The phone rings.
“Hello? I’m Sofia Reynolds. I called earlier, but your secretary answered. She said you’d be available now. I need your help.”
“Hold on, miss, I need to write all of this down. Your name again?” Robin Smith, private eye, scoots their chair over, pushes up the sleeves of their seersucker shirt, and reaches for a notepad amidst the mess of a desk. They pull the pencil from behind their ear.
The woman on the other end begins again, impatiently. “Sofia Reynolds, but that’s not important. My, ah, my friend. She’s been robbed. I need you to find the culprit.”
Robin sighs, nearly inaudibly. Another robbery. When would the interesting cases start coming in? They’d been in the business for only two years, sure, but they’re an esteemed detective! People should know that by now. Robin’s last case, also a robbery, had been solved in three days, easy.
“Do you know anything about the robbery? Were you with your friend at the time?”
“Well, no. I wasn’t. But she didn’t want to call; she said it wasn’t important. But it is!”
“And why’s that?” Robin taps their pencil on the notepad, slightly impatient. If she doesn’t have any information, this isn’t worth their time.
“Well, the necklace that was stolen was her mother’s. And they’re not on the best of terms. It's the last thing she has of her mother’s.”
“Hmm, I see. I can’t really help if I don’t have anything to go on. Do you know where she was at the time of the robbery? Any suspects you can think of?”
There’s silence for a few seconds, and then Ms. Reynolds whispers, “She was at the Moon Room on July 19th, 1924.” Her words are apprehensive, which makes sense considering the Moon Room is one of the most popular speakeasies in town, having jumped in popularity after Prohibition started.
“Don’t worry, I’m not police.” Robin smiles. “But what about suspects?”
“Velma, my friend, said that it was definitely a man who took the necklace. She said that they had been talking all night.”
“A possible suitor, then?” Robin says this mostly to provoke Ms. Reynolds; they figure Velma isn’t just a “friend,” but they want to test the theory.
Sofia Reynolds’s scoff is all they need. “No! How could you say such a thing? She’s a sensible young lady, and wouldn’t go consorting with a complete stranger!”
“Relax, Ms. Reynolds. I was only teasing. Though, in all seriousness, do you suppose that this man didn’t see it that way? I’m assuming they had both had a bit to drink, and intoxicated people act differently from their sober selves, as I’m sure you know. Actually, did Velma catch the man’s name? You said they were speaking all night, so it seems likely she might know.”
“She only caught his first name, Robert. And, yes, I suppose that he might have stolen the necklace after being denied. It does seem the kind of thing a man like that would do, no offense, of course.”
“No offense taken; I am certainly not that kind of man,” Robin chuckles. “What was Velma’s last name?”
“Forney.”
Robin falters. “Hold on, the Velma Forney? The disgraced aristocrat?” This case just got a lot more interesting. The Forneys were one of the best-known families in Chicago, possibly in cahoots with Al Capone. Velma Forney had been dismissed for her scandalous vaudeville act.
“Yes. Don’t make a big deal of it, all right? She doesn’t like to talk about family. It’s a sore subject, obviously.” Ms. Reynolds sounds exasperated.
“Right. Does that mean I’ll be speaking with her?”
“Well, you need all the clues possible, right?” So she’ll be one of those clients. Excited about every new lead, curious about every little thing. Robin sighs. These people are always a handful.
“That’s true. When will I see her?”
“Tomorrow is probably convenient, since it’s her day off.”
“Okay,” Robin responds, pulling out a calendar. “I’m free at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow. Does that work?”
“That’s swell.”
Robin gives Ms. Reynolds the address before hanging up.
“Mari!”
There’s a clattering of footsteps, and then the door opens. Mari stands in the doorway, magenta dress wrinkled and long braids messy. “Yes, boss?”
“Mari, what have I told you? You’re my sister; you don’t gotta call me boss.”
She rolls her eyes. “But it’s fun. Professional.”
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s mostly strange. Makes me sound like some corporate bigwig — and that, I am not.”
Mari climbs onto Robin’s desk. “I guess you’re right. What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a case. And you’ll never guess with who.” Mari has always been very interested in town gossip, and Robin knows that the chance even to see Velma Forney in person will send her into a fit of excitement.
“Velma Forney, I know. That Reynolds girl told me on the phone.” Mari beams.
“And you didn’t have an episode?” This is surprising information.
“Oh, no, I definitely did.” Mari laughs. “Why do you think I look so disheveled? I had to run laps around the block to dispel all the extra energy.”
“Well, we’re meeting the clients at 4:00 tomorrow, so you better be ready.”
“Aye, aye, boss.” Mari salutes and runs out of the room before Robin can say anything.
This case would be tricky. The Forneys were formidable, their enemies more so.
