Attractive Mystery

Chapter 1: Pence For Your Thoughts

Wake up. Shower. Breakfast while air drying hair. Tie hair in a messy bun. This was the morning routine for Penelope, or 'Pence' as she preferred. The only difference was what country she did it in. Today was Great Britain, yesterday was Brazil, tomorrow could be Egypt. However, she knew she would stay here in London for a while. The bleak weather, the horrible traffic, how could she not resist? Oh and the tea, she couldn't get enough of the bland tea. The whole atmosphere of the place was not familiar to her, and she loved it. Being out of her comfort zone was the thing that liberated her the most. She was used to the sun of Tucson, Arizona not the looming clouds of the English city.

Also, she was here for a mission. She almost always forgets about that.

Every place she's gone, every country she's visited, she would make a point to meet someone great, someone the locals couldn't stop talking about and write about her experience meeting them. There were many people in the United Kingdom that could fit the title of 'great' and she wanted to meet every last one of them. A few people she knew she wouldn't get the time of day from, like the Queen and her Majesty's family of course. But some smaller people, some people who were less popular but just as great, those she knew she could get some words from. She's narrowed it down to a select few.

But why do it in the first place? Why did she have to write about her experiences meeting people better than her?

It wasn't about he stories they gave her, those were pretty boring. But their reactions to being interviewed by her were all different. Some felt arrogant and chose to show out, others were humble and let her figure things out on her own. No matter what kind of person she met, she always wrote the truth; she described them as they were. Where would her book end? She didn't know, but she planned to go around the world twice before thinking about stopping. How long would that take? Well its been a year already and she's only been twenty-eight other cities outside of the U.S., barely the tip of the iceberg.

She goes over to her desk with her mug of coffee. She actually hated tea, all tea, not just England's tea. She had no use for a hot liquid that didn't raise her heart rate substantially. The screen wakes immediately upon opening her laptop. She didn't get around to shutting it down last night after finishing editing her last piece. The words were there on the screen, she took a moment to look over them, though she didn't need to as she could recite every last word with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. She could also tell you what she had for dinner a month ago and tell you a conversation she had when she was just six years old as a party trick. Eidetic memory was a gift and a curse, but she used it to its fullest extent. It was easy to be caught without a pen and paper to write things down. Her brain was full of a lot of useless information, but it also held every word from her book; so in case technology ever let her down she could remember the book and write it over.

"The small French woman was intrigued by my proposition. Being a lady of the arts herself she welcomed my interview. Her red lipstick and pressed black pantsuit looked out of place in the cozy coffee house where we decided to hold our conversation. The smirk on her lips never went away even as she sipped her tea. She seemed more interested in my life even though I was supposed to be the one asking the questions. Her eyes beheld me like she was appraising a lost Monet or Picasso. Could she be interested in a simple American girl like me? The answer was in the business card she placed directly in my hands and the way her brown eyes looked into my own as the words 'Call me, for absolutely anything' tumbled from her lips peppered with her thick accent."

Penelope read the last paragraph aloud and smiled at the business card that she had placed on her desk at the end of the night. She could use a date night, maybe she should take Marie up on her offer. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun while working, it certainly would be very good material for her book. She pushed those thoughts aside for a while, thinking about her next victim. A Mr. Arthur Wright. She did her research on this one, it was easy to find his website.

She started a new chapter and began her opening paragraph.

Soon I will venture into the den of a high functioning sociopath- I've examined him pretty closely from the sidelines. I am excited for what is to come when I actually meet him. The stories I have read leave much left out. I plan to write everything. This one of a kind 'Consulting Detective' is a mystery buff, maybe even modern day Sherlock Holmes?. I wonder if he is as good as his website says. I wonder if he can figure me out. I have little to hide but the mysteries of my past, but if he is a genius as he says he is I'll make it a challenge for him. He is the king of deduction but I am the queen of description, who will rule the kingdom? The best way to find out is for me to go meet him, luckily for me, Arthur Wright has no privacy issues as his address was also a bit of information on his website.

Penelope saved what she had written and closed her laptop. She went to get dressed, something casual and comfortable. She pulled on her coat, stuffing her keys in her pocket and walked out the door. By her luck, a taxi had just let off a man outside of her building. She stopped the driver before he pulled off. "130B  Park Place." She told him and got in the cab.

They rode for twenty minutes thanks to the traffic, where were people going at ten in the morning? Penelope memorized the route to the apartment... Or flat as she should say. She could walk next time and get there in ten minutes. Nonetheless, when the driver stopped outside of the building Penelope thanked him and tipped him generously. The brunette stepped out of the vehicle and onto the damp sidewalk. She looked at the building she stood in front of. Right on the door it read '130B'. This was Park Place. She was at the right place, walking up to the door and pressing the doorbell; she knocked twice for good measure, too.

Confusion washed over the young girl as the person opening the door was revealed.

Mrs. Arthur was just as confused. "Hello?" She greeted tentatively. She never got guests so the young woman must be here for Arthur. Could this be one of Arthur's friends from Scotland Yard? Or maybe she wants to rent 130C? Impossible since there was no advertisement for the vacant flat. Who was she?

Pence looked over the matriarch. She was sure Arthur was male so who could this lady be? Relative? Housekeeper? "Hi, is Arthur home?" She absentmindedly smoothed her hair back.

"Oh! An American!" Mrs. Arthur blurted at the sound of the foreign accent. "I'm sorry dear, but Arthur isn't in right now." The older woman was even more stunned now. A young American girl looking for Arthur? How exciting! "Do you want me to give him a message?"

Penelope grimaced. Where could a person with no social skills be at ten AM? Was everybody in London a morning person? She wanted to catch Mr. Wright while he was his most vulnerable; she thought that would be anytime before noon, as was the case with herself. On a good day she would sleep until one in the afternoon. "No that's fine, but would you be willing to tell me where you think he might be?" She knew it was a long shot asking, she was a complete stranger after all.

"There's only one place that man could be. Scotland Yard with Detective Martin." Mrs. Arthur answered easily with a grin.

Pence raised her thick eyebrows. Well then. "Thank you, I'll try to catch him." She smiled and started to walk off.

"Hold on, would you like some biscuits for the road?" The older woman offered.

Penelope laughed nervously. "No, thanks. I'll just be on my way."

"Alright then, be seeing you!" Mrs. Taylor called after the girl as she walked down Park Place. The opposite direction of Scotland Yard.