Valentine Mystery Noir

     “Well, I guess I should be asking about you, Harrison. I know you all are ready to get back to work, but this is still a closed scene for evidence taking and examination,” I drawled.

     “Apologiesss, Ssssir, I wasn’t trying to disturb anything. You see I’ve lost something and was looking for it. The last time I ssssaw it was the night Lincoln was around. I would very much like to have it back, as it’ssss dear to me,” Harrison continued carefully.

     “Maybe I can help you find it. Do you have any identifying physical information? What exactly is it that you are looking for?” I questioned.

     Harrison Hissi paused, a mental war brewing in those clever, slitted eyes. “Well, I talk to a lot of people, and I don’t like to be caught unawares. I kept a secret little black book of information for my eyes only, and it’s gone missing. It helps me remember the many names of people I talk to when serving drinks to avoid embarrassing slip-ups. I don’t see how it could be useful information to anyone but a forgetful Neocola server like me…” he ended, the innocence *almost* convincing in his voice.

     But not convincing enough. “Thank you for letting me know, I will keep my eyes open for it while checking evidence back at the precinct. Although, I don’t remember seeing anything like that originally. If that is all Harrison, I must ask that you leave for now, as we need this location secure… actually, can I ask how you came in? We have the normal entrance closed to the public and I wasn’t aware anyone was able to come in,” I asked carefully.

     Harrison, hoping I’d not noticed this brief moment, glanced to his right at a small pile of dirty rags that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. He smiled and said, “I see! We have an employee entrance in the cellar, and I thought I could run in and grab my book sssince you've already taken what you needed for the investigation. I meant no harm. I will be on my way.”

     “I can escort you out, no worries! Let’s go through the front this time. While we are walking out, can you describe the cellar entrance to me?” I asked.

     As I escorted the Hissi out, he was quite the conversationalist and ended with wishing me luck on the case, letting me know he would be happy to be of help in any way, and if I found his black book might be able to even asssssist with additional information.

     “You sssee, the book wasn’t detailed information, it was information I jotted down to help with my memory,” he explained.

     “I will surely keep my eyes open for that information Harrison, thank you for letting me know.”

     And with that, he turned and slinked down the street. I turned and locked the door, curious about the alternate entrance he mentioned.

     I went back to the table that I’d discovered the strange note in, and glanced around me for additional unwelcome eyes or ears before I opened the ripped piece of paper.

     Laying the parchment flat on the table I discovered it in, I glanced at it confusedly. It was.. Music?

     But, not like ordinary music, there was a little poem scrawled in messy handwriting at the bottom.

     Play the notes and be amazed

     Shifting Brick and open grazed,

     Will you Find what you seek,

     Information not for the meek.

     This case was getting curiouser and curiouser. I recognized the simple quarter notes in the treble clef, but was unsure how or if they were relevant to our investigation.

     I mentally memorized the notes and the poem and pushed them back deep into my pocket. I searched all around the table that Lincoln used to write on, but beside the strange note with music, I found nothing more but a few quill scratch marks. I continued my search in the bar, where I’d seen the guilty-looking Hissi gaze at the pile of dirty dish rags.

     With careful, precise movements, I methodically searched the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed overtly amiss around the Neocola serving area, with multiple flavours of Neocola on tap… but something was bugging me.

     I continued to stare at the different flavours of Neocola, listing them in my head… “Caffeine Free Neocola, Diet Neocola, Vanilla Neocola, Cherry Neocola, and… Grapefruit Neocola?” Why would they have Grapefruit Neocola on tap? Typically the most popular flavours are ready for consumption and if I know anything it’s that not many people like it, or can take it with their pharmacy remedies…. No, that was definitely out of place.

     I examined the buttons that dispensed the drinks and when I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, I pressed the light orange colour of the Grapefruit Neocola dispenser, only, instead of fizzy Neocola drink coming into the glass I’d acquired, a hear a “CLICK” and a whirring noise behind me. A drawer with velvet inlay clicked open, displaying a delicate fine art piece depicting a modern Aisha miniature sculpture used in the early days of Keyquest from the Neopian Art Gallery.

