((Thanks Anneliese for pointing out that for some reason, this chapter was written twice))
By the end of the week I was left with no other alternative but to take Stamford's advice. I asked followed hundreds of leads from people I asked, but they had all led to the same answer: yes they knew her, she worked with them sometimes, but she didn't have their job. No they didn't know where she worked, but she had been seen shifting through books in the library, boxing in the health center, fencing (yes Fencing!) in the gym, feeding lambs at the farm, rummaging through instruments in the music room, interviewing the teachers who taught law courses in building 27. There were no definite answers, only more questions.
So, on Friday, our mutual day off I resolved to be up front with Elise. I entered the third room at 7:30 that morning, fully expecting to meet an empty room (most free times she did not leave the room until 10AM). This room, I suppose I should tell you about it, was the largest of the three we rented. It had been lined at one corner with bookshelves, that held books and Elise's own collection of music boxes The other corner supported a chalkboard and some of my own family pictures. Straight head of the doorway were two large windows, with a Victorian style writing desk in between them. Three armchairs and a sofa face each other and gathered around a coffee table. A card table was folded up behind the door. The rest of the walls were covered in a wallpaper of hunter green with that gold fer-de-lance design.
In any case, I had walked in expecting to be alone. Instead I saw Elise, sitting one of the armchairs, chewing on a piece of toast and running her eyes over the comics section of the newspaper. Her clothes, a pair of brown pants and large red shirt, looked slept in. She glanced up as I entered grunted when I saw good morning and turned back to her paper. Having already eaten I turned to the remains of the newspaper scattered around the table. The Mountie was also sliced open, an article circled in red pen. It was anonymous, one of those things where anyone can put something in to fill up space.
"Observational Deduction " it said "is not something only the smartest people in the world can do. It is not impossible either. A person who has trained his or herself to notice another's gait, facial features, and movements can learn enough to reliably determine that person's lifestyle. Even specific markings in and on the clothing can reveal the newcomer's occupation, or in our own cases, their current major.... "
"Oh gimmie a break!" I said, throwing the paper down. "What an arrogant jerk. Probably doesn't even know half of what he's talking about.
"Who?" Elise asked, not looking up from the comics.
"This article! Listen to this.: 'Such exercise may of course seem trial. Or most, I have no doubt, applying these methods will be nothing more than a procrastination technique, but even a small bit of practice will help to develop the keen eyesight neccessary–' this is bull!"
"Really?" She smiled.
"Really." I countered. "I'll bet, you could throw this guy in the middle of one of our general ed classes and he'd never even come close to guessing everyone's major and part-time jobs."
"Ya think so?"
"I'd be willing to bet on it."
"Ya'd lose yer money. First of all, because the person who wrote that is not a he, but a she. Secondly that's a very practical article. And I should know, I wrote it."
"You?"
"Yes. Observation and Deduction is a very practical thing, so much so that I depend on them for my rent."
I tried to shake off my embarrassment and returned to the newspaper. A rustling of papers told me Elise had done the same. After about 5 minutes I ventured.
"Elise?"
"Hm?"
"Uh...nothing."
She sighed. "Nothing will come of nothing Lowell, ask me your question."
'Well, are you studying medicine?"
A pause then a disappointed "No."
"Oh."
Another long pause and then. "What do you do?"
Elise let out a relieved breath as she put her paper down. "Finally, a direct question! Well, I am something of an amateur detective. Not too much you understand, robberies, assaults, things like that which are bound to occur in a over-crowded school. Of course you realize that we have professionals employed at the school to handle that sort of thing, when these people are at a loss they come to me, lay the evidence before me, and I put them on the right scent. Rowlands for example, you remember him."
"The narc." I confirmed.
Elise laughed, a quiet, happy sound."Yes Lowell 'the narc.' Actually, he is a well-known officer in the school security, a detective 'imself. Recently he'd gotten lost in a possible forgery, that is what brought him here."
"What about the others? Are they all students too."
"Some, others live in the areas. Most of them are in trouble and would like a little light thrown in. I listen to their problem, they listen to my advice and I am able to pay for my room and school."
"Without leaving this room?"
"Well, occasionally a larger problem comes my way and I have to go and see things for myself. "
"But...but the school. You work for them?"
"I work for me." She said in obvious pride, trying to make the point clear.
"I mean–"
"I know what you meant. I have made a deal with the Dean, if I help the school and the area it serves, if I can, I will be allowed a discount in my education and a sort of carte blanche for my works around there." ((A/N: There is a story behind this...but I don't know it yet))
"This is ridiculous, it's impossible."
