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Chapter One: Call
A Spade a Spade
This was a day like every other, the same predictable routine that jump-started my morning and led me to the same place every day. The Spade Detective Agency; that's me, Detective Samantha Spade, Proprietor. I inherited the business from a long line of Spade detectives. You call a Spade a Spade, or at least you do with my lineage and in my line of work. Being snoopy, sneaky, and slippery, outfitted in a dull, drab oversized fashion disaster trench coat, was not Number 1 on my list of career choices or wardrobes. But I had a reputation to uphold and a duty to fulfill. I was a Spade and I knew what was expected of me. Anything less and I would have heard all the Spades before me, who should have been resting in peace, turning over in their graves and haunting me for the rest of my life. But I digress.... I climbed the staircase to my corner office overlooking the mad city streets; city streets that were never quiet and never slowed down. I wonder what today holds in store for me, I mused, as I unlocked the door to my office. I sat down at my desk, leaned back in my chair and reflected on how drained I was from that last case I had just wrapped up. It was a difficult case; long and drawn out; a lot of lives would never be the same because of it. Neither would I, but little did I know this case was a Sunday school picnic compared to who and what I, Samantha Spade, was about to encounter. A shuffling noise at the door jarred me back to reality. Before I could get to the door to open it, an envelope was slipped under the door. Picking it up, I quickly opened the door but all I saw was an empty staircase. I wasn't perplexed; I had encountered this MO before and his name was Merlin. In actuality, I don't know his real name. I've never bothered to ask him and he's never told me otherwise. This is what I call him and he doesn't seem to mind--Merlin the Magician, because he can disappear into thin air quicker than you can wave a magic wand. Merlin never stays in one place. He's always on the move and always looking over his shoulder. Life decided to deal Merlin some unfair, cheating hands. But as cheated as Merlin had been and as unfairly as he had been treated, he was a fair, honest soul. That’s something I don't encounter too much with people in my occupation. I've had to shake more than my share of those unfair cheating hands myself. When you’re a detective, trust is a rare commodity. But I knew I could trust and shake a fair hand with Merlin and he knew he could trust and shake a fair hand with me. Merlin was my informant. In my line of work you need eyes and ears in the back of your head and Merlin was my extra set. Chapter Two: Of
All The Detective Agencies in the World....
What deep, dark revealing information did Merlin have for me this time, I wondered? I sat down, opened the envelope, and to my surprise, saw that the handwriting wasn't Merlin's. This was odd. The letter read: Dear Ms. Spade, It is with the utmost urgency that I wish to employ your services. I will be at your office tomorrow morning at 10:00 am sharp. I trust this will not inconvenience you in any way. Until tomorrow, A perspective client H-m-m-m-m...very interesting, very mysterious. Well, prospective client, I guess it might not have occurred to you that I might have other obligations tomorrow morning at 10:00am sharp. But as chance has it, I don't. I read the letter one more time, still wondering... h-mm-m...this person gave me no name, no address, no telephone number, no email, no nothing. OK Mr. or Ms Perspective Client, I'm not holding my breath waiting on you to show up. The phone rang. “Spade Detective Agency, “ I barked into the telephone. “Yo, Sammy, it's Merlin,” said a familiar voice. He liked to call me Sammy and I didn't mind at all. “What's going on, Merlin?” I asked. “Are you playing pranks on me?” “ No, why?” he questioned. “You haven't become a mail carrier, have you?” I queried. “What do you mean?” he asked back, puzzled. “All kidding aside, Merlin, did you deliver a letter to my office earlier this morning and slip it under the door?” said I in a mock-stern voice. “All kidding aside, no way, Sammy. I would have delivered it to you personally. You on to something, Sammy?” Merlin asked inquisitively. “Maybe, not sure,” I said. I read Merlin the anonymous, mysterious letter. He had the same reaction I did. “I'll see if I can sniff anything out on my end,” he promised. “OK, hound dog, if there's anyone that can dig up all the info I need, it's you, Merlin!” I chuckled softly. “Throw me a bone here, Sammy!” he threw back at me in mock retort. “Check in with you later, Sammy--or sooner if I discover any details about the mystery client.” I hung up the phone and glanced out the window into a cheerless sky. The next day, another dark stormy gloom hovered over the sky on this dreary Friday morning. The time from the dusty old clock on the wall: 9:59am. Guess my new prospective client is a no show, I mused. I heard the clock chime announce10:00am exactly, then a knock at my door. I must admit, I was taken aback. I never actually thought I would hear that knock at the door. A knock that would knock me for a loop and would change my life forever. “Come in,” I announced. The door opened slowly. Standing before me was a shadow, a tall  man in a long dark trench coat