     Immediately my mind jumped to the Neopian Times article about the shady art peddler, Raymond Ruki. Was Harrison in on the art peddling with Raymond Ruki? With a clean cloth, I enveloped the sculpture and placed it in an evidence bag and into my coat.

     After pressing the remaining Neocola buttons, I saw nothing additionally amiss, and I continued on to sip my menagerie of Neocola products in the same glass while searching for more information.

     As I reached the back offices behind the Neocola bar area, I noticed a slim envelope had been shoved unceremoniously under Clarie Cybunny’s Office Door. Considering it was an active investigation, I carefully shimmied the envelope out and opened it up.

     With pieced-up letters from magazines and the newspaper, there was a simple, yet menacing message:

     “sELl

     tHe RESt

     oR eLsE”

     I couldn’t for the life of me think how this would be related, but all’s fair as the saying goes I guess? Anything could be a motive and the smallest piece of evidence could have the biggest repercussions.

     Pocketing it, I continued on with my investigation, into the backstage holding area, where the musicians would gather in the “green room,” which was actually a magnificent brick room, with stylish back furniture and modern touches.

     Beside some soot on the floor, I didn’t see much out of place. Everything was very clean and comfortable for tired musicians needing a break in between sets. A water cooler sat in the corner, along with other refreshments. An old piano sat in the corner of the soundproofed room with a simple bench. I sat down, attempting to dig up all the memories of music class in school. I rarely played these days, but could occasionally throw out a simple party song here or there. Remembering the strange ripped piece of paper, I refreshed my memory and played the 8-quarter notes on the paper, stumbling over the notes. After a few tries I finally played the tune, and to my surprise, a grating noise sounded behind me….

     A single brick from the wall was pushed askew and even more, soot fell to the floor on top of the existing soot. Using my flashlight to peer into the shallow hole, I found a small, beat-up notebook, covered in a black leather cover with stains on it. It looked like it might have had coffee or Neocola spilt on it one time too much. Could this be Harrison’s book? Why was it in the green room behind a secret brick panel?

     It seemed to visit the club was unearthing more questions than answers. After a thorough examination of the rest of the stage and green room, I didn’t see anything else suspicious. Everything seemed to be paused in time, ready at any moment for life to start again. That is… except for Lincoln.

     I needed to get to the bottom of what happened, and quickly.

     But I still needed to sleep. And eat. And start answering some of these never-ending questions.

     The cellar and clearing the club for reopening would have to wait until tomorrow. After a long day of sleuthing, I needed to get back to my office and process some of this information. As I was locking the building up, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched.

     I took a cursory glance around, but didn’t see anything troubling. As I finished locking up, I turned around, my trenchcoat fanning out due to the extra weight from the evidence weighing down the waterproof material. Just as I completed a 360-degree turn, I was bumped into by a flash of green and black which mumbled, “Pardon,” and dashed away. I didn’t get a good look at the pet I bumped into, but apparently, it was someone who didn’t have the time to chat much. It was late, but not late enough that sidewalk traffic was unheard of. Anyone working late could easily be out headed home after a long day in the office.

     Speaking of heading home, that sounded fantastic. I would grab some of my favourite takeouts and get to work on digesting the new evidence in my home office over some delicious rice with vegetables. I thrust my chilled paws into my coat, hoping to relieve some of the bites of the chilly evening, but something didn’t feel right. After all that sleuthing, I got used to the weight balance of my coat with the items in it, and remembered where each piece of evidence was… and something was wrong.

     After a quick search, I quickly realized that one of my pockets, previously filled with paper- the music notes and poem and the newspaper clipping envelope from under Clarice Cybunny’s door were missing!

     Quickly patting down my other pockets with a quick glance inside, I confirmed that the Aisha sculpture and black book remained safely in my interior pockets. As I whirled around to check for lurkers observing my panicked movements, it dawned on me that the green Neopet in the black trench coat that had a little bump into me might have had ulterior motives. I was no longer in the little leagues. I would need to be more careful and cautious from here on out. What happened that night in that swanky, uppity Jazz Club?

To be continued…