The Case of the Kidnapped Librarian

An hour ago, Emmy had been walking home with her friend, Mr. Crosley, the retired librarian. He had been heading home, to his mansion on the edge of town, after his daily visit to the library. He always returned his book from the previous day and checked out a new one. Emmy had been headed home from school. It had been raining. It still was. Emmy had seen Mr. Crosley as he came out of the library and they had walked together. At the corner of Spearmint Street they had split, each heading towards their own homes.

Now, Emmy was sitting in a police station and Mr. Crosley was missing.

Emmy had told the officers who had come to her house all of the above information. However, she had been the last one to see Mr. Crosley, so she was the top suspect. The ransom note in her handwriting and the $20,000 that had recently been deposited in her mother’s bank account really didn’t help either.

No one else was in the interrogation room at the moment. “Interrogation” may not have been the right word for what had happened thus far. In general, the past forty-five minutes had consisted of Emmy babbling about what had taken place, trying to make sense of what was going on, all the while, on the verge of tears. Three officers had some to talk to her so far, no one had been mean, but Emmy could see that they were frustrated and confused. All the evidence pointed irrefutably to her, but then again, a bashful teenage girl being a mastermind kidnapper was a bit of a stretch.

She wasn’t exactly as helpful as they wanted her to be, she knew. She had tried to remember as much as she could. Her thoughts and memories, all jumbled, seemed to be swimming about in her head.

Emmy looked up from her daze as two young officers came in. One walked to the chair on the opposite side of the table, the other closed the door quietly.

The man opposite her was so young he could almost barely be considered a man. He looked like a cadet, barely out of training, Emmy thought. He looked only a few years older than she was. Her 15th birthday was coming up but her tall, lanky frame often made others assume she was older.

“Miss Emalina Furrow?” he asked. That was a silly question, they knew who she was. She lived in a tiny town, it wasn’t like they had dozens of suspects in other identical rooms. In fact, she was pretty sure she was currently occupying the only interrogation room the station had.

“Yes,” she half-whispered, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.

“I’m Officer Gabriel Prior.” He pulled a small black notebook out of his pocket and scribbled notes in it vigorously.

“Ha, remember the other day when your mom called and wanted to speak to you ‘Gaby’?” the second officer asked, elbowing his partner.

Prior glared at him.

“Sorry, sorry, staying on topic,” he apologized. The second officer turned his attention to Emmy. “I am Officer Sam Wallace.” Emmy could see the remnants of a smile still creeping at the edge of his face. He was trying his best to look stern.

This was a new approach. No other officers had introduced themselves to her. Maybe they’d sent these two in because they thought they’d be less intimidating and Emmy would share any information she hadn’t yet. Truthfully, they weren’t wrong, unfortunately, Emmy didn’t have anything more to share. She had poured out everything her bewildered brain could remember to the first officer and tried to repeat it to everyone after.

“Emalina, is there anything you can share with us about your encounter with Mr. Emerson Crosley today?”

“Hey, her file says she goes by Emmy, maybe that’ll make her feel more comfortable!”

Prior turned his head again to stare at Wallace. After an angry wordless exchange, he sighed and turned back towards her.

“Emmy,” he said, putting special emphasis on her name, “is there anything more you can tell us?”

“I wish there was,” Emmy whispered hoarsely.

“Well, we’ve got a ransom note written by you, $20,000 deposited in your mom’s bank account, and you were the last person to see Mr. Crosley. You’re facing pretty serious charges, so you gotta help us here.” Prior said accusatorily.

Emmy squeezed her eyes closed. “I...I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing” she murmured. Back to the notebook, his gaze went, as he jotted furiously.

“For the record, I don’t think you did it,” Wallace told her, and when Emmy looked up at him, the hint of a grin from earlier had grown, coming overwhelmingly close to an actual smile.

“You don’t?” Emmy asked, taken aback.

“No, we don’t” Prior said begrudgingly.

“Actually, I was on the fence until I came in here” Wallace added. “But you don’t seem like the kind of person who would kidnap her friend.”

Emmy had no response. Wallace got up swiftly, walking to her side of the table. He offered his hand. Emmy took it hesitantly. Wallace helped her stand up. Her legs were wobbly. She nearly toppled over.

Prior had to catch her.

“Easy there,” he said, setting her back on her feet. Emmy managed to smile at him and he gave a small smile back. She tucked a loose strand of her strawberry blond hair behind her ear.

“Let’s go, we can talk in the car” Prior commanded, back to business mode.

They piled into a police car and started driving. Since there were only two seats in the front, Emmy had to sit in the back which made her feel like she was still very much in trouble. She had no idea where they were going, so she wasn’t sure if she preferred this arrangement to her previous one in the interrogation room.

Prior was driving, keeping his eyes on the road. Wallace turned around in his seat almost immediately after leaving the parking lot. He seemed the type who liked to talk.

“Emmy, you really don’t know what happened?”

Emmy fidgeted. Why did people keep asking her that? She told every single person everything she knew. Trying to search her brain for anything she hadn’t already said made her head hurt.

