Mystery At Gables End

(An Enid Weatherspoon Nail-biter)

---Chapter 1---

Baited

Usually the types of cases, that I was handed, were more everyday. A distraught wife needing me to spy on a husband that she believes might be having an affair, common place stuff like that. So the minute the note turned up in my business mailbox, I felt a little uneasy, slitting the envelope open! I couldn't help feeling a little apprehension as if something might jump out and bite me. I giggled nervously, at such a stupid idea.

I let the envelope, release the simple white, once-over folded note and as it floated unto my desk I was still, somewhat, loathe to touch it. 'Don't be ridiculous, Enid!', I scolded myself and unfolded it. Peering owlishly at it, I lifted a slim, well manicured finger (an indulgence, but I always believed, clean body, sharp mind) and pushed my spectacles up further on my nose.

The note appeared to be written neatly, although short, the penmanship was excellent. I flipped the note over but as I suspected, there were some words missing.  My thoughts buzzed with motives , was the mysterious writer interrupted in mid-word, was there supposed to be two notes and one just got displaced? Speculation wouldn't be enough, some real sleuthing would bring about the answers.

Smiling, I thought at last, a real mystery had landed in my lap, well landed on my desk anyway and I wasn't going to give this one up easily. Besides it was addressed to me, at least I believed I was the only E. Weatherspoon around, even though I am still junior to the other detectives in my field. This could be the case that brings the recognition, I desperately needed.

Feeling a little giddy with excitement, I decided to except this case but not to let my superiors know about it until I could show them that Enid Weatherspoon had what it takes to be a top-notch investigator. I completely ignored the nagging voice that told me that I was making a big mistake!

I knocked on Graham Renoylds' door and heard his big bass voice say,'Come in!'
Seated behind a big maple desk, littered with envelopes marked with,'For Inspector Renoylds' eyes only',various case leaflets and other unknown papers, held down by paperweights of all sizes,was my boss. Stirring  sugar into his tea, he grimaced as he took a sip. He had to give up, rather reluctantly, adding gin to his drink. (The scuttlebutt heard at the water cooler, was doctor's orders; ulcer!) Apparently, he didn't take too kindly to that advice.

'Yes?', he barked.  His face, slightly reddened and his mustache, twitching as he took
another sip of his tea. 'Oh, Enid, sorry but this tea is beastly stuff without gin!' 'Now, what can I do for you?'

Now the Inspector even for his large size and stature was a decent bloke as Inspectors go and I hated to lie to him. Once again my conscience piped up a warning and I wrestled with telling him about the note and my eagerness to head up this case. Maybe he would have given it to me,after all I had proved myself quite nicely in the 'Smithy' case last month,but I would never know now,would I?

Smiling calmly,while wiping sweaty palms on my tailored pants, I told the Inspector that I needed a few days leave as an urgent family matter had come up. 'Liar!', my conscience screamed at me,'there is still time, tell him the truth!'

I shut his door behind me, armed with his scrawled, leave of absence in my hand. I handed it over to his secretary and pressed the elevator button to basement and supplies. Inspector Renoylds was firm but fair to all those that worked at,'Watch Dog Incorporated!'

Grabbing a gun, ammo, a flashlight, some rope and a briefcase from supplies. I went over to the guard and signed for it all. Bill looked up from behind the bulletproof glass and took a look at the signature. Smiling he said,' Enid, you are nearly the only one who signs for stuff that is easy on the eyes!' 'Have a pleasant weekend.'

Waving, I walked out of the underground lot and over to my silver Porsche( a gift from dear old daddy), opened the trunk and placed the articles in, breathing a sigh of relief with the slamming of the lid. Now I had a few hours until destiny and thought a short drive to the 'Bowman's Whistle', a nice, homey pub was in store. A beef pot-pie and an ale would maybe help me alleviate the guilt I was feeling.