Pst! Missed the first part of the story? Read it here!
A New Story
“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...
After a short pause, as if for dramatic effect, Detective Williams continued. “Like I said, it’s not much to go on. Our forensics team is analyzing the blood, and we’re trying to figure out the origins of the gun. As you can see, it’s specially made; I’ve never seen one like it. The paper isn’t much help either.” Here the detective smoothed out the evidence bag that the scrap of paper was in. Myla could make out the few words written on it:
The rest was torn off.
“Of course, none of the evidence has any fingerprints on it. There was only one other guest on that floor at the time: Roselle Thorne. She’s our main suspect, along with the two Secret Service agents. Now, I know what you’re going to say, but the agents would have the most means to do it. Especially because of the… complications with Miss Thorne. Also, did you hear who it was? Myla and Reina. It was Myla and Reina. Out of the entire Secret Service, they’d be the most likely to kidnap POTUS. Even you can’t disagree-”
“Hey!” Reina interrupted. “We didn’t kidnap the president!”
Detective Williams whirled around to stare at the agents in utter discombobulation. For a moment, all three of them froze, pondering the author’s word choice. The detective recovered first.
“What are you doing here!?”
“Like Nolan said, we’re helping you investigate the case,” Myla answered primly.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But why?” Reina asked, her tone sincerely perplexed.
“Because you’re the suspects! We should be getting information from you, not the other way around!” Detective Williams strode over to the door and yanked it open. “Can someone please—Valentine! Come here.”
A moment later, Nolan appeared at the door. “Uh, yes, Detective Williams?”
“What were you thinking, bringing these girls here? They’re not detectives! And where is the detective, by the way? He should’ve been here a half hour ago!”
“I, uh… I don’t know, they said… uh, sorry.”
“No matter. Go take these agents and lock them up somewhere where they won’t be a bother,” Williams ordered.
Nolan looked alarmed. “Uh… is that...”
“What?”
“Nevermind,” the officer mumbled, his face turning a familiar shade of red.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Myla asked. “Locking us up for no reason.”
“Well… yes,” the detective admitted reluctantly. “Okay, Valentine, just… keep an eye on them. I’ll question them once the real detective comes.”
Nolan stammered something unintelligible, then shook his head and gestured for Myla and Reina to leave the room ahead of him.
“Where are you going to take us?” Reina asked.
“I, uh… I don’t know. I need to do some paperwork. You can come and sit by my desk if you want.”
Nolan’s desk was actually half a desk, the other half of which was taken up by several boxes stacked precariously on top of each other.
“What are those?” Reina wondered as the officer struggled to open a drawer.
“I… don’t know. Jack just put them there and said he’d put them away soon.”
Reina persisted. “Don’t they make it hard for you to work if they’re taking up your desk?”
“You get used to them.” By this time, he’d gotten the drawer open and was rifling through the assortment of items crammed into it.
Myla gave him a sidelong glance. “How long have those boxes been there, exactly?”
“Uh… April, May… September… eight months or so, I think. Now, uh, I really need to do my paperwork, so just stay here and… oh, here’s a fidget spinner, if you want it.”
He presented the grimy red toy as if it was a polished ruby. Myla stared at it apathetically before passing it over to a more enthusiastic Reina. For a while, they just sat there: Nolan mumbling to himself as he filled out forms, Reina spinning the fidget spinner, and Myla squinting suspiciously around the room.
Suddenly but unsurprisingly, Reina spoke up. “Myla, do you remember that song we sang in your car?”
“My Car,” Myla corrected.
“Yeah. Do you remember it?”
Myla sighed. “We sing lots of songs, Reina.”
“The one that goes like ‘la la-la-la, la la-la-la’? Do you remember that one?”
Myla sat up straighter. “Oh. That one.” She held up three fingers meaningfully, and the two agents counted down silently.
“Oh, valentine, oh, valentine,1
Won’t you be my valentine?”
“Really?” Nolan asked, turning around.
“What? We’re just singing a song,” Myla said innocently.
“Well, don’t. It’s distracting.” He went back to his paperwork, and Myla and Reina looked at each other. More quietly, they continued:
“Your eyes are beautiful to me
They look like leaves upon the tree
Oh valentine, oh valentine-”
“I told you to stop!” Nolan burst out, turning around to glare at them. His cheeks were a brighter red than they’d seen before.
“We’re singing quietly,” Reina explained.
“You’re singing a love song with my name in it!”
Myla couldn’t resist. “But Nolan… won’t you be my valentine?” she asked, singing the last part.
“That’s it. Go away and bother someone else,” he ordered.
Reina scrunched up her face. “Aren’t you supposed to-”
“Okay!” Myla interrupted cheerfully and dragged her partner out of the room before Nolan realized his mistake.
Sung to the tune of “O Christmas Tree”
The part where you said that the characters pondered the author's word choice was SO FUNNY! I’ve never seen that before. Love it!