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Adventures of Jack Care-away “Missing Word” By Scott M. Sparling
Mister Reaver knocked with tight lips and white knuckles. He looked completely out of place considering his surroundings. From his shiny black shoes to his tall black hat, Robert Reaver was a man of impeccable grooming. Even his mustache had a sheen as if waxed. There wasn’t a hair out of place. It was a rather scarred surface for a door, dinged and cracked here and there. Everything else in this outer office had that same used luster. Well ingrained dusts and oils. A second-hand look. “Smells like coffee,” Mister Reaver sneered. “Old coffee. And cigarettes!” He knocked again. “Come on in. It’s open!” a tired voice answered. Robert pushed once. Door crashed against wall as he entered. He marched in with a large stride until his pants touched desk. He glared down at a man whom he had loathed ever since high school, but a man he knew he could trust with his life. “Jack Care-away!” he exclaimed. “I have a problem.” Jack looked up, bleary eyed and disinterested. “Mister Reaver, what seems to be-” A harsh ring made both men jump. Jack grabbed his phone, listened for a moment and answered with, “I’m sorry, I have a client in my office right now. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.” He hung up and took a look at his old high school adversary. “Police chief,” he explained. “How can I help you?” Robert Weaver sat down hard, opening and closing his mouth under his immense mustache while trying to conjure a kind word. He couldn’t think of any. And judging every sour expression Jack shot back at him, he didn’t think Jack had any either. Could he still be upset over Mary-Sue, that cheating girl who had two-timed him with me? Robert wondered. Robert decided to make his point quickly. “Sometime in this past week or so, someone has broken into my house and taken something from my safe.” “What did they take?” Jack asked, leaning forward. Solving crimes was Jack’s passion, and he had a knack for it. It was what he lived for, Robert had heard, and he could solve any case handed his way. “A word,” Robert blurted. “They took a word from my safe. I’m not sure which one it was. I’m not even sure how long or short it is. “I just know that one is missing.” “Nothing else is missing?” “No,” Robert said. “Nothing else. A bit odd, don’t you think?” Jack nodded. “How can you be sure a word is missing?” “I keep accounts on all words in my vault,” Robert said primly. “Accurate numbers. That’s my motto.” “It might be just as important to find out which word it is as finding out who took it. You don’t seem to be talking strangely, so I would assume it was not a common word.” “You’d be surprised how many common words can go missing without people noticing. I think it probably was a common word . . . Otherwise why would they take it? Criminals want something valuable, and common words are usually worth more in a black market. Can you imagine how much money a criminal could make by stealing And or But. What about Yes or No? Those would be worth millions in ransom.” Jack scribbled a few notes on a yellow pad of paper. “Obviously, if we can still use those words, then none of them were stolen.” “How right!” “I think I’ll need to take a look at your house and safe. There might be more clues there.” “How much is this going to cost?” “We’ll talk about it en route.”
A trip from Jack’s office to Robert’s neighborhood normally took fifteen minutes, but Robert cleared it in seven. When they stepped out into Robert’s white cement driveway, his face was already red and pulsing. Negotiations over money had not gone well. Jack’s fee, in Robert’s opinion, was too high. But he had agreed. A word was missing, and there was nothing more important to a master librarian like Robert. His language and his reputation, were on thin ice. As they walked up, Jack asked, “So, I heard you have an amazing jewelry collection as well. Quite a few rare pieces worth large amounts. You’re telling me they took a word, only a single word, but left all of those precious jewels untouched?” “I know what you’re thinking,” Robert wheeled about on his heel and pointed a thick finger into Jack’s chest. “You’re wondering if I might not have made off with my word myself. For insurance purposes or something.” “That thought had crossed my mind.” “Well you can forget it. Imagine how useless my insurance contract could be just from missing just one word. That whole, damned, bloody contract might be obsolete right now.” “I hadn’t thought of that.” “No, you wouldn’t would you?” Robert calmed down. He forced himself to breath slowly. Jack waited patiently in silence. “I’m sorry. I keep my jewels in a separate safe. It’s hidden well.” “Wasn’t your word safe hidden too?” “Yes.” “Have you checked your jewel safe? Are you quite certain it was not tampered with as well?” Robert puffed up his chest. “Yes. I examined it most carefully. Not a scrap out of place. Besides, I had taken much more care with that one. Never thought some damned criminal would seriously consider stealing any words.” They crossed into his house through a side door, and Robert brought Jack straight to his office, located on a very quiet third floor. This office, unlike Jack’s was impeccable. Clean coffee table with literary magazines lined up in a row. An Andrew Weathers sculpture of a man throwing a discus stood at a large window that overlooked a well trimmed garden. A Picasso, certainly a reproduction, hung flat on a wall, well lit from a sinking sunset and track lighting. Robert marched up and pulled on this painting. It slid away, revealing a dark safe behind. Carefully, Robert ticked away, dialing a combination. Safe now open, Jack stepped forward to begin his examination. Words floated inside, as if void of gravity. They bounced off each other and changed trajectories and paths so as to baffle Robert’s eyes, who waited nearby on tip toes, craning his neck to see over Jack’s shoulder. “How many are there?” Robert was pleased to hear awe in Jack’s voice. He swelled once again. “Too many to count.” “There’s an Is and a Yet. And How is floating just near When What and