Back a few months ago, I put one of my goals for the year was to regularly write a serial story. The idea was to update the story every other week. The last time I updated it was February 6th.
I sat down multiple times to update it, but I had zero motivation to do so, and the reason why is what I learned about myself.
I do not dislike writing creatively and I do enjoy it to a degree. However, I can not really say that I like it a lot either. Given the limited amount of time I have in a week to do "fun" stuff I would rather play a board game, play a video game or read much more than I want to write. What I discovered is that I LOVE to create a story, but I do not care a whole lot about actually writing the story.
You see, I already knew what was going to happen to Dirk Sullivan. A couple of the details may be foggy, but for the most part I know how the Death Blossom story is going to end. I had a ton of fun crafting that story in my head. However, the actual process of putting the story onto paper is kind of tedious. I know that is part of the writing process, and just like an athlete pushes through the pain in training to get to the finished project, a writer is suppose to push through the tedium to get to the finished project. I don't want to do that though. The finished project is not worth it to me.
That being said, I still love to create stories, and what I have realized (especially as I prepare for Gen Con) is the best venue for me to create stories is Role Playing Games. As a RPG gamemaster I get to create the backbone of a story. I craft the story, and then work collaboratively with the players to feel in the details of the story. The last time I actively played a RPG was back in college, but after I get through the craziness of the summer I am going to seriously look into the possibility of getting back into it. I have no idea how to go about doing this, but it is worth giving a shot. I do enjoy creating stories, and I do not want to give up on that.
For those who really are curious, here is a brief synopsis of how the rest of the Dirk Sullivan story goes. Dirk discovers that Eddie the Rottweiler is working with philanthropist William Newhouse to abduct and transport homeless transients out of the city. Dirk discovers these people are being shipped to Brazil, and he flies his plane down there to discover what is going on. In Brazil he follows Newhouse's trail into the amazon and discovers some of the homeless people he watch get abducted. Only these people are now mindless husks trying to kill him. If you read the story thus far, you know why they are mindless husks is because they have been infected by a genetically modified fungus. Yes, they are plant zombies. You really should not be surprised that I was ultimately writing a zombie story. Anyway, Newhouse captures Dirk and explains that he is looking for the key to life beyond death, to immortality. Newhouse then tries to infect Dirk with the fungus, but he escapes. How he escapes this is the one major detail I never worked out. Anyway, Dirk then fights Newhouse and defeats him. In the process of the fight, Newhouse gets infected with his own fungus. Dirk creates an explosion to destroy Newhouse's fungus facility and escapes on a boat into the Amazon. The story ends by revealing a zombified Newhouse survived the explosion and wonders into the rain forest, his immortality achieved.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Death Blossom Part 3
Despite Cathrine’s terribly unconvincing performance as a wife, the couple had no problem selling their story to the bank clerks. After they got through routine necessities and niceties, they were alone with Professor Daulton’s safety deposit box. Dirk inserted the key and heard a satisfying click as the box opened up. Dirk had never been in the professor’s office, but he could only guess it was a chaotic pile of papers and books, because even the small space of the box was a disorganized mess. On top of the pile was a journal. Dirk peaked into it, and it was very obvious the journal was written in cipher. Dirk quickly handed the journal to Catherine.
Catherine also quickly realized the journal was not readable, and she sarcastically asked, “What am I suppose to do with this?”
“You are smart, I am sure you can figure it out.”
Catherine rolled her eyes, as Dirk began to look for anything interesting. There was a file folder with what looked like research of some kind, Dirk ignored that as well and continued looking; finally finding something interesting. He was looking at a grainy picture of Eddie with a rather distinguished looking gentleman. Dirk showed the picture to Catherine, “Do you know who this man?”
Before she spoke, Dirk knew the answer by the shock on her face. “That is William Newhouse. This does not make any sense. Why would he be doing anything with that gangster?”
“I have no idea. I do not know the first thing about him. Why don’t you tell me?”
Catherine paused as it was clear her mind was turning to generate an answer. “William is a wealthy philanthropist. I think he makes most of his money now from the stock market. He is one of the biggest supporter of the arts in this town. I can not fathom what business he could possibly have to do with criminals!”
Dirk let out a pessimistic chuckle, “My guess he thought he could make money with the criminals. I am a betting man, and I bet what ever is happening in this picture is what got your professor killed.”
