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“The other pirates, and Bluebeard, watched Blackbeard with a mix of disgust and worry. Tears built in his eyes. The parrot’s feathers were damp and heavy in his hands. Gripping them tighter, he clutched them close to his chest. He dropped his knees into the sand. ‘My beloved parrot…’ he sobbed. He punched the ground with his fist, not caring about the sand within the wound. ‘Why!’ he shouted, and then bellowed out, ‘Why?!’ loud enough to chase any other birds off the cove.”
Logico closed the book and breathed into his hand. He flipped to the cover with Dame Obsidian’s name plastered on it. Hers was bigger than the title. His thumb worried the corner of the pages. He took a deep breath and finally braved the final pages, only to find it was the last one. Still, there were more to discover like the real maps of pirate cove, and the acknowledgements.
He mindlessly read through them, but his magnificent eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It may have been a tongue-and-cheek joke, Dame Obsidian did like those, but as an aside on thanking her dear friend Agent Ink, Dame Obsidian wrote: “If my body ever disappears, contact my agent!” To him it was well enough a lead as he had gotten. He looked at his shelf, now taken with Dame Obsidian’s books, once filled with Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie. He wouldn’t take hers down until he found her, or her body.
There was a beautiful streetview of the building. The balconies with people taking smoke breaks in the sun. Automobiles lined the streets and pedestrians kept a busy pace. It was the city and people followed accordingly. Logico made his way through the rotating glass doors. At the front desk were two secretaries answering calls on their telephones, answering with soft politeness to redirect and then immediately hanging up and answering again. They seemed overworked, but kept the stress out of their hair.
One stopped her flow as he stepped up. He removed his fedora from his head, and then flashed his detective club membership. She gawked at it for a moment, waiting for him to talk.
“What floor is Agent Ink’s office?” He inquired. She was about to reply when her coworker interrupted.
“You and everyone else wants to know!” The girl whispered, holding the microphone to her chest for a moment, then she returned to her call. The inquired secretary pointed towards the elevators.
“Floor 14, tell the liftman.” That he did, and soft ricketting of the sleek elevator fed his excitement. It finally reached floor 14 and the sight did not disappoint. Three women stood in the middle of the bullpen, yelling at each other. The rest of the agency stood and watched. He tried to follow the conversation as well, before he made his place known. Each of them pointed at each other all, but one, was pointing with their left hand.
“Oh shut your mouth, Ink, you wouldn’t know your ballpoint from your rollerball.” In the writing community this was scathing.
“Then, you, glorious Editor Ivory please, shed some light on this information!” Ink begged. She was the one pointing with her right.
“You both have always fought for his spot!” The third woman interjected. “For all I know, both of you killed him!” The phrase “killed him” was always the best clue Logico got.
“Excuse me!” Deductive Logico yelled out, “Did you say ‘killed him?’”
Everyone’s eyes turned to him. A baited breath stood for a moment. Finally, a man in a suit with white curly hair approached him.
“You must be Detective Deductive Logico.” The man shook his hand, with a greedy quality somehow. “I’m the Chairman, Chalk, and one of these two employees-” he gestured to Ink and Ivory. “-and this assistant-” he said it like it was a joke, pointing to Applegreen, the famous daughter of a principal. “-Has killed our highest earner.” He then whispered in Logico’s ear. “We don’t need to get the police involved, do we?” Logico narrowed his eyes towards Chalk’s placating smile. Technically, justice was not important to Logico, nor was it his job to imprison anyone. So, Logico nodded to the Chairman and was granted further entry into the room.
“Right, how do you know it was one of these three?”
“Everyone else was accounted for during the murder. No one could vouch for them, so unfortunately. Speaking of, everyone else get back to work!” He instructed. The rest of the office scattered to their desks. “There are only three rooms these girls could’ve been where no one would see them: the balcony, the… submissions room, and the office where the murder took place.”
Locations were always the best way to solve a murder, but he’d need to find the possible murder weapons as well. He walked first to the balcony, finding an odd note taped to the door: “No Assistants Allowed! Especially not Applegreen!” It made him wonder what Applegreen did to not be allowed on the balcony. Someone currently occupied the space out there.
He opened the door and walked out onto the black concrete. He stood with a cigarette in his mouth, looking out at the street. Logico kicked himself. He would’ve been able to see who was on the balcony earlier, but he didn’t check. Logico stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Did you see anything, sir?” Logico asked and the man looked over his shoulder back to him. He was probably described better as a boy. “Are you an assistant breaking the rules?”
“No, no one does. I’m an intern so… it’s different. And I didn’t see anything, not really. Well…” He hummed a little. “…I saw Editor Ivory with someone, before they parted ways, I couldn’t say what Ivory had on her, but the other one definitely had a large pile of books.”
“Heavy enough to kill someone?” Logico asked and the intern shrugged.
“Definitely heavy, but that’s it, all I know.” The boy turned fully around, resting on the rails. He crossed his arms, and Logico took that as his cue to go. “Well,” the boy started as Logico had his hand on the door, “I’ve got this.”
The boy had a slip of paper, when Logico took it, the boy brushed past him. Logico looked down at the message. It read, “ZTVMG RMP SZW Z NVWRFN-DVRTSG DVZKLM.” Agent Ink had a medium-weight weapon. If the murder weapon was the heavy stack of books, Ink didn’t have it.
