The Peaceful Affair: Chapter 23
“Thank you, Mr. President, uhm, I mean, John,” stumbled the young man, as he bungled through the door of the Triangular Office. “I’ll see to it right away.” He almost bumped into Noro Myx on his way out, braking hard at the very last minute, with Myx’s suave swerving to the left averting a chain collision.
“You’re the eminent detective Noro Myx,” revered the young aide, who was quite new to the job, his plastic covers still rustling when he moved or idled.
“I prefer ‘famous’,” corrected the wrongly labeled eminent.
“So be it,” replied the young man majestically, and promptly fell flat on his coronet as Myx stepped accidentally upon the train of his robe.
“Sorry,” apologized the detective, “I didn’t see the caboose.”
The man rose and castled along wordlessly. Myx stepped into the Triangular Office.
“Good afternoon, Jane, I see you have a new aide,” said the famous detective amiably once the door had closed behind him, thinking how fortunate it was to have so many Does lying around.
Where presidents are concerned there’s simply no such thing as too many liars, he thought. With John in hiding and Anonymous having either mysteriously vanished or been mystifyingly banished just a short while ago, the country was lucky to have Jane step in, seamlessly assuming her John rôle.
“Hi, Noro,” smiled Doe. “I do indeed have a new aide.”
“Is this person in possession of a name?” inquired the detective.
“I believe so,” replied Doe evenly. “Though I’ve no idea what he calls his name.”
“I’m not interested in the name of his name,” Myx said uninterestedly, “just the name.”
Doe shrugged her shoulders. “Sorry, no inkling of that either. I just call him Young Man Coronet. Anyway, Noro, that was one fun goose chase this morning! Gosh, I wish I’d won — I really want to tramp at Club 22 one of these days.”
“And so you shall, my dear,” smiled Myx. “One of these days. So tell me, how’s governance coming along?”
“Just fine,” replied Doe. “Running as smoothly as you’d expect.”
“I’d expect it to run very bumpily,” Myx expected.
“I expected you’d expect such an expectation,” reasoned Doe sagaciously, “and I was right on the expected dot. Governance is running as smoothly as you expected.”
Deciding to travel a different lane of questioning, Myx signaled a right turn and switched lanes. “How is our group of protagonists doing?”
“Just fine,” replied Doe. “Running as smoothly as you’d expect.”
“I’d expect it to run very bumpily,” Myx expected, suddenly confronted with a pesky sense of déjà vu he’d already seen twice in the past.
“Don’t mind me,” said the vexatious sense, a meddling sort who always had to add his two cents’ worth. “Just passing through. On my way to a meeting I already attended.” And the sense departed posthaste.
“I heard about what happened last night,” Doe said worriedly. “My, what a fright.”
Myx calmed down the agitated occupant of the presidency. “No need to get overexcited. It was a simple commando reunion.”
“Simple?” questioned Doe.
“Simple.” Adroitly, Myx had transformed the question mark into a full stop.
“And what about the Case Puzzle the Jeffersons pinched?” probed Doe.
“Using an indefinite article such as ‘a’ would be notably preferable in this case to the definite article ‘the’,” remarked Myx musingly.
“A Case Puzzle?” asked Doe.
“A Case Puzzle.” Again, Myx had skillfully transformed the question mark into a full stop.
“But — ” began Doe.
“Don’t fret, my dear Jane,” interrupted Myx, as he rose and turned toward the door. “The Jeffersons are nothing but an innocuous pair of gossip collectors and connoisseurs. I wager the Case Puzzle is neatly arranged on a shelf in their vine cellar at this very moment.”
Having rolled languidly in their sockets up to this point, the detective’s eyes whimsically chose to roost on the large grandfather clock Lincoln had been gifted by the Swiss. “My, look at the time!”
Myx then made extensive use of the door and exited the office, murmuring softy, “They really are master watchmakers, the Swiss.”
“Do you think he suspected something just now?” asked Antoine Cent Eccent anxiously.
“I don’t think so,” replied his colleague. “You know he simply likes clocks.”
“You’re probably right,” agreed ACE. “Besides, we did a first-rate job with that ticker — nobody can tell the new face from the old one.”