Catherine continued to go on about how ludicrous that idea was, but Dirk had stopped listening and went back to the contents of the box. There was small vile with the remains an ant in it. Dirk looked closer at the the ant, and his mouth hung open. Throughout the adventures his business had taken him on, Dirk had seen a lot of strange things. This was a new one for him. Dirk interrupted, the rambling of his client, “Catherine . . . you are the botany expert here, please tell me what I am looking at.”
Dirk handed the vile to Catherine and she examined it intently. There was more than just an ant in the vile, or rather there was more in the ant than just the ant. Growing out of the ant is what looked like some sort of plant. Coming out of the ant’s hand was a stem with a small ball that was pregnant with spores attached to it. “This,” Catherine began with some authority, “is an example of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis. It was discovered in the amazon, a few years ago, Professor Daulton had spent the past two years researching it.”
Dirk, looking more than a little mortified, asked’ what did that Ophio-whatever do to the bug.?”
Cathernine became more excitable as she continued, “It is a parasitic fungus that preys on insects. Once an insect is infected, the fungus somehow takes over and controls it’s body. The fungus drives the insect to a position so that when it dies, the spores fall on the rest of the colony. On his last trip to the amazon, Professor Daulton observed a single infected ant, lead to the destruction of an entire colony.”
Dirk looked at the ant, and then looked back at the picture of Eddie the Rottweiler and William Newhouse. Dirk did not understand how all the pieces fit, but he was sure this was all connected and the connection is what got George Daulton killed.
Dirk took one more look at the box, up against the side he saw what looked like tickets. He looked at them to discover they were indeed tickets to the grand opening of an exhibit at the Art Institute. Dirk noticed the tickets were dated for this evening. On a hunch Dirk asked, “Catherine, will William Newhouse be at this event.?”
Catherine looked at the tickets that Dirk was holding and replied with a matter of fact tone, “Of course, he is the main patron of it.”
“Well” Dirk said with a sly smile on his face, “It looks like we have a date tonight.”
Catherine also quickly realized the journal was not readable, and she sarcastically asked, “What am I suppose to do with this?”
“You are smart, I am sure you can figure it out.”
Catherine rolled her eyes, as Dirk began to look for anything interesting. There was a file folder with what looked like research of some kind, Dirk ignored that as well and continued looking; finally finding something interesting. He was looking at a grainy picture of Eddie with a rather distinguished looking gentleman. Dirk showed the picture to Catherine, “Do you know who this man?”
Before she spoke, Dirk knew the answer by the shock on her face. “That is William Newhouse. This does not make any sense. Why would he be doing anything with that gangster?”
“I have no idea. I do not know the first thing about him. Why don’t you tell me?”
Catherine paused as it was clear her mind was turning to generate an answer. “William is a wealthy philanthropist. I think he makes most of his money now from the stock market. He is one of the biggest supporter of the arts in this town. I can not fathom what business he could possibly have to do with criminals!”
Dirk let out a pessimistic chuckle, “My guess he thought he could make money with the criminals. I am a betting man, and I bet what ever is happening in this picture is what got your professor killed.”
Catherine continued to go on about how ludicrous that idea was, but Dirk had stopped listening and went back to the contents of the box. There was small vile with the remains an ant in it. Dirk looked closer at the the ant, and his mouth hung open. Throughout the adventures his business had taken him on, Dirk had seen a lot of strange things. This was a new one for him. Dirk interrupted, the rambling of his client, “Catherine . . . you are the botany expert here, please tell me what I am looking at.”
Dirk handed the vile to Catherine and she examined it intently. There was more than just an ant in the vile, or rather there was more in the ant than just the ant. Growing out of the ant is what looked like some sort of plant. Coming out of the ant’s hand was a stem with a small ball that was pregnant with spores attached to it. “This,” Catherine began with some authority, “is an example of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis. It was discovered in the amazon, a few years ago, Professor Daulton had spent the past two years researching it.”
Dirk, looking more than a little mortified, asked’ what did that Ophio-whatever do to the bug.?”
Cathernine became more excitable as she continued, “It is a parasitic fungus that preys on insects. Once an insect is infected, the fungus somehow takes over and controls it’s body. The fungus drives the insect to a position so that when it dies, the spores fall on the rest of the colony. On his last trip to the amazon, Professor Daulton observed a single infected ant, lead to the destruction of an entire colony.”
Dirk looked at the ant, and then looked back at the picture of Eddie the Rottweiler and William Newhouse. Dirk did not understand how all the pieces fit, but he was sure this was all connected and the connection is what got George Daulton killed.
