Sid Linner and The Missing Key
Oliver Henry stood around six and a half feet tall, and tended to err on the side of ugly shirts when it came to picking out the shirts that he would be wearing for the day. It was his greatest philosophy that if someone saw what a horrendous shirt he was wearing and still wished to talk to him, then they were truly someone worth talking to, as people that are off put by shirts are people not worth the time of day.
When he walked out to his car on the morning of the seventh, wearing his typically ugly shirt and pants that were just a little too short – as long enough pants were difficult to find for a man his height – he was taken aback to find a stack of fliers on his car. An entire stack, 200 pages thick, as if the man whose job it was to distribute them had caught an acute case of “Something-better-to-do”, a common affliction of both those with menial jobs and those prone to chronic boredom.
Oliver looked up and down his street and the various other cars parked in front of various other buildings, and none of them had gotten flyered. He chalked it up to one of life’s great mysteries, and lacking a proper disposal method, dropped the stack into his passenger seat.
The car he drove was nothing to bat an eyelash over. He had picked it up, not quite second or third hand, rather he mused, “Somewhat fourth hand. I got it quite cheap, so, you know, that’s good. And it starts two thirds of the time, and there’s ample space in the trunk, so it’s a heck of a lot better than most cars out there.”
It was one of the few days that he had allowed himself to take off work, and so he decided to better himself, or at least trick himself into thinking that one day at the gym could be qualified as ‘bettering oneself’. He parked quite selfishly in a space closest to the building, and tried to turn the key out of the ignition. The car shut off, but the key refused to slide out.
He tried again, this time gripping the edge of the ignition, and pulled, but the key was stuck fast.
“Oh, come on,” he muttered, and tried a third time. The key would not budge.
“Nuts to all.” He took a stray piece of cloth from his ceiling and draped it over the steering column, obscuring the view of the key from the casual passerby. Today, Oliver was a man with a mission – to lose as much weight as he could in the upcoming thirty or so minutes – and nothing could deter him from this, except for himself, as he found in the locker room the leather seats in front of the panel television to be most comfortable and he fell fast asleep wearing nothing but one sock with his gym bag slung over his shoulder.
He startled himself awake as a small boy was poking his pale belly with a foot long ruler.
“You alive, sir?”
Oliver stared at the boy. “Yes.”
“Because most people who are dying don’t have time to take off all their close and die natural-like. They usually have something left on, like a watch. Or a sock.”
“If I were dead, I wouldn’t be speaking to you, would I?”
The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Never met a dead person before.”
“Then how do you know what dead people wear?”
“I read a lot.”
Oliver shot daggers at the boy, who looked quite surprised, and ran off to find his father. Oliver clambered to his feet, unsteady, and began the arduous task of covering his flesh with his street clothing. After ten minutes, he walked out to the front desk. The woman, a nice blonde lady wearing the nametag “Jasmine” but actually smelling of rotten garbage, asked him how his workout was.
“Very relaxing,” he said. “I feel like a new man.”
He made his way back out to the car, sliding himself behind the driver’s seat and reaching for the key. He paused as his hand passed through the air where the key should have been very conspicuously jutting from the ignition, and this surprised him to the point where he actually leaned down and looked – the key was gone.
He reached into his pocket and removed his key-ring, which did, luckily enough, have a spare on it, but before he started the car, he turned to the fliers.
“Lose something? Missing something? Something not where it ought to be? Then I’m the man to help,” at this point, there was a copy and pasted picture out of a clip-art word file of a magnifying glass, “My offices are at the 300 block of Bueller Avenue, Suite 60J. Consultation is free – super free!”
Oliver thought about this, about the strange coincidence of the fliers showing up on the very day that a key – no pun intended – item would go missing. He pondered this for a few seconds before deciding that it was the not so subtle guiding hand a most ferocious fate that was at work, and that his key was meant to be recovered.
His car chugged soundly along the streets until he reached the outskirts of the city, where the buildings became more spaced apart, like the thinning hair of a balding man in denial. Coincidentally enough, a hurricane had given this very city a comb over a few months past, although as hurricanes go, it was a gust of laughter from a baby rather than a war cry from an old Scotsman.
The building, however, did lean slightly to the left, which Oliver found amusing if not altogether unsettling. It worried him – the not quite sound structural integrity of the building, but the existential coincidence set forth in front of him – the fliers and the missing key – resolved his strength, and he stepped into the building.
The reception desk was empty, leaving Oliver to find the nameplate on the wall. It was the only golden name, the rest of the small pieces of metal bronze, and quite faded. Oliver called the elevator, and was pulled in an up-left direction when it began to finally move.
