Amateur Sleuths Unite (Short Story – 4185 Word Count)

This short story was originally written in fall of 2014. Following an extensive edit and re-write in summer of this year (2016), it was submitted to a literary contest. Unfortunately for me a rejection, but fortunately for our readers I’ve decided to post it to the “Writing” section of the website.
Word Count: 4185
Amateur Sleuths Unite
Waking up to find that you’ve been the victim of a
robbery isn’t the most pleasant thing. This is exactly what
happened to my family, and to call it somewhat aggravating
pg. 1
isn’t quite the correct description either. More like a
feeling of having been secretly, and excruciatingly violated
by a sadistic Nazi having a funfest.
My mom & dad sauntered down the stairs after a good night’s sleep-innocently yawning and rubbing your eyes, only to discover that our living room has been ransacked. The place looked like everything has been haphazardly scattered in the manner of a Russian secret police squad searching for American contraband. My dad’s carefully chronicled News Of The World newspaper collection has been dispersed all over the floor, and every one of his & my mom’s valuable dust collecting knick-knacks had been shattered into a million tiny little broken dreams.
This is just such a debacle Edgardo and Thalia Allabashi
woke up to on the morning of January 22nd, 2016. Although my
dad, Edguardo, was slightly despondent upon seeing the
remnants of his family’s carefully orchestrated living space
scattered to the winds, he took it in stride. My mom on the
other hand, wasn’t quite as composed.
“This is worse than the Turkish invasion!!” yelled
Tahlia, right after she’d screamed in horror like a teen
movie-slasher victim.
pg. 2
Edgauardo’s facial expression portrayed a supreme effort
to remain calm. “We must maintain our composureness Tahlia my
dear.” Even though Edguado and Tahlia had lived in America for
the past thirty years, their English language speaking skills
were still on par with those of your average preschooler.
“But you can see for yourself that whomever has done this,
they clearly made a supremeous effort to destroy whatever they
did not take with them. Why has Allah brought this tremendous
misfortune upon us?”
“Maybe we committed a sin in our past that has been
returned to us in proliferous amounts.”
After the two of them spent the next hour cleaning up the
mess that greeted them, Tahlia made a valiant effort to
salvage some of their artifacts. This was followed by a
decision to explore their various options.
Tahlia got an inquisitive expression. “Perhaps we should
call the authorities?”
“No. They may alert the government inquisitors. Then our
problems will be compounded. We must be telling Astrid and
Alexander about our misfortune though.”
“Both of them are still asleep darling. Should we be
disturbing them?”
pg. 3
“Why not?” said Edguardo. “The two of them are becoming
more like American adult-youth the longer they are living in
this country.”
“Maybe because this is the only place they have ever
known. We came to America when Alexander was still a baby.
Astrid had not been born. They know nothing of our homeland of
Albania. Both of them only knows of this place.”
“This is still no excuse for the two of them to become
like American Adolescents. Lazy and shiftily.”
“This is not to be true. They are always very busy when
they are at home.”
“What are they to be doing? Playing their X-box video
television games. I am telling you, I must be very harsh to
them, and putting my foot down at this time.”
Right as he said it, the sound of Alexander and Astrid
putting their own feet down as they descended the staircase
could be heard. Just in time for Alexander to note rather
sheepishly that his father’s collection of Presidential Shot
glasses wasn’t normally displayed.
“What’s up dad?” asked Alexander as he pointed to the
shot glass collection’s former location. Everyone was startled
to discover him speaking first, as he usually never initiated
most conversations. This situation was a rare exception. “The
pg. 4
living/dining room looks like certain items have been moved?”
Alexander had also inherited his mother’s ability to state the
obvious.
At that point, Edguardo was slightly disgusted with his
eldest offspring, but did a good job of hiding emotions. “They
are indeed my son.”
“This is because we have become the victims of a
robbery,” said Thalia.
Edguardo decided an elaboration was in order. “When we
are waking from our sleep, this living area was in a terrible
display. We are most fortunate that your mother and I have
been working to arrange items in a new location. Not entirely
in the same place as before, but thankfully in a somewhat
correct manner.”
Astrid chuckled mildly. “So we got nailed by a thief- in-the-night. They take a lot of valuable do-hickeys, in addition to ransacking the place out of sheer boredom? Probably for perverse entertainment purposes no doubt.”
“Where are you learning to use this American slacker
language?” asked Edguardo. “Do all youth in this country speak
in this most unorthodox manner?”