Who. Yes, it would be impossible to guess at what word went missing. You are too right. I’m going to see if I can lift a few fingerprints off this steel.” He set to work with his case of forensics devices. He continued his verbal examination as he worked. “There was nothing else out of place as you said. No damage to dial, handle or any other part?” “Not a thing.” “Where do you keep this combination? In your desk, I presume?” Robert stuttered. “Well . . . yes. In my desk.” “Anything there tampered with?” Robert flushed bright red. It was bad enough he needed to ask Jack for help, but he didn’t want to be heckled or frowned upon by him. “I was just checking right now,” he hurried with an explanation. “Everything appears to be in order.” “Nothing here,” Jack said slowly. “Maybe a few useable prints. Most likely they are all yours.” Jack joined Robert and examined all drawers. “I’ll have to comb over this entire desk for prints as well. I’m sure this supposed criminal must have visited here first to get a combination.” Jack looked up at Robert, eyes suddenly alert. “Wait! Did you keep both combinations in here? One for each safe? Or are both combinations matching?” “Of course they aren’t matching. Do you think me for a fool?” Jack relaxed a little. “I think you should show me where you keep all other combinations. I should like to examine that area, and then take me to this jewelry safe you spoke of as well. I think I have an idea of what’s going on.” “What is it?” “Just show me quickly. Time is of essence here, man!” Robert almost pulled Jack across two hallways and down a flight of stairs. He took Jack to an old broom closet with a secret panel inside where he kept a great many private things, including a small piece of paper with several numbers scrawled on its surface. “This combination . . . it’s for your Jewel safe?” Robert nodded. “Do not touch anything else here. I’ll need to print this entire closet.” Jack gave a quick glance once more, then set down Robert’s secret combination. “Now, take me to your other safe.” Robert was in a near panic as he waked, answering Jack’s questions as they went. “No, none of my servants know where I keep it.” “Yes, I have every piece insured.” “No, my entire collection is worth over ten million.” “Yes, I let my wife wear a piece or two occasionally, but I always check them back in myself.” They descended a large flight of basement stairs. Robert moved away a section of wall containing rows of old wine bottles covered in dust, and revealed a safe of immense proportions. Jack opened his bag. “Tell me, Robert, does your wife ever come down here without your knowledge?” “I don’t think so. She hates it down here. Why?” Jack sniffed at each component; dial, handle, door. “You are absolutely certain?” Robert sniffed as well, wondering if there were a perfume or other strange odor in about. He detected nothing. “I am fairly certain. Why? Why?” “I need to know for sure so I can tell how to proceed next. It is of up-most importance. You are certain nothing was missing from this safe?” “Robert, I need you to calm down. Take a few deep breaths, and call your wife. Does your cell phone get reception down here?” “No, I’ll have to go upstairs.” “I thought as much. Then listen carefully. Ask your wife if she ever opens this safe when you aren’t home. Ask her if any of her friends or family knows about it. Go over each person she knows, one at a time, no matter how aggravated she gets with you. Then tell her every jewel was stolen, just to see what she says. If she acts shocked or amazed, I want you to hang up and call nine-one-one immediately. Do you understand?” Robert could only nod. He ran upstairs as Jack turned his attention back to his job. He couldn’t get cell phone reception anywhere in his house, and never could, so he went for his kitchen phone. He tried to stretch as far as he could, but couldn’t see down those dark basement stairs. “Bloody cord!” he cursed his phone. “I told that bitch we should get a wireless.” His wife answered. Robert froze. She almost hung up after a few “hellos” but Robert found his tongue and started barraging her with questions. No matter how much she panicked and screeched in his ear, he drilled her for information over and over again, trying to remember every word that Jack had told him to say. Every question. After a few minutes, she broke out crying and Robert hung up. “Stupid woman!” He said as he dialed nine-one-one. “If she had anything to do with this, I’ll slap that stupid look off her stupid face. Damned, bloody, stupid woman!” “Nine-one-one.” “I need to talk to a sheriff, or a detective, or somebody. My jewels have been stolen. They’ve been in my family for years!” “Your family jewels, sir?” fired back a now stuck up, snotty voice. “Yes, woman. My family jewels!” Why do I always have to deal with women? he thought. “Sir, this is an emergency phone number. I’ve heard that joke five times already this week. Please stop calling or we will arrest you.” She hung up. Robert bashed his phone on a countertop, smashing it to pieces. I turned and ran down stairs. “I called, but they thought I was joking!” he yelled. “They said they were going to arrest me if-” But there was nothing more to say, because there was no one left to talk to. Jack Care-away was gone. Robert’s precious safe was open and empty. Falling to his knees, Robert crawled forward. “What?” he asked. “What?” He hoisted himself his safe’s lip, and saw that it wasn’t entirely empty. There was one word laying alone, cut into separate letters. With shaking hands, Robert picked up each letter. An H, and a T and an E. He moaned as he tried to piece them all together, his moan rising slowly into a scream of outrage. He crumpled each letter in his massive hands and faced upward, still screaming. Had he actually led Jack into his office? Shown him where he kept his combinations? Walked him willingly toward his secret safe? “Damn you, Jack Care-away. Bloody, hex, hell, damn you!” He screamed and screamed though he knew that Jack Care-away was so far gone that he couldn’t hear it, and that Jack Care-way would be too smart to ever be found again. © Copyright, Scott M. Sparling |
