Somewhere In Between Chapter One There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action. – Johann Von Goethe November 9, 1886 It was perfect. Pitch dark, no moon and it was the only part of town with no street lamps. Perfect for anything one did not want to be seen. It pricked at the senses full of sweet liqueur tasting of murder, deceit and crime. A figure (for the dark makes it hard to distinguish differences in sex.) stood languidly in the dark of a building waiting for something and when the last light was turned off in a home half a main street away, the figure had made his move and disappeared from sight. Three days later... Mayfair District, London, England In a house, not so far away all the lights were on and the occupants were not enjoying themselves, as they should have been this close to the holiday season. Three unhappy faces were clearly visible through the panes of glass. One if a soft featured female of uncommonly dark eyes and red mahogany hair, who perched herself like a queen on the edge of a table. Next to her sat a thin and pale girl, a typewriter, note and pen set in front of her. The cause of their notable distress was a clean-shaven man, hat in hand, relaying information he clearly did not wish to give. “Charles Mayson is this what you wish to tell me…that Sir Thomas Scott wants me to do this for him?” The woman rasped indignity. “Yes Margo, sorry to spoil the gaiety of unemployment…but the old chap asked for you specifically.” The man added, his trouble expression betraying the calmness of his voice. “Miss, do you want all of this?” The blonde girl at the typewriter broke the indignant silence that followed. “Yes, yes Lizzie, I want all of it.” the woman hissed through gritted teeth. “So Charles, will you please tell me the long and the short of it?” Rhodera Margaret Perkins, “Margo” to her friends frowned disgustingly at the paper in her hands and adjusted her square rimmed spectacles to make sure she read it right. But it was exactly the same each time, no matter if she read it forwards, backwards, upside down or right side up. It was the same and it wouldn’t change no matter how hard she wished it to. Maybe I can translate it into Portuguese then back again and see if it’s the same, or I could tear it up into little pieces. She had not had a case it quite some time. Rhodera had enjoyed unemployment very much. It was not as if she had a shortage of things to do, she had more time to do her sketches, visit friends, read, forget the illustrious dealings of her previous cases and she even got around to visit the neurotic, incurable cousins of hers. But now she had been pulled out of its parasitic clutches by of all people, the man who put her there. Sir Thomas Scott, Parliament Nationalist who had denounced the truth of anything Rhodera presented, since as he put it, she was too young and inexperienced to know anything. Rhodera knew too well his hate for the working woman (a woman with brains) that she knew he just couldn’t get it through his fat head that she could actually be right. Now after all that, he had the gall to offer her a job. I could have passed it up but I’m due for my next adrenaline fix and besides Marshall or another would pick it up and I wouldn’t be able to prove I’m better than them again. But why would the old chauvinist want me. This is either very important, there also could be a catch somewhere or those guys at the top finally got themselves a brain with their gargantuous heads, and are pushing him. If there is a catch either I’m not getting it or he just doesn’t have the audacity to tell Charles. The case vexed her some. All Charles had told her was that the contents of the treasury at Eagles Crest had been raided and stolen showing no sign. The thief apparently had left no trace or so the authorities told them. But, who trusts London’s East End coppers in the first place. Rhodera had a feeling that they had missed a large piece of the puzzle. No thief that steals something that important successfully and knows it departs without leaving at least a ‘told you so’ note. She knew enough of her colleagues to know that. Something was wrong and Rhodera really wanted to know what is was. What is Eagles Crest? I’ve never heard of it even in all my dealings, probably not supposed to either. Probably has to do with the Parliament and their endless store of money, ha that’s a joke. Or even a rich lord involved with those fat cats. So they go to the richest cat of the all to figure it all out, ‘old chauvinist’ himself. And he comes to me because he knows I can’t help but take the case to set the record straight. Women are capable of far more things that most men’s minds are likely to accept and one of them is being right. I mean look at good Old Victoria. Ahh…I