Dirk took one more look at the box, up against the side he saw what looked like tickets. He looked at them to discover they were indeed tickets to the grand opening of an exhibit at the Art Institute. Dirk noticed the tickets were dated for this evening. On a hunch Dirk asked, “Catherine, will William Newhouse be at this event.?”
Catherine looked at the tickets that Dirk was holding and replied with a matter of fact tone, “Of course, he is the main patron of it.”
“Well” Dirk said with a sly smile on his face, “It looks like we have a date tonight.”
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Death Blossom Part 2
April 24th, 1921. Chicago
Dirk stood outside the State Bank of Illinois waiting for Catherine Sinclair. It had been a couple of days since their escape from Eddie’s rottweilers. Given Catherine’s family connections she was safe from the two-bit gangster, but Dirk was not so lucky. He had been laying low. Dirk had not been home because he knew by now it had been trashed and was being watched by one of Eddie’s goons.
Dirk had kept himself busy tracking down the location of the safety deposit box that went with the key the professor had. Dirk had to call in a favor with a safe cracker he knew, but he traced it to this downtown bank branch. Dirk had promised he would let Catherine know when he knew something, and so now he was waiting rather impatiently for her arrival.
Dirk thought back to a couple of days ago when he first met Catherine Sinclair. She had come through his office door all business. She introduced herself and began explaining that she was a graduate student at the university. Honestly, Dirk did not pay to much attention to what she was saying, because he was to busy paying attention to her long legs. Dirk got the gist of it anyway. In his understanding, Catherine was from a family with old money and she had leveraged that money to pursue higher education. Apparently, if someone gives enough money to have a hall named after them then they can get accepted into the program of their choosing, no matter what their gender is. Catherine’s professor, George Daulton, had gone missing. A police report was filed, but Catherine wanted more attention on the case which is where Dirk came in. Dirk was good at getting stuff done, finding things that did not want to be found, and uncovering the most hidden of secrets. At the time, Dirk figured this was going to be a nice easy job. After the recent events in Romania, Dirk was looking for a softball and he was hoping this was it. From what Catherine had said, he knew the professor had disappeared in Eddie’s turf. Dirk’s best guess is that George had a boozing problem, a gambling problem, or both. He was in over his head and was either hiding or dead. Dirk did not think the truth would be that hard to find, the biggest surprise is that Catherine demanded to go with him.
It turned out that Dirk was right, George Daulton was in over his head. It turns out that, Eddie Torrio was also into something over his head. Dirk had just show up at one of his gin joints and asked a few questions. Eddie was crazy, but not crazy enough to feed someone to his dogs with almost no provocation. That kind of response meant that Eddie was scared about something or scared of someone. Dirk had probably been wrong about George. He was not into cards or booze . . .well he might of been, but that is not what got him killed. The professor either knew something about someone’s business or knew enough of something to ask the wrong people the wrong questions. Dirk really hoped this safety deposit box contained some answers. Especially since finding this bank had cost a favor. In this town favors were not cheap, and Dirk was glad that Catherine’s money was good. When people tried to kill him his fees went up, and his fees also went up when he had to spend favors.
With Dirk’s thoughts on Catherine Sinclair, it was as if she arrived on cue. A taxi pulled up to the curb to let her out.
“Good day, Ms. Sinclair.” Dirk said with a nod.
“Good Morning. Mr. Sullivan, “ said Catherine returning the greeting, “Are you sure this isthe right place.”
“I have a friend who has intimate knowledge of this building. It is the right place. So we are on the same page, in case they ask inside we are happily married.”
Catherine surprised stood with her mouth open, and blond hair blowing in the wind, unsure how to respond.
Dirk Continued, “It will be a more believable story for the bank clerks. So Mrs. Sullivan are you ready to go view your precious jewels?”
Dirk offered his arm to Catherine. She paused for a second before taking it and responding, “Why of course, dear.”
Dirk stood outside the State Bank of Illinois waiting for Catherine Sinclair. It had been a couple of days since their escape from Eddie’s rottweilers. Given Catherine’s family connections she was safe from the two-bit gangster, but Dirk was not so lucky. He had been laying low. Dirk had not been home because he knew by now it had been trashed and was being watched by one of Eddie’s goons.
Dirk had kept himself busy tracking down the location of the safety deposit box that went with the key the professor had. Dirk had to call in a favor with a safe cracker he knew, but he traced it to this downtown bank branch. Dirk had promised he would let Catherine know when he knew something, and so now he was waiting rather impatiently for her arrival.