Oliver stepped out into the twisted hallway to find another empty reception desk, a note hastily scribbled down, “Out sick. I came in to tell you I would be taking the day off, but you weren’t in the office, and I didn’t want to stick around because I’m sick and I didn’t want to get you sick, so I’m taking the day. I would have called, but you haven’t paid the phone bill, so, I had to come in so you wouldn’t come looking for me. In any case, don’t come looking for me, there’s no mystery, I’m just sick. Thanks, Karen.”
Defeat began to creep into Oliver – it would appear that the detective was not in. When he did turn to leave, a voice called from behind.
“Are you looking to retain the services of a detective?”
“Well, yes.”
“Quite possibly the greatest and most brilliant detective in existence?”
“A regular detective will do, but I suppose if you’re all that’s left...”
Oliver turned, and gave the man a once over. He was tall – about two inches shorter than Oliver, but tall by the average national height – and oddly angular. One of his arms seemed a bit longer than the other, but the man kept fidgeting, making Oliver unsure of this. He wore a solid blue button up shirt, and slacks that had suspenders that crossed over his back, and a pen in his right pocket. His face beamed bright red, and he motioned for Oliver to step inside.
“Please, have a seat, have a seat, mister...”
“Henry. Oliver Henry. And you are?”
“Well, I’m the detective! And you are my client.”
“I know, but your flier didn’t have a name on it, and the only reason I knew where to get off the elevator was because you put the suite number. A whole stack of them, actually.”
“Ah, I knew I left something off. Please, allow me to introduce myself.” The man opened the door to his office, and ushered Oliver inside, who had been standing just outside the frame. The desk was strangely upright, unlike the rest of the building, and Oliver noticed it was because two of the legs had extensions on them. Curiously, the desk was built this way – the extensions not superfluous, rather, built into the design, and it perfectly complemented the incline.
On the walls were a few degrees, all hanging straight, and a cordless phone charger, which was empty. The phone sat on the corner of the desk, which was without a chair. It took Oliver a second to realize that there was a chair, rather, it was just in the corner, as it had wheels and slid when the detective came to greet Oliver. There was a chair without wheels, which Oliver quickly sat in, across from the desk. He smiled – against the right wall was a cabinet, and on top, a birdcage with a parakeet. The detective made his way around the desk, pulling his chair up, and sitting down.
“I’m Detective Sid Linner, but you can call me Sid. Or Mr. Linner. Or Mr. Sid. Really, any combination of my first name, last name, and title, and I’ll respond.”
“Okay, well...”
“Something tells me you’re missing something,” Sid said, kicking his feet up on his desk. As this offset his weight, his chair began to roll away, his feet staying kicked firmly in place as his chair slid a few feet to the left.
“Well, right – “
“Because I’m a detective and I’m keen to picking up on these kinds of things.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t be coming to you unless I needed help with something, so... I mean, that one is a given.”
“Tell me, what exactly seems to be the problem?”
“Okay, well... This is going to seem strange, but someone took the key from the ignition of my car.”
“Curious. How did they get the key?”
“Well, I assume they opened the passenger or driver side door, reached in, and plucked it out of the ignition. It was stuck – I mean, stuck good, and that was this morning, and I went to the gym and when I came out, the key was gone.”
“You fell asleep, didn’t you?”
“How could you tell?”
“Well, you’re sweating an awfully not at all for someone who was just at the gym.”
“Well, right. I did fall asleep, but only for about half an hour.”
“And your car was still in the parking lot when you came out?”
Oliver nodded.
“And it was only the key that was missing?”
Oliver nodded again.
“Why didn’t you just lock your car?”
Oliver shrugged. “Truth be told, I didn’t think anyone would steal the car. And they didn’t. They just took the key. And unlocking the car is such a hassle. I used to have 2 spare keys, but one broke off in the door. That was right after my trunk release switch stopped working. The car is just full of problems... And it’s an older car, so the ignition key works for the doors and everything.”
“Perhaps you were hoping that someone would steal the car?”
“Not a chance. I still need the car. There’s not much I can do at the moment for finances.”
“And yet, you belong to a gym. For someone without money, that’s rather bold.”
“I get a free membership through my job.”
Sid wrote this down. “Which is?”
“I work night security at the Natural History Museum.”
“Are they open at night?”
“No. It’s a desk job, but I get benefits, so... I can’t really complain. Can we get back to the key?”
“Of course. Do you have any idea why people would just steal your key?”
“Not the foggiest. I don’t know why someone would take the key but not the car.”
“Well, the car, if missing, is rather noticeable. If I were a thief – and this is a pretty big ‘if’, I would have waited for you to go to the gym. There are all kinds of heat dissolving gentle adhesives that would make your key stick in the ignition, so, after leaving the car out in the sun for even ten minutes... say, in a parking lot of a gym, the key would be ready to pop out again. The only feasible reason someone would take the key instead of the car would be that you would most certainly notice the car missing. Instead, you’ve come to me to help you on the whereabouts of said missing key.
