The Stag Gem: Part 1 Chapter 9
The train whistle screamed, waking Bradley from his longer-than-expected nap. The quickly passing rows of houses and the scattered high-rise buildings in the distance announced to the detective that he was within a few short minutes of the Glasgow train station.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up in his seat and picked up the newspaper he was reading earlier from his lap and folding it, he placed it on the empty aisle seat next to him.
The train car began to come alive again with movement from eager passengers who were either anxious for the end of the trip, or out of boredom and had an opportunity to do something other than sitting and watching the landscape pass by, began opening up the overhead compartments to gather up their possessions.
Bradley yawned which invoked a long and satisfying stretch from his arms and legs, bringing relief to his cramped body. His hands fell down back on the seat and he slid his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his mobile phone and noticed that it still had no messages. He half-expected Keegan to have called at least once; he would never admit it aloud, but he began to miss the kid’s enthusiasm and admiration he had towards him.
Twelve train cars down, Keegan already had his bag strapped on his back and sat on the corner edge of the aisle seat, anxiously waiting for the train to finally stop. If he was going to successfully follow Bradley to Cantaloupe Industries, he was going to need to get off the train before the detective does. The distance between their cars were far enough apart that if Keegan were not quick enough he could loose his mentor in the crowded station.
The train finally hissed to a stop and Bradley, still sitting, patiently watched the other passengers get up from their seats and begin to fill the aisle. Serendipitously, the detective looked out the window into the crowded landing and among the luggage carts, advertisements, and sea of faces; stumbled upon a large man with a thick black moustache in a business suit wearing saucer-like sunglasses holding up a