The Cool Kids Basement

Emptying his pockets of the spoils of one standard vault vending machine’s entire stock of snack cakes—save for one, to bring to Winona immediately—Butch’s jacket was next, left shucked off his shoulders to drape over the back of the dining table chair he claimed to be his. Boots were pried off with the help of the opposing foot, and the Tunnel Snake finally made his impatient entrance into Winona’s back bedroom, following the idle flutter of her humming. It wasn’t accompanied, as it usually was, by the racket of her tinkering (read as, hammering) loudly away on her latest project, like expected. Peering around the doorway to her workbench in the corner, Butch was immediately rooted to the spot by the visage which graced him.

Winona sat perched on a stool, a leg threaded lazily through the foot ring with her hips drawn back on the seat, causing a delicious curve to her bare back as her forearms held her weight on the edge of her work station counter, wearing the bottom half of a tattered jumpsuit with that God damn halter top that was going to be the death of him one day. Her hair fell in rebellious alabaster curls over her shoulder despite her best efforts to keep it contained under a printed kerchief, and a hand came to thoughtlessly brush them away, a blackened eraser pinned between graphite-smudged fingers, so they went spilling down her bare back instead in twisting tendrils.

She continued with her sketching on a huge furl of graph paper, and he watched her, quite silent and nearly admiring, until she took notice of his presence in the doorway with the lifting of her gaze. The moment her eyes caught his, his heart thrummed in response—but it wasn’t until she smiled, honest and tender like she was genuinely happy to see him—did it stop dead in his chest, like it was holding its breath in anticipation of something.

“You gunna come back down to earth anytime soon, man?”

Paul’s voice imploded into Butch’s daydreaming like the sharp pop of a balloon in a pin-drop silent chamber, snapping him back into the present in a back diner booth, sitting across from said best friend with an untouched burger and fries in front of him. Paul regarded him with a suspicious gaze and a mouth full of rehydrated onion rings, chewing idly with his brows arched up to his hairline, and Butch couldn’t fucking figure out what the dope had been talking about while he was off in La-La-Land; if he had to guess, probably something about all the work he had to do downstairs now that Win was on suspension, because that was all he complained or talked about these days, so naturally Butch’s mind would wander off to other, better things.

A brief memory of the inventor’s sex-drunk expression and hazy eyes pinned to his face as she begged him to finish inside her made it back to the forefront of his mind.

Better things indeed.

It was all he’d been thinking about since he woke up, naked and drowsy on the pullout couch, cursing to whatever higher power was out there that if it had all been a dream, he’d find a way to get up to the pearly gates just to kick someone’s ass. When he reached across the bed for Winona, hoping to pull her close for a quick, sleepy morning romp, he instead found the other half of the bed empty and her clothes picked up off the floor from where they were haphazardly abandoned hours before—including her boots and Pip-Boy off the couch-side table. Butch figured she scurried off to go preen herself or whatever girly shit broads did after a night of sex because she wasn’t in her bedroom, either, leaving only a note stating she’d ‘be back later’ with a scribbled heart shape (and no he didn’t grin like a fool when he saw it, fuck you very much); and if it wasn’t for Paul pinging his Pip-Boy about grabbing lunch, he knew he would’ve stuck around for her to get back… and he couldn’t tell if it was because he still hoped for that quickie, or because he just wanted to see her.

Amongst the verdant firs of the Salzburg forest, our young detective, Nancy Drew, navigates her way back to Moosham Castle after a book thief apprehension gone awry. Through the crowning tops of the wavering trees where they split amongst the drear sky are the towering eaves of the historical estate—the only guide she has in returning to the castle’s footbridge. She surmised the hike back would be a strenuous one, and furthermore considered herself lucky to not have rolled her ankle, or worse, broken a leg, from the way she launched herself over the bridge’s edge as carelessly as she did.

Not a story for Ned, that’s for sure, she decided while rummaging through her shoulder bag to examine the few pieces of evidence her book thief had dropped in their escape; an expelled home-made smoke bomb; a key with an usual blade, the teeth spelling ‘AW’, left abandoned in the cage lock that the Book of Apologies was bound with; and a torn plane ticket to Boston, Massachusetts.

Which was boarding at 3:40 PM.