“If I were a thief – and this is a pretty big ‘if’ then I would wait for you to go inside some building, be it house, or say... The offices of a great detective, and then I would take all the time I need to pilfer any items from the trunk of your car, which you said yourself, was accessible only by key. In fact, if I were a thief – and this is a pretty big ‘if’, then I would be going through your stuff right about... now, while you were talking to me. Ample time to get anything I needed. Especially if I knew what I was looking for.”
Oliver stared at Sid, and blinked twice.
“You don’t have anything of value in your trunk, do you?”
“What? Oh, no...”
Oliver bolted up, steadying himself, and ran from the door. He hit the call button on the elevator, but decided against waiting, and ran into the stairwell, running down two at a time, jumping the last four on every landing, shoulder checking the final door and bursting into the lobby, which now did feature a receptionist, who looked quite bored, even with a giant man breaking down entrances and exits.
Sid stood by the door to the outside, and held it open for the Oliver.
“How did you get down here so quick?”
“That’s an odd thing about the stairs,” Sid said. “It really is peculiar, how there always seems to be more stairs than is right for this building. Elevator, in this case, is always faster. Even if you have to wait. Although, I suppose the stairs make you feel more productive.”
Oliver and Sid jogged over to his car, Oliver removing his spare key from his pocket and popping open the trunk. There was a roadside assistance kit, a few old cassette tapes, and a tire iron.
“Well, anything missing?” Sid asked.
Oliver stared at the trunk. He turned to Sid, utterly defeated, his shoulders stooping. He was suddenly angry with Sid – Sid, who looked so cheerful, so happy, so at peace. “No, nothing missing at all.”
Sid reached into the trunk, and moved a cassette. Under was the original key, pressed firmly into the gray matting of the trunk.
“And here’s your key! Oh, happy day! Nothing missing, and you have your key back? I’d say this was quite the success. All on your free consultation, too! You’ll be receiving a bill shortly,” Sid nodded. “You’ll get your money back if you send in the proper rebate forms.”
Oliver grunted. “Where are the rebate forms?”
“On the back of the fliers.”
Oliver stared through his back windshield, and moved to the driver side door. “They’re gone.”
“All of them?”
Oliver grunted. “Yeah. All of them.”
“Well, that’s a shame. You’ll receive a bill for services rendered. It was good doing business with you, Mr. Harvey. I’ll have my secretary get your information. Have a good day now. Another case closed!”
Sid watched as the sad shape moved behind the steering wheel, turned the ignition, and pulled recklessly out into the road. Smiling, he moved back inside. He helped the bottom floor receptionist lift the door to the stairwell back up, but they couldn’t quite get it back on its hinges, so they left it leaning against the entry way.
He moved to the elevator, and rode back up to the sixth floor, stepping out. He looked over the note Karen left him again, and frowned, before stepping back into his office.
He closed the door, and the small shape moved behind him.
“Hey, Sid, I got it.”
Sid turned and saw the tiny demonic form, the face contorted into a shape of pure pain and misery.
“Take the mask off, Pip,” Sid reached down. “It’s a priceless artifact.”
“Then what the hell was that guy doin’ with it?” Pip moved to the seat across from Sid’s desk and sat down, her blonde hair shining the waning light. Sid was always taken aback at how bright she was, despite not being ten years over eight. It was serendipitous that the two had formed a working partnership.
“He stole it from the museum.”
“And did you really think your plan would work?”
“Leaving a huge stack of fliers on his car, gluing the key in the ignition, stealing the key when he went to the gym, and stalling him while you stole the museum curator’s priceless mask back from the trunk?”
“Kind of like pinning a butterfly to a wheel, don’t you think?”
Sid let out a long sigh. “Yes, it was a long shot, I suppose. But I had just gotten that new adhesive and I had a coupon for Kathy’s Print Shop, so... I didn’t want them to go to waste. Speaking of which, have you shredded them? We can’t risk the rebates falling into the wrong hands. Actually, any hands.”
Pip smiled. “At least we got the mask back. So, what next? Just drop it off at the museum, call it a day?”
“And collect our money. We should just go ahead and call the curator and let him know that he can fire Oliver and that we have his mask.”
“I thought the note Karen left said you didn’t pay the phone bill...”
“I always pay the bills. Karen was looking for me here, for some reason or another. So, we drop the mask off, bill the curator, and get some sleep. Because tomorrow, we search for Karen. And who knows, Pip, this may just be our greatest adventure yet.”
“I mean, if you consider what happened today to be an ‘adventure’ than it won’t really take much to top it.”
Sid reached across the desk and smacked Pip upon the side of her head. She looked rather unamused, but stood and smiled when Sid went to the corner to retrieve his coat and broken top hat. They left the door to his office open, but the gradual slant of the building swung it shut before they were even out of the building.
THE END.
