Seanday Lunch: The Notebook – pt.1

"This just arrived for you," Alice said throwing the parcel in my lap.

I gasped when it landed and bit my lip. "Thanks girl," I muttered and she sneered slamming the office door.

It was fruitless, my badge had been revoked, my career as a Private Investigator was about to end. Of course, I had to let Alice go, and today was her final day. It explained the bitterness she was showing me.

My last job threw up a bizarre trail leading back to a remote house owned by a college professor. I'd only seen pictures of him: wizened, but he had a mischievous sparkle in his eye. He'd worked at the college in town, where a couple of students had gone missing, and the breadcrumbs had led to his house. The professor disappeared soon after. The client had gone to ground as well leaving me unpaid, so I'd decided to keep the house as payment. It was a quirky little thing, just a couple of bedrooms, but always looked as if it should be bigger on the inside.

Rolling the cigar around my mouth, I topped up the whisky in my glass--it helped me think--as I turned my attention to the package.

It was wrapped in plain paper, tied with a red twine. I drew the knife from my boot, and snicked it's bindings, planting the blade in the table top. Inside: a simple notebook, there was nothing else. I flipped through the empty pages and two crisp $100 bills dropped to the table.

There was nothing to suggest who sent the package. If this was a case I had no idea what they wanted either. It was then I heard some scratching like a nail on card: It was coming from the notebook.

Flipping to the front of the book again, I saw words forming on the page in black, carefully etched in a fine script.

"We've lost someone, and time is running out." The words slowly appeared.

I frowned rubbing the cropped hair on my head, this was weird. "I'm going to need more than that to solve this case," I muttered to myself.

To my surprise another five $100 bills, dropped to the table. More words appeared in the notebook, "This is important, money has no value to us."

"I meant a name or a deadline," I explained to nobody, only the notebook.

The words in the book continued. "He was a professor, at the college. He went missing a number of weeks ago, he needs to be found within days or all is lost."

My thoughts turned to the small house. It would be a safe place to start. "I'll take the case. Who are you? Is this the only way I can contact you?" I asked, and waited for a reply.

The scratching of words began again. "Who we are isn't relevant."

I pulled on my jacket putting the notebook in my pocket and returned the knife to my boot. "Alice, take any messages that come through. I'm following up that last case," I muttered to my frosty assistant. She said nothing, but continued to check the job listings in the newspaper.

-----

The house was small, only two bedrooms, but the angles and interior dimensions just didn't seem to work out. Walking around the house I found that one of the bedrooms and the outside corridor didn't match up. The space that was missing was about half the size of the bedroom. Was it an en-suite or a walk in closet?

Inching my way across the wall's surface I found a hair line crack. Using my knife I teased at the blemish, tracing it up the wall. With a twist of the blade, the panel shifted and silently slid away.

Inside was simple, a cork board on one wall and three crates stacked to the right. In the middle a full length mirror. I checked the crates; two of the three were labelled and had a picture.

Luke Baulk

Marshall Gloaming

I shuddered recognising the names instantly: the jocks that had recently gone missing from the college. The cork board had pictures along with names, numbers, and personal details. They'd been studied, selected and taken. I had no idea why.

Glancing around the room again, the mirror caught my eye. It was hinged. I pulled at the frame, and it swung open. My mouth dropped, inside were what I could only describe as flesh-coloured suits. They were full length with incredible detail, two suits, but three hangers.

I pulled at the suits in turn, attached to the back of each was a mask, and I recognised their faces: Luke Baulk and Marshall Gloaming.

There was only one conclusion, the third was in use. I supposed that's where I'd find the professor.

End of part 1.