and a hat pulled down low to cover his eyes. “Are you Ms. Spade?” he asked in a smoky, smooth voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I am and who might you be? I like for my prospective clients to have names and you didn't give me one, sir. But please, do come in and have a seat. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind.” On this note, he glided toward the vacant chair with a confidence, a grace, an overwhelming, commanding presence that riveted me. This was a man of importance, a man with a very distinct air about him. I immediately had the strong impression that he was the kind of man who got whatever he wanted and possibly stepped on more than a few toes along the way. Thus, I concluded, requiring my services. But I mustn’t judge or jump to conclusions this early in the game, I quickly admonished myself. “What’s brought you to my agency and how can I be of service?” I said, getting quickly to the point with this strange man. No movement, only silence. He knew full well I was watching his every move as he sat cautiously in his chair. Even with his hat pulled low over his eyes, I knew full well he was watching my every move too. “Let's cut to the chase.” I said, matter of factly. “If I am to be of any help to you, you have to tell who you are and what it is you wish me to do. What is it exactly that you wish me to help you with?” Nothing, dead silence. He may as well have been a statute sitting in the chair across from me. “You said in your letter it was with the utmost urgency that you wished to employ my services. Obviously you need help or you wouldn't be here. Now, once again, what is it exactly I can do for you?” With just the barest hint of sarcasm, I added, “Are you getting all this or am I going too fast for you?”  Slowly my
mystery client’s head tilted towards one side as he said, “I'm not
trying to conceal....” I impatiently interrupted him before he could finish. “Everybody has something to conceal.” “Yes, Ms. Spade, I do urgently need to employ your services. Money is no object. Whatever your fee, I'll pay it,” he replied, apparently unruffled by my rude interruption. Slowly he rose from his chair, walked over to my desk and handed me a business card. “Here's my card, Ms. Spade.” To my bewilderment, I saw there was no name or telephone number, only a symbol of a cross. “There's no name or telephone contact number I can reach you at on this card, sir,” I said, with now more than a hint of annoyance. He strode to the door, opened it, turned crisply toward me and announced in that smoky voice, “You don't call me, I call you.” Then he exited swiftly, vanishing more quickly than even my friend Merlin could have done. There was something about this man, something indeed. Do I really want to get involved in this case or not? Do I tell him I will or won't take his case? Chasing these questions around in my head, I took another look-see at his business card and -- there was his name! Where did that come from? There was no name on this card when I looked at it before. The name of this man had appeared in front of me on this card as mysteriously as the man himself appeared in front of me just a few minutes ago. I think whatever decision I make regarding this case, I'm headed for...dare I even say it? Oh, I don't mind a reasonable amount of trouble, trouble is my business, but this is somehow different. Of all the detective agencies in the world, he had to walk into mine. His name was Jacob Kell and every instinct I had was telling me that this man was dangerous in more ways than one... Chapter
Three: Cat and Mouse Slouched deep in my chair
in intense thought, I sat strategically planning what my next move
should be or
even if there should be a next move regarding Mr. Jacob Kell. I have
encountered some characters in my profession, but he is….. “Sammy?” The
sound of my name snapped me back to
reality. Merlin stood staring at me with
great concern on his face. “You OK?” he asked. Sighing a “yeah” with
exasperation, I sat up straight in my chair and rested both elbows on
my desk.