“Hello? I’m Sofia Reynolds. I called earlier, but your secretary answered. She said you’d be available now. I need your help.”
“Hold on, miss, I need to write all of this down. Your name again?” Robin Smith, private eye, scoots their chair over, pushes up the sleeves of their seersucker shirt, and reaches for a notepad amidst the mess of a desk. They pull the pencil from behind their ear.
The woman on the other end begins again, impatiently. “Sofia Reynolds, but that’s not important. My, ah, my friend. She’s been robbed. I need you to find the culprit.”
Robin sighs, nearly inaudibly. Another robbery. When would the interesting cases start coming in? They’d been in the business for only two years, sure, but they’re an esteemed detective! People should know that by now. Robin’s last case, also a robbery, had been solved in three days, easy.
“Do you know anything about the robbery? Were you with your friend at the time?”
“Well, no. I wasn’t. But she didn’t want to call; she said it wasn’t important. But it is!”
“And why’s that?” Robin taps their pencil on the notepad, slightly impatient. If she doesn’t have any information, this isn’t worth their time.
“Well, the necklace that was stolen was her mother’s. And they’re not on the best of terms. It's the last thing she has of her mother’s.”
“Hmm, I see. I can’t really help if I don’t have anything to go on. Do you know where she was at the time of the robbery? Any suspects you can think of?”
There’s silence for a few seconds, and then Ms. Reynolds whispers, “She was at the Moon Room on July 19th, 1924.” Her words are apprehensive, which makes sense considering the Moon Room is one of the most popular speakeasies in town, having jumped in popularity after Prohibition started.
“Don’t worry, I’m not police.” Robin smiles. “But what about suspects?”
“Velma, my friend, said that it was definitely a man who took the necklace. She said that they had been talking all night.”
“A possible suitor, then?” Robin says this mostly to provoke Ms. Reynolds; they figure Velma isn’t just a “friend,” but they want to test the theory.
Sofia Reynolds’s scoff is all they need. “No! How could you say such a thing? She’s a sensible young lady, and wouldn’t go consorting with a complete stranger!”
“Relax, Ms. Reynolds. I was only teasing. Though, in all seriousness, do you suppose that this man didn’t see it that way? I’m assuming they had both had a bit to drink, and intoxicated people act differently from their sober selves, as I’m sure you know. Actually, did Velma catch the man’s name? You said they were speaking all night, so it seems likely she might know.”
“She only caught his first name, Robert. And, yes, I suppose that he might have stolen the necklace after being denied. It does seem the kind of thing a man like that would do, no offense, of course.”
“No offense taken; I am certainly not that kind of man,” Robin chuckles. “What was Velma’s last name?”
“Forney.”
Robin falters. “Hold on, the Velma Forney? The disgraced aristocrat?” This case just got a lot more interesting. The Forneys were one of the best-known families in Chicago, possibly in cahoots with Al Capone. Velma Forney had been dismissed for her scandalous vaudeville act.
“Yes. Don’t make a big deal of it, all right? She doesn’t like to talk about family. It’s a sore subject, obviously.” Ms. Reynolds sounds exasperated.
“Right. Does that mean I’ll be speaking with her?”
“Well, you need all the clues possible, right?” So she’ll be one of those clients. Excited about every new lead, curious about every little thing. Robin sighs. These people are always a handful.
“That’s true. When will I see her?”
“Tomorrow is probably convenient, since it’s her day off.”
“Okay,” Robin responds, pulling out a calendar. “I’m free at 4:00 p.m. tomorrow. Does that work?”
“That’s swell.”
Robin gives Ms. Reynolds the address before hanging up.
“Mari!”
There’s a clattering of footsteps, and then the door opens. Mari stands in the doorway, magenta dress wrinkled and long braids messy. “Yes, boss?”
“Mari, what have I told you? You’re my sister; you don’t gotta call me boss.”
She rolls her eyes. “But it’s fun. Professional.”
“Yeah, yeah, but it’s mostly strange. Makes me sound like some corporate bigwig — and that, I am not.”
Mari climbs onto Robin’s desk. “I guess you’re right. What’s going on?”
“We’ve got a case. And you’ll never guess with who.” Mari has always been very interested in town gossip, and Robin knows that the chance even to see Velma Forney in person will send her into a fit of excitement.
“Velma Forney, I know. That Reynolds girl told me on the phone.” Mari beams.
“And you didn’t have an episode?” This is surprising information.
“Oh, no, I definitely did.” Mari laughs. “Why do you think I look so disheveled? I had to run laps around the block to dispel all the extra energy.”
“Well, we’re meeting the clients at 4:00 tomorrow, so you better be ready.”
“Aye, aye, boss.” Mari salutes and runs out of the room before Robin can say anything.
This case would be tricky. The Forneys were formidable, their enemies more so.