Daniel Jameston, Beyond the Stars
Chapter 1: The New Office
"We're offically moved, Crissy," I told Christine Hartferd, my partner, as I carried in the last box from the U-Haul truck outside.
"We're not unpacked, yet. The sign painter hasn't come, either. And don't call me Crissy! I hate that. Claudine calls me that! My name's Christine," she complained. Claudine is her married twin, who her parents think more highly of. "Or Christie."
"The sign painter is coming tomorrow," I said, as I opened a box, and put some of my books on the shelf behind my desk.
"We still haven't decided who's name goes first. I like the sound of Hartferd and Jameston, don't you?" she asked.
"No. You were my assistant. Get over it, my name goes first, Christie," I told her, with a small smirk on my face.
"I was your assistant! I'm your partner now, remember?" I said nothing, and continued to unpack my boxes. Christie opened a box, and took out her photographs. "Fine. Put your name first. But it won't look as good."
"Tell you what, Cristie, I'll make a deal with you." Her head shot up. "After a year, I'll change Jameston and Hartferd to Hartferd and Jameston."
"What's the catch?" She eyed me suspiciously.
"There isn't one," I explained.
"You said deal. What do you want, Daniel?" She asked.
"Two cases of Pepsi*," I told her.
"I want your name first after a year," Christie said. "My name should go first now, esspecially if I buy you soda."
"You don't understand," I said, almost angerly. "When I dropped from the academy, everyone told me I'd never make it as an investigator. But I have! And I want everyone to know it. I need my name first for a while. Isn't that reasonable?"
She sighed. "I suppose." And that was that.
Okay, you have a right to know about me. My full name is Daniel Kelten Jameston. I'm twenty-nine, but I'll be thirty on June ninteenth. My parents died in a plane crash when I was a year old. It was their first time leaving me alone overnight, and they were going to visit my grandfather, who was most likely dying at that time. The man I was staying with, Officer Carl Shayes, a good friend of my father's, adopted me. He kept my last name Jameston, instead of Shayes. Maybe that's why I'm so strange. Spend enough time at a police station, and who wouldn't be?
Another thing that adds to my uniqueness is that I don't drink coffee or alcohol. I drink cola. Pepsi mostly. I carry around Big Slams (1 litter bottles) and I finish a Block Party (30 cans) in less than a week, usually.
You probably want to know why a file cabinet has any significance in this story. Well, a single cabinet wouldn't. But my file cabinet is two large bedrooms! From floor to ceiling, the cabinets are stacked upon each other, and set up like bookshelves in a library. Room one is A-L and room two is M-Z. This room is called "Daniel Jameston's File Cabinet" by everyone. It made my move extermly difficult.
As for Christie and me, we worked for Lyle Demasi. Lyle pretty much let us take charge of our own cases, but we wroked for the Missing Persons Department. MPD is really boring, and you usually never solve a case, and that alone almost drove me mad. Christie was my assistant, but, in order to get her to agree to move with me--who wants to alone--I offered her a position as my partner.
"I found your missing books, Daniel," Christie said. "They got thrown in with my non-fiction books."
"Your kidding? You own non-fiction books, Christie?" I smiled.
"Yes, Daniel, I do. Unlike your 'Aliens Are Out There' and all those other crazy books. Mine are more helpful, like books on how to find clues and legally book them," Christie bragged. I took my books from her, and put them on my shelf. I didn't say anything, but I owned tons of books like that, including criminal physcology.
I glanced around the office. Christie and I both had a built-in bookshelf in back of our desks. We have matching pine wood desks. Because my extensive number of books and software, I have a bookshelf that's as high as my desk, at a ninety-degree angle to my desk, near the door, so people passing by can't see my feet. My computer's on my bookshelf and it, like my home computer, is a PC. My friend, Jim Willer, owns a software company called Willer MicroSystems. He sends me free software for my PC. The white walls are plain, but we plan to get some paintings for them.
"The office looks great," I remarked, as I sat down in my new desk chair. "But, we need to get the furinture and magazines for the waiting area." I had everything planned out.
"Well, I'll get the magazines, and you get the furniture," Christie suggested.
"Tell you what, I'll buy the furinture, and give you half the bill." Then I added, "The larger half, of course."
Christie only glared at me, as if I were serious. Then she said, while shaking her head violently, "What are we going to do with you?"
"What do you mean, 'we'? Sam doesn't count you know. And Carl is miles away." Sam's my golden retrever. "Your stuck with me, Christie." I laughed evily to tease her, but she turned her head, and stuck her nose in a romance novel.
Jerry Brack, my good friend, called minutes later. "Hey, Daniel." I reconized his voice immediately. But how did Jerry know I was in Tahoe now? As if he had read my mind, Jerry added, "Christie called me this morning, and told me you were in town. Isn't it funny? After all these years, we end up in the same town. Did you move here because of me?"
"Real funny, Jerry. I moved here because I like it here, with you or not. Hey, we should get together sometime." Jerry and I had been best friends all through school.
"Before you know it, you'll be checked in at Harkins," Jerry said. Harkins Metal Institue is where Jerry's daughter, Casey, lives. Sometimes, I feel bad for him, but he says not to bother; she's getting better.
I left the office at ten o'clock. The hours had ticked by, and, being a night person, I didn't notice how late it was until nine-fifty-three. I decided it was about time to wrap it up. I didn't have a case yet--which is enough to drive a detective (even me) up the wall. Instead of investigating, I read up on following tracks, and other information that could come in handy if I ever got a case.
Christie looked tired and half asleep as she filed papers into one of the three cabinets on the back wall.
Next to the file cabinets was a door that opened to the satirs. Upstairs was the bathroom, a closet, and a questioning room. We put a tape recorder in there on the table, and four chairs, two at each side. The walls were going to be paint puke green to mess with the minds of the people we questioned in there. (Besides, I've always enjoyed that color.)
We went to Pizza Hut for dinner. We couldn't agree on the pizza, so we got two, and I took the extra home for Sam, who greeted me happily when I walked in the door--I've noticed that dogs are happier when they smell you have food with you. All and all, my first week in Tahoe wasn't bad. It was beautiful area surrounded by pine trees, and aspen meadows. There are plenty of creeks and rivers in the vast forest land. My house is in the woods, with a dirt road leading to it. I like it out where no one will see it.
Then I checked my E-mail (which hadn't been hooked up for two days) and sure enough, Storm had already found me.
*Daniel has this thing for Pepsi. If you buy him a 12-pack, he'll do just about anything for you.