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Cape Cod Case
Inquiry:
To the offices of Droop & Doc,
Let me introduce myself. My name is Esmerelda Fitzgerald. I am an old woman now, spending my final years tending my ranch in Lolo, Montana. I came across your advertisement on eShamus.nr and saw that you would be open for business on Cape Cod. I would appreciate if you would consider taking my case.
I come from a prominent family in Baltimore (descended from Eugenius Fitzgerald, who made a fortune supplying the British army during the War of Independence). While my brother, Rodolpho, and I grew up in privilege, our childhood was not without hardship. When my brother had trouble with reading - dyslexia had yet to become an acceptable diagnosis - our father spurned him. Instead we grew up listening to the tales our grandfather, a prominent collector, told us about the intrigue and lost treasures of the art world. My brother was particularly transfixed by the story of how priceless artifacts had been stolen from around Europe and secreted to America before vanishing upon arrival.
After Rodolpho came back from the war, our parents expected this curiosity to have subsided. Instead, he returned obsessed. My brother told me that when he had been stationed in Italy, he encountered a one-armed artifacts dealer in Bologna who confirmed the story we had heard as children. The dealer told him that smugglers had used the Marconi telegraph station in Wellfleet - the first transatlantic station - to coordinate their covert operation and slip past customs. But that something had gone wrong once the shipments had arrived.
Consumed with finding the treasure, my brother set off to the Cape in our family's sloop. In his letters to me, Rodolpho reported that he was making headway but implied that he was not the only party interested in the treasure. But his letters began to arrive less frequently. Our parents grew worried and had the police try to track my brother down; his sloop was abandoned and no one in town had seen him in weeks. No body was ever discovered but my brother was never heard from again. In his last correspondence to me, Rodolpho mentioned that he was getting closer to unravelling the mystery but that the trail "could have a foul end."
After all these years, I want nothing more than to learn of my brother's fate. For any information you can find, I'd show my gratitude.
Sincerely,Esmerelda Fitzgerald
From the desk of Esmerelda FitzgeraldOwner & Proprietor, Little Lolo Bighorn~Sheep sides now on sale~
Response:
Dear Ms. Fitzgerald,
We thank you for your letter, though the agency courteously requests that all future inquiries or referrals be submitted through our official website; the agency's professional relationship with eShamus.nr ended after a digital inventory revealed that most browsers cannot detect the server's IP address. A preliminary investigation found that the problem could have something to do with our proxy, firewall, or DNS configuration, but we have yet to take action. The clues are confusing.
We have reviewed our current caseload and would gladly take you as a client. To begin, there are several questions.
Firstly, Who? Secondly, What? Thirdly, Where? Fourthly, Why? Fifthly, When? And sixthly, How?We may come to seventhlies and eighthlies, but why complicate matters just yet. As you said, your brother was last living on a "sloop," and isn't that complicated language enough? One half of Droop & Doc thinks so.
Let's review what information you have already supplied. Please confirm these details: they will be filed along with your intake form, which you will shortly receive from our gum-chewing, girdle-popping executive assistant Lorraine, whom we affectionately call: "Hey, toots!"
WHO, of course, is your brother Rodolpho; though, in this case it would be WHOM. We forgive your error — just.
WHAT are the priceless artifacts, "lost treasures of the art world," smuggled out of: WHERE? Europe, into the Land of Liberty, around the 18th century. This is WHERE we assume these objects WER—ahem, were, stashed.
Your WHY is more complicated, Ms. Fitzgerald, because, of course, there are several WHYs.
The topmost WHY, we're sad to say, is the WHY of most criminal activity, Ms. Fitzgerald: Greed. A lust for material wealth. As Leigh Bardugo said:
"What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men.”
Bardugo's is a short list. Off the top of our head, we could add: refills at McDonalds, shrimp at Red Lobster, and patience at Droop & Doc: Private Investigators. What was that last one? Yes, Ms. Fitzgerald: infinite patience at Droop & Doc: Private Investigators. You've certainly picked the best private detective agency in the world, Ms. Fitzgerald, and because of that, we think of you as one of the best people in the world.
