Strange Detective Agency, Part II

PART II

I sat down in one of the meeting areas that had a clear view of the shop entrance and sipped at my latte while I waited for Ms. Houston to arrive. Sure enough, she graced the foyer a few minutes before the hour, looking just like the picture on the Zoom call, her brunette hair hanging in loose curls down to her shoulders. I hadn't been able to see much else in Zoom photo, but here she was dressed in a Lavendar turtle neck with a scarf tied in a fancy knot, a tan tweed jacket, slacks and no-nonsense Mary Janes. The complete package was definitely something to take your breath away, with a trim figure that had just enough heft in all the right places and legs that went all the way to the floor, if you know what I mean. By the way she held herself I could tell she was a dancer, probably trained in ballet if her feet in fifth position were telling the truth. As I got closer, though, it was the eyes that got to me - deep liquid brown with flecks of gold. It would be easy to get lost in those eyes, so as I greeted her I employed an old trick: staring at the bridge of her nose. I'd learned long ago that to most others, this will appear that you are looking them in the eye, but it's not as uncomfortable. Honestly, though? It was a nice nose-bridge, too. Get it together, Strange. "Ms. Houston - Darren Strange," I said, offering one of my business cards, "What are you drinking today?" "Mr. Strange! A pleasure to meet you in person. Call me Elaine, please. And I can get my own coffee." "No, no. I insist. Business expense and all that," I said. "OK then," she said, "I'll have a medium caramel macchiato, please." "Grant," I called, "One medium caramel macchiato for Ms. Houston here, please." "Elaine", she insisted. "You got it," came Grant's usual reply, "Have a seat and we'll bring it to you when it's ready."

"Step into my office," I said, gesturing to the meeting room. Ms Houston - Elaine - entered and I followed, closing the door behind us, "Just for privacy," I said, "Nobody else needs to know your business." She smiled at me and took a seat, placing my card on the table in front of her. "So, first things second," I said, drawing some papers out of my worn looking Land's End briefcase and sliding them across the table, "Just a little paperwork to get out of the way - standard contract, time and expenses, and all that." At that, Elaine pulled a pair of reading glasses out of her designer backpack style handbag and began to read through the contract. I was impressed. It really was just the standard contract, but not many people really took the time to read all the fine print to verify that. Seemingly satisfied, she pulled a pen out of her purse to sign the papers. As she took the cap off, I recognized she was holding a Parker Sonnet Black Lacquer fountain pen. No Mont Blanc, but certainly not the Bic soft-feel jumbo I had in my pocket. Of course, I'd take the Bic for performing an emergency tracheotomy any day, but that's off-label use. She capped the pen, not a spot of ink out of place, and after gently blowing on her signature and date, handed the papers back to me. Just then there was a knock and the door opened - it was Stephanie, one of Grant's barista's, with Elaine's Caramel macchiato. "Thanks, Steph," I said, deftly taking the macchiato and palming her a couple bucks. She was a good kid, despite the nose ring and pink hair, and I knew she could always use the extra pocket money to feed her habit - collecting vintage vinyl. She dreamed of starting her own record store some day.

As I shut the door and turned back to Elaine, handing her her drink, I sat down catty-corner to her, rather than across from her. I find people tend to open up more that way - it feels more like you're sitting with a friend than opening a bank account, you know what I'm saying? "So, where do we start?" Elaine asked. "Well, why don't we pick up where we left off yesterday" I suggested. "You told me about Janine and your husband, and that you had promised to find her. You seem like a pretty savvy woman. Why bring a Private Eye into the picture?" "Well, the thing is," Elaine began, pausing for a sip of her macchiato and leaving a bit of lipstick on the rim of the mug, "I'm kind of at my wit's end. I've been trying for weeks to find her, but it's like she just suddenly ceased to exist all those years ago. No social media. No internet presence at all. I tried writing to the last address I had for her and the letter came back undeliverable. I tried to get in touch with her parents - I'd met them a couple times, even been to their house for Spring Break one year - but it turns out they are both deceased now." "How about any other relatives?" I asked. "No - there's nobody. Janine was an only child. She once mentioned a distant aunt who, I think, lived in South America somewhere, but as far as I know, the Aunt passed away when we were in college."

"OK, so no forwarding address, no Internet presence, no known living relatives," I summarized, "That's actually a pretty good start." "A good start?" Elaine half laughed, half cried, "I've got nothing! I mean you think with the Internet at least there would be *something* about Janine, but there's just not. It's like she's disappeared off the face of the planet!" "Stranger things," I said, "stranger things...."

— Zachary