This is Episode 8 in the Diary of a Detectress series. For previous episodes, please follow these links:
Episide 2 – Student record not found
Episide 3 – First steps towards success
Episode 7 – The explanation of a lifetime
Dear Diary,
Nor did I think to ask his name. He’ll have to remain Smirk Guy until the next time I meet him. Maybe he doesn’t actually have a name and goes by a string of numbers and letters? I wonder if I’ll eventually have to give up my name too? Or perhaps I'll have a collection of names to go with the various passports and identities that I will acquire on my missions.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even passed the first test yet, and Smirky-boy said there were 4 of them. The first one being to find out why and how I was expelled from university.
What do you know? It’s the very problem that I was trying to solve before! Karma sucks.
Yet, despite being faced with the same conundrum that previously had me so disheartened, I’m feeling better about everything. It helps to know that I’m special (oh yes I am! A hot, grinning guy told me so.) and that I’m not just going crazy. There’s a REASON behind my expulsion. There must be, because now it's my job to find out what it is.
As I’m mulling over my options, it strikes me that there’s an argument going on outside my bedroom door. Going closer to listen, it sounds like Layla and Katie having a momentous discussion.
“But why not the glass box? I mean most of it is glass.”
“But Layla, not ALL of it is glass, and anyway it's the wrong-”
“And surely putting it in SOME box is better than just throwing it in the normal bin.”
“Now Layla, you’re falling prey to the common misconception about old incandescent light bulbs, namely that due to the fact that they contain glass, they must be recyclable as such, when in fact-“
“And I thought we agreed that you weren’t going to interfere in other people’s lives any longer.”
“Correcting somebody’s mistaken actions with regards to recycling of waste could hardly be construed as interfering in their LIFE. I mean, how little self-respect do you have to have to take friendly advice regarding proper recycling habits the wrong way?”
“Let’s ask Trisha about her self-respect, shall we? Oh, that’s right, we CAN’T because she moved out because of your bullying.”
“Oh really, Layla, bullying? I’m just trying to care! For the planet! AND for the sake of a pleasant home environment.”
“Just don’t scare Sophie away. It took me long enough to find someone to take the room. And I like her.”
“Sophie is-“
At this point, I decide it’s time to intercede before I end up overhearing something I’d prefer not to. Swinging my bedroom door wide, I call cheerfully “Morning girls,”
They’re standing, facing off in the kitchen doorway, and both turn to look at me. Katie peers from behind her glasses, which seem to have got steamed up in the heat of the argument. Layla flicks her silver-blonde hair back over her shoulders and grins at me. “Sorry Sophie, did we wake you? We were just saying that we like you better than our old flatmate.”
I decide it’s best to come clean. “Guys, the door is pretty thin and I heard most of what you said. Maybe we should say it straight out. Katie, I promise to follow the recycling scheme. And Layla?” I turn to her, “I promise not to get upset if Katie is a little more enthusiastic about recycling that other people might be. How’s that?”
Katie beams. “It’s nice to meet someone who understands the importance of both recycling AND diplomacy. Here, let me show you the system…”
Smothering a sigh, I let her guide me through yet another impeccably organised and colour coded household scheme. After explaining the rules for recycling batteries and other tricky items, she glances at her watch. “Oh my god, is that the time?! I’ve got to get to the lab!” She rushes off like a dark-haired maelstrom.
Layla, who had vanished from the kitchen at the first mention of our ‘three-tiered sorting arrangement’, re-emerges from her room. Pouring herself a coffee from the pot on the counter, she joins me at the kitchen table. “I knew you’d fit in well here,” she grins. “You’ve got a knack with people.”
Her words echo what Smirk Guy pointed out yesterday and a shiver runs down my spine. I shift in my seat to hide the flinch. “As far as I can see, Katie just wants everything to function at maximum efficiency, including household tasks.”
She laughs, “Got it in one! Sadly, our last housemate, Trisha, had a problem with anyone telling her what to do and always took Katie’s lectures the wrong way.”
She continues to chat about various things, but I’m distracted, trying to think how best to proceed in my mystery-solving. I guess it’s sensible to follow up on what was my previous plan B: find a competent hacker to help me check the university’s computer system. Before I got caught up chasing Smirk Guy out of a nightclub, I had a lead on a guy who might have the right contacts. He wears all black and looks like some kind of night-time vigilante, which is why I gave him the private nickname of “Blade”. He’s white, so it’s not totally appropriate, but anyway…
I realise that Layla is waving her hand in my face. “Oh, sorry I was miles away,” I say.
Luckily she doesn’t seem offended. “More like light years. Something on your mind?”
I pause, not sure how much to share. “Put it this way… I need to get in touch with a certain guy and am not totally sure where to find him.”
Her expression goes serious. “Trouble?”
I silently hope that I haven’t shared too much. “Not really, more like a certain mystery that I’m trying to get to the bottom of.”
She looks at me speculatively. “Who do you need to find? Could be that I can help you.”
“You?”
She shrugs, “I have contacts.”
So it turns out that Layla’s boyfriend is an aquaintance of Blade guy – or at least someone who fits that description – and after a couple of phone calls, I’m making my way to an Italian restaurant on the other side of town.
It’s a cosy little place on a back street, obviously family owned and empty at this hour. The inevitable mafia associations jump into my head as I take a seat opposite Blade Guy. Until he opens his mouth, that is.
Could it be that Blade Guy is just the slightest bit camp? When the waitress looks at me I just order a glass of water. Don’t know how long I’ll be staying here after all.
Once the waitress has snapped her notebook shut and sauntered off behind the curtain into the back, I face off to Blade Guy – or Simon, as he tell me his name is. “I’m hoping you can put me in touch with someone." I say, trying my best to be suave. "I need a special kind of skill…”
He nods wisely. “Hitman is it love? Jealous ex-boyfriend? You look like the type.”
“No!” I blurt, shocked. Collecting myself, I continue in a lower tone. “Sorry, no it’s more along the lines of…” I look over my shoulder in a not-at-all-suspicious way, “…hacking.” I finish, lamely.
Simon looks amused at my awkwardness. “Wrong grade in the university system?” he asks. “We’ve all been there 'aven’t we, love. Shame they’re not more thorough with their marking, these teachers.”
“Something like that, yes,” I nod, trying to look worldly.
He’s looking at me closely. “Do I know you? You look familiar. I never forget a face and I'd swear I 'aven’t met you before, but still there’s something about you. What did you say your last name was?”
“Er, I didn’t,” I manage.
“Well, what is it?” he prompts, impatiently.
“Oh, well...Dayton” I say without thinking, then mentally kick myself. I just gave away my real name away to highly suspicious members of the underworld! Can’t even resist a direct question. How would I stand up when I’m being tortured for my country’s deepest secrets?
Still, my name probably won’t matter once I get that replacement string of random characters to identify me.
I’m distracted from the reverie by the surprise and recognition dawning on Simon’s face. “Dayton… never thought I’d see…” he murmers, looking at me wonderingly.
“What?”
His eyes snap back into focus and the previous expression is replaced by a pleasant mask. “Nothing love. Let’s say you just brought back an old memory. Anyway, moving on. A hacker was it? I’ve got just the bloke for you!”
This is an original piece, written for Steemit by @Victoria-Kelly. Thanks for reading!
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