Diana

I stare at the photo of myself hanging from the window of a store.

Jane Dea,

Master detective.

The text and my appearance distorted by age. My blond hair depicted by ink strokes.

I take note of the intake bottom, where I provided my contact information.

No takers.

Okay.

It’s only been a couple weeks, I don’t know what I expected.

A single call would be nice.

What business do I have starting a detective business?

“You can’t even find yourself, how could you find someone else?”

Thanks Luke, what friendly advice.

I turn to leave, I should get back to work anyway.

Even I know not to quit my day job and I don’t even know my name.

Before you point it out, yeah Jane Dea.

Jane Doe.

Jane D.

A not very creative alias.

“Oh Jane,” A woman says, a surprised look on her face. It’s Cleese, she’s my…

We’re…

Acquaintances,

Yeah, acquaintances.

We work at a printing press together, hence how I was able to print posters.

Her green eyes lacking the spark of joy, the curiosity. Her normally well set curls dull and blackened with soot.

It’s impossible to wash that all out each night.

Her dress is gray, stretching down to cover her ankles, black heeled shoes peeking out from the bottom. Her puffed shoulders looking wrinkled and bare in a way i’ve never seen them before.

“Is everything alright?” I ask.

“Jane, I need your help.” She says, emotion seeping into her voice.

We’re in my office.

Well, we’re in the office Luke doesn’t know I’m using.

This is what friends are for.

A free workplace.

The place isn’t that nice. There’s a single room with over the top wallpaper peeling off the walls. An iron desk is placed int he corner, three chairs surrounding it. There’s a counter in the corner with a coffee maker on top, sending a stall aroma through the room.

“What happened?” I ask, handing her a cup of coffee.

“My flatmate, Diana, is missing.” She says.

Diana.

A flash of familiarity jolts me.

A face filling my mind, a girl with red fiery hair.

I don’t know her.

Or at least I don’t remember her.

Although I don’t remember anything.

“Jane?” Cleese says, the worry making her much paler than before.

Her voice snapping me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Huh?” I ask with an embarrassing sound.

“Are you alright?” She asks, as she were repeating herself, which I suppose she probably did.

“Yep,” I say, pulling on a sweat physique. “Quite all right, you however are clearly not.” I say pulling the conversation into comfortable area and away from my past.

Or lack there of I guess.

“When was the last time you saw, Diana?” I ask, a pause before the name. Unsure.

“She was coming from work in a rush, something sended wrong.” Cleese goes on, settling down in the creaky armchair across from my, Luke’s, desk. ”She wasn’t there for long, a few minutes tops. And she left with a large carpet bag that I’d never seen her use before, filled it to the brim too.”

Not what I asked, but the more information the better when solving a crime.

At least I hope that’s the case.

“This was about a month ago.” She says, finally.

And there it is.

“A month,” I ask, frantically writing it down a piece of paper atop the desk. “And you didn’t contact a detective before.” The perfect blend of a question and statement although only three words making it onto the page.

Didn’t contact detective.

I underline and circle it twice, a bit much I’ll give you that, but it’s important.

Important and suspicious.

“I thought that she was just on vacation with some boy or another.” Cleese goes on. “She was rather popular.”

Didn’t need that.

“Any why me?” I ask, shifting the conversation before she can continue.

Although I will say, secret boyfriend doesn’t look great for Diana.

I write this down, begrudgingly.

Secret Boyfriend!

Adding emphasis in another way, if everything’s important this should be easy.

Although if everything is important, if anything really?

“What does she look like?” I ask.

A rather important question in finding a missing, wouldn’t you say?

“She has brown hair, unnaturally dark although she claims she doesn’t dye it,” I give her a look. Wordlessly telling her to focus on the question. “And the prettiest skin, almost the same color as chocolate.”

I write down the description.

Swiftly ending the long conference, and officially taking my first case.

Jane Dae,

Master detective.