“Except that any ray of light flying in the new face ends up directly on our screen here,” smiled his friend, pointing to the display displaying the display in the Triangular Office.
“And so we’ve just acquired our own viny tidbit,” ACE narrated that which had just come to light.
“The Jeffersons have a bogus Case Puzzle,” his friend stated the obvious.
“Come in!” ordered Lieutenant Colonel Jefferson as he opened the door that evening to welcome their guest. Young Man Coronet marched in, handing a bouquet of black military roses to Jefferson.
“My favorite color!” exclaimed the colonel jubilantly.
“Before I forget,” Coronet said unforgettably, “the sergeant at the flower shop said they last longer if you water them with pawns.”
“Roger Roger,” the colonel confirmed his complete comprehension of the directive by employing a code term they’d negotiated earlier via a duel of hiccups.
“And here’s a box of shocklets for the lady,” smiled Coronet as Captain Jefferson flanked his field of vision, deftly outmaneuvering her by presenting an ornate box full of sweet vignettes.
“Ooh, Swiss — my favorite,” cooed the captain. “Thank you, Young Man.” Turning toward her husband she requested gravely, “Permission to indulge, sir.”
Evincing a finely honed pair of executive skills, the colonel replied without a moment’s hesitation, “Permission granted.”
Doing the polite thing, the captain first proffered the lady present a piece of shocklet, thereby selecting for herself a truffle filled with a saccharine rumor about Switzerland’s intention to join the United Nations. “A bit stale,” she mumbled, and offered the two men a piece apiece. The colonel picked a nutty tittle-tattle about a moose named Fritz who’d recently won the ski championship of the Swiss canton of Zug for the second time in a row. Coronet chose a bittersweet scandal involving the Genevan ambassadress to Bern and a Bernese Saint Bernard who was half-Züricher on his papa’s side and half-bred on his puppy’s side. Feeling needy, the captain grabbed hold of another piece of shocklet, a specialty hearsay that melted in her mouth, regarding a Cuban salsa teacher hailing from the Alps and a cheesy Swiss fondue.
“Enough,” ordered the colonel commandingly. “Captain, it’s time to store the trove.”
“Yes, sir,” saluted his wife. “Young Man, would you like to accompany me to the vine cellar?”
“I shall be delighted, thrilled, elated, and overjoyed,” Coronet waxed lyrical, and flaunting not a smidgen of wane quoted Percy Bysshe Shelley:
Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
The two walked over to the nondescript gray door, beyond which lay the flight of stairs. They descended the steps by going down, reaching the cool damp air at the bottom with fourfold feet on the ground. While Jefferson stowed the shocklet box, Coronet surveyed the arrangement of wooden shelves appreciatively, caressing some of the rarer items in sheer admiration. Reverently, he grasped a weather-beaten water gate, taking great care not to cause any spillage through the closed openings.
Captain Jefferson was utterly unable to conceal her humble pride. “A 1972 vintage. One of our more successful ops. My husband had almost said nix on our plan.”
“I’m glad he didn’t,” Coronet expressed some gladness and then added a quart of wonder, “Hey, I think there’s someone reclining in there.”
“Don’t mind her,” remarked Jefferson mindfully. “She’s just a body of evidence who came with the gate.”
Per instructions Coronet minded not one bit, pointed to a puzzled item reposing quietly on one of the shelves, and asked, “What’s this one?”
“Our latest acquisition,” recounted the captain. “We snatched it last night at a commando reunion. Quite a steal. It’s Noro Myx’s Case Puzzle.”
“Noro Myx’s Case Puzzle?” repeated Coronet incredulously.
“Affirmative,” affirmed Jefferson.
“May I have a look-see?” asked Coronet.
“Be my guest,” Jefferson invited her guest to be hers.
Coronet extended his arm toward the item in question, only to retract it quickly with an exclamation of “Ouch, something just bit me.”
“Damn gossipmongers. I’ll have to call the exterminator again,” called Jefferson exasperatedly. “Don’t worry, they usually bite off more than they can chew.”
Coronet was aghast. “They chew?”
“Just the fat,” replied Jefferson calmly, regarding the slender man and adding, “Nothing for you to worry about.”