“Only the really nerdy ones who don’t,” replied Astrid.
pg. 5
The secret bandit hadn’t made off with a huge number of
valuable items. Primarily due to the fact that the Allabashi
clan didn’t have a lot to choose from when it came to family
wealth. A few precious components had disappeared though,
including a solid silver sword, an old map of Eastern
Europe/Western Asia drawn up during the Ottoman Turk Empire,
and a tarnished crown that Edguardo picked up as his reward
for winning a Chess tournament. Astrid being the natural
bloodhound that she was, wanted to investigate the situation
from various angles.
“Too bad you’ve already cleaned up the mess mom & dad.”
“Why’s that my dear?” asked Edguardo.
Astrid then put her Sherlock Holmes face on display. “I
would’ve liked to examine the various items before you cleaned
everything up. Inadvertently tampered with the evidence.”
“We have been hindering the investigation?” asked Thalia.
“You might say that. Don’t call the cops at this point
though. Unless you’re willing to answer a lot of questions as
to why all the clues got pulverized.”
“Yeah,” said Alexander. “It might look like we’re trying
to hide something.”
“Which we aren’t,” replied Astrid. “Right?”
“Right,” said Alex.
pg. 6
_______________
Soon after that, things broke up and everyone decided to
go about their respective tasks. All of them accept me, as I chose to do more snooping. In their haste to clean up the mess, my parental units had destroyed most of the evidence, but they hadn’t eliminated all of it. Feeling a strong urge to appease my “Jones” for playing detective, certain elements just didn’t add up.
Right off the bat, it seemed odd that the sword with its
silver handle was stolen, but the scabbard that it sat in
hadn’t been absconded. Purely insane when you consider that
the covering for the blade was jewel encrusted, and whoever
the thief was they had to have suspected the pouch was
probably worth something. To me, this seemed about as
unfathomable as the media’s assertion that they strive to
present an unbiased viewpoint of the political spectrum.
Actually, I concluded that it was a good thing the thief
didn’t take the scabbard. Distinctly remembered the time dad
told Alexander and me the sword’s pouch had sentimental value
to him. Something about a message written into the underside
of the sheath specifically mentioning his great-grandfather,
Ozabald Allabashi.
pg. 7
Then it really seemed odd how none of the windows or
doors leading into the house had been broken or damaged? How’d
the thief get into the living room if they didn’t break into
the dwelling? Either they already had a key allowing them to
access to the Allabashi abode, or the culprit wasn’t your
average overweight American in that they happened to be
thinner than an anorexic fashion model.
Finally, Thalia told me that straightening out the mess
didn’t take long, and was actually much easier than it first
looked. She said everything was reorganized quickly because
things had been scattered as if the thief pulled them off the
shelves, but chose not to bother with throwing them
haphazardly around the room. Instead laying them in neat
little piles, right next to where they’d been pulled off the
shelves in a pre-arranged scattering. Extremely odd? Sort of
like all those news exposes I’ve read concerning the elaborate
methods used by drug cartels to launder money. Do just enough
to make everything look legitimate.
A visit with my favorite person to annoy seemed in order.
Time to compare a few of the clues I’ve discovered. Or at
least attempt to figure some of them out?
Astrid jumped on her bike and cruised to the San Fernando
Valley police station. Conveniently located just a hop, skip,
pg. 8
and a jump from the Allabashi residence. Detective Sergeant
Calvert Hobbes could always be counted on to just sit there
and politely listen to all her wing-nut crime theories.
Seemed like he thought my opinions actually had some sort of logical truth to them too. Then again, maybe he doesn’t want to disagree, despite the fact that I might be grotesquely wrong? Or maybe he was too tired to tell me I’m way off base most of the time. Could be that one of these days he’ll get up the courage to tell me to get an actual life that doesn’t involve delusional misdeed fantasies?
The precinct desk of Sergeant Hobbes;
“My my isn’t this a surprise,” said the good Detective.
“No good deed goes unpunished I suppose. What sin did I commit
for you to show up Astrid?”
“Thought I’d run some theories by you that I’ve come up
with. Concerns a robbery that was committed at my folk’s house
last night.”
“So your parent’s got semi-liquidated and you’ve
developed a few ideas about how the crime was committed. Why
am I not surprised?”
