Prologue: The Sweater

Posted: October 30, 2016 by Ty in Speare May the Fourth Be With You
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Others have claimed their towns as a Hell mouth or the vortex of horrors, a weirdness magnet…those may be apropos for what existed in Calgary, but truly it was a nexus of weird. A confluence of energies coming together both mystical, extraterrestrial and what some may say is benign to create the epicentre of weird in Canada.

Speare knew this, and it was why he always had trepidation over new cases. They either could just be a very benign divorce or even the usual run of the mill Perry Masonesque murder case or it could literally be hell on wheels bat shit crazy “Conjuring” possession to a simple alien invasion. When it went sideways to the X-Files, it also became very hard to verify payments and without payments well, one became more of a pro-bono investigator which did not pay the bills.

It was these pro-bono style cases that could quickly resemble Episode 3 of the X-Files Season 10. You know the one, where a monster was bit by a man and became a man and lived the true horror of working minimum wage and desperately sought out any ways to become his happy go lucky monster self again.

Speare was hoping this would not be one of those types of cases as he waited in the bustling McDonald’s (best place for morning coffee, over Tim Horton’s, as they gave free refills and a great muffin/coffee deal). The cover of the daily newspaper showed Jason Kenney, a former MP who started seeking the third party leadership while still drawing a salary from his federal job. Speare may not be happy with some of the decisions the current NDP government of the province had been making, but he definitely hoped the PC’s had learned something in their banishment from dictator to third party status to not elect this guy.

The double double was warm, and the blue berry muffin was baked well. To top off the morning he had managed to avoid dealing with the stupidity of the touch screen order system and actually talk to a human being. Bonuses all around.  He scratched the whiskery beard he had been sporting since the last warped case as the client, a rather stereotypical looking accountant sat down across from him.

The small older man, with the bad comb over that barely covered the growing Picard scalp, actually straightened a navy blue bow tie that matched the suspenders showing underneath his cardigan. His moustache with the turned up ends looked like something from a turn of the 20th century barber shop quartet. There could almost be a passable twinkle in his green eyes.

“Mr. Speare?” He said.

“Simply Speare. How can I help you Mr.?”

The man had started to bead sweat profusely simply by sitting, as Spear finished his muffin and took another swig of coffee through the peaked plastic lid. It was time to let the silence do the heavy lifting so as not to guide the wood be client into making false statements, thus creating a false start for the sleuthing.

Bow tie takes another scan around the restaurant. Speare is sure if the cardigan was off, the white shirt underneath would be soaked with sweat around the arm pits. The sweater wore a sweater to cover up the act of sweating.

“Samuel, just Samuel. Look I heard about you.”

Speare chuckles. “Friend of a friend like the telephone game?”

Samuel shook his head. “Uhm, Natan, we are in the same book group. He said I should call you for help.” Natan, formerly crippled husband to Speare’s closest friend Sax. Formerly crippled, because during one of those pesky X-Files like cases he got a spontaneous healing that had reinvigorated the marriage to almost newlywed proportions.

“That is surprising.” Speare said.

“Surprising someone would recommend you?”

“No, Samuel, I am quite good, what surprises me is Natan has friends.” Lame joke, but the stress had to be broken if Samuel was ever going to open up and tell him why he was interrupting his morning coffee.

The accountant is now rubbing hands and looking more nervous, Speare mulled over changing contact messages to say that you had to reveal your referrer and bring them to the first meeting to make awkward situations like this not possible. Sometimes awkward was awkward and sometimes…

The arrow shattered the glass behind Speare’s booth striking chest….


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