Part 11
Playing Post office
Why am I the only one to find this wacko that has Eberts? What would this Raven person want with him, anyway? I am not saying Eberts has his uses, but there is no reason why he would be kidnapped. This post office where the Raven sent the fax, is unsuprisingly empty. Except for a lonely attendant, sorting through envelopes. I go up to his counter.
"Who was the last person to use the fax machine?"
"What? I can't hear you, let me put my hearing aid back in." I wait impatiently,. as he sticks the device back into his ear. "What was that Miss?" His voice is calm, yet scratchy. I wonder if the Official will look like that when he is that old. I resist the urge from laughing at this. I have no time for that right now, anyway.
"I ask who was the last person to use the fax machine?" I say, leaning further against the counter. It seems like it one hundred and fifty degrees outside, and one hundred and sixty in here. Sweat is pouring down my face. I can feel the hair sticking to the back of my neck.
"Oh, that thing, well, it was this young lady, about your age, she was purty like you except her hair was the colour of a raven, she reminded me of my wife. We got married in ninty forth nine, ya know, it was a purty ceremony. Flaurors ev'erywh'ere..." I stop listening at his horrible pronoucation of flowers. I begin to fall asleep, I hate when senior citizens decide to tell you their life story. I snap my eyes open.
"Did you see which direction she drove away?" I ask, snapping him out of his memories.
"She had a purty car, a blue one, british I think it was I think she drove off west, -or- it may have been east. Which way is that way?" He points a long, boney finger, left.
"That's east." I answers.
"Good, good."
"Thanks." I say and head out towards my silver convertiable. So, the Raven is a woman, -or- does he have an assisstant? A blue British car, well there are only about 100 of them running around in Sandy Eggo. I move my car to a deep area, and cover it. I pull some sunglasses out of the trunk. I find a good hiding spot, I hope the Raven uses the post office phone , -or- I get to sit here for almost an hour and a half watching for nothing
I call the agency to see what I should do incase of this. No one answers.
They are so worried about that contamination case. I call up a few guys I know, I ask them to stake out some pay phones for me, looking for a woman with black hair, in a blue british car. They agreed to it eagerly. They owe me some favors.
I open up my labtop, and do a little research on this Raven. They always leave a raven's feather at the scenes of their jobs, which they have pulled an awful lot of. I read this profile analysis on the Raven, they believe it is a male, because of all their advanced skills. It probably is a woman, I am one to know about being misjudged. There seems something else here though, it can't just be the Raven. Kidnapping is not part of her modus operandi, someone else has to be working on this. Who would have a motive to kidnapp Eberts.
I look up his personal files, it says he lives with 4 housemates, he has a little sister, and an older brother, his mom is in a rehabilating therapy center with Melanoma, and his father is an ex marine, they all live in Sandy Eggo. Would they kidnapp him though? I look for other references to his name in the computer. I get several reviews about a jazz band called "The Ducks," and a few review for art exhibits. I never knew Eberts was an artist, -or- a musician. I wonder what instrument he plays. One of the articles catches my eye, "Jazz Singer, Albert Eberts, lead for the Ducks, does rendition of "Strange Fruit." Brings new deminsions to the song, almost as if he is the male counterpart to Lady Dye." Well that answers my question, I am suprised they would let the headline be that long though.They obviously don't know much about Jazz either, I do not think Billie Holiday was called Lady Dye, Lady Di, I thought. I know this and I listen to mostly sixties music. I check my watch, I have a while. Oh joy. I go back to researching Eberts. I find a picture of him in an art gallery opening. "The Artist, Eborts, with some friends at the new belverdere Art Gallery opening."I wonder if he was mad they spelled his name wrong, but that isn't my problem, the problem is he has about tweleve people he is chatting with happily. So, if hes an artist and a musician I have a lot of leads to track. I think I will start with his housemates. I do a search on the first one, Thomas Jaden, aka Jaden. He's and ice cream truck driver. He's probably driving around town. I'll keep an eye for ice cream truck drivers.
I look up one of the other roomates, Benjamin Roberts, a reporter. I love talking to those people. I roll my eyes. I remember seeing is name a few times in the paper, he's the art critic. I relook at Eberts review. Wow, he was kind enough not to review his friend's paintings. I take a look up some of his articles, he does metion his housemate only once, when he is discussing contempary versus old world charm. He uses Eberts as one of the last and smallest examples of old world charm, it includes a small photo of one of his paintings of Notre Dame cathreal, in Paris. It is pretty good.(Maybe I will get him to paint me something for my apartment, it is looking a little dull.)
I pick up my cellphone, and dial Roberts, at his Penisula Beacon phone number.