Dirk thought back to a couple of days ago when he first met Catherine Sinclair. She had come through his office door all business. She introduced herself and began explaining that she was a graduate student at the university. Honestly, Dirk did not pay to much attention to what she was saying, because he was to busy paying attention to her long legs. Dirk got the gist of it anyway. In his understanding, Catherine was from a family with old money and she had leveraged that money to pursue higher education. Apparently, if someone gives enough money to have a hall named after them then they can get accepted into the program of their choosing, no matter what their gender is. Catherine’s professor, George Daulton, had gone missing. A police report was filed, but Catherine wanted more attention on the case which is where Dirk came in. Dirk was good at getting stuff done, finding things that did not want to be found, and uncovering the most hidden of secrets. At the time, Dirk figured this was going to be a nice easy job. After the recent events in Romania, Dirk was looking for a softball and he was hoping this was it. From what Catherine had said, he knew the professor had disappeared in Eddie’s turf. Dirk’s best guess is that George had a boozing problem, a gambling problem, or both. He was in over his head and was either hiding or dead. Dirk did not think the truth would be that hard to find, the biggest surprise is that Catherine demanded to go with him.
It turned out that Dirk was right, George Daulton was in over his head. It turns out that, Eddie Torrio was also into something over his head. Dirk had just show up at one of his gin joints and asked a few questions. Eddie was crazy, but not crazy enough to feed someone to his dogs with almost no provocation. That kind of response meant that Eddie was scared about something or scared of someone. Dirk had probably been wrong about George. He was not into cards or booze . . .well he might of been, but that is not what got him killed. The professor either knew something about someone’s business or knew enough of something to ask the wrong people the wrong questions. Dirk really hoped this safety deposit box contained some answers. Especially since finding this bank had cost a favor. In this town favors were not cheap, and Dirk was glad that Catherine’s money was good. When people tried to kill him his fees went up, and his fees also went up when he had to spend favors.
With Dirk’s thoughts on Catherine Sinclair, it was as if she arrived on cue. A taxi pulled up to the curb to let her out.
“Good day, Ms. Sinclair.” Dirk said with a nod.
“Good Morning. Mr. Sullivan, “ said Catherine returning the greeting, “Are you sure this isthe right place.”
“I have a friend who has intimate knowledge of this building. It is the right place. So we are on the same page, in case they ask inside we are happily married.”
Catherine surprised stood with her mouth open, and blond hair blowing in the wind, unsure how to respond.
Dirk Continued, “It will be a more believable story for the bank clerks. So Mrs. Sullivan are you ready to go view your precious jewels?”
Dirk offered his arm to Catherine. She paused for a second before taking it and responding, “Why of course, dear.”
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Death Blossom Part 1
April 21st, 1921. Chicago, USA.
“I thought you said I could trust you!” Cathrine Sinclair shouted with an accusatory tone.
Dirk Sullivan annoyed, rolled his eyes and replied“You can trust me. This is just a minor inconvenience.”
If Dirk was being honest, this really was a little more than a minor inconvenience, but he was not going to admit that to her. She had already been nagging him enough. In truth, this was one of the tightest spots he had been in for quite some time. He found himself in a chair back to back and bound to his client, the seemingly unsatisfiable Ms. Sinclair. They were trapped in what could only be described as a room sized cage that he could only guess was in the corner of some warehouse in one of the many less reputable neighborhoods of Chicago.
“I hope the two of you are comfortable.” their host and captor interjected.
Dirk just rolled his eyes again. He hated sarcasm, especially from overly smug lowlifes. When it came to smug lowlifes Eddie “the Rottweiler” Torrio was a prime example.
Eddie continued, “Do you know what happens next?”
Dirk, let out a slightly amused sigh, “We get to play with your pets right?”
Eddie earned his nickname by how he chose to dispose of people who defaulted on their loans, snitched, or otherwise were a threat to him. Eddie had two mean Rottweiler's that he had trained to kill.
“Yes Mr. Sullivan, you get to play with my pets. Perhaps they will teach you a lesson about sticking your nose in my business.” Eddie taunted, as he motioned with a sick smile to the remains in one corner of the cage, “Your associate, I am sure already learned this lesson. This is often my favorite part, but I must bid the two of you farewell. I have a social engagement to attend.”
Eddie struck a match and lit a large candle. Above the candle was a rather narrow rope. Dirk’s eyes followed the rope upwards to a pulley system, and from the pulley system ropes led to two small gates, which caged Rottweilers were being positioned next two by a couple of hired thugs. When the rope burnt through, the gates would drop and the dogs would be more than ready to pounce. Eddie is a real sick bastard, thought Dirk. He did not just kill people in a truly gruesome way, but he enjoyed making them suffer in the waiting for it.
