This week, I’ve written several nonfiction articles. These will be linked at the end, but they aren’t the point of today’s newsletter.
I don’t like writing nonfiction. I like writing stories. So instead of writing more thoughts, I’ve decided to start sending pieces of a story on this newsletter. There are still other things to say, so I’m planning to send out this story every other week, and have regular newsletters in between.
This story probably needs some explanation. It’s a very silly story, written purely for entertainment. It’s not going to make a lot of sense. It’s a children’s story. It’s also a murder mystery… kind of. It may be best to let the story speak for itself. Enjoy!
“You have to go to the station. Now.”
“What? You mean the police station? Why?” Myla hunched over a little as she asked the question into her phone. There was no response, and she realized that her boss had already hung up. Sighing, she headed towards the front entrance of the hotel and Reina, who was still arguing with the officer outside the conference room.
“You can’t go in!” He said, gesturing earnestly. “Just because you say please it doesn’t mean that you can go in!”
“Yeah yeah, you’ve been saying the same thing for half an hour now,” Myla interjected as she passed by. “Come on, Reina, the boss wants us to go to the station.”
“Bye, Locke!” Reina called behind her as she hurried to catch up. “Why are we going to the station?” she asked as they stepped outside, but the older agent had other things to worry about.
“Where’s My Car!?”
Someone cleared their throat, and Myla whirled around to see another police officer. “Please come with me, ma’ams. Or… madams. Ladies? That is, uh, your car has already been taken to the station.”
Myla scowled at him, and the officer took a small step back before pointing out his police car.
The drive to the station was silent and increasingly awkward. The officer kept clearing his throat, Reina kept opening her mouth to say something, and Myla kept stopping her with a look. Eventually, Reina’s need to end the silence outweighed Myla’s annoyance, and she cheerfully spoke up.
“So, Mr. Officer, what’s your name?”
“Nolan. Uh, Nolan Valentine.”
“Your name is Officer Valentine?” Myla asked incredulously, turning away from the window to peer at the young man, whose face was quickly reddening.
“Nolan is fine,” he mumbled, and the rest of the drive lapsed back into silence.
Once they got to the station, Nolan hesitated to get out of the car. “What?” Reina asked, but the officer just shook his head and opened the door. This happened again outside the building, and again in the front lobby.
Myla sighed as she turned to him. “Okay, seriously, why do you keep doing that?”
“It’s nothing. I mean, you know, it’s a large station. I’m not—they just said to bring you in. I’m not sure where… uh… nevermind.”
“You don’t know where to go.”
“That’s not—”
“We’re the detectives,” Myla explained. “The ones who were brought in specially to investigate the very important kidnapping? Except the officer with big ears—”
“Locke,” Reina chimed in helpfully.
“—wouldn’t let us into the crime scene.”
Nolan looked back and forth between them. “Okay, uh, I guess I’ll take you to our head detective then. He’s… worried about this case.”
Two echoing flights of stairs and a wrong turn into the break room later, they stood outside of the detective's door. Nolan knocked on it lightly, then more loudly, and finally just opened the door.
“Detective Williams? The uh… other detectives are here.”
The man inside, who was turned away from them, seemed startled at the interruption. Without looking up from what he was studying, he said, “Oh, good. Come in.” Myla and Reina glanced at Nolan, who shrugged and left. Now the women looked at each other, then simultaneously approached the table the detective was leaning over.
Williams was a large man, but his voice was soft, with a noticeable country twang. Instead of greeting them, he straightened, cleared his throat, and launched right into an explanation.
“There’s very little to go on,” he admitted, looking at the notepad in his hands. “At 6:21pm, the station received a call from the hotel where the crime took place. One of the guests heard a yell and crash from the conference room, and informed the lady at the front desk. She’s the one who called the police. When our officers got there—Nolan Valentine and Locke Sharp, I believe you’ve met them—the room in question was empty. Well, apart from three things. A large pool of blood, this gun, and this scrap of paper.
“Upon further investigation, we discovered that POTUS had been in this conference room for some kind of meeting. The two Secret Service agents on duty had been told to wait in the lobby. Stupid order, and stupid of the agents to obey it. They don’t know whom the president was meeting. In fact, we haven’t been able to find any details about this meeting so far.
“The entire hotel has been searched, as well as the surrounding buildings. There’s no doubt about it: The president of the United States is missing.”
And that’s all for today! I know this story is strange, and you may not want to read it. If that’s the case, please let me know. I want to write whatever you want to read. If you did enjoy it, and would like to hear more, any thoughts would still be appreciated! The next part of this story will be sent out on October 27th. In the meantime, here are the other articles I wrote this week.
Intriguing!
Awesome, love the suspense!