Introduction
Narrated by Mrs. Grant
Why write about the dead when the people will never see what was written? It’s the same as writing about fictional characters. They will not know of their story because they do not exist. When people see stories, they oftentimes do not know where their author gets the idea. In this book, you will not understand until the end why I have written this book. If, brother, you would like to still prosecute me for all I did, you know were to find me…
While I still can and am not behind bars, let me tell you the story of a detective who tried her first case and failed.
Chapter 1
The Sound of Glass
The sound of glass splintered the street in the most haunting way. As I dashed toward the sound, I saw two run the opposite way. When I got to the scene of the crime, I knew I had my work cut out for me, my first case, my hardest. All of the pale blue wallpaper was torn and burnt, The furniture was broken, there was blood on the dark-gray rug, and beside the empty opened cash register and shattered glass case, an man in black dress pants a blue tie and white collared shirt laid weeping in the corner.
I knew I had my work cut out for me
“Where did they go?” The man sniffles as I helped him to his feet.
“Whom?” I ask, as he lifts his head, he had an inquisitive look on his face. His fiery green eyes stared at me as if puzzled with this question.
“Why, the robbers of course” He rolled and sighed “Oh, how I wish I had some sort of detective so that I know whom to prosecute” If a human’s ear’s could pick up mine would be on the tops of my head.
“Why I’m a detective Mr…” I blushed “well it doesn’t seem we are very well acquainted” I wished I had asked him earlier of his name.
“Mr. Washington, Gregory Washington. Owner of Washington jewelry. And you are?” he held his hand out for a handshake as proclaimed his name in an all-business tone.
“I Lady Smith, or Samantha-Mae Smith. Recently passed my detective’s exam.” I say in an equally businessy tone and firmly shake his hand back. I scan the room, fearfully. I don’t know how I could EVER solve this case.
“What exactly happened here?” I ask, fearful that this case is WAY more than I imagined.
“Well, I was in the back room with Mr. Joeseph Adams and his daughter Miss Adeline Adams, they were looking for a necklace to gift to Miss Adam’s sister for her 16th birthday when all of the sudden I heard a sound like breaking glass and ushered them down into the basement so that I could go investigate the sound. When I finally got there, the robbers picked up the final pieces they were sealing and ran out the door. I didn’t see which way they went because I was accounting for all the missing items. That’s when I saw 1 thing left and 3 missing. They had left a bloody rag that you can see in the corner they had taken the exact three things I was to ship to the governor’s wife this afternoon.” He sobbed again remembering the horrid scene in which many were stolen.
“Mmhmm. Yep. bloody rag. Got it.” I said writing the last things down on my floral-patterned notebook, “maybe we should go tell the Adams that it’s safe to come up from their hiding place now. His devious glint told me that there was more to the basement than just the Adams and I knew that he was to lead the way. Every step, I would make sure the seemingly illusive store owner was in front of me and not behind to lock me inside. When we reached the bottom of the staircase, I could barely see anything more than a few feet in front of me. CREEK Went the floor. I whirled my head around as fast as I could and saw a young farmer and his daughter looking as frightened as myself.
“ W – who are you and what do you want?” said the person I presume to be Adeline.
“ I’m lady Smith” I said comfortingly “ I’m here to tell you it’s safe to come up. I also would like to ask you about the robbery.”
“ Why, we were here the entire time but only heard sounds.” He sighed “ I’m sorry we couldn’t be of better help.”
“ That’s okay,” I smile, “ by the by I’m going upstairs myself if you would like to come with me.” I turn to leave motioning for them to come out, too. they follow and leave nervously, the shop going behind them. Meeting Mr. Washington back at the shop, I pry further on Witnesses and suspects.
“ Is there anybody that would want to steal from your shop?” I questioned.
“ Ah, yes there’s a Miss Grant who has never been fond of me but I have known my whole life and was very interested in the very necklace and other jewelry that was stolen that day.” He said as he handed me her address. I wondered how he had became acquainted with Mrs. Grant but found it rude to ask.
As I took my break for lunch, I realized that Mr. Washington had said he had known Mrs. Grant since he was born and wondered if they always feuded. That night, I contemplated the same question and found that it would be better to just ask tomorrow.
Chapter 2
The Houses of Cherry Street
The next day, as I journeyed to Cherry Street, I saw the most marvelous houses. They were all in beautiful pastel colors ranging from red to purple and they all had large white columns that spiraled up to an upper triangle on the top. They had two large windows with matching silk maroon curtains and grey drawing rooms in between and one small circular window on the top with maroon curtains and blue attics behind.
I could imagine that there was either some kind of code that set these houses or if they all had similar taste until I reached the house of Mrs. Grant. Her curtains came in yellow silk with a animal skin themed drawing room. The top window peered into a grey attic with lots of pink polka dots.
When I stood next to the huge doors, I felt almost intimidated to knock and when I finally did, I wish I didn’t. A maid answered the door with a most scary look on her face. “You shouldn’t be here” She whispered
“Why?” I asked, not at all afraid of her.
“My mistress, she’s not the nicest person…” her voice trailed off as she heard her employer come down the stairs.
“Who is at the door Lizzy?” she spoke in the voice of a British queen. Her voice was a shrill screech with a British accent, but at the same time sounded sophisticated and regal, like a voice you might imagine a British queen to have. She was a round woman with fiery red hair rolled on the top of her head. Green eyes that flame with a devious maliciousness.
Noticing me she reached an arm from under her fur boa and gestured for me to come in. “Oh, company! Come in, come in.” Hesitantly, I came into the grand castle and followed the one called Lizzy to the drawing room where she set a cup of tea in front of me.
“So… Mrs. Grant” I started.
“Oh, I recently broke up with my husband and prefer my maiden name, miss Margaret Washington, Mr. Gregory Washington sister.”
“I see,” I finally understood why they don’t like each other!
We talked for hours until I felt woozy. I saw stars and everyone’s voice came out muffled and deep. I suddenly saw a color darker than midnight and darker than the abyss.
A Cup of Tea
Prologue
Narrated by Mrs. Grant
Yes, I did knock out Mrs. Smith, but she has a better occupation now.
Working for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She is my main maid. Just like Lizzy (or Lady Van Buren) had been knocked out on my last robbery.
Either that or she’s dead.
So, it’s not a matter of writing about the dead, more of a matter of writing about the missing.