In one hand I held up Jacob Kell’s business card, then handed it to
Merlin. “What
do you make of this, Merlin?” “This by any chance
wouldn’t belong to your mystery client, would it?” “It sure does,” I answered
back. “Mystery client has a name
– Jacob Kell. But that seems to be all he has. No address, no telephone
numbers, no contact anything. What’s he like?” Merlin asked
inquisitively. “Very illusive, very edgy,
shrouded by mystery. Right now he’s being very evasive and very
secretive;
playing a game of cat and mouse with me. He’s asking for my help, but
won’t
tell me exactly what he needs help with. He left reciting the old
familiar
tune--don’t call me, I’ll call you.” “What’s with this cross on
his card? Is he a man of the cloth?” asked Merlin as he flung himself
down into
the chair in front of my desk. “I don’t know the answer
to either of those questions yet. Do you recognize anything distinctive
about
that cross? Any distinct markings on it or possibly anything to go on?”
I asked
Merlin with almost a plead in my voice. For a few seconds Merlin was
silent
with nothing but his fierce gaze fixed on the cross. “Not that I can see at
this point, but his name is written in a Celtic font,” looking up at me
after finally
breaking his fixed gaze on the cross. “Celtic Garamond the 2nd
to be exact,” I interjected. “That’s one thing I like
about you Sammy, you don’t miss one little miniscule detail!” Merlin
exclaimed. “Well, I can say the same
for you my friend,” I exclaimed, matching his enthusiasm. “All that
time you
had me believing you were fixated with the cross, but the font his name
is
written in didn’t escape your eagle eyes, did it? We make a good team,
Merlin.” “That we do, Sammy. Now
back to specifics. Sounds to me as if you’re going to pursue this case
whether this
Jacob Kell comes back or not,” said Merlin in a matter of fact way. “Well, Merlin, when you
walked in, that’s what my thoughts were so focused on,” I said leaning
back in
my chair. “Trying to make a decision about whether to take on this case
and
this man with all his mystery and oddities in tow. I think I’ve already
made my
decision, don’t you?” “Well, Sammy, Jacob Kell’s
‘cross’ may not have any distinct markings on it, but this case has
your
distinct markings written all over it. You’ve already dived in head
first on
this case,” said Merlin as he smiled and
gave me a slight wink all at the same time. “You need my help”? Merlin
asked as
he stood up. “You know I do,” I smiled
backed at him. Merlin knew what I needed him to do before I even asked.
“I’ll keep my eyes and
ears open on the street and poke around to see what I can find about
the
mysterious Jacob Kell,” promised Merlin as he made his way to the door.
“Oh, do
you mind if I take the mysterious Mr. Kell’s business card with me? I
want to
look further into the origins of this cross.” “Sure, please do.” I
handed Merlin the card. “I’ll be in touch, Sammy.
See you later.” He quickly closed the
door behind him. “Thanks, Merlin,” I
shouted after him. I walked over to the
window and looked out at the skyline and noticed that for once you
could see
the pink, purple and blue swirls of color that streaked the sky along
with the
glowing orange ball that lowered little by little as the sun set over
the city.
A much needed and pleasant alternative to a skyline that normally
possessed only
fog, smog and a cloudy, dirty haze. My mind drifted back to
the Jacob Kell encounter. As I watched what was left of the glowing
orange ball
finally descend behind a skyscraper, I expressed my thoughts aloud. “OK, Mr. Kell, it’s all up to you now. The
ball’s in your court. You WILL play by my rules though, whether you
like it or
not.” On that note of self-confidence, I
bid the skyline adieu for the evening. I turned out the lights to leave
when
the phone rang. Merlin my Magician must have uncovered something
already, I
thought as I picked up the phone in the semi-darkness. Before I could
utter a
word into the receiver, I heard the same whispery, smoky, smooth voice
on the other
end of the telephone that I had heard earlier in person. It’s almost as
if he knew
I was thinking about him… “Ms. Spade, this is Jacob
Kell. I said I would be in touch.” “So you did, Mr. Kell.
What can I do for you?” I asked him, expecting no more of an answer to
this
question than the ones I had gotten to previous questions I asked when
I met
with him. “I would like to meet with
you again tomorrow morning, 10am.” It
wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Does he know how to sweet
talk a lady or what? I thought to myself, shaking my head at his
imperious tone. What a piece of work this man is,
doesn’t bother to ask, he demands. “Do we have an appointment
or not, Ms. Spade?” Well, at least this time
he asked instead of demanding, I thought. “That will be fine, Mr. Kell.
