At this very moment in the town of North Thrush, inside one of the many empty classrooms of the Longburrow School for Boys, young Ned sat at his desk alone. Ned found solace in solitude. But, the young Pie Maker to be was soon visited by a moment of inspiration. A moment of inspiration that for sure had been provided by the mere thought of his childhood sweet heart Chuck.
Soon after being struck by this inspiration, young Ned had quickly begun taking inventory of his surroundings in hope of making his moment of inspiration into reality. Young Ned took scissor to paper and fell into a trance.
Thirty three minutes and fifteen seconds later the trance had ended as Ned found himself amongst shreds of paper clippings and glue. It was at this moment that Ned admired in his artistry and it was on this day that Ned had begun a tradition. A tradition he would follow through every year on this day right though to his adulthood as the owner and operator of the Pie Hole.
What was it about this day that was different then the forty-four calendar days before it and the three hundred and twenty-one calendar days after it? That today, the day that inspiration found young Ned, was…
"Valentines Day, I hate Valentines Day." Emerson Cod declared between bites of his Dutch Apple Pie.
"I love Valentines Day." Charlotte "Chuck" Charles replied as she shared a smile with Ned, as he sat across from her at a booth inside the Pie Hole.
"You would." Emerson retorted with a sneer.
"What's your problem with Valentines Day?" Ned asked. Knowing full well of the diatribe that Emerson was sure to commence.
"I got my reasons." Emerson said shortly.
Both Chuck and Ned from across the table stared blankly at one another, both surprised at the shortness of Emerson reply. Emerson, did not need his immense skills of deduction as a private investigator to make note of the two's dumbfounded stare.
"Look. I don't need to explain myself to you two or anyone else. Like I said, I got my reasons. Now, if you'll excuse me." With a bump to Chuck's left arm, Emerson slid his way out of the booth and made his way out of the Pie Hole. In his wake he left behind a befuddled Ned and Chuck along with a delectable half eaten wedge of Dutch Apple Pie.
"That sounds like a mystery that is begging to be solved." Chuck said as she stabbed a piece of the Dutch Apple pie with her fork and with that same piece of pie now firmly planted amongst her inner cheek and tongue she replied slyly, "And we won't even need to visit the coroner."
After a long contently lonely day in his office, Emerson Cod finished up his knitting and placed his yarn and needle in the bottom draw of his desk. Before getting up from his office chair he gave one last look at the manila folder he had pulled from his file cabinet earlier that day but decided not to open for personal reasons.
With every second that past as he stared at the unopened folder, he could feel his heart beat heavier. In a split second display of a strength he fought through the anxiety and opened the folder. But, to Emerson's dismay and or relief, he not only opened the folder but simultaneously closed his eyes. If it was not for the closing of his eyes, it would have been his left hand to cause for his obstructed view as it lay flat over his eyes as well.
What was inside the folder was not a mystery to the private investigator. He was all too familiar with what resided within the thinly rectangular folder. With his eyes now open and his hand now removed along with the folder once again shut, Emerson Cod with a shrug and a sigh placed the folder in the bottom draw with his yarn and needle. Staring at the folder one last time Emerson closed the draw shut. The private eye grabbed his coat and locked up his office as his silhouette vanished behind the blurred glass of the office door.
Two minutes and thirty three seconds after that very moment, two silhouettes appeared outside Emerson Cod's office. With a slight jostle of the door knob and a click of the latch the office door of which displayed Emerson Cod's name swung open to reveal two shadowy figures amongst the office shadows.
The figures intentions were just as unclear as their identity as the two feverishly search Emerson's office. One of the intruders made their way to Emerson desk. In the darkness the sound of draws sliding open and shut could be heard.
The other intruder made their way to the other side of the desk and at that moment the lamp light on Emerson's desk was turned on. Revealing the two intruders true identity.
"Ned! Why did you turn on the light? Someone could see us!" Chuck said in a soft concerning whisper.
"I can't see a thing. I was afraid I would touch you." Ned replied in a soft concerning whisper.
Chuck returned to her search but not before throwing Ned an endearing smile due to his caring gesture.
"I can't help but feel like this is wrong. Not in the "I allowed someone to die so you could live wrong", but wrong enough." Ned said with remorse.
As the pie-maker watched Chuck thumb through Emerson's desk he could not help but wonder when did Chuck learn to pick locks. "When did you learn to pick locks?"
But more importantly Ned soon wondered why Charlotte had learned such a hobby. "Better yet, why did you learn to pick locks?"
Ned soon debated if he had better not know. Some things are better left alone. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I'd like to know."
Ned in actuality deep down was dying to know and the pun was not lost on the pie-maker either. There was so much he did not know about his childhood sweat heart and he now looked forward to everyday he shared with her to learn. He knew it came at an expense. It was an expense he was slowly learning to live with. With each endearing smile Chuck threw his way, the guilt simmered. But, it was always just a moment away from boiling back over. In the end it was the guilt that let Ned know that he himself was still alive.
"One of the draws is locked." Chuck said from behind the desk.
Ned looked back at the once locked door of Emerson's office. "I could be wrong but, that shouldn't be a problem for you."
One half second later the draw came open confirming Ned's previous statement. It only took Chuck another half second for her to find something of interest.
"Bingo!" Chuck blurted out.
"Did you find something?" Ned asked edging his body over the top of the desk with his bare hands wrapped behind his back to prevent any contact with Chuck.
"For a man who hates Valentines day, he sure has a lot of knitted Valentines." Chuck said quizzically.
Below the anxiety filled manila folder, needle and yarn Chuck found seven heart shaped Valentines made out of yarn. Each of them with the words "Happy Valentines Day, Vicky. Love, Emmy."
Ned and Chuck looked at each other puzzled. It was not the Valentines that created an enigma amongst the two. It wasn't even the name "Vicky" that caught their curiosity. What drew their attention more then anything else was…
"Emmy?" they said simultaneously.
"That's right. You got a problem with that?" a voice rang out with an familiar irritation.
At that exact same moment as Ned and Chuck spoke in unison, Emerson returned back to his office to face the manila folder that he let fifteen minutes and thirty eight seconds earlier get the best of him.
"I'm sorry. We were just trying to help?" Ned said nervously.
"Help? I don't know what part of Stupid d' Stupid you both grew up in, but this doesn't look like you're helping anyone." Emerson said bluntly. "Wait. I'm sorry. It does look like you be helping someone. Yourselves! To my, " Emerson gesturing towards the once locked desk and office door, "twice locked belongings."
"I can explain." Ned offered.
"No need. I can safely assume that you're hopelessly devoutness to "dead girl" over there clouded your judgment. How ever tiresome that has become. I unfortunately get it."
"You get it?" Chuck replied surprisingly.
Emerson did indeed get it. He understood it all too well and it was this understanding that shared some of the blame for his obvious resentment towards the pie-makers childhood sweet heart. It was not that he disliked Chuck for who she was, however annoying he may find her at times. It was what she was. More specifically, she was a reminder of what he lost and could never regain.
"That folder. The one your keen investigating abilities missed. That is why I get it." Emerson explained. "That is why I hate Valentines Day."
Chuck picked up the folder and did what Emerson Cod could not do in the fifteen years, three weeks, twelve days, three hours and twenty two minutes he has had the folder in his possession. She opened it.