"Not at all. When we first met I asked you about the trip to London."
"Stamford's work."
Elise looked shocked and insulted. "Andrew Stamford is a gossip sure but he didn't know. He only told me you had been away for a year between high school and here. No, I knew it. Lemme see if I can give you the whole train of thought." She leaned back on her chair a moment nodded to herself and continued.
"Here a young man of a medical bearing. A possible doctor? No he carries books on space and mathematics. A child of medics than. He has a coastal tan and a arrogant manner, which puts him in either California or New York.* There's a Western accent, a Californian then, but he seems unsure and claustrophobic here, so from the Northern part. Now I've been told he's been away for a year so...
"His wrist show that he is naturally tanned, but his skin is paler. He's dressed more for European storms than the Santa Anas. And as he's been there for a year I would expect. Yes he definitely has an accent. Where have I heard the kind before? Ah, London. But is it possible? Yes, there was a trip offered around that same time. His feet are dragging slightly, his shoulders slumped. The trip ended too long ago for it to be jet lag. And he appears to actually be more comfortable in this area, despite disliking the crowds. London tends to be a crowded place, I'm told. It's bene so long. Occasionally, when Stamford mentioned this mystery trip, the boy develops a tic and shadows form under the eyes. So it must not have been very enjoyable. But what happened? Well, it's none of my business. Not yet anyway."
She stretched. "The whole thing didn't occupy a moment. I put the conclusion into words nad you were astonished."
I stared at her for a moment. To think a mind could run so quickly over all those details and reach a conclusion that swiftly. I started to speak.
A doorbell rang. Voices came below and footsteps thumped up the stairs.
***************************
*PR/N: There are some people who, for some strange reason, might be offended by that arrogant coastal reference. This is for them: Like I said I go with what I know and what I don't know, I make up. If you're in any way offended...good for you, you have emotions. You can always just pretended that part of the stories not there. I'll have you know the fact was confirmed by an expert. Okay, so he was just Montressor's history teacher but he's a bazillion years old (approximately) and has been around the world and back again more times then me, so I have to trust his word.
For those who aren't offended, thanks for putting up with this long note that PR#1 insisted be put in to be safe. Enjoy the next chapter.
-PR#XISquigglyline
By the end of the week I was left with no other alternative but to take Stamford's advice. I asked followed hundreds of leads from people I asked, but they had all led to the same answer: yes they knew her, she worked with them sometimes, but she didn't have their job. No they didn't know where she worked, but she had been seen shifting through books in the library, boxing in the health center, fencing (yes Fencing!) in the gym, feeding lambs at the farm, rummaging through instruments in the music room, interviewing the teachers who taught law courses in building 27. There were no definite answers, only more questions.
So, on Friday, our mutual day off I resolved to be up front with Elise. I entered the third room at 7:30 that morning, fully expecting to meet an empty room (most free times she did not leave the room until 10AM). This room, I suppose I should tell you about it, was the largest of the three we rented. It had been lined at one corner with bookshelves, that held books and Elise's own collection of music boxes The other corner supported a chalkboard and some of my own family pictures. Straight head of the doorway were two large windows, with a Victorian style writing desk in between them. Three armchairs and a sofa face each other and gathered around a coffee table. A card table was folded up behind the door. The rest of the walls were covered in a wallpaper of hunter green with that gold fer-de-lance design.
In any case, I had walked in expecting to be alone. Instead I saw Elise, sitting one of the armchairs, chewing on a piece of toast and running her eyes over the comics section of the newspaper. Her clothes, a pair of brown pants and large red shirt, looked slept in. She glanced up as I entered grunted when I saw good morning and turned back to her paper. Having already eaten I turned to the remains of the newspaper scattered around the table. The Mountie was also sliced open, an article circled in red pen. It was anonymous, one of those things where anyone can put something in to fill up space.
"Observational Deduction " it said "is not something only the smartest people in the world can do. It is not impossible either. A person who has trained his or herself to notice another's gait, facial features, and movements can learn enough to reliably determine that person's lifestyle. Even specific markings in and on the clothing can reveal the newcomer's occupation, or in our own cases, their current major.... "
"Oh gimmie a break!" I said, throwing the paper down. "What an arrogant jerk. Probably doesn't even know half of what he's talking about.
"Who?" Elise asked, not looking up from the comics.