I will
see you tomorrow morning at precisely 10am sharp. Now good night, Mr.
Kell,” I
retorted back sharply, this time with me in Demand Central. Will tomorrow’s meeting
with Jacob Kell be as much of a game of cat and mouse as the first
encounter
with him had been? I wondered as I
locked up, Tired and weary, I headed for the refuge of home. I can’t
worry
about that right now, I’ll worry about that tomorrow. After all
tomorrow is
another day. Chapter
Four: Decap With a Twist The clock made the announcement
loud and clear – 10am on the dot. With its announcement came a knock on
the
door. “Come in,” I invited. The door opened slowly, playing a medley of
creaks,
tweaks and squeaks. I have got to oil
that door, expressing this thought for about the one billionth time to
myself.
The door opened so slowly it was eerie. I
felt like I was watching a scene from a horror movie. I
sat paralyzed
with my eyes in a frozen stare fixed upon the door, waiting to see who
or what
was about to appear… The figure of a man dressed
in a long trench coat with a hat pulled down low to cover his eyes
loomed in
the doorway. “Good morning, Mr. Kell. Thank you for being so prompt and
please
come in and have a seat,” I exclaimed, trying to be as cheery as
possible. The one eye that was not
shadowed by the brim
of his hat kept cutting at me with surreptitious glances as if it were
about to
launch knives of various sizes straight for my heart and other places
of
interest above that. “Having a rough morning,
Mr. Kell?” I asked him in a fruitless attempt to make this awkward
situation as
pleasant as possible. His look made it clear in no uncertain terms that
he
wanted no part of any pleasantries of any kind. Trying
to be cheery with this man is like trying to be
cheery with the
Grim Reaper. “You remind me of someone,
Ms. Spade.” “Oh, who, Mr. Kell?” I
asked quickly, thinking maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions about
the
pleasantries. Maybe he could finally be coming around in an attempt to
be more
comfortable with me. You have to be ready for anything in this business
and you
better make sure you’ve prepared yourself for it too. “You ask too many
questions,” he said softly as a dark, brooding smirk fell over his
face. “Occupational hazard, Mr.
Kell. In case you've forgotten, I am a detective. It’s my job to ask
questions.
Did this last question happen to strike a nerve, Mr. Kell? What or whom
are you
running from or what or whom are you trying to find? I have already
deduced
you're on a quest of some kind and I WILL find out what it is. Be
assured of
this, Mr. Kell. Stop trying to intimidate me and be...” He rudely interrupted
before I could finish my sentence. “What's makes you think I'm trying
to
intimidate you, Ms. Spade?” “Aren't you, Mr. Kell? Or
is it perhaps the other way around? I hesitated a millisecond and
changing my
tone ever so slightly, I said, “Look, Mr. Kell, all I ask is that you
be honest
with me-- if you can find that within yourself-- so I can do everything
I can
to help you find whatever it is you are so desperately seeking. Is it
something
or someone now in the present? It is something or someone that will
play a
pivotal role in how your future will take shape? Or is it something or
someone
from your past? Now, who are you, Jacob
Kell, and where did you come from?” I waited for what seemed like an
eternity
for him to answer. “Mr. Kell, yesterday I
started running background investigations on you. I don’t leave a stone
unturned. I work from one end of the universe to the other. In other
words, I search
from can to can’t.” He kept his steely blue eyes firmly fixed on me
without not
so much as a blink. “Did you really think for one minute I would not
have you
investigated, Mr. Kell? That I would not do background checks on you?
So far I
have turned up nothing, but it won’t stay that way for long. Be straightforward with me or I'll throw you
out and mark this case down as null and void! Are
you really Jacob Kell or is this an alias for
protection? Now I ask
you for the second and last time, WHO ARE YOU, JACOB KELL AND WHERE DID
YOU
COME FROM?”