Almost immediately I lit into a detailed incident
account, including the perplexing set of post-robbery evidence
I’ve uncovered. Didn’t leave any of it out, including my
pg. 9
latest opinion that the crime looked like it had been
committed by an enemy of my father’s who’d somehow managed to
gain access to the house.
“I’m thinking the culprit got into our house by stealing
my dad’s keys, or making a secret duplicate of the house key
when he wasn’t looking. My father does tend to be a bit of a
day dreamer when he’s at work.”
“Sort of like his daughter. Like most Americans the guy
really loves his job, does he?”
“Worse than that. He told me once that he spends a lot of
job time thinking about the way things were when he was
growing up in Albania.”
“What’d you say your dad does for a living?”
“I didn’t. He’s an inspector for aerosol can quality at
that insecticide factory in Long Beach.”
Det. Hobbes cringed. “Sounds interesting-not. Come to
think of it, I’d probably spend a lot of time day dreaming
about the old country too if I had his job. Either that, or
maybe he has such a hard time focusing because all the factory
fumes have fried his brain.”
“No,” said Astrid. ”He always wears a respirator when he
goes out on the factory floor. He does tell Alex & I our
pg. 10
brains are fried because of all the TV we watch. About once a
week he makes a point of mentioning this.”
“Actually some child psychologists have come up with the
same theory as your father concerning massive television
consumption and the intelligence of America’s youth having
deposited itself in a dumpster. Massive video game consumption
also contributes to your malady. Exploding obesity rates being
a fringe benefit of these over-indulgences.”
“Luckily Alexander and I don’t have to worry about that.
The refrigerator and cupboards in our house don’t have enough
processed snack food in them for that.”
“Good for your mom. No, your father having a colleague
that wants to get back at him by stealing his stuff sounds a
bit too far fetched.”
“You think?”
“If your dad’s got enemies, they’d nail him in all sorts
of other ways.”
“So then who committed the deed? I guess I’ll have to get
more in-depth with my investigation?”
Det. Hobbs laughed. “I guess you should. Too bad your
parents in their haste cleaned up the crime scene this
morning. They destroyed a lot of evidence that could’ve given
you more clues as to the culprit.”
pg. 11
“That’s the first thought that went through my mind when
Alex and I came down the stairs this morning and saw them
finishing up their room tidying. My parents tend to jump on
this stuff and over-do it when it comes to cleaning things.
They scrub the plates before they put them in the dishwasher
every night.”
“Sort of like an anally retentive chamber maid who goes
to bed at night looking forward to their dreams about the job.
Has lots of day fantasies about thoroughly cleaned objects.”
“Yup. By doing a meticulous job of washing everything
down, they destroyed all sorts of potential clues.”
“Good girl. You’re getting better at investigative ways
of thinking. Oh no. You didn’t hear me just say that.”
“What do you make of the postulate I’ve formulated while
riding my bike down here?”
Hobbes reached for his notebook to scribble some notes.
“Which one?”
“It also seems perplexing why the thief didn’t take the
big old flat screen TV we just got.”
“They didn’t?” said a surprised Calvert.
“Nope.”
“Didn’t even bothered to smash it when they exited the
premises? Maybe it was too heavy.”
pg. 12
Astrid laughed. “Not likely, I lifted it myself when we installed it last week. I’m not exactly a candidate for induction into the Weight Lifting Hall of Fame.”
“Does such a place even exist?”
“Probably. They’ve got all sorts of commemorative
organizations for everything, don’t they?”
“True. Just last week one of our other detectives found a website for a museum that promotes Mr. Potato Head figurines.”
“Really? Where’s it located? I had one of those dolls
when I was growing up.”
“Getting back to the matter at hand, I’ll say it anyway
and damn the consequences. This pilfering incident sounds like
an inside job.”
Astrid was shocked. “What? You mean one of my parents
might’ve done it? That’s insane.”
“No, I don’t think either one of your folks committed the
crime, but somebody close to your family did. Maybe a friend
or a close relative. That’s why I said it.”
“So how do I solve this mystery?”
“Here’s what you need to do. Astrid, you don’t mind going
for a night without sleep.”
“Since I’m not a vampire, it isn’t one of my favorite
pastimes, why?”
pg. 13
“Secretly plant more items the thief might pilfer. Then
hide somewhere in the living or dining room. A closet, or
behind the couch. Then you catch whoever committed the crime
the first time around just as they’re about to make a return
engagement.”
“Ok.”