Your second WHY, Ms. Fitzgerald, regards your brother, Rodolpho. WHY have you submitted this inquiry? Because Rodolpho has GONE MISSING. Pardon our lean on the uppercase. It felt right.
We are nearly there, Ms. Fitzgerald: WHEN? WHEN did Rodolpho disappear? Why, it's right there in black and white: Rodolpho disappeared many years ago; maybe even many decades. Which brings us to another, marginal, WHY: WHY the hell do you care? He's been gone longer than you've known him, you self-described "old woman."
But ours is not the place to judge, Ms. Fitzgerald. If an ape wants to go shit, who are we to stop a passerby from coining the term "apeshit"?
We are not one to stop anyone from doing anything, Ms. Fitzgerald. We're one to start ourselves to do everything, Madame. That's the agency's motto. And, we already placed your case in our capable hands. We should inform you, however, that nothing in your eventual contract prohibits us from opening a case on YOU after your case has been solved.
Finally, we have HOW. HOW did Rodolpho disappear? This is the missing link. Once we find our HOW, we find your peace, Madame.
As stated above, please confirm these details so that Droop & Doc can begin their investigation.
We thank you for your business and wish you a very pleasant day
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Patient zero
Patient did not suggest any special abilities nor disabilities of significance. For present discussion it is of interest to note that in the "Aussage" Test the patient gave a functional account, enumerating 100 items, 2 of which were incorrect, 98 of which the patient refused to verbally acknowledge but which were accommodatingly scratched out on the testing chambers’ blackboards with a dirty fingernail, instigating a riot in the misophonia ward, directly down the hall. Several guards are down and several more have had their ears cut off. Upon the second testing phase, aimed at determining pathological impressionability, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the patient accepted none of the invented suggestions which we proffered, indicating a high tolerance for manipulability and above average incredulousness. When she was informed of her extremely high score, the patient snorted and said only, “Yeah, right.”
Further patient back history reveals that she is one of seven children, three of whom are living, three having died in infancy, and one of whom is herself. The father had just recently died of “tuberculosis”, a vulgarity of her small southwestern home town meaning being violated to death with members of the vegetable tuber family. Patient relays that the county coroner found evidence of penetrative jícama, carrots, and, though in pickled form, Chinese artichoke that had been frozen solid and sharpened with either some kind of rock, or, more likely, a Chef'sChoice 1520 Angle Select Electric Knife Sharpener, several thousand of which had been shipped to the town’s gang system and which they had ever since been trying to unload upon the town’s private population, stuffed with drugs for a nominal upcharge, best upcharge around.
As for the patient’s mother, pregnancy with her was healthy, though the mother suffered a considerable shock when she stood on a passenger boat by the side of a man who jumped overboard and blundered his suicide when the sea beneath them was discovered to be a lightshow water simulation, part of the History of Pirates aquarium exhibit which their church group was graciously hosted by at the time.
The birth was difficult. The child weighed only 3 lbs. and the obstetrician had to root around in her mother’s cavity for nearly half an hour before finding the patient, who already displayed an immense aptitude for the game of hide-and-seek. Instruments were used, including a bullhorn, which the nurses yelled into for the patient to come out right this instant or no breast milk would be given. It was a breech presentation. That is, the patient came out hiny-first, wiggling it tauntingly in a display of pride for her insubordination.
At 2 years of age the patient was very ill with gastritis and what was said to be spinal meningitis, though the patient stated this would have been impossible as her spine had already been removed by an older male cousin who dabbled in wiccanism. She had some convulsions then. Had both walked and talked when she was about 13 months of age, three months sooner than the national average, but being three months stupider, most of her speech was virtually indistinguishable from the deranged ramblings of a Furby.
From the standpoint of general nervousness the patient was said to be one of the calmest in the family, although she was accustomed to drink five or six cups of coffee a day, and, quite bizarrely, reported often eating raw coffee beans covered with a kind of hard-shell, sweetened cocoa. None of the patient’s researchers had ever heard of this combination before, though the patient was insistent that it was common and known colloquially as “chocolate-covered coffee beans”. Even so, the patient was forcibly induced into a three-week coma upon receipt of this statement because the idea was so novel to her team. Interestingly, the hospital gift shop sells these dessert beans, and so perhaps we should concede the patient’s inducement was hasty. It is unfortunate that her report was written in pen.
