Prologue

Everyone has a story to tell. You just have to listen hard enough to hear it. Those were the words my sergeant gave me the first time I found a dead body. It had been a young corporal lying in a field on the battlefront. It wasn’t obvious what had killed him, simply that he was plainly dead. The sarge had wanted to know what we were dealing with, and so we were going over the evidence that had been available to a couple of doughboys. The answer? Wasn’t much. The case was a miserable failure, until we noticed his fingernails were blue. Turned out he had been poisoned by drinking water from a French well. The Germans on the other side had hospitably poured cyanide into our water before retreating.

Cracking that case had given me the bug. Upon returning stateside after the war, I came to Coolsville, home of my youth, and immediately opened up my first detective agency with a couple of high-school friends of mine. Cases were slow in Coolsville, and aside from some minor burglaries it pretty quiet. That all changed when they walked through our door.

It was 9:52 on a Wednesday morning when they came to our office. A real well-to-do couple that looks like something offa poster for happy living. He was apparently a business man, tastefully attired in a business suit that strained slightly at the seams from his growing pie belly. Matched his bald pate, I thought. His wife was dressed in what seemed to be the latest fashion from New York or Paris, a light-pink dress and one ‘a them fancy hats. They appeared to have money, perhaps a goodly amount of it. Of course, as I’ve learned in this business, appearances can be deceiving. Still, It’s not every day a customer rolls in here in fancy threads. At the very least, we could do a consult and have enough to pay this month’s rent.

They were still standing in the front room, looking around like they were lost, and perhaps a little scared. It was a tipoff that whatever it was, it was big news to them. I give the subtle nod to Daphne. She’s a fine-looking dame, our Daphne Blake, and she’d at least know how to make our marks comfortable.

She swept off the couch that she had been lounging on with a big smile on her face. Giving a bob of her head, she guided the two into the back hall. Her voice, pitched low and husky enough to make any man stare, was welcoming. “Good afternoon, Ma’am, Sir. Welcome to Mystery Incorporated. No mystery too tough to be solved! How can we help you today?” She asked as she ushered the two towards a chair. They politely declined her offer of refreshments and asked to see Fred Jones, the head of the agency.

“That’s me.” I told them calmly. I made the usual howdy-do’s with them. I held up a hand to forestall any explanations. “Just a moment, please. Let my secretary take this down.” I said nicely.

“Of course, I understand how these things happen.” The man said guardedly. Right away I felt my gut twitch in anticipation. If he was being careful, then it could be VERY big. This could turn out to be a sweet deal.

I hid my elation behind a pleasant mask of boredom. “Of course, thank you for understanding. This won’t be a moment. VELMA!” I shouted.

A moment later Ms. Dinkly walked in. She was wearing a orange wool vest over a modest dress that was buttoned up at the throat. Her eyes peered through her heavy-rimmed glasses and she held a small notebook in her hand. I knew the notebook was unnecessary of course, the dame was the smartest one in this operation, myself included, but folk got downright uncomfortable when dealing with a woman. She slid silently into one of the seats and pulled out a pen. Pushing her glasses more firmly on her petite nose, she looked up with an expectant face. I could barely restrain a chuckle. She looksd like a robust farm pixie, with her short hair and dusting of freckles.

Coming back to myself, I folded my hands in front of me and stared hard at the couple. “All right. Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I suggested.

“Of course. The beginning.” The man’s eyes began to wander and he looked distinctively nervous. I bit my tongue and bided my time. It was usually this way with customers. You had to wait them out, or they could uppity and leave. Sure enough, he started speaking like them’s were his last words.

“My name is Charles Mason, Mr. Jones. My wife, Betty, and I own a small pawn broker shop downtown. Last week we got a shipment from Greece, a rare pearl, nicknamed the Mermaid’s Pearl. We were thrilled to get it in. The luster of the pearl is exquisite beyond measure, really a unique find. The day before yesterday, I had come from the house looking forward to opening shop, as today was the day we were finally going to display the pearl. However, upon entering my door, I found the case of the pearl pried open and the prized pearl itself missing. I have searched the premises thrice over and have found no sign of it.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, have you gone to the police about this?” I interrupted.

“Oh, no.” Mason looked horrified. “And admit to the world that we lost it? We would lose all our custom in a heartbeat!”

“That’s why we came to you.” His wife had a southern accent to her, slightly slurring her speech. We had hoped, sah, that you would find it without any, ahem, official involvement.”

I nodded slowly. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I will advise you that a member of my team does work in the force. However, he should be amendable to keeping this under wraps.”

I almost chuckled at the comical expressions of relief that came to their faces. It was clear, however, that our interview had clearly come to an end. Murmuring apologies about how they wanted to stay longer, but simply couldn’t, they beat a hasty exit to the door.

The gals watched them go, slightly nonplussed. As for me, my mind was already whirling with what needed to be done. “Velma.” I said. She whipped around and pushed her glasses a little more firmly on her nose. “I need you to run down whatever you can on this…Mermaid’s Pearl. See what kind of actual value is on the pearl, and who has expressed interest on acquiring it. I’ll send a message to the station and see if we can’t get Shaggy off the beat for a couple of days.”

“Right.” Velma nodded.

“What shall I be doing, Freddy?” Daphne asked while Velma hurried to grab her coat. No doubt she was going to visit the library or one of her contacts.

I made my most charming smile. “After we contact Shaggy, we’ll hit the streets and check over the store for any clues we can find. After that, we’ll come back here and start getting things going.”

I spotted Velma opening the door. “Hey!” I shouted at her retreating back. “Meet back here at five!” I barely heard her acknowledgement as the door shut firmly behind her.

Daphne turned towards me with one of those coy smiles she gets. “Well, Freddy. Now we’re alone.”

“Not for long.” I told her happily. There was nothing like a case to get the blood pumping. “We’re going to the crime scene!” Somehow, I completely missed the look she gave me as I hurried to grab my trench coat from the coat stand. A minute later and we were out of the door.