I’m really excited to have received “three things” from two different readers over the weekend. So I’m doing a mid-week post with the first set I was given. The story continues with new things from Provincial Lady.
Flight, Itch, Heartbreak
I was pretty sure the strange key had fallen from the getaway car. That would make it evidence, so I hurried over to the group of policemen to give it to whichever one was in charge. One of them grinned at me with a leer and muttered something I didn’t catch, but I knew nobody’s grandmother would have approved, based on the smirk on his mug. I had an itch to slap his face, officer of the law or not! A younger one pointed out the captain, so I pushed my way through to where he stood. I honestly tried to give him the bent key. I said I had something that might have dropped from the getaway car. But he just gave me a condescending laugh.
“This is man’s work doll face. It’s past your bedtime. Go on home.”
If that’s how they were going to be, those flattie cops could just kiss my… I’d just keep the key for myself. Maybe I could figure out something about it, and what was going on to boot. As I stomped back to my pals I was so mad I growled.
“Hey Pip, what’s the matter. Whatever it is, there’s no point getting sore about it,” Mona said with an empathetic smile. “Whatever those flatfoots were saying, you just ignore them.”
I sighed and nodded. Andy and Frankie hadn’t paid much attention to our exchange, but Boris had. He cleared his throat in a hesitant way, but the look in his eyes was pretty darned eager.
“You found something? Something dropped from that car as it took flight? Please, show me,” Boris asked hopefully.
I showed him the once beautifully worked key. “There is something inscribed on it, but I can’t make it out in this light.”
Boris handed the key back to me, but put his hand on my wrist in a gentle grip, like someone might do to make sure a small child didn’t move away. He hurriedly rummaged in his pockets. With a relieved breath he produced a match, which he struck across the sole of his shoe. I couldn’t help noticing his shoes were expensive looking for an out of work ballet dancer.
The sulfuric scent of the match tickled my nose. He took the key from me and held it near the tiny fire of the match, turning it this way and that. I don’t think I had ever seen anybody look so intently at anything.
“Can you tell what it says?” Mona asked.
Just then he gave a gasp as the matched burned down and singed his finger. Boris handed the key back to me. Without a word he walked away. The look in his eyes spoke of old and deep heartbreak.