Soothed, Coronet reached for the puzzle once again, his effort bearing fruit this time around (two apples and a banana). “Very interesting,” he mumbled as he inspected the item up close.
“It is now, isn’t it?” asked Jefferson pridefully. “Take a look at that Dodgson piece.”
As if he had not heard a single word she’d just said, Coronet continued to mumble, “This Dodgson piece …”
“Isn’t it wonderful, or what?” claimed the captain.
As if he had heard every single word she’d just said, Coronet mumbled, “Wonderful … So Charles Dodgson, aka Mac, is the son of the eminent — I mean famous — Noro Myx. I can’t wait to relate this to Uncle Hound.”
“Let’s go back upstairs, shall we?” suggested Jefferson.
“Certainly,” agreed Coronet, and the two walked backwards, retracing their descending steps so precisely one could not tell whether they were backing up or upping back.
Greeting them sternly the colonel asked, “Your mission was a simple descend-and-store operation. Is there any tactical cause for the delay?”
“The guest needed to be briefed, sir,” explained his wife. “Or debriefed. Whichever came first.”
“Understood,” understood the colonel. “Carry on.”
The three then entered the drawing room, sprawled on the floor, and drew beautiful classics: The Last Chow by the colonel, The Starry Might by the captain, and Mown Lease by Coronet. They sketched, painted, and stretched until such time as a knock on the door ambled in.
“Continue to draw,” ordered the colonel. “I’ll get the door.” He rose swiftly and zipped out of the room, to be followed immediately by soft sounds of ripping and cracking. Coronet and the captain had scarcely the time to draw a conclusion when the colonel reappeared shouldering the door. A mock — though by no means mocking — president was standing behind him.
“Hi everyone,” the would-be leader said cheerfully.
“John,” cried Coronet in surprise, not being in the we-know-it’s-actually-Jane loop, “what are you doing here?”
Jane Doe smiled and said, “Well, Young Man, what with the theft in the house and all that’s been happening of late, I’ve been advised to beef up security.”
“I know,” knew Coronet. “I’m the advisor who advised the advice you’re adverting to.”
Not liking to be interrupted while beefing, Doe continued somewhat edgily, “Anyway, I was advised to replace the captain in charge of security with a general.”
Captain Jefferson stood up forthwith, displaying every inch of the seventy-three she maintained. “Sir, if my performance has been anything less than exemplary, I hereby tender my designation.”
Touched by the tender display of devotion, Doe began, “Thank you, Captain. In point of fact, your performance has been nothing less than exemplary.” The captain stood deadpan. “Though I shall indeed be accepting your designation,” finished Doe.
“But — ” started Coronet.
Not liking to be interrupted while finishing, Doe continued somewhat tensely, “Anyway, acting per advice, I went to the General Store around the corner, and — as misfortune would have it — they were all out of generals. Worse, they had no colonels or majors, either, and even the few captains they boasted looked very shabby. ‘Sorry’, the shopkeeper said, ‘we missed a shipment’. ”
“So what did you do?” asked Coronet breathlessly as the miss-tery unfolded.
Not liking to be interrupted while missing, Doe continued somewhat crossly, “Anyway, I had a starry idea and bought three stars.”
“Three stars?” commented Coronet uncomprehendingly.
Not liking to —
“Yes, yes,” said the colonel impatiently, “we know you don’t like to, but please, sir, do go on.”
“Three stars,” continued Doe. “I decided to abide by the old adage, ‘Do it yourself’.”
“Do it yourself?” echoed Coronet.
Not liking —
“Ahrrrr!” ahrred the colonel.
Doe distanced herself from the man by walking over to his wife. “As promised, Captain, I accept your designation, and hereby hand you a new one.” The president handed her the three stars. “Sorry to rush, General Jefferson, but I left my red tricycle unchained. Do be so kind as to distribute the stars equally upon your shoulders. Oh, and by the way — congratulations.”
Once the head honcho had left, the general said, “Colonel Jefferson, I do believe a glass of champagne is in order.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” roared her husband, and rushed to France to get hold of a decent bottle of bubbly.
As for Young Man Coronet, he was sprawled on the floor, having keeled over owing to the mighty winds of change.
