The Cameron Files: Mystery of the Ghost Lupe

B.T. Bone

Chapter One: The Letter

I sat at my desk, doing the morning crossword. I had the shades drawn down on my window; I didn't want to be reminded of the grey, rainy day that was outside. My office was small, with only enough room for a desk, a couple of old, ratty chairs bought from Shifty Tom's Thrift Shop, a few beaten up filing cabinets, and two tasteless potted plants made from plastic. On my door were the words Alexander Cameron, Private Eye, with the trademark Eye underneath it. I had dressed in dull white shirt, khaki pants, suspenders, which had been loosened a bit so I could move my thick arms without trouble, and a rather beaten up fedora on my head. A dark brown leather trench coat was draped over the back of my chair, which creaked intolerably whenever I laid back.

I had just three more answers to go, (I was stuck at a four-letter word for a baby horse, which had the letter O as the second letter), when I heard a knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I rasped, I had a slight cold, and I wasn't feeling too good.

"A letter for a Mr. Cameron!" replied the person.

"It ain't locked!"

The door creaked open, and in came Sticky, a literal Poster Boy for Ugly Mug's Plastic Surgery, the poor Mutant Kougra had gotten on the wrong end of a Transmogrification Gun, and now the formerly Pink Ixi was now trapped as a Mutant Kougra.

"What is it?" I asked, not bothering to look up from my crossword (It was Colt!).

"I got a letter for you, Alex," said Sticky, "Guess someone wants a stinkin', flat-footed gumshoe!"

Stinky had been a small-time burglar before his accident and I had to bring him down, also inadvertently causing him to see the barrel of a Transmogrification Gun, and he had found it fit to remind me of that little fiasco.

"Just bang it on the desk," I said calmly, I was now on fourteen-across, a three-letter word for a naughty Englishman who wanted to blow up Parliament, "I'll get around to it."

"Fine," grumped Stinky as he dropped the letter on the table, "It's got a postmark from Mystery Island. Perhaps you've been 1oking' around there, too?"

"Guy!" I shouted triumphantly.

"A friend of yours?" asked Sticky.

"No," I said as I opened the letter, "Guy Fawkes, the answer to Fourteen Across. He tried unsuccessfully to blow up the English Parliament Building in the 1600's. His powder went wet, and he had to skip town, and was caught and executed. Every year, little English Children get a bunch of fireworks, make little dummies called Guys, and light 'em up."

"Oh," said Sticky, "So, what's the letter?"

"Don't you have a house to rob? Or some letters to deliver?" I asked sarcastically, I didn't want to discuss my next case with a basket-case.

"Just an Express parcel," shrugged Stinky, "I'll get to it next week."

"Oh," I said excitedly looking at the calendar, "It's national 'Kill the Postman Day'!" I then reached for my hip, which Stinky was most likely certain had my Magnum holstered.

"I'd better get outta here!" Stinky tripped in his scramble to get away.

He slammed the door behind him, and I smiled.

"They always run," I said as I uncorked my hip flask of bourbon, and drank. I then glanced at the letter, and caught the faintest whiff of perfume.

"A lady," I smiled as I read.

Dear Inspector Cameron, my name is Alyssa Farthington. I live in a large estate on Mystery Island. I need your help, Inspector, lately, mysterious things have been happening at my house. First, lights flicker on and off, but there's no problem with the wiring! Then, chairs move around without any assistance from myself or my butler or maid, and I've been hearing strange moaning noises coming form the outside, as well as scratching at the door.

Please hurry, Inspector Cameron, if you choose to take this case, please call me at the number listed below. Hurry, I fear that there's a dark storm brewing, and I'll be caught in the middle of it…

The letter ended with her phone number, and I lay back in my chair.

"A case," I said slowly, "a real juicy case. Perfect, it's a good excuse to get outta Neopia Central for a while, besides; a few days in the sun of Mystery Island won't do me much harm, either. I'll give her a call." I said as I reached for my phone.

I dialed the number, and waited while a nasally-sounding operator hooked me up, and then finally found myself speaking to the voice of an angel!

"Hello," said a soft, beautiful voice, "Who is it?"

"Inspector Cameron here," I replied, "am I speaking to Miss Farthington?"

"Yes," gasped the voice in pleasure, "you are! Thank goodness you've called, Mr. Cameron, I was worried that you wouldn't come, or that the Post Office had lost the letter!"

"Don't worry," I laughed, "I got the letter, and I'm interested in the case. What's the cost?"

"How much do you charge?"

"Fifty bucks a case, plus twenty dollars a day for expenses, and an added ten bucks for travel if I hafta fly over."

I heard a nasty word that I felt NO girl should know, and then a grumpy "Fine, when can you come?"

"I'll be at the airport this weekend," I said, "Meet me at the flying boat dock. How will I recognize you?"

"Just look for the girl in the trench coat," she replied, "I will meet you at the airport, the baggage claim. Non-passengers are not allowed beyond that area."

"Oh," I said, "Well then, I'll see you in a couple of days!"

"Thank you, Inspector Cameron," said the voice excitedly, "I hope you can solve this case! It's getting terrifying! Please, HURRY!"

We said our goodbyes, and hung up, and then I called the Airport to make a few travel arrangements. Little did I know that I would be getting myself into the most dangerous case of my life, and that I would be up against age-old curses, magic and the occasional love-lorn Native thrown in for good measure.

"Farewell dreary Neopia Central," I smiled, "HELLO sunny Mystery Island!"

I was such a dope.

Well, a vacation in paradise! Poor Alex, he doesn't know what'll happen when he gets there…

B.T. Bone