HOME




The Case of the Vanished Lover
a Stealthboxxer Mystery



Chapter 1


At first it seemed like just another case. Just another dame who had been jilted by some Joe who didn't have the guts to tell her he was leaving her and left her broken hearted holding a sappy love note and memories of a warm spring. But it wasn't just another case at all. This one was different.

She showed up at my office on Friday at 5:05 pm. I was just about to turn out the lights and lock up when she pushed the door in and bumped me in the nose. I took a step back and took in the sight of a pathetic, sobbing, lovesick broad wearing an ancient looking dress and wrapped up with a heavy dark cloak. I couldn't even make out her eyes beneath the hood but I could see from the light of the neon sign thru the window behind me the sparkle of tears streaming down her cheeks and nose making little pools on the tops of my shoes like so many dirty raindrops.

"Mr. Stealthboxxer, I apologize, sir for arriving after your business hours," she said between sobs. "Your dear sweet secretary, Phyllis whom I met on the street front a moment past informed me that you might still be in office despite the lateness of my arrival and advised me, although I fear my request of you will likely be denied, to inquire of your possible services in locating someone dear to me. The man whom I hold dearest of all has been removed from my bosom and I am here to ask to employ you in the search for him and your assistance in his return."

I knew intantly she was just trying to butter me up. Phyllis was about as sweet as a vinegar snow cone and was not 'dear' to anyone and especially some blubbering handkerchief in a black coat showing up at closing time. In fact she had just worked me over good and threatened to quit if I didn't get her the back pay I owed her from last month by the end of next week. The messages from the bill collectors she threw in my face were still scattered all over the floor by my desk.

But this was the closest thing I had had to any kind of case in over a month. And after a little closer look at her clothes, this broad looked like she might have some money, old money at that by the look of her dress.

"Well, Miss, why don't you come in and we can talk about it." I had barely got the words out before she was crossing the room and examining the papers on my desk. I hurried over and closed the ledger that was open and motioned to the chair beside the window. "Wont you have a sit, ma'am?"

"Sir, please do not take my actions as any sort of disrespect, but I must decline your kind invitation to be seated. I am a woman in agony and can not be comforted by the simple things any longer. As I endure the torment of separation from my precious loved one I will not allow any rest to my pained body. I must continue to stand and ever to walk in endless search of him. Only when I am reunited with my dear lover will I be able to rest."

What bin did this looney fall out of? She started looking around the room and lighted on the framed Private Detective License on the wall next to the filing cabinet. She moved over and peered out of her hood at the frame and then wiped the dust away with her black glove.

"OK, ma'am, then stand if you have to. How do you think I can help you?"

"I have been given your name by one Mr. Dennison who is the proprietor of the public house on 4th St. of your lovely town. He informs me that there is no agency better at tracing the whereabouts of missing persons than yours. He said that you would certainly be able to assist me in my search for a nominal fee, should you find it in the kindness of your heart to do so."

Jack Dennison was not a proprietor of anything but just the barkeep of a dirty little whiskey dive owned by the mob in a very rough part of town near the wharf. The only people who went in that joint were the kind of people you didn't want to meet on the street unless you had some kind of shady business to do and you didn't want any `official' lookers on. I'd had some dealings with Jack. He was a rough sort but he was a straight shooter. I had helped to track down a couple of thugs who robbed his place a couple years back and with the help of a brute he used as a bouncer once in a while, we coerced the money back from them before the brute worked them over and escorted them out of town. Whatever Jack Dennison was up to I could trust that he wasn't going to set me up for trouble.

"Yeah, I know `Mr.' Dennison. My, uh, agency has done some, as you said, `missing person's' work for him before. But tell me, why are you here and not at the police station? Your man in some kind of trouble?"