need to know the truth about what was left behind, anything out of the normal. It would be such a joy to know where to start. I’m not a magician who can conjure up thieves and criminals at will although I’d like to. Well, I’ll get to see old chauvinist soon enough…and then I’ll know. “Miss.” Her secretary popped her blonde head in. “Yes, Lizzie? What is it?” “Are we going, then?” she asked inquisitively. “Yes we are Lizzie, so let’s get packing.” There wasn’t much to pack. Rhodera liked traveling light, so she could move fast. One suitcase sufficed in her needs this time. First stop Brighton, to Sir Thomas Scott’s country home. November 13, 1886 The train ride from the Victoria Station to Brighton had been for the most part uneventful and Rhodera had kept to herself and wrote down a multitude of questions that she had. They had taken up no less than three full pages. Lizzie had been relatively silent and was content in just reading the one book she had brought along. Charles had said he would meet them at the station and Rhodera was glad there would be at least one more friendly face. When the train slid into the old wooden station, Charles true to his word had been there with a coach. “Charles, good to see you,” Rhodera called out. “Yes and you too Lizzie,” He added taking their baggage. “So where does the ‘old chauvinist’ live?” Rhodera asked making conversation. “Oh…not far. You sure you want this one?” he asked holding her eyes with his hazel for a moment. “Yes, to show everyone, that I’m as good as the rest.” She exclaimed. “But you are…Margo…no, you are better. Trust me if you were like them…I would be standing here, I’d be strangling you.” He retorted. “Oh…but still I hate being looked down upon and this is my one chance to prove what I’ve got. This case is the one where I’ll prove I’m not just a nobody Charles, don’t you understand? This is my best chance.” She continued. “Alright, I see but it’s your funeral, you fool.” he said discontentedly. “Then why are you helping me?” She raised a dark eyebrow. “Because I’m just a fool helping another, ones who’s too foolish to see past her own pride,” he said shaking his dark head. “I guess you’re right I have my pride and you have your loyalty. We are two incurable fools.” Sir Thomas Scott’s country home Lakelodge, Brighton When they arrived at Sir Thomas Scott’s mansion, Rhodera found it the most garish show of opulence she had ever seen. The mansion was easily the size of the parliament house and it was encompassed by lovely gardens. Rhodera was gestured into a large room past the parlor, leaving Lizzie to her book and Charles to his thoughts. “Miss Perkins,” replied a voice from within the darkened room, “welcome.” When her eyes had adjusted she found she was indeed facing Sir Thomas in a large chair sitting behind an enormous desk. “Thank you for coming, it was wise.” He gave Rhodera no chance to reply. It was wise. What is he going to do, beat me with a stick, she thought as she observed the shriveled man with blue eyes and white hair in front of her. “Miss Perkins, in all your three and twenty years have you ever heard of Eagles Crest?” he asked coldly. “No sir.” Oh how she hated saying that word. “Well then, let me ask are you willing to take this case.” He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. “Yes.” Rhodera said almost smiling wickedly. You are not cheating me out of this one. He wrote quickly on the paper what Rhodera perceived was her name. “Then you agree that none of what you find will be known to anyone but you are that secretary of yours.” He concluded gesturing for her to sign. Rhodera quickly picked up the pen and signed the paper. “Yes, I agree.” She concluded. “Then let me fill you in on the pertinent details. Eagles Crest is the holding place of our government’s deepest treasures and secrets; we need you to find them. One part contains the secrets of our intelligence system and the other is the original copy of the Magna Carta plus some savings. All we know about the culprit is in this file.” He took out a file that consisted to two papers, “and he did leave a calling card.” When Rhodera left she breathed a little deeper, for she wasn’t breathing the same air as old, shriveled Sir Thomas Scott. The culprit, their thief had left a very interesting calling card as she had expected. Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do. That’s all it said, plain and simple. Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do. Rhodera was slightly puzzled by it and the handwriting was not one she knew. Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do. “Margo, how did it go?” Charles asked. “It went pretty well; now let’s flee from this place.” Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do. Rhodera scrutinized the small half torn piece of paper again. The stamp on the back was easily read, so it could be easily traced, but the buyer could be in some other place from where he bought the paper. It was worth I try. She’d have Lizzie contact Duchy for her when they got to the hotel. But what bothered her most was the note, she felt she should see something in it but it wasn’t revealing itself just quite yet. “When we get back to the hotel Lizzie, I want you to contact Duchy and find out where the paper was made and then I want it back.” “Okay Miss, I will.” Charles just stared at her strangely. Rhodera closed her eyes and let her mind wander over the words ‘Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do.’ The Golden Fawn Hotel, Brighton “Miss! Miss!” Lizzie barged into Rhodera’s room excitedly without warning where she and Charles had been talking. “Well, what is it?” Rhodera asked turning her dark eyes on Lizzie. “I’ve found out where the paper was from. Duchy got back to me very promptly but I had to have a librarian find him first and then I had to go to this guy down town before I cou-” Rhodera cut her off, “Where is it from?” “He even gave me all the places it was sold, and gracious sakes I’m glad it’s only two on the Rue Saunt Jacques, Paris East Side.” Rhodera couldn’t believe her luck. “I should have known.” She mumbled. Charles just stared questioningly, “But how will you know to go there, I mean, it could be a diversion.” Finally, all the pieces shifted in place. “They want us to go to Paris. Yes I’m sure of that. They want us to find something there. Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do. Voltaire, he lived most of his time in France, where, in Paris, on what street? They want us to go there.” “The Rue Saunt Jacques,” Lizzie added. “Okay, now that I’ve made my point, let’s go to Paris.” Lizzie noted and Rhodera turned to takeout a brown traveling dress and her dark, fuzzy traveling coat and hood. Charles sighed, “I still don’t know what it has to do with Voltaire.” November 19th, Valois Hotel, Rue St Christoph, Paris, France Paris in the wintertime could be very chilly and fortunately for Charles who despised the cold he had stayed warmer in Bristol with friends. The wind howled in amongst the trees as Rhodera made her way to the Rue Saunt Jacques. Her first stop was Angelie’s Papeterie, a small paper supply store on the corner. There were no customers at the time, which suited Rhodera all the better. During the trip from Bristol she had read the report by the Sergeant of the Police Macmillan about Eagles Crest. It told her nothing except the stupidity of untrained, unqualified police in London. Rhodera was not sure what she’d find in the little shot but was all eyes and ears. She asked the plump owner to see upstairs and he thinking she wanted to buy for storage gladly agreed. It was spotless and empty. Nothing happened during the whole day and it vexed Rhodera even more than the note that everything was like any other normal day. (Ahhh I can’t stand normalcy.) But it didn’t discourage her the next day when she traveled to the other. Nothing happened there, but she got lists of the recent customers that bought paper but nothing seemed to fit. There wasn’t even a record of anyone buying that paper in the last two months in either place. Rhodera was disappointed but convinced herself nothing would happen if she just waited around for it. “Damn it! I’ve got nothing Lizzie, nothing! I feel stupid and I don’t like feeling stupid.” Rhodera put one hand through her long straight dark wood hair and she crumpled the thief’s note in her hand. “You say it all had to do with Voltaire but I can’t think of anything else either,” Lizzie prompted quietly. “Yes, Voltaire. Voltaire damn his creativity too.” Rhodera muttered. Damn Voltaire, damn this chilly weather and damn this chilly city. Voltaire was born somewhere around here…no wonder he was a little off kilter. Voltaire born November 21st and lived at 15 Rue Saunt Jacques while he was here…wait a minute. Fifteen, that’s half way between 13 and 17, Angelie’s Papeterie is #13 and Michael’s place is #17. And today is…oh gods I can never remember the date. Rhodera looked up to Lizzie who was reading. “What is the date today, Lizzie?” “The date.” Lizzie stated closing her book. She smiled. “For such a bright lady Miss, you’re sure horrible at the day’s date.” “Yes, yes I know.” Rhodera rolled her eyes at the statement. “Well today is the 20th of November. 5:31 PM on a Monday if you wanted to be exact. Why?” The day before Voltaire was born. “Bless you and your impeccable mind. It happens to be Voltaire’s birthday tomorrow. Something will happen at #15 Rue Saunt Jacques. Something will happen.”
Copyright © 2005 Vienne E Porter |