Prior piped up before Emmy could answer. “She told us no already. Leave her alone. If she thinks of anything, she’ll tell us” They made eye contact in the rearview mirror. There was that hint of a smile, but his eyes quickly returned to the road and his face went blank once again.

“Probably wanna know where we’re going, right?” Wallace asked.

Emmy nodded.

“We’re headed to Crosley’s house” he explained excitedly like it was some magical place.

“Oh.”

They were quiet for a minute but with Officer Wallace around that didn’t last.

“So, Emmy...have any pets?”

“Really?” Prior muttered. Clearly, he didn’t approve of the get-to-know-you approach.

“A ginger female American Bobcat named Cayenne.”

“Awww, does she like spicy food?” Wallace asked.

“Great, I’m sure her cat can help us find Mr. Crosley'' Prior added sarcastically.

Emmy thought. She wasn’t one to pipe up, especially in a conversation such as this, but she had an idea. “She might not, but Bucky might be able to!”

“Who is Bucky?” Prior asked, exasperated.

“Mr. Crosley’s basset hound. The perfect dog for a wannabe detective, he loves a good mystery, he likes to check out Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and…” she stopped mid-sentence.

“And who?” asked Wallace, obviously curious.

“I thought of something,” Emmy whispered.

The car screeched to a halt, in front of Mr. Crosley's towering mansion. Both officers turned towards Emmy.

“Well?” Prior prompted. “What is it?”

“The book he checked out today…” she murmured.

“Yes?” asked Wallace, practically bouncing in his seat.

“The Kidnapped Prime Minister, by Agatha Christie.”

The officers looked at each other, puzzled.

“That silly old man,” Emmy cried, bursting into laughter.

Wallace said what they were both thinking, though Prior may have been too stubborn to admit it.

“I’m confused”

“He’s playing a game!'' Emmy exclaimed, leaping out of the car. She was halfway across the front lawn before she looked back and saw both men were still in the car.

“Let’s go!”

Climbing out of the car, Wallace adopted a lopsided grin. Prior, seeing he had little other choice, got out too. They followed her as she ran to the large hangar behind the house.

“The Prime Minister…” she yelled over her shoulder, “there are multiple cars…” she stopped at the door, panting, “he’s got to be in here!” she finished.

“I honestly didn’t catch any of that, but you go, girl!” Wallace cheered.

“And why does he have to be in there?” Prior panted, as he caught up to them.

“Because this” Emmy smiled, “is where he keeps his cars.” She looked at the lock on the door. Another detail she had forgotten in the midst of the craziness suddenly surfaced. There had been a key on her doorstep when she got home that afternoon. The police had searched her when she arrived at the station, but miraculously, as she felt around she found it, still safe and sound in her coat pocket. She hadn’t taken the coat off since walking home from school in the rain with Mr. Crosley, that afternoon.

She pulled it out and it fit perfectly in the lock. “That clever man!” Emmy thought.

“Wait, hold up, where’d you get that key?” Wallace asked baffled. He turned to his partner, “Gaby, where’d she get that key?” Prior just shrugged. Emmy thought back, he had been one of the ones to pat her down but he seemed less comfortable doing so than the other officer so he must have missed it.

She swung the door open. In front of them lay hundreds of old cars, in varying conditions. Most looked almost new and they all seemed to wink at the trio as if inviting them to play a little hide and seek.

“How are we…?” Prior started.

“1924!” Emmy shouted, making a beeline for a car. “The year the story was published. Ford Model T, classic!” she exclaimed, stopping in front of it.

She pulled on the door and it opened easily. There, curled up in the back was Mr. Crosley, grinning up at them.

“You found me!” he chuckled, climbing out and giving Emmy an enormous hug. Emmy squeezed him back tightly.

“You scared us.” she told him

“Aw, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that little game.”

“I for one...” Prior began but Wallace cut him off.

“He loved it, it was an honor, sir. We’re just glad you’re okay” he elbowed Prior and Prior finally broke into a reluctant smile.

“Come, have tea with me, won’t you?” Mr. Crosley invited.

“Of course,” Emmy replied.

The two officers looked at one another, then followed Mr. Crosley towards his front door.

“One question, sir” Prior asked, as Emmy poured tea for them.

“What is it?” Mr. Crosley replied genially.

“Assuming this was all some kind of strange...game,” he began, “what would you have done if we hadn’t found you?”

“I would have turned myself in, explained it all.” He smiled. “But I knew Emalina would figure it out!” He winked at her.

“So you framed her?” Prior proceeded, slightly perturbed.

“Yes” he answered.

“You somehow wrote the note in her handwriting, but what about the money?” Wallace asked.

“Oh, that.” Mr. Crosley’s smile widened. “Emmy wants to attend a very prestigious school. I think she should be afforded the opportunity. This was my way of helping her along.”

Emmy leapt up to hug Mr. Crosley.

“I guess that settles it.” Wallace sighed, his mouth full with a bite of an orange and cranberry scone.

“One more thing,” Prior said, turning his attention to Mr. Crosley.

“Promise you won’t stage your own disappearance again, sir!”

“No promises” Mr. Crosley grinned.