“Maybe even film them as they’re about to commit the
crime. Then jump out and pretend you’ve got a loaded gun aimed
at them. That way you scare the culprit before they can run,
or do something really foolhardy.”
“Pull out the gun so I can watch them lose control of
their bladder. Sounds like fun.”
“Fun alright.”
_______________
Begging my folks that they should part for one night with
their prized set of genuine Muslim cutlery (acquired by
Edguardo in Istanbul) wasn’t easy. Astrid had to promise she’d
lay off her crime shows for a month.
Next I placed the cutlery prominently on display on top
of the dining room cabinet. That way the thief would be
tempted to abscond with the entire set. I chose not to mention
this information to my mother in order to avoid potential
heart attacks.
pg. 14
I then took my father’s rifle from the basement. Not just
any old firearm, but one with an ivory embossed stock, and
intricate Islamic designs. Safely hidden away as he told
Alexander and me that it was worth more than the sword he kept
prominently displayed instead.
My final subterfuge involved telling everyone I was going to spend the night at a friend’s place, but instead sneaking back into the house and hid in the closet that night. After consuming massive amounts of No-Doz tablets and coffee, followed by thanking my lucky stars that the closet was close to the bathroom. Then the all-night vigil/fun fest began.
At first, the “wait” felt like a waste of time, and then around 4:00 am it happened. Whoever the criminal was, they weren’t exactly subtle about their movements. The No-Doz tablets weren’t working, and I found myself balancing precariously on the verge of falling into dreamland.
Luckily I was suddenly awakened by a loud crashing noise
coming from the kitchen. This immediately roused me back into
a state of readiness and I opened the closet door a crack.
Fortunately there was just enough moonlight shining in through
the dining room window for me to watch the transgressor
entered into the room. Just enough light to illuminate the
pg. 15
figure of the malefactor too, which as it turns out, wasn’t an
altogether good thing.
Couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. The thief had a
medium sized build with slouching shoulders, (J.L.A.-Just Like
Alex). A small goatee accenting a lightly tanned complexion,
(J.L.A.). Whoever it was, they sauntered into the room with a
Characteristic slow gait, (J.L.A.). Then it hit me like a
wayward cement truck when the thief turned in the direction of
the closet, it was Alex.
I contemplated swinging the closet door open, and making
a grand entrance. Surprising Alex with my presence as much as
he expected to be sneaking into the house unbeknownst to any
one. Then I decided to tone it down a bit, and chose to just
sit back and watch the action.
A good decision on my part too. Alexander began to pick
the items he was about to abscond with. Gathered them in one
spot, and started stacking each one of by its lonesome in the
center of the room. This seemed like totally bizarre behavior
on the thief’s part, and confirmed that it was definitely my
brother all right, Alexander Allabashi was a bit of an
eccentric when it came to the way he did things.
Next, he walked to the center of the room, and stared
intently at his handiwork. Picking up an item: inspect it, and
pg. 16
then set it aside into one of two piles. Eventually he
examined his production, and chose to move every single item
into one pile. He exited the room and returned with a
gunnysack into which he started stuffing everything. Little by
little the various treasures disappeared.
At that point I suddenly realized that Alex was about to
exit the house with everything he’d just picked up. Needed to
do something fast or Alex would exit before I could put a stop
to the robbery. My internal panic mode shot up to #11 on the
anxiety dial.
A proper plan of attack was out of the question, so I
figured what the Hell and plunged right in. Swinging the
closet door fully opened, ran across the room, and flipped on
the light. Fully illuminating the space and everything in it,
especially my brother and myself. I was more surprised than
Alex when he saw me standing there.
“So I’ve caught the culprit red-handed!” exclaimed Astrid
in a valiant attempt to create a bit of drama. “Didn’t expect
me to be spying on you? Well I’ve just witnessed your entire
act Alexander.”
Her brother was shaken, but not too stirred upon seeing
that his sister had a front row seat to his performance.
“Alright sis I admit it, I’m the person who committed the
pg. 17
first robbery. Unfortunately, I’m back for more. Quit pointing
that rifle at me.”
“It’s only a toy. I got it to scare the prospective
thief.”
“How reassuring.”
“So why are you doing this?”
“Long and complicated actually,” said Alexander. “I’m not
sure you want to hear my explanation. It’ll probably sound a
little hollow.”
Astrid smiled upon hearing that. “We’ve got lots of time,
so spit it out Robin Hood.”