"Mr. Stealthboxxer, as much as it pain's me to say so, the police have not been able to find my lover since his departure from me well over 2 months ago. I have exhausted my welcome with the local constables in my efforts to encourage their continued searching and have come to a dead end, as it were and find myself without any assistance in my dire quest to find him again. In effect, they have told me that my search is futile, that he will never be found. A terrible ideal that I just cannot bring myself to accept lest my own heart fail me. I am a desperate person and I will indeed attempt desperate measures to be reunited with my love. As for his condition of being in some kind of trouble, I know not. I would assume so due to his absence for such a horrid long time."

"Look, Miss…?"

"My name is of no consequence to anyone. Indeed, I am no one at all while I am removed from my dear lover's embrace. My entire identity is forever tied to my dear love whom I fear will never be brought back to me. "

"All right, I get what you mean. You don't need to tell me your name. I've dealt in situations like this before: no names, no reason to give names."

"It is not like that at all, sir. I am certain that you cannot possibly comprehend the pain I suffer now in his absence."

"Whatever you say, Miss." This broad was really something. Its like she just stepped off a train from 1854. Her clothes, her words, her manners. I haven't seen anything like this before in all of my `colorful' career. "Tell me, if you want me to find your lost love, you have to give me some information about him and where you think he might have gone and why. I'm a pretty good detective but I'm no Houdini, I can't make people appear from thin air."

"Mr. Stealthhboxxer, I have a letter that he left me before he departed from me. I hold it as one of my dearest possessions. I cannot give the letter to you as it is the last object that he has touched that I possess. However, I have transcribed some of the words he wrote to me and I will give them to you now. I have written the words that I cannot bear to speak on a paper inside an envelope that I have sealed here in this pouch. You will find some coins inside the purse also that should suffice for your fee, sir. I know not how many or what is their denomination or worth. I cannot employ myself with computation or calculation as my heart cannot comprehend a value that could replace my dear love. Money is but a trifle to me at this time, something that is of no value to me but may be useful to others who may be able to assist me in my search. The truest treasure to me is my dear lost love and no riches in this world can compare to that gem that now lost from my embrace."

At this she began to cry even more and then started to wail, "Oh, the pain in my heart is almost too much to bear. I feel I will indeed pass away should I not find my lover soon. Please, Mr. Stealthboxxer, take my case, though I do fear that it is useless. I shall surely never be reunited with him again. But I should ever hope, as long as my lungs draw the empty breath of painful life, I shall continue on. And if you are on the case I feel that I can continue in my endless effort to search for him myself. Please, sir, take this purse and perform your services. I shall return here in one week hence with another such purse of coins for your further payment. Perhaps it will be a happier time should you find some news of my dear lover's location and travels. Please bring him back to me, sir. Please."

She dropped the pouch into my hands and rushed out of the office. I could hear her crying all the way down the stairs and then heard the front door slam behind her. I just stood there in a stupor for a moment. Then I moved over and glanced out the side window just in time to see her slip into the shadows behind the stationary store across the street and into the night.


What a dame! What a story! What do we have here? This pouch had some heft to it. I opened it up and poured it on the desk. A pile of shiny coins and an ancient looking envelope fell out onto the blotter. Wow, this broad was some customer. I turned on the desk lamp and looked at the envelope. It was sealed with wax and an impression like a signet ring. I couldn't make out the insignia of the seal. However, I could make out the coins. This blubbering broad had just left me with forty-five twenty dollar gold pieces and not one of them was minted any later than 1849. Where did this lady come from?

What did I care? $900 in gold coins was the first bit of money I had seen come in for 3 weeks. Maybe I could pay off Phyllis after all. I decided to just leave her 2 coins and a note promising more soon in an envelope in the top drawer of her desk. It was only about a quarter of her back pay and didn't even account for her current pay. I figured she would catch up with me next week anyway and I could give her another 40 bucks to keep her interested. I pocketed the envelope and then I collected my hat and coat and my old peacemaker and locked up the office.

I think I will have to pay old Jack Dennison a little visit on my way home tonight. I hope he can make change for a 20.




To be continued . . . .






All material contained herewith
has been copyrighted by Pinecone Productions