Playing Post office
Why am I the only one to find this wacko that has Eberts? What would this Raven person want with him, anyway? I am not saying Eberts has his uses, but there is no reason why he would be kidnapped. This post office where the Raven sent the fax, is unsuprisingly empty. Except for a lonely attendant, sorting through envelopes. I go up to his counter.
"Who was the last person to use the fax machine?"
"What? I can't hear you, let me put my hearing aid back in." I wait impatiently,. as he sticks the device back into his ear. "What was that Miss?" His voice is calm, yet scratchy. I wonder if the Official will look like that when he is that old. I resist the urge from laughing at this. I have no time for that right now, anyway.
"I ask who was the last person to use the fax machine?" I say, leaning further against the counter. It seems like it one hundred and fifty degrees outside, and one hundred and sixty in here. Sweat is pouring down my face. I can feel the hair sticking to the back of my neck.
"Oh, that thing, well, it was this young lady, about your age, she was purty like you except her hair was the colour of a raven, she reminded me of my wife. We got married in ninty forth nine, ya know, it was a purty ceremony. Flaurors ev'erywh'ere..." I stop listening at his horrible pronoucation of flowers. I begin to fall asleep, I hate when senior citizens decide to tell you their life story. I snap my eyes open.
"Did you see which direction she drove away?" I ask, snapping him out of his memories.
"She had a purty car, a blue one, british I think it was I think she drove off west, -or- it may have been east. Which way is that way?" He points a long, boney finger, left.
"That's east." I answers.
"Good, good."
"Thanks." I say and head out towards my silver convertiable. So, the Raven is a woman, -or- does he have an assisstant? A blue British car, well there are only about 100 of them running around in Sandy Eggo. I move my car to a deep area, and cover it. I pull some sunglasses out of the trunk. I find a good hiding spot, I hope the Raven uses the post office phone , -or- I get to sit here for almost an hour and a half watching for nothing
I call the agency to see what I should do incase of this. No one answers.
They are so worried about that contamination case. I call up a few guys I know, I ask them to stake out some pay phones for me, looking for a woman with black hair, in a blue british car. They agreed to it eagerly. They owe me some favors.
I open up my labtop, and do a little research on this Raven. They always leave a raven's feather at the scenes of their jobs, which they have pulled an awful lot of. I read this profile analysis on the Raven, they believe it is a male, because of all their advanced skills. It probably is a woman, I am one to know about being misjudged. There seems something else here though, it can't just be the Raven. Kidnapping is not part of her modus operandi, someone else has to be working on this. Who would have a motive to kidnapp Eberts.
I look up his personal files, it says he lives with 4 housemates, he has a little sister, and an older brother, his mom is in a rehabilating therapy center with Melanoma, and his father is an ex marine, they all live in Sandy Eggo. Would they kidnapp him though? I look for other references to his name in the computer. I get several reviews about a jazz band called "The Ducks," and a few review for art exhibits. I never knew Eberts was an artist, -or- a musician. I wonder what instrument he plays. One of the articles catches my eye, "Jazz Singer, Albert Eberts, lead for the Ducks, does rendition of "Strange Fruit." Brings new deminsions to the song, almost as if he is the male counterpart to Lady Dye." Well that answers my question, I am suprised they would let the headline be that long though.They obviously don't know much about Jazz either, I do not think Billie Holiday was called Lady Dye, Lady Di, I thought. I know this and I listen to mostly sixties music. I check my watch, I have a while. Oh joy. I go back to researching Eberts. I find a picture of him in an art gallery opening. "The Artist, Eborts, with some friends at the new belverdere Art Gallery opening."I wonder if he was mad they spelled his name wrong, but that isn't my problem, the problem is he has about tweleve people he is chatting with happily. So, if hes an artist and a musician I have a lot of leads to track. I think I will start with his housemates. I do a search on the first one, Thomas Jaden, aka Jaden. He's and ice cream truck driver. He's probably driving around town. I'll keep an eye for ice cream truck drivers.
I look up one of the other roomates, Benjamin Roberts, a reporter. I love talking to those people. I roll my eyes. I remember seeing is name a few times in the paper, he's the art critic. I relook at Eberts review. Wow, he was kind enough not to review his friend's paintings. I take a look up some of his articles, he does metion his housemate only once, when he is discussing contempary versus old world charm. He uses Eberts as one of the last and smallest examples of old world charm, it includes a small photo of one of his paintings of Notre Dame cathreal, in Paris. It is pretty good.(Maybe I will get him to paint me something for my apartment, it is looking a little dull.)
I pick up my cellphone, and dial Roberts, at his Penisula Beacon phone number.