Chapter
Five: Stop the Madness Am I still glowing from
the intense heat of his mighty rage and not regained my senses, I
thought, or did I really detect a hint of
"feeling" in his eyes, as they dissipated from red hot glowing embers
to cool steel blue? Could it be that this man might actually be capable
of
"feeling," of showing real human emotion? At one point in time, maybe
yes, I conjectured. Maybe "feeling" is what’s turned him into the
cold, distant, almost inhuman person he is today. In other words, I
have
surmised that the real Jacob Kell died inside long, long ago. When
you're hurt
enough and wounds are so horribly deep, there's no medicinal cure. The
only
cure is to die inside. Replace the beating heart with an artificial
one. One
that beats, one that keeps you alive, but is incapable of feeling. That
way
you're as secure as I fully expected him to
turn and walk out but he surprised me. Instead
he very calmly took his seat and hung his head
down. As I looked
at him, he had an exhausted air about him, as if almost drained. At
this moment,
I felt a sense of pity towards him. I got a second surprise as I
witnessed him
slowly remove his hat. This man has been full of surprises since the
first
second we met, so why should now be any different? For the first time, I was
actually able to get a good look at Mr. Jacob Kell. With the hat no “Sizing me up, are you Ms.
Spade?” he asked with a sarcastic slur. “Don’t flatter yourself,
Mr. Kell. But if you feel you need to
satisfy your ego, go right ahead and think that. But a detective sizes
everybody up. Another occupational hazard, don’t you know. A smart man
like
yourself should know that.” “You’re a smart….”.he
started to say but I quickly interrupted before he could finish. “Thank you Mr. Kell, I’ve
always thought of myself as rather intelligent,” knowing full well that
was not
what he was implying. “You think I’m smart?”
Kell asked with a wicked curl to his lips that quickly became a smirk,
meanwhile
pretending to ignore my previous remark as to my degree of intelligence. “Yes I do, I think you are
very smart, and you know you are,” I retorted, as our eyes as well as
our words
sparred with each other. “Well so am I, Mr. Kell. Now that the mutual
BS is out
of the way and we hopefully understand each other, if we’re going to
dance,
let’s dance; stop the madness and stop playing endgames with me and
let’s
proceed.” “Proceed,” he said,
nodding his head. Chapter
Six: Devil Or
Fallen Angel? “Alright, let’s start at
the beginning,” I said. ”Let me reiterate, you've come to me for help,
so let
me help you. In order to help, I've got to ask questions and lots of
them.
You've got to try and give me answers to these questions as honestly as
you can
even though it may not put you in the best possible light. I'm not here
to
judge you. I'm here to find answers. That's what you hired me for, no
more and
no less.” “Now once again, who are
you, Jacob Kell, and where did you come from? I
need some history, some past that can help
you now, maybe even help you in the future. You can’t move forward
while
looking behind. The past is the key to the future, Mr. Kell, and the
future is
the key to the past. Learn from yesterday and your tomorrows will be
marked by
wisdom.” “That’s very poetic, Ms.
Spade. You don’t really strike me as the poetic type though,” he said
with a
hint of that familiar sarcasm in his voice. “Well, I guess I have my
moments, plus it makes a lot of sense if you get right down to the
details. Are you trying to learn
something from yesterday, Mr. Kell? Some past hidden details perhaps?
Those who
forget the past are doomed to repeat it.” “Some more of your poetic
details, Ms. Spade? he asked, now more flippantly than before. “Sorry to disappoint you,
Mr. Kell, but I can’t take the credit on this one. I heard it in a
movie. This
man was a charming devil too. Many times if you dig hard enough, you
might
discover the devil is in the details.” “Let me guess, more words
of wisdom from your charming ‘poetic devil?’” he asked with a smart
aleck
sneer. “As a matter of fact it
is, and he could sure give you a run for your money!” I
jabbed back. “What’s that supposed to
mean?” Kell asked with fire and ice embers once again emanating hot and
cold
from his eyes. “Take it anyway you like,
Mr. Kell,” I rejoindered with my own round of smoking cold icicle
daggers aimed
right between his eyes. “There’s more where that came from!” “Is it your Prince of
Poetic Darkness giving me a run for my money, or is it you, Ms. Spade?”
he
snapped with a belligerent tone. “Mr. Kell, you and my
Prince of Poetic Darkness have a lot in common.” I
tried to say more, but his interruption
broke it off…. “Is that so? So
do you and the Angel of Darkness, Ms.