"This article! Listen to this.: 'Such exercise may of course seem trial. Or most, I have no doubt, applying these methods will be nothing more than a procrastination technique, but even a small bit of practice will help to develop the keen eyesight neccessary–' this is bull!"
"Really?" She smiled.
"Really." I countered. "I'll bet, you could throw this guy in the middle of one of our general ed classes and he'd never even come close to guessing everyone's major and part-time jobs."
"Ya think so?"
"I'd be willing to bet on it."
"Ya'd lose yer money. First of all, because the person who wrote that is not a he, but a she. Secondly that's a very practical article. And I should know, I wrote it."
"You?"
"Yes. Observation and Deduction is a very practical thing, so much so that I depend on them for my rent."
I tried to shake off my embarrassment and returned to the newspaper. A rustling of papers told me Elise had done the same. After about 5 minutes I ventured.
"Elise?"
"Hm?"
"Uh...nothing."
She sighed. "Nothing will come of nothing Lowell, ask me your question."
'Well, are you studying medicine?"
A pause then a disappointed "No."
"Oh."
Another long pause and then. "What do you do?"
Elise let out a relieved breath as she put her paper down. "Finally, a direct question! Well, I am something of an amateur detective. Not too much you understand, robberies, assaults, things like that which are bound to occur in a over-crowded school. Of course you realize that we have professionals employed at the school to handle that sort of thing, when these people are at a loss they come to me, lay the evidence before me, and I put them on the right scent. Rowlands for example, you remember him."
"The narc." I confirmed.
Elise laughed, a quiet, happy sound."Yes Lowell 'the narc.' Actually, he is a well-known officer in the school security, a detective 'imself. Recently he'd gotten lost in a possible forgery, that is what brought him here."
"What about the others? Are they all students too."
"Some, others live in the areas. Most of them are in trouble and would like a little light thrown in. I listen to their problem, they listen to my advice and I am able to pay for my room and school."
"Without leaving this room?"
"Well, occasionally a larger problem comes my way and I have to go and see things for myself. "
"But...but the school. You work for them?"
"I work for me." She said in obvious pride, trying to make the point clear.
"I mean–"
"I know what you meant. I have made a deal with the Dean, if I help the school and the area it serves, if I can, I will be allowed a discount in my education and a sort of carte blanche for my works around there." ((A/N: There is a story behind this...but I don't know it yet))
"This is ridiculous, it's impossible."
"Not at all. When we first met I asked you about the trip to London."
"Stamford's work."
Elise looked shocked and insulted. "Andrew Stamford is a gossip sure but he didn't know. He only told me you had been away for a year between high school and here. No, I knew it. Lemme see if I can give you the whole train of thought." She leaned back on her chair a moment nodded to herself and continued.
"Here a young man of a medical bearing. A possible doctor? No he carries books on space and mathematics. A child of medics than. He has a coastal tan and a arrogant manner, which puts him in either California or New York.* There's a Western accent, a Californian then, but he seems unsure and claustrophobic here, so from the Northern part. Now I've been told he's been away for a year so...
"His wrist show that he is naturally tanned, but his skin is paler. He's dressed more for European storms than the Santa Anas. And as he's been there for a year I would expect. Yes he definitely has an accent. Where have I heard the kind before? Ah, London. But is it possible? Yes, there was a trip offered around that same time. His feet are dragging slightly, his shoulders slumped. The trip ended too long ago for it to be jet lag. And he appears to actually be more comfortable in this area, despite disliking the crowds. London tends to be a crowded place, I'm told. It's bene so long. Occasionally, when Stamford mentioned this mystery trip, the boy develops a tic and shadows form under the eyes. So it must not have been very enjoyable. But what happened? Well, it's none of my business. Not yet anyway."
She stretched. "The whole thing didn't occupy a moment. I put the conclusion into words nad you were astonished."
I stared at her for a moment. To think a mind could run so quickly over all those details and reach a conclusion that swiftly. I started to speak.
A doorbell rang. Voices came below and footsteps thumped up the stairs.
***************************
*PR/N: There are some people who, for some strange reason, might be offended by that arrogant coastal reference. This is for them: Like I said I go with what I know and what I don't know, I make up. If you're in any way offended...good for you, you have emotions. You can always just pretended that part of the stories not there. I'll have you know the fact was confirmed by an expert. Okay, so he was just Montressor's history teacher but he's a bazillion years old (approximately) and has been around the world and back again more times then me, so I have to trust his word.
For those who aren't offended, thanks for putting up with this long note that PR#1 insisted be put in to be safe. Enjoy the next chapter.
-PR#XISquigglyline