The large building sat gloomily beneath the night sky. Even the blue-and-white “MI” sign on the front rested in shadow, the letters illuminated only by the streetlights out front. The windows stared out like the blank, lifeless eyes of a corpse. Weeds had begun to strangle the grass in the lawn, which looked like it had not been kept up for the past month, and crept along the wide driveway leading around to a garage in the back. Strings of police tape were rolled out around the yard’s perimeter, but a few pieces had fallen from their stakes and now billowed in the gentle breeze of the night like a flag at half-mast, mourning the vanished residence of the house.
Nathanial sat in the cab of his truck about a block away, his vehicle parked in the shadows between streetlights. By the soft glow of the dome light, he reread a news article dated about three months ago. Though he could recite it by heart by now, its headline still stared back at him mockingly: “Mystery Inc.: Vanished, or Abandoned?” Everyone seemed to think the answer was abandoned. He glanced to the front page of another paper sitting on the seat beside him, this one dated more recently with a much different headline: “Prison Break Reported: Criminals on the Loose... Again.”
The police had not seen any conclusive connection between the two and thus brushed it aside, but Nate was not so quick to rule it out. Yes, it had happened a month after Mystery Inc.’s disappearance, but someone had to have helped them escape, didn’t they?
He gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand over the unfamiliar prickly stubble on his cheeks and chin, the sleeves of his denim jacket rolled up to his elbows. He glanced up to the home of Mystery Inc. His cousin’s home. He had watched it most of the day, but not a single soul came or went. It was as abandoned as Coolsville felt.
Deciding it would do no good putting it off any longer, Nate patted the pocket in his jacket to be sure his set of lock picks were in place, cast a quick glance about the street to check for any stray pedestrians or police patrols, then exited his truck. He ducked back in to grab a heavy flashlight, then turned to face the Mystery Inc. headquarters.
Trying--but failing miserably--to look as inconspicuous as possible, he strode along the sidewalk. His eyes darted about suspiciously, and he flinched at every boisterous chirp of a cricket as if an officer had just called out for him to stop.
But no one tried to stop him. Even the breeze had died down. He trod carefully, preventing the heels of his boots from making too much noise against the concrete sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached the door, and carefully undid what little of the crime scene tape remained on it. He tried the handle, but found it locked.
He heaved a sigh. It had at least been worth a try.
Nate knelt down so his head was closer to level with the lock, and pulled his set of lock picks from his pocket. He balanced it on his knee, chose what he needed, then clicked his flashlight on. Balancing the light between his shoulder and chin so the beam shone on the lock, he set to work. Though there were a few different locks, it only took him a few seconds each before he heard the tumblers click and the bolt pull back.
Note to self: he thought once he had finished, quickly putting the lock picks away, suggest they install better locks.
With the lock picks safely stored away, he cast another glance around the street, then slowly opened the door, which moved on silent hinges. He stepped inside and quickly shut and re-locked the door behind him before turning the beam of his flashlight to the round entrance room, careful to not shine it directly on any windows.
It looked exactly as he remembered it.
At the center of the room’s paneled floor, a couple steps led down into a circular area with a blue carpet brandishing the Mystery Inc. emblem. A curved couch lined the circle on one side, its back sticking up above the dip, with a television screen and stand opposite it. A couple archways led deeper into the house. His beam glittered on the kitchen appliances visible beyond an open space in the wall, a few stools sitting at a bar table built below it. The entire area screamed a mix of modern technology and 70s décor.
A small smile quirked at the corners of Nate’s lips. Though it had been so long since he had stepped foot in here, only the technology had changed. And then there was the sense of emptiness, of loneliness that hung thickly in the air, as if even the building mourned for its tenants.
He walked around the dip, and headed toward one of the archways. If he wanted to find clues, Fred’s room was as good a place as any to start. If they had been getting ready to attend a gathering, that was the most likely place Fred would have been last, probably admiring himself in a mirror as he adjusted his ascot.
With his beam carefully sweeping his surroundings and eyes kept open for anything that might hint at what had happened, he headed deeper into the home.
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