Pinewood Beech is a lot different from New York, I guess. An average of thirty thousand residents with the majority being over fifty and filthy rich. It is supposed to be a quiet port town filled with middle to upper class people. Low crime rates. Supposedly. A nice neighbourhood. Allegedly. But I still hate it. I hate quiet towns. Because quiet towns have the worst types of crimes. The ones that keep you up at night. And the ones where justice is never served because someone has money. But I need that action in my life. I do need to improve on my craft and widen my horizons. The adrenaline in my blood keeps me going. So yeah, a couple of gangs want my head on a pike. Maybe I shouldn't stick my nose up in people's businesses. But I'm a detective. Well…I aspire to be. I need that drama in my life. Just to keep myself entertained. And because the world needs a breath of justice. It is my duty to protect and to serve.
“Did you land safely?”
I take a heavy breath, thinking of a sarcastic or spiteful way to respond. Just to show how dissatisfied I am. But I can't. What would be the point? I am already here.
I bite my bottom lip.
“Yes. I'm at the airport now,” I grunt.
“Good, your aunt should be there to pick you up. You remember your Aunt Renee?”
I roll my eyes in annoyance. I have no idea who that woman even is. I haven't seen her since I was two so obviously her face isn't too clear in my head. I did some searching before I landed but there is only so much you can find on the internet.
“What does she look like again?” I scoff.
“Aimeeka…”
“I'm sorry if I have forgotten the face of this aunt of mine that I have never seen.”
“Don't be ridiculous, you've seen her before.”
“When I was like two. I'm sorry that I don't have a memory of a supercomputer.”
“Watch your mouth, Aimeeka.”
I dip into silence and bite my tongue.
“I just don't like the idea of staying with a woman I don't know. You barely mention her and when you do it's just to bad mouth her and dad never mentioned her. It just feels like you're dropping me off at a sitter. Like you always do whenever I'm in the way. Which feels like everyday, except this time I have my suitcase with me.”
“You're being dramatic. This is just for your safety…”
“Yeah…sure, use that excuse.”
“Aimeeka, a drug lord wants you dead, this is obviously put in place so you don't…I don't know…die.”
I can't argue with that logic. I scan the crowd and see a sign lifted up. ‘Welcome Amy Western’ written in fancy italics.
“You changed my name to Amy Western?” I gasp, “You can't do that!”
“I'm guessing you see your aunt.”
“No, it's some guy in a butler uniform but…Amy!”
“Dear, what do you mean by a man in a…”
“Amy Western?”
“This is witness protection, darling. And you are being protected. You think we're going to call you Aimeeka Marlowe and just let you go off?”
“Do I look like an Amy? No one in the history of the Earth has ever called me Amy since I was five. You're doing this to spite me.”
“Who is this man you're talking about?”
I groan and rub my eyes, walking up to the man with my heavy suitcase in tow. He looks at me as if he immediately recognises me.
“You must be Aimeeka Mar…” the man starts to speak but soon stops himself.
He clears his throat and stands straight, composing himself.
“Miss Amy Western,” he greets professionally, “it is an honour to meet you finally.”
I inspect him up and down and lift the phone up to my ear.
“Who is it?”
“The butler…I think,” I answer.
“Ah, yes,” the man steps forward, “your aunt was unable to personally pick you up so she has requested me to pick you up on her behalf today. As you have so cleverly deduced, I am the butler.”
He plasters on a sweet and innocent smile.
“Those still exist?” I hiss quietly, “Sweet!”
“I specifically asked her to pick you up…urgh…that witch…she thinks she's above everything because…”
I drop the call immediately.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, “thank you for making the effort to pick me up.”
“No problem, Miss Amy,” he softly bows, “it is what I am paid to do. Let me take your luggage to the vehicle.”
He takes my suitcase kindly.
“You don't have much?” he questions.
“Don't need much,” I respond, “plus, I had to pack in a rush. It was all quite unexpected.”
He nods and leads me toward the car park where he loads my luggage. I enter the fancy black car.
“How did you know my name anyway?” I ask suspiciously as I fiddle with my phone, “I didn't think anyone would except the Aunt.”
The man coughs and places his hand on the steering wheel. He suppresses a small smile and looks up at the rear view mirror.
“I…I don't know if we can even talk about this given the situation,” he says, “and it would be very unprofessional of me!”
“Well, you already know who I am so you're a liability already. Might as well.”
I shrug and flip my phone open.