Menstruation at 13 years, no irregularity. On examination we found a very well nourished and well-developed young woman of slouchy attitude, bushy eyebrows, and normal expression most of the time. Slight strabismus. Examination otherwise negative except for the fact that she is still regularly menstruating to this day at age of 22, which we note indicates an avoidance to cease menstruation.
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Empath Falls in Love With Emotionally Constipated Man: “Finally, I Can Rest”
Local empath Marianne Ducrev credits the truth in the idiom “opposites attract” for the eternal love she found in her new boyfriend, unsentimental and hostile Jim Fisher.
“As an empath, I’m acutely sensitive to the energies and emotions of others,” explains Ducrev. “It’s a gift, but it’s exhausting: all of my past relationships fell apart because the guys were too healthfully emotionally unguarded. With my sensitivities, I just couldn’t take it.
“It was like Times Squares, reading their millions of passing feelings, the minute changes moment to moment. Have you ever seen How To Steal A Million? The boomerang scene? Like that. Just like that. WEOOOOOWEOOOOOWEOOOOOOOO, in my head every ten seconds. Unbearable!”
“Now, with Jim, I never have to worry. He turned off his heart just like that museum chief of staff. God bless.”
Jim does not comment on the situation, sitting still in his seat next to Marianne, leaning slightly away from her, arms crossed over his chest, masticating on a toothpick. Quietly, forgetting that her mic is hot, Marianne tells him that toothpicks are for getting food out of your teeth, that he’s just wedging splinters between his teeth by chewing on it in this way. He twists his eyes to look at her, expressionlessly, and burps. She swoons.
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Suspicious? Young Woman Has Dragon Nails and Lots of Shiny Jewelry
“That’s not what I’m saying. No. I’m not saying that she’s absolutely a you-know-what, you know? She looks human, I guess. I’m just saying, it’s a little… you know,” prominent herpetologist, studier of reptiles, Professor Alan King meandered, meaningfully shaking a photo of the influential ‘baddie’ Instagrammer, Baby Pynk, in hand. “I’ve studied wild reptiles for thirty years, including all of the most important ancient accounts of the daddy of reptiles: the dragon. And the dragon is known for two things, alright? Long talons, of a rich distinct color that would match their richly distinct scales; and a penchant to hoard shiny objects,” the professor continued, poking hard at Baby Pynk’s holographic nails, protruding nearly an inch over her fingertips, and the young woman’s many layered necklaces and rings. “I’d like to put her in a room alone with a fly and see what her tongue does, is all.”
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Evil Eye Medallion Bad Luck After All
Evil Eye Medallion Obviously Just Kidding You All This Time; Is Super Bad Luck To Wear One, Duh
An internal communication from within one manufacturer of the popular pendant symbol the ancient Evil Eye, Tarania Fine Accessories, has ensnared the esoteric jewelry market in scandal.
The communication, an email chain between two advertising copywriters for the company, reveals the colleagues calling all those who wear the symbol “real dopes — where in Sam Hill does anyone go so off track basic intuition that they think wearing what we literally, I mean literally, call an Evil Eye, will keep bad luck away?”
His colleague responded, “I’ll say! I mean, if you’re a sexaholic, and you want to fend off the problematically sexy type of men and women from titillating your urges, do you wear a hat that says ‘I love two things: beer and sex’?
“You’re only making yourself a target! And the hat is stupid, too. So you’re just an idiot.”
Before the breach, the Evil Eye was widely believed to be endowed with the power to protect wearers from malevolent spirits.
“Boy, what dopes,” wrote one of the two copywriters. “Oh, yeah, and when I want to keep sensual feminine energy far away from me, I tie a string around a smaller, symbolic version of that ideal—say, the female astrological symbol—and wear it like a lei. Dopes! You’d just never, ever do that!”
The leak has caused sales of the talisman to plummet across the world. The two copywriters, while reticent to give commentary, grumbled to a parade of press that if they didn’t work day in and day out with these crazy evil spirit-magnets, getting poured into their moulds right next door on the fabrication floor, they might have had better luck; might not have got their emails hacked, is what they said. The two are now jointly suing for back hazard pay.
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