Solomon McKay: The Case of the Missing Car Keys

The house stood at the end of the road down the left fork. It was a converted school, now housing the Gerard family. It was an odd choice of estate in my astute, detective mind. French white walls with terracotta tiled roof, and large, wooden-framed windows. It overlooked a small creek that ran into the local delta. Behind the house lay an abandoned playground and overgrown field, behind the field a forest. I could sense an evil energy emanating from there. A lone Andorran tended to the garden. He noticed us approaching from up the road. He called out to someone, but I was too far away to hear to whom he called.
 The road down from the top of the main street was steep and narrow. Good luck passing anyone on this road. We pulled into the parking set to the left of the school house, tucked away from the view of the main street behind a rock wall. Stepping out of the car I was greeted by the cool, delta weather and the unmistakable smell of beech and white pine. The Andorran didn’t mind us, he probably wasn’t paid to, so we walked to entrance where a man stood waiting to greet us.
 “Herr Solomon, I presume?” said the man.
 “Yes, the one and only. And you are?”
 “Murdock; head butler here for the Gerards. Please, follow me,” he motioned for us to follow him.
 The brick floor of the mezzanine chilled the air more than outside. The air smelled like time. We followed Murdock up the upstairs and took a left through a hallway flanked with books pilled up to the ceiling in bookshelves or atop each other, presented without system. I turned and gave my Assistant a look that meant . At the end of the hallway was the old principal’s office-converted-drawing room. Murdock turned to us and made a gesture with his hand which I returned with a blank stare. He seemed exasperated at this and said slowly, “Madame Gerard awaits you inside,” and with that he opened the door.
 The room was larger than most other principals’ offices I had been to–perhaps the adjacent room was adjoined–but much smaller than most drawing rooms. The single source of light came from the skylight, lighting the otherwise dim room. Mrs. Gerard took one last drag of her cigarette, put it out daintily, and sauntered over like ninety pounds of smoke. I removed my hat, which had stayed on until now, gave her a polite nod, and was greeted with a raspy voice.
 “Gentleman, I’m sure you are curious about why I have called upon your expertise but I’m losing my mind over this issue. I simply must find my car keys.”
 “I don’t think you need to hire–,“ Assistant started to say before I jabbed his ribs with my elbow, growling: “Don’t speak out of line, Assistant.”
 “I’m the best of the best. Whatever you’ve lost, I’ll find it. Solomon McKay, at your service, ‘mam,” I said to get the conversation back on track.
 “Thank you, dear. As I was saying, I have misplaced my car keys and it’s driving me up the walls.”
 If she’s missing her car keys I don’t see how she can drive. I’ll wait until the end to ask clarifying questions.
 “I’m sure I lost them somewhere on the property grounds in the woods beyond the old field,” she points an unfurled finger to somewhere behind us. “As retainer, I’ll have Murdock write you a cheque for $100, shall that be enough to cover basic expenses?”
 “More than adequate, ‘mam. Can you tell me more about the keys?”
 “They are a pair of keys… I’m not sure what else I can offer you. They belong to an old Buick Roadmaster that’s parked in the garage.”
 “Buick, got it. Well, I think we have enough information. We’ll get started right away while there’s still light outside.” She rang a bell and Murdock ushered us out of the room. Standing at the edge of the field, cheque in hand, I folded it into my breast pocket, and thought the case over.
 “She would we start looking for the keys, Solomon?” my Assistant inquired. What a fool.
 “Keys? No, you saw how distraught she was. Read between the lines, Assistant. ‘Loosing her mind’, ‘driving her mad’, the keys are just a red herring. Nah, our real culprit here is something else, something more sinister.”
 “Solomon, I really don’t think that’s the case. I think she just lost her keys.”
 “Shut up, Assistant! Did I ask for your opinion? Nah, I’ve seen this before with my own mother. She would often say the same things in regards to my father. This woman is missing her husband.”
 “Um, Solomon, I’m pretty sure the newspapers covered the story that Mr. Gerard died a few weeks ago…”
 “Come, Assistant, let’s begin our search for the husband.”
 My detective instincts earlier told me that there was something in those woods and it seems I was right on the money, $100 to be exact. I braced myself as I entered the forest. Soon the light of the sun disappeared and the evil darkness of the forest enveloped us. I could barely see Assistant. Wadding through the thick thicket we made slow progress as we searched for the car keys. We found an old shack in the middle of the woods, overgrown with weeds and foliage. It looked like it was used at one time to house equipment related to taking a boat into the nearby lake. Thick rope lay around the place, barely distinguishable from the ground. I opened the door, which creaked loud enough that I’m sure the Andorran could hear it. There wasn’t much inside, a few paddles and some life jackets.
 “Nothing here, let’s move on,” I said.
 “But, Solomon, you didn’t even look inside,” whined Assistant. He still lacks a proper detective’s instincts.
 “Don’t need to, I can tell just from looking that this isn’t where we’ll find the keys.”
 I survey the area and notice an oddly shaped bush. I walk over to it and push aside the vines. Bingo.
 “Assistant, help me flip this canoe!”
 We flip the canoe over and sure enough there are our missing keys. We arrive back at the estate just as the sun is setting. I have Murdock bring Mrs. Gerard down to meet us in front of the garage. If my instincts are right…
 “Excellent. Glad you could join us, Mrs. Gerard. We found your missing keys. Now, I reckon this here garage hasn’t been opened in some time. Would that be correct?”
 “Yes, not since I lost my keys as there has been no need to enter the garage otherwise.”
 “Exactly! These keys are not just for your Mercedes–“
 “Buick,” says my Assistant.
 “–Buick, but the garage itself. Now let’s see what it has in store for us.”
 I opened the garage door and sure enough the car was there, covered by a dust cover. I motion for Assistant to remove the dust cover. He doesn’t remove it as dramatically as I had wanted, more awkwardly. Not all of us have an eye for showmanship. Nonetheless, sitting in the driver’s seat was…
 “Richard!” shrieked Mrs. Gerard.
 “Yup. Mrs. Gerard, I knew this was what you were really looking for, your husband. And the murderer is… Murdock, your butler!”
 A collective “What!?” rocked out.
 “Book him, Danino!” I call out for the police officer to arrest the butler. In these kinds of cases it’s always the butler.
 “You cannot arrest me, I haven’t done anything,” Murdock protested.
 “Yeah, yeah, save it for the judge, Jeeves.”
 “You lack evidence that it was even me!”
 “Solomon, I think he’s right. It seems the late Mr. Gerard carbon monoxide poisoned himself. You can see his pair of keys in the ignition and it’s turned to the ‘on’ position,” Assistant butts in with his made up, preposterous theory.
 “Oh Richard, it can’t be true!”
 “Oh yeah, Assistant, then how did the keys we found get to be under the canoe?” I retort.
 “They must have fallen out of the Madam’s bag during one of her walks. I failed to notice it and later when the boating season was over we must have parked the canoe on top of the keys, covering them. This did happen a few weeks ago,” Murdock answers, his hands cuffed.
 “A likely story. Danino, take him away!”
 Murdock continues to protest as he’s dragged away, Assistant looks at me dumbfounded, and Mrs. Gerard is inconsolable. Yup, another case closed.