Tomorrow.

I’ve got to find them before they get back to the states, or else I could lose their trail! Nancy lamented as she pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time, while also seeing several missed calls from a River Heights number — proven earlier to be that of Deirdre Shannon’s. Tucking her phone away, she decided she’d respond later with a lingering thought of how odd it was that Deirdre was calling her. Repeatedly. But right now she had other things to worry about, like how she would apprehend her book thief!

The Vienna International Airport is about a 4-hour drive away. With this ticket I at least know what flight my thief will be on and what seat they’re in! I’ll have to get past airport security first... I wonder if there're any open seats left on this flight?… Nancy puzzled as she climbed up a steep hill, using the rocks protruding from the earthen ridge as makeshift foot holds for a quick return back up to the main road. Brushing dirt off her hands and clothes, she took notice of a tear clean through her pants leg—most likely snagged on a sharp rock or thorny bush while she was running.

Definitely not a story for Ned, the detective sighed to herself as her phone buzzed once more in her jacket pocket. It was Deirdre, again.

The two hadn’t seen each other since the old town hall fire in River Heights last year, and they certainly weren’t on friendly terms once the truth and Nancy’s innocence had come to light… not that they were friendly beforehand, but reveling in Nancy’s short stint in prison certainly didn’t do their tense acquaintanceship any favors.

"Okay, Deirdre, you now have my undivided attention.” Nancy remarked once she answered the call. “What is it?”

“You know, when someone calls you in a panic and tells you not to hang up, it’s probably pretty important that you not hang up!” She snapped from the other side of the line with a huff.

“I’m sorry, but I told you I was in the middle of something. I said I’d call you back later, didn’t I?” She reasoned as she began walking the road back to the castle, lined on either side by dense trees, and examined the tear in her pants again as she walked.

“This isn’t something that can wait! I—…” All the ire in her tone died to a tense silence, in a pause so long Nancy removed her phone from her ear to check if the call dropped. The phone service out amongst the forest wasn’t the best, but her phone confirmed they hadn’t disconnected.

She put her cell back to her ear. “Deirdre? Are you still there?”

“I need your help, Drew.” Deirdre admitted quietly, her voice reluctant and almost ego-bruised, as if she were thinking better of having called the detective in the first place. “My cousin’s gotten into some trouble, and I thought I could help her, but—… but it’s a lot more complicated than what she told me over the phone. It’s worse than I thought it’d be.”

“What kind of trouble?”

"Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Gauging the distance of the road ahead, the peaking towers and the outer curtain walls of Moosham Castle cut through the trees. Nancy hadn’t realized how far she strayed until now. “Well, it looks like I just came into a bit of free time… if you’d like to talk about it?”

“I thought you said you were in the middle of something?”

“I was. I was literally chasing down a suspect when you called and got a little lost on my way back to the castle.”

“…A castle? Where in the world are you, Nancy Drew?”

“Austria, at this place called Moosham Castle. I was trying to locate an artifact for my dad on behalf of a judge friend of his, and—it was the craziest thing!— When I had my back turned, someone dressed all in black appeared out of nowhere and stole the artifact, disappeared in a puff of weird blue smoke, and jumped out the window!”

"Are you saying this guy got away? And here I thought Miss Nancy Drew always got her perp,” Deirdre said with blatant smugness in her voice.

You didn’t see them—they must’ve scaled up the outer wall somehow to come through the window… and they were quick. If they hadn’t stopped when they did to open up the book, I never would’ve caught up to them, Nancy realized glumly. Whoever this person is is crazy athletic, and they knew what they were doing. They knew that the book was here, and they had the key to get it open. This was no random robbery.

“I didn’t think anyone used the word 'perp’ anymore, Deirdre,” Nancy replied with a soft teasing, which granted her a scoff from the other end of the line. Possibly an eye roll, too. “Anyway, back to your cousin. What kind of trouble is she in?”

"Right. Well—… to make a long story short, my cousin, Mei, lives in the infamous Salem, Massachusetts. About a week ago one of Salem’s most historical mansions was nearly burnt to the ground, and now the entire town believes she was the one who caused the fire! They don’t have any evidence she did it, which is unbelievable, but any idiot can see she wouldn’t do something like that—!”