With the dogs in position and waiting impatiently, Eddie and his goons left. Cathrine Sinclair began to whimper, believing that the end was near. Dirk interrupted her crying, “It is not time for a pity party yet, sweetheart. Can you pull my coat sleeve tight?”
Unsure what the game was, Cathrine complied and the tautness on the duster’s sleeve gave Dirk enough leverage to twist his arm and break the razor blade that he had sewn into the coat through the fabric. Dirk continued explaining what he was doing, “This may come as a surprise to you, but I have been in situations like this before. I try to always be prepared.”
While he was talking, Dirk was doing his best to move his arm to have the blade cut through the rope. Fortunately, for Dirk he worked faster than the flame, and he had them free just before the dogs were released. Dirk did not have a lot of time to read himself, as he heard the rope snap, and the gate doors clang open. Cathrine moved to the back of the cage and the two dogs charged at Dirk. He grabbed the chair he had been restrained in. The first dog lunged for his throat, and Dirk swung the chair wildly. The chair connected with the animal and shattered from the impact. Dirk did not have time to congratulate himself as the second dog was already upon on him. As it had been trained, this Rottweiler also went straight for the throat. Unarmed and defenseless, Dirk put his arms up in a futile effort to protect himself. A couple of long seconds later, Dirk was mildly surprised that he was still alive. He looked at his feet at the second dog and the pool of blood that was beginning to form. Assessing what had happened, Dirk looked around and noticed the hidden blade from his jacket was bloodied. Dirk released his tension in a sigh, unable to believe his own luck. The overzealous animal had slit it's own throat on Dirk's blade. The first Rottweiler began to stir again, feeling more confident Dirk took one of the legs from the fractured chair and beat the dog until it stopped moving.
Dirk stopped and catching his breath triumphantly said to Cathrine, “See I told you that you could trust me.”
Dirk was not surprised, when she did not respond to his wit. He shrugged it off, and moved to examine the corpse in the corner that Eddie had referred to. The man was nicely dressed, as one would expect out of a college professor. His throat had been torn out, as one would expect from the now deceased rottweilers. As Dirk assumed, wallet and identification had been taken. However, in the inner coat pocket he found a handkerchief with the monogram GD. George Daulton. This was the man that Cathrine Sinclair had hired Dirk to find. Dirk took one last look over the body for anything that might be of interest. He was not a cobbler, but something about the dead man’s left shoe caught his interest. Dirk knelt down and examined the shoe more closely. The heel on the left foot was made of a different material than the right. Following a hunch, Dirk pulled and twisted the heel to reveal it was false. The heel came off and revealed a small key and a number on a slip of paper
Cathrine had been squeamishly staying back from the grisly scene meekly asked, “Did you find something?”
Standing up, Dirk answered, “Well this is definitely your college professor and this looks like a key to a safety deposit box.” Dirk paused for a second and then headed to move the dog cage out of the way before continuing. “I am sorry for your loss Ms. Sinclair. I wish we had found your friend under better circumstances, but it is over. We need to leave now though, may I escort you home?”
Completely unsure how to respond to his candor and the weight of everything she had experienced over the evening, Cathrine stammered, “What do you mean it is over? What about why? What about about the safety deposit box? Don’t you want to know what is going on?”
“No.” Said Dirk simply without looking back.
Damn it. Yes, I do. Dirk thought. My old man always said I was to curious for my own good.
“I thought you said I could trust you!” Cathrine Sinclair shouted with an accusatory tone.
Dirk Sullivan annoyed, rolled his eyes and replied“You can trust me. This is just a minor inconvenience.”
If Dirk was being honest, this really was a little more than a minor inconvenience, but he was not going to admit that to her. She had already been nagging him enough. In truth, this was one of the tightest spots he had been in for quite some time. He found himself in a chair back to back and bound to his client, the seemingly unsatisfiable Ms. Sinclair. They were trapped in what could only be described as a room sized cage that he could only guess was in the corner of some warehouse in one of the many less reputable neighborhoods of Chicago.
“I hope the two of you are comfortable.” their host and captor interjected.
Dirk just rolled his eyes again. He hated sarcasm, especially from overly smug lowlifes. When it came to smug lowlifes Eddie “the Rottweiler” Torrio was a prime example.