He went inside to find the intern again, but he couldn’t. The detective club wasn’t notorious for helping to stick around. He did see the suspects though. They were supposed to be staying still, but Editor Ivory had taken over the telephone of another agent, Ink was drafting contracts, and Applegreen was running between desks, helping Chairman Chalk. He went into the room titled "Unsolicited Submissions Room” because there didn’t seem to be an un-unsolicated submissions room.
He rolled his eyes when he saw the only thing in there was an incinerator, and a ream of paper. He pulled out his magnifying glass to examine the incinerator. Being naturally right-handed, that’s where he held his magnifying glass, so when he reached with his left hand to touch, he burnt his hand. The right side, however, was perfectly cool. He stared at the burn and ran back to the bullpen.
“May you three please hold up your left-hands?” Logico asked. Applegreen’s hand went up immediately, only to be followed by Ivory and Ink. He went up to each, with his burn to match any marks. He sighed when there weren’t any. But, he remembered Agent Ink was naturally right-handed. He went up to her, and she delightfully hid the contract from view. “Are you right-handed?”
“Yes,” she confirmed easily, “I’m surprisingly a rare one in this office.” Logico nodded along. “I-I don’t think it’s Editor Ivory. I get great clients, but Ivory is a way better at her job than I am. She’s the hardest worker in the office. Agent Stiff was a phenomenal agent, too.” Ink leaned in and whispered to him. “She wouldn’t kill him. We’re a family.”
Logico nodded, but he secretly disagreed with the sentiment. No amount of knowing someone changed their predisposition to murder. “You’re an agent, would you kill for a good contract?” Agent Ink bit her lip.
“Well…” she trailed off and smiled meekily at him, “I wouldn’t want to.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“What about Assistant Applegreen?” Logico asked, now leaning against the desk Ink’s corrupted.
“She’s-”
“What about me?” Applegreen stepped forward, with three coffee cups in her hand. “Are you bad mouthing me, Agent Ink?” She then turned to Logico. “I’m actually the hardest working here, just to make things clear.”
Ink silently focused back on her work, risking to give Logico a look of sympathy.
“Yes, of course,” he rambled as he backed away. She stared at him down, “There are cases and mysteries, and…” he trailed off and fled back to the submissions room.
There lay the ream of paper. He tossed it between his hands, not nearly a heavy-weapon, but not light. He placed it back onto its shelf.
He finally went into the room labeled “The Best Office.” In truth, it was, except for the two assistants attempting to lift the body off the ground. There next to him, was a pile of heavy books scattered across the ground. Although, the typewriter seemed like a promising weapon.
Still, Logico tipped down his hat and exited the room. He paused however, not adjusting his gloves just yet. There was already a member of the detective club here, perhaps his mystery caller would be too. He scanned the room, but no one was watching him, not even the suspects. He only heard the sounds of telephones and writing. One man in a private office screamed into the receiver, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. If the caller did try, Logico didn’t know which one to pick up. On that fateful night, in a lookout tower, it was only after her body was missing, that he looked up in the sky. There was a message written in the clouds, “Lavender swam in the fountain!” Logico smiled as he recounted the memory.
So, he adjusted his gloves and tipped his fedora one more time. Chalk noticed and walked into the bullpen. Logico cleared his throat and the suspects noticed too, stopping their work.
“Agent Ink is free to leave, if she so wishes. She was the only one, out of the suspects, to be in the Submissions room and not burn her hand on the incinerator. That leaves Editor Ivory on the balcony, she’s the only other one left, because Assistant Applegreen was not allowed. That means it was Assistant Applegreen with a giant stack of books in the Best Office!”
All eyes turned on her. This time she was balancing a cup on top of her head. “No! I work hard! I’m a hard worker!” At this exclamation, the cup tipped off her head and crashed onto the floor.
“Yes, well only one with perfect knowledge and incredible work ethic could’ve pulled it off.” He stared at her with what he hoped was admiration.
She clenched her fists and searched the room for an out. Finally, she called out, “Fine! I was fed up with doing all the work and getting none of the recognition!” Logico relaxed his shoulders, having caught the perpetrator.
A slow clapping came from Chairman Chalk, it revved up in speed. The staff also awkwardly joined in. Logico blushed under the praise, but Chalk actually walked up to Assistant Applegreen.
“Bravo, Applegreen. You know it shows real initiative to kill someone above you. Just not too far above you right?” He gave her a side hug, and she tensed underneath it. “I see a real agent in you… in the far future. What if I made you, head assistant?” Besides the fact that Logico had not seen anyone else with the title “head assistant” Applegreen seemed to vibrate with glee under this praise.
There was a tap on Logico’s shoulder, and Agent Ink was behind him smiling. She called him over to the submissions room with two cups of coffee. He followed her, uninterested in the promotion party. They leaned against an unoccupied wall.
“You know, that was a pretty fun speech, Dame Obsidian had a lot of those in her books.” It was unheard of for an agent to actually care about a high-selling author’s books. “Obsidian trusted me to handle her work.” It was an off comment, before Ink fully turned to him, giddy look in her eye. “Have you considered publishing your case files?”
Logico squinted at her and took another sip of coffee. The idea of his own set of novels intrigued him.
“I’d have to get Chairman Chalk on board, but we’d hire a ghostwriter. I have one in mind, Author Current. You could call it whatever you wish,” she pitched easily.
He rubbed at his coffee cup. The name came easily to him. He proposed, “The Murdle Book.” Ink stared at him with trepidation, suddenly. She shook her head.
“No.”