All in the Month of May

“All in the Month of May”

By: Blogger Teacher

            Detective Hardy answered the phone with a gruff, “Hardy here.” He couldn’t stand to get rid of the old rotary phone he kept on his desk. The younger guys in the office had digital phones; their calls were easily patched through by Ursula, the secretary. Hardy’s calls, though, either came straight to his desk by whoever had his business card, or Ursula had to give callers his number if she was the first to get the call. She hated his old ways, but he was her uncle and she knew he was a hard one to break so she didn’t fight it. Everyone knew Ursuala’s sea-witch ways were learned from her uncle so they didn’t give her too hard of a time—they knew she was an angel at heart. The pair of them was a force to be reckoned with.

            The voice on the other end of the telephone was scratchy and there was lots of static on the line making it real difficult for Hardy to hear what the caller was saying—a female voice? He wasn’t sure. It was too high to be a man’s voice, but was it too low to be female?

            “Get—scrrraatcchhhhh—ov—shkskshksh—Rose Drive—skzzkhhskk—beepbeepbeepbeeeeeep!”

            Hardy felt chills crawl up and down his spine. The voice had said Rose Drive. He knew the street well. Rose Drive was a neighborhood stuck in the Victorian Age; the houses, although beautifully and immaculately maintained, hadn’t changed since the late 1800s when they were built. And, of course, each house boasted the most breathtaking rose bushes one could imagine. You could smell Rose Drive before you got there; the aroma filled the air, and especially in May when they were in full bloom and the breeze was light.

 He grabbed his hat, put out his burning cigarette, checked his hair in the full length mirror behind the door, tucked in his shirt and was out the door as quick as a flash although taking care to lock it behind him. Out of habit, he announced he was leaving with his characteristic “Hardy’s on the case!” He was surprised at how quickly and eagerly he was leaving. Hadn’t he noticed the earlier chills at the mention of Rose Drive? Had he finally gotten over last year’s nightmare? It was burned in his memory like a song stuck on repeat—or so he had thought. It was one year to the date since he had walked in on the most horrific crime scene.

Hardy had no sooner started up his red ‘79 Chevy El Camino when he realized he didn’t have a case file. What was he investigating? Had a crime occurred? Was he to be the first on the scene? Which address on Rose Drive was he going to? He turned the car off, got out and locked it so he could head back in to think a minute before he went rushing off. He wasn’t normally so impulsive, except when he had a hunch. But there wasn’t really anything to give him a hunch; he was still shocked at how quickly he had left without being prepared.

Hardy marched back to the detective’s ward, his shoes click-click-clacking on the hardwood floor of the hallway. He opened the door to the ward and, without even looking up, asked, “Ursula, where’s the file for Ro—”

Ursuala was nowhere to be found.

Did she tell him she was taking the day off? When had she left? Had she been gone all day?

Brushing it off, he unlocked his office door and presently found a file folder labeled “CONFIDENTIAL” sitting square in the middle of his desk. He slowly glanced around the office, his hand on the gun in its holster. Nothing was amiss. Not a thing was out of place. The window was shut and locked still. The bathroom was empty. No trash in the trashcan—just as he had left it (his biggest pet peeve was trash in the trashcan).  Just one cigarette butt in the ash tray. But where had this folder come from? He sat down carefully and opened it up. He found all the photographs from last year’s nightmare piled up in the folder. On top of all the pictures was a sticky note with the words “It’s May. I’m here.” scrawled on it.

He bolted out of the chair, sprinted through the door forgetting to lock it, and flew down the hall to his El Camino. He fired up the engine again and sped over to Rose Drive. The sweet aroma wafted through his open windows. How could something so sweet be the place of something so sinister? The street was eerily calm when he arrived on scene—he was the first to get there.  It didn’t take him long to realize that history was repeating itself and he was back at the fourth house down, the tall cream colored one with red trim and the lushest red rose bushes out front. He haphazardly parked the car half on the street and half on the sidewalk, quickly got out and removed the gun from its holster, and approached the steps. He knew what was in store. What he wasn’t expecting, though, was the crunncchh underfoot. He looked down to find that he had crushed an ivory colored chess piece—the queen. He stared at it for a moment and proceeded up the front stairs, ignoring the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

He had forgotten one important thing: Ursula, the champion chess player and his favorite niece, had called in sick today.