Eddie continued, “Do you know what happens next?”
Dirk, let out a slightly amused sigh, “We get to play with your pets right?”
Eddie earned his nickname by how he chose to dispose of people who defaulted on their loans, snitched, or otherwise were a threat to him. Eddie had two mean Rottweiler's that he had trained to kill.
“Yes Mr. Sullivan, you get to play with my pets. Perhaps they will teach you a lesson about sticking your nose in my business.” Eddie taunted, as he motioned with a sick smile to the remains in one corner of the cage, “Your associate, I am sure already learned this lesson. This is often my favorite part, but I must bid the two of you farewell. I have a social engagement to attend.”
Eddie struck a match and lit a large candle. Above the candle was a rather narrow rope. Dirk’s eyes followed the rope upwards to a pulley system, and from the pulley system ropes led to two small gates, which caged Rottweilers were being positioned next two by a couple of hired thugs. When the rope burnt through, the gates would drop and the dogs would be more than ready to pounce. Eddie is a real sick bastard, thought Dirk. He did not just kill people in a truly gruesome way, but he enjoyed making them suffer in the waiting for it.
With the dogs in position and waiting impatiently, Eddie and his goons left. Cathrine Sinclair began to whimper, believing that the end was near. Dirk interrupted her crying, “It is not time for a pity party yet, sweetheart. Can you pull my coat sleeve tight?”
Unsure what the game was, Cathrine complied and the tautness on the duster’s sleeve gave Dirk enough leverage to twist his arm and break the razor blade that he had sewn into the coat through the fabric. Dirk continued explaining what he was doing, “This may come as a surprise to you, but I have been in situations like this before. I try to always be prepared.”
While he was talking, Dirk was doing his best to move his arm to have the blade cut through the rope. Fortunately, for Dirk he worked faster than the flame, and he had them free just before the dogs were released. Dirk did not have a lot of time to read himself, as he heard the rope snap, and the gate doors clang open. Cathrine moved to the back of the cage and the two dogs charged at Dirk. He grabbed the chair he had been restrained in. The first dog lunged for his throat, and Dirk swung the chair wildly. The chair connected with the animal and shattered from the impact. Dirk did not have time to congratulate himself as the second dog was already upon on him. As it had been trained, this Rottweiler also went straight for the throat. Unarmed and defenseless, Dirk put his arms up in a futile effort to protect himself. A couple of long seconds later, Dirk was mildly surprised that he was still alive. He looked at his feet at the second dog and the pool of blood that was beginning to form. Assessing what had happened, Dirk looked around and noticed the hidden blade from his jacket was bloodied. Dirk released his tension in a sigh, unable to believe his own luck. The overzealous animal had slit it's own throat on Dirk's blade. The first Rottweiler began to stir again, feeling more confident Dirk took one of the legs from the fractured chair and beat the dog until it stopped moving.
Dirk stopped and catching his breath triumphantly said to Cathrine, “See I told you that you could trust me.”
Dirk was not surprised, when she did not respond to his wit. He shrugged it off, and moved to examine the corpse in the corner that Eddie had referred to. The man was nicely dressed, as one would expect out of a college professor. His throat had been torn out, as one would expect from the now deceased rottweilers. As Dirk assumed, wallet and identification had been taken. However, in the inner coat pocket he found a handkerchief with the monogram GD. George Daulton. This was the man that Cathrine Sinclair had hired Dirk to find. Dirk took one last look over the body for anything that might be of interest. He was not a cobbler, but something about the dead man’s left shoe caught his interest. Dirk knelt down and examined the shoe more closely. The heel on the left foot was made of a different material than the right. Following a hunch, Dirk pulled and twisted the heel to reveal it was false. The heel came off and revealed a small key and a number on a slip of paper
Cathrine had been squeamishly staying back from the grisly scene meekly asked, “Did you find something?”
Standing up, Dirk answered, “Well this is definitely your college professor and this looks like a key to a safety deposit box.” Dirk paused for a second and then headed to move the dog cage out of the way before continuing. “I am sorry for your loss Ms. Sinclair. I wish we had found your friend under better circumstances, but it is over. We need to leave now though, may I escort you home?”
Completely unsure how to respond to his candor and the weight of everything she had experienced over the evening, Cathrine stammered, “What do you mean it is over? What about why? What about about the safety deposit box? Don’t you want to know what is going on?”
“No.” Said Dirk simply without looking back.
Damn it. Yes, I do. Dirk thought. My old man always said I was to curious for my own good.
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