“Deir—Deirdre—Deirdre!” Nancy finally had to yell just to make herself heard over her incensed rambling. “Why would the town believe your cousin Mei would do such a thing if there’s no evidence? What evidence did they find? Did she provide a strong alibi? One that someone, or multiple people, can confirm? Are there any other suspects?”

"God, I forgot about that annoying thing you do where you ask a million questions a second,” Deirdre huffed exasperatedly. "I don’t know what evidence the police have. When I tried reaching out to them, they just laughed at me when they found out I was Mei’s cousin—like they thought it was funny I was trying to prove her innocence! Like it was so obvious Mei would do this and I just couldn’t see it! I had to leave before I gave them the smart-ass piece of my mind… it would’ve only made the situation worse for her.”

“I’m so, so sorry to hear that happened to you, Deirdre… really, I am.” Nancy offered genuinely, just as the footbridge was coming into sight, and she quickened her pace to meet it. “It sounds like your cousin is being falsely accused, or at least he police don’t seem interested in looking into other suspects.”

"Mei hasn’t been accused.” She clarified before sighing defeatedly, grumbling with a tight jaw. "…Not yet, at least, on official record… but everyone in Salem thinks she did it and we both can see where this train is heading. The only people here who see the truth are me and Mei’s older sister, my other cousin, Teegan. Nancy, Mei didn’t do this, and like I said, the situation’s really complicated… more complicated than I can explain over the phone. It’d be easier in person.”

“Are—Are you asking me to come to Salem?” Nancy inquired dubiously. She expected their exchange to be more of a mentoring; for Deirdre to ask for her advice on how to pursue the matter and that would be the end of it, so for her to imply—no, outright admit she needed Nancy to come to Salem—it became clear just how ‘complicated’ this problem really was.

And how desperate Deirdre was to save her cousin.

"You’re really going to twist my arm, aren’t you?” Deirdre groaned. "Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking, Drew. I’m not going to beg.” There was an abrupt pause. "…I might say please, though, if that’ll convince you, but you can never breathe a word of that to anyone!”

As Nancy stopped on the footbridge to lean over the railing, the open window of the north-tower marked where the thief had jumped from the ledge to a sheer drop below; it was almost too high up to jump from without breaking your neck, and the exterior walls were built with smooth stone weather-worn from the years. How could the thief otherwise get up there, let alone get back down as quick as they did without injuring themselves? Perhaps a hook and rope? Climbing tools? Pure agility, athletics, and clever leverage? Perhaps through some other tools or means unknown to her? It seemed clean, professional, planned, and most importantly, puzzling.

“Do you know how far the Boston International airport is from Salem?” Nancy inquired while digging into her shoulder bag to produce the thief’s torn plane ticket, upon remembering it’s destination out. The detective wondered, was it merely coincidence that the Book of Apologies was stolen in the same week a fire vandalized a Salem landmark? Since Moosham Castle and the book itself both had a connection to the witch trials, it couldn’t be completely improbable that there was some deeper relation between the pieces, and her thief’s flight out to Boston only solidified her gut instinct.

“Boston Logan? Uh—it’s like an hour drive from Salem, I guess?” Deirdre said quizzically. “Does that mean you’re coming?”

“I’m definitely coming. In my book thief’s escape, they left behind a torn plane ticket. They were going to the Boston International Airport. The destruction of a Salem monument, the theft of an important artifact involving the witch trials, and the thief’s flight coming into Boston can’t be coincidence. I don’t know if my thief will be in Salem, but I’d bet they’re still linked to the town somehow.”

“That sounds pretty far-fetched, if you ask me.”

“I guess I’ll find out when I get to Salem. I’m going to see about taking an afternoon flight out of Austria tomorrow—think you can hang tight until I get there?”

“As if I have a choice,” Deirdre bit sardonically, before a softened sigh allowed her to continue in a kinder tone. “I’ll pick you up from the airport. Just text me your flight details, and try not to get in at, like, 2 in the morning or something. I’m not afraid to leave you at the mercy of a taxi driver.”

“I hear you. We’ll figure this out, Deirdre… I promise.” Nancy declared, and despite the silence from the other end, she knew Deirdre was still there—listening and careful.