Spade,” firing yet another zinger at me. “I keep my pitchfork under
my desk, Mr. Kell. Where do you keep yours?” I asked, mentally figuring
the
score here. It’s pretty much even, I would say – the devil and angel
seem to be
tied. “Are you a religious man, Mr. Kell?” “Why do you ask?” His
eyes narrowed as he looked at me suspiciously. “The cross on your
business card. Is the cross on your card for religious purposes or is
it
strictly for decorative purposes?” ‘Do you think me to be the
Prince of Darkness, Ms. Spade? He leaned
forwarded slightly, with a devil may care look on his face, so to speak. “A prince? Again, satisfy
your own ego on that one; whatever floats your boat, Mr. Kell. You are
‘dark,’
I will give you that one, then again so are “Fallen Angels.” But you didn’t answer my previous question,
Mr. Kell.” On that note, he arose
from his chair and announced that he had another appointment, or so he
said. “I
have to go. I’ll be in touch,” he
exclaimed as he turned, swiftly making his way away from me towards the
door.
He paused as his hand tightly gripped the doorknob. Watching him, a shimmer of
light flickered from an object that appeared to be coming from Thawing out my brain and
gathering my wits, I realized that I had hit an exposed nerve asking
him about
his religious preferences. But why? That’s what I want to know and I
will know.
The cross on his card and now this. No doubt about it, this man has
strong
religious ties. These are the ties that bind and I do believe these
might be
just the ties I need to bind together some answers about the mysterious
Mr.
Jacob Kell. I slammed my hands down on
my desk in exasperation. This is shaping
up to be the most unusual case I've ever had. What is it about this
case? What
is it about this man? Is it the
"bad boy'" persona he projects? No, that’s
never held any credence with me. The bad boy
thing is just a
projection of insecure low self esteem. Can't they see that the
"badder" they try to project, the less of a man it makes them? It diminishes their masculinity. I’m
entitled to my own opinion, but enough of
them. Back to the issue at hand, I thought as I brushed off my
psychological
evaluations of "bad, bad, bad, bad boys". He’s a good sparring
partner, I have to give him credit for that. I think I’ve met my match
as far
as this goes; of course he’ll never know this from me. Seriously though, there's
a real danger in this man and to this man. It's more than just a
dangerous side
to him. It's not a fear I have of him, even though maybe I should fear
him. I
feel I've only seen so far, just the top layer of this man’s wrath. I
feel as
if I've only scratched the surface as far as seeing this man’s
dangerous side.
Don't get me wrong, that's all I ever see in my business but this is
different,
completely different. Deep down, I genuinely want to help this man, but
why?
He’s rude, mean, manipulative, overbearing, and this seems to be some
of his
good traits from what I’ve seen so far. I intend to find out the
answers to my ‘whys”
and a lot more. The truth is this man does indeed intimidate me, but
like
Merlin said, I’ve already dived in head first on this case. It’s either
sink or
swim. I know how to swim so I’m not about to turn back now. Could it be
perhaps
that Jacob Kell and I share a common denominator other than danger?
We’ll see…
© Copyright 2006 and 2007 by Kell's Belles |
The
blue in his eyes seemed
to turn to red-hot steel, suddenly radiating hellfire as he sprang to
his feet,
ready to unleash his wrathful swath of destruction. He hovered
menacingly over
me, raising his hand as if to send a beam of that hellfire deep into my
head,
leaving me a twisted, mangled, decapitated shish-ka-bob. But almost as
quickly
as the fire and brimstone had reared up. it suddenly began to
extinguish. For
whatever reason, he decided to spare me from being charbroiled. This
was new, I
thought…
longer
covering one eye, I could see two blue gray eyes, brown hair in a
fashionable
buzz cut, and a perfectly chiseled profile. He’s Celtic, no doubt about
it. I
don’t need a background check to tell me this, I can tell it by looking
at him,
I thought as I continued to look over every inch of his face.
the floor.
Looking down. I saw where the source of the light was coming from and
it wasn’t
anything on the floor. It was coming from his shoes, of all places.
Jacob Kell
had three silver crosses imbedded into the back of his shoes. I was as
stunned
as a deer frozen in oncoming headlights. So stunned, in fact, that I
can’t
recall what I said or even if I said anything
to him as he made his exit.