“Well as you know, it hasn’t exactly been the easiest
thing finding a job since I graduated last spring. In fact
it’s been downright frustrating.”
“Yeah, that’s obvious. Mom and Dad are great people, but
I figure you still living at home isn’t exactly your idea of
paradise found. More like paradise lost.”
“Getting a degree in Ancient History wasn’t exactly the wisest decision.”
“So do like all the other Bachelor of Arts grads out
there,” said Astrid. “Go to graduate school and get your
Masters. Then you can Pile it even Higher and Deeper after
that.”
pg. 18
“But can you imagine the student loan debts I’ll
accumulated by then? In some ways that just seems like I’m
digging myself into an even deeper hole. I made a mistake
doing this.”
“No you didn’t. You’ve said so yourself on numerous
occasions that studying the lifestyles of ancient cultures is
something you’ve always had passion for. Keep doing it Alex.”
“You think?”
“I know. What’s life if a person doesn’t get the
opportunity to pursue their passion at some point? Just don’t
go about paying it off by hurting someone you love.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know something Alex. I love you dearly, but you
aren’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Why steal from
mom and dad in order to pay off your student loans?”
“How else am I supposed to get myself out of debt?”
“Get a job. Any job as far as that goes. I’m sure they’re
hiring somewhere down at the mall. You may not like what
you’re doing, and it’ll be totally unrelated to what you
studied. Then again, who said life is easy. Besides, things
could be a lot worse.”
A philosophical look passed over Alex’s face. “You’re
right. Dad once told me if we were back in Albania, the only
pg. 19
option I’d have is working the farm. Herding goats for the
rest of my life. That is when I’m not trying to eke out a
living growing wheat.”
“Don’t forget, you’re raising it in soil rockier than the
Himalayas.”
“If I put this stuff back in it’s original location, will
you promise not to tell mom and dad I was the one who robbed
them the first time. Please?”
“Whatever. You owe me big time Senor Desperate.”
Alex was relieved, and he showed it. “Thanks.”
“You should start applying to grad. school. Once you’ve
gotten into one you’re interested in, you can commute to
campus.”
“How’s that supposed to save me money?”
“Do what everybody in L.A. doesn’t do. Don’t turn into a
typical rotund American and you ride your bike to school from
where you’re living. Then sell that classic roadster of
yours.”
“Classic alright. An elegant piece of garbage.”
“Did you really expect to get much for it? Why should
that matter.”
“True. Then what?”
pg. 20
“Use the money you make off its sale to live on. You’ll
probably get a stipend from the college too. Although you
working as a Teaching Assistant and molding the minds of
undergraduates makes me shutter for the future of humanity.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny sis.”
“Ever heard of the word facetious?”
“So should I look into getting the stuff I originally
stole back?”
“You sell it to a pawn shop?”
“Yup.”
“No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe get
that sword back. When you give it to dad, give him a bullshit
story. Tell him you saw the sun’s reflection off the blade as
it was sitting in a pawnshop window. You were just walking
down the street.”
“Ok.”
“Get the map back too, but hide it down in the basement.”
“What for?”
“That way when dad discovers it hasn’t been stolen,
he’ll be surprised. It’ll bring back nice memories about the
old country too. If there are any.”
“I don’t know, the place sounds interesting. I actually
want to go there some day.”
pg. 21
“So do I. Return to the country of our roots and all that
nostalgic mumbo-jumbo.”
“Hard to believe you’re younger than me.”
“I find that difficult to fathom at times myself.”
“Astrid, you’ve really turned into a pretty good
detective.”
Thanks, Touching bases with Inspector Hobbes down at the
Precinct helps. He suggested I catch you in the act by the
way.”
Alex started unloading the gunnysack. “I don’t know
whether I should thank him or not.”
“Don’t, the guy will gloat big time in front of me.”
Then Alex got a contemplative look in his eyes. “Thanks
Astrid.”
“For what?”
“Steering me back on course. I was really making a bad
move, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, yes you were. Then again, I’ve gotten pretty good
at noticing these things. Comes with the territory.”
“You need me to do anything else?”
“I’d ask you to start saving your money, but you haven’t
got a penny to your name.”
“I don’t know, got a little bit. What you need?”
pg. 22
“Start socking your spare change away. May take a decade
or two, but I want you to buy me a fedora and trench coat. I
need to start looking the part.”
END
pg. 23