cap on the shelf above -- right where I could grab it, going out the door for my first case.
Turning on the television and DVD player, sinister music announced the start of the movie. The dark notes caused a familiar tingle down my spine. I smiled and felt better already.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
The next day at work was slow. I hate the slow days – They give me more time to get to know my co-workers, which I’d rather not do.
Looking around the large reception area of the theater, colorful posters advertising current and future movies screamed, Look at me! Down the hallway to the individual screens, I know there are framed photos of Betty Davis, Audrey Hepburn, Errol Flynn, Doug Fairbanks and one of my favorite actors, James Stewart. Yes, he’s a bit old-fashioned, but I like him anyway and sometimes wish I were more old-fashioned. Before I could think any further about anything, Marvin came limping toward me.