This is a short story I began a while ago, not sure where it was heading to.
The year was 1872, and the call out was the country manner. I didn’t know what I was being called out to, none of us did. The manner was a place you wished you never got the call from, partly because the person on the other end was deaf, so it proved to be a difficult conversation. Plus the telephone was not to be invented for another four years, and the string connecting the tins often got tangled with people passing by.
I was sat in my office, which I always thought was a useful place to carry out work. It had my desk and a chair. I was saving up for a filing cabinet, but for now the office suited me. I shared it with my sergeant he was a young man by the name of Clive. He had been promoted through the ranks since he joined the force he always reminded me of myself in my youth, as I to was promoted through the ranks, I also thought it would be easier to step into the breach of Detective but the trousers were always made for the more rounded gentleman it proved you needed to serve your time to grow into them.
It was as me and Clive were typing up our notes of the Bosworth case that the knock on the door happened. I as I always did ignored it, Clive on the other hand quickly opened, to find a tall slim lady standing on the other side. She quickly moved out of the way, as she was just passing by. In her place was Michael Peel. Peel was the office clerk the man who filtered the calls answered the post and picked the milk up from the corner shop for tea break, sometimes if he was feeling generous he would even pick up some biscuits.
Peel always behaved as if he was the power behind the force, that without him, we wouldn’t be who we are. “New case for Detective” I again ignored him. I still hadn’t forgiven him for buying ginger knuts. He knew I hated ginger knuts. In the awkward silence that followed Clive stepped in to break the tension that was growing.
“whats the case Mike?”
“it’s an interesting one, me dad said to give it to you”
“Really what is it, another murder, a missing person?”
It was at this point that I started to listen.
“Both, but how can it be both?”
“The body has gone missing”
I needed to interject, but I thought I would allow Clive to investigate.
“ So how do they know there’s been a murder?”
“A note” I could not contain my silence I butted in and continued the conversation with Mike. “ Well thank you Mike that will be all. We will deal with it now” With that I ushered him out of my office, and shut the door on Mike’s face. I returned to my seat behind the desk as that is where I had left it, and it always seemed a good place to keep a chair. I sat down, and turned to Clive.
“What you thinking Detective?”
“I’m thinking we didn’t find out where this took place”
“God this is going to be a hard one to solve then, isn’t it?”
Luckily for Clive and I Mike had left his coffee cup on my desk, on his return I asked him where the location of this missing murder had been. The answer that Mike had replied made me sweat with fear. I called for Simon, my trust horse. I told Clive to man the desk and wrap up the last case. He gave me a puzzled look, for some weeks now he had tried to make me choose a different present for my wife’s birthday, I being stubborn disagreed thinking that a nice brown suitcase with golden buckles would be a wonderful 50th birthday gift.
The pathway up to the old manor house was dark, my intelligence had told me that this was due to the the lack of gas lamps to light the way. I was luckily enough to have a spare candle on my person and with a strike of a match I illuminated my path to the door. I banged the large door knocker, a recent invention that saw a NoBel prize for it’s inventor. The sound reverberated around the my head, and from the last drones of the banging that echoed came foot steps. A young boy slowly opened the door in his pyjarmas I thought it was a strange place to have a door but the thought quickly past as I needed to speak to the house keeper on urgent business.