“I…I’m just a big fan of your work!” he bursts out, “The Rhystone Murder, The Hartwell Scandal, The Barrymore Affair!”
“My…work?” I stammer.
“Aimeeka Marlowe, the Teen Detective! Oh. it's quite marvellous. You know, I've always wanted to become a detective. I was a big Sherlock Holmes fan. Well, I still am.”
Something in my brain clicks.
“I…I have fans?” I gasp.
“Yes! You're like an idol for young adults and teens. Your face is everywhere! Who doesn't know Aimeeka Marlowe? The face of The Crime Solvers Club, Hip Teens and Pinewood Beech's very own Sleuth Squad.”
“The…what?”
“But of course you wouldn't read those trashy magazines…”
He laughs mockingly.
“I know I don't,” he says nervously, “you must read much more sophisticated ones like Detective's Quarterly…or Junior Detectives…”
I laugh egotistically.
“I'm the face of magazines!” I gasp, "Of...of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"
“They can't stop talking about you. Maybe because you solve so many extravagant cases,” the man praises, “they call you the Young Sherlock Holmes. The American Detective Conan.”
“You mean that show about a fifteen year old that gets drugged and turns into a boy? Oh my gosh, really?”
My phone beeps and I press the answer button.
“Greatest Detective Alive,” I answer, “who's this?”
“Your last friend in the world if you don't tell me where you are right now,” a familiar voice sings from the other side, “seriously, where are you? Mrs Tanner is having a tantrum about the ‘good ol’ days because you're not here and everyone's pissed at you because you missed like one pop quiz. I think Donovan is about to unconsciously release a sigh and roll his eyes…”
Someone sighs next to her and a loud scream sounds for a minute.
“Too late, now we're both being sent to the principal's office,” my best friend in the whole world, Mikayla Jones, groans, “you better not be working on a case without me.”
The call ruffles a little before I hear Donovan's deep and frustrated voice.
“I shouldn't be hearing about Mrs Tanner's scandalous affairs as a countryside girl first thing on Friday morning,” he scoffs, “you better be dead, dying or kidnapped.”
“Donovan…I can't understand you when you're angry…” I heave.
I hear Kay clear her throat and snatch her phone off him.
“What he said,” she agrees, “you've been avoiding my calls for nearly two days. I swung by your mom's apartment but she wouldn't even open the door! Should I be worried, Meeks?”
My face falls, knowing I can't really tell them where I am.
“Urm…family issues,” I lie, “my grandad bought a plot of land from this shady businessman and there's like a whole issue about it.”
“You're…grandparents?” Kay hums.
I had to pass off a believable lie. Both Kay and Donovan are my partners in…well detective stuff. They are smart and can easily sniff out a lie.
“Remember, Kay? They moved back to Canada,” I utter, “they want to start a business. And they want me to look over some things.”
“But you're seventeen years old,” Kay says, "and you're ot a lawyer."
“Well, they think I'm Einstein because of my skills and my fame. Did you know I'm the face of Young…what was it again?”
“Young Detectives,” the butler says.
“Young Detectives! Apparently it's prestigious or something.”
I try to steer her away to a different conversation. Donovan clicks his tongue.
“Of course, you solve a lot of cases,” he groans, “you didn't think the tabloids would be talking about you?”
“And I have a fan!”
I turn to the butler, realising I forgot his name. In fact, I never even asked.
“Oh, I didn't ask for your name?” I mumble.
“It's Thomas, Miss,” he answers.
I turn back to the phone.
“His name is Thomas! We met at the airport and he immediately recognised me!” I squeal, “I'm like a mega celebrity! I may even be more famous than…than Tom Cruise!”
“I quite think so too, Miss,” Thomas agrees in awe.
“Woah, calm down,” Donovan laughs, “this is exactly the reason why we never give you the fanmail.”
“Fan mail?”
“Yeah, you get loads on the daily, you just never check.”
“And most of them are threats,” Kay says, “something about some…mafia…”
“Wow…a mafia is sending threats to lil’ ol’ me?”
I know what she is trying to do. She is investigating. She is trying to lead me into a trap for information. And I can't let her. How could I? I taught that girl all my tricks.
“That's not even the worst of it,” Donovan interrupts, “some mega fan has made fanfics about you.”
“Ew…really?” I laugh.
“Yes, I believe it is called Dial Aimee For Murder,” Thomas states.
“What is it about?”
“Just you solving mysteries. Like Scooby Doo except we're not in it. I'm pretty sure the writer self inserts themself as your sidekick,” Donovan explains.
“Kay and Meeks,” Thomas mentions, “that is the duo composed of Aimeeka Marlowe and Kayla Bentley-Smythe.”
“Talk about stealing,” Kay scoffs, “I've always been Kay.”
“You know we'll always be the original Kay and Meeks,” I laugh, “some random girl isn't going to replace you. Or Donovan.”
I cling onto the phone tightly, my breath a little light.
“I…I won't be back for a while,” I say softly, “I don't know how long this may be for but I'll be okay. So just decline any requests for now. I think for now, I should focus on my family. My grandparents have been a bit…shaky ever since the…accident, and I have to make sure they've settled down. They haven't been back home in years, actually living there and not visiting and a lot of things have changed for them. I just want to make sure they're okay.”
“But…what about school? What about your mom?” Kay asks.
“She hates the in-laws and they hate her so she wasn't going to tag along. But she'll be fine. And as for school, I'm already excelling. I can catch up easily. Look, just tell anyone that asks that I'm out of town…and don't solve anything.”
“Bad for business…” Donovan mutters.
“But I'll be back soon…I just don't know when. So…don't worry. Everything will be fine.”
There is a long silence on the other side. Maybe I sounded a little too ominous. Kay sighs.
“Well, if you're held back a year, don't be mad, Greatest Detective Alive,” she tuts, “just…just stay safe out there without backup.”
“I'll be fine!” I laugh heartily, “You're making it sound as if I'm dying!”
“You're the one with the ominous message!” Kay hisses, “Just…just urgh!”
She drops the call in exasperation and the line goes silent. I snap the phone shut and stuff it in my pocket.
“Well,” I sigh, “it's better than leaving it and just letting them investigate themselves. Now that would be embarrassing.”
“Close friends of yours?” Thomas asks.
“Practically family. They're always there for me and now…they're not. You don't really make many friends when you have the Marlowe name.”
“Because of what you do?”
“Because of who my parents are. Well…were. And now I'm just being whisked away. New city, new house, new name, new school. It sucks. I've never run away from a thing in my life. That's what my dad taught me.”
I sadly grip my seatbelt as I look out the window at the clean streets, decorated with vibrant flowers and shops and pearly white sidewalks. Very different from New York.
“At least I won't have to worry about rats in my room,” I laugh emptily.
Thomas glances over at me and tightens his lips.
“You'll love Pinewood Beech,” he reassures me, “you'll feel right at home, I'm sure of it. And your aunt is a marvellous woman.”
I spin towards him and frown.
“How long have you worked for her anyway?” I ask, “You look very young. You don't look a day over twenty…”
“I'm twenty five actually,” Thomas says, “but it is an honour that you think I'm that young."
I raise my brow in shock.
“Twenty five and a butler?” I gasp, “Not that I'm being…rude or anything. My mental imagery of a butler is between Alfred or Geoffrey. Old or British.”
“It is just how Pinewood Beech works,” Thomas sighs, “it's either you're rich…or you work for the rich.”
I lean against the window.
“Doesn't sound very nice,” I utter, “in fact, I hate it.”
“Miss Amy, have you ever experienced desperation?” he asks, his eyes fixed on the road.
I glance over at him for a moment and ponder the lowest moments in my life.
“Not a nice feeling is it?” he says, “Sometimes you just want the pain to…disappear. Sometimes you have to submit to the higher powers.”
“I don't do that,” I utter, “the only time I do that is with homework or when I'm in church. And my pastor always used to say that the ones who suffer the most…have the capacity to be the greatest. Because you've gone through the worst of it all, you know what to do to prevent it from happening to other people. And that…that is when justice can be served…truly.”
“That is…very admirable…I can see why you're so popular with young people.”
I grab the necklace wrapped around my neck and hum.
“But that's what got me stranded in Pinewood Beech,” I scoff, “ so I learnt my lesson.”
“To not handle dangerous things on your own?” Thomas asked.
“No! To stop listening to my pastor!”
I said this as a joke but deep down it meant a lot to me. Marlowes don't run away from things. And maybe I am just some teenage kid that law enforcement won't take seriously. Maybe I am just a kid that even my mom doesn't take seriously. But it's because I've seen both sides of the coin that I know what to do. I will find my dad's murderer. I will bring him to justice. I don't care how rich they may be. No one is safe on Aimeeka Marlowe's List of Suspects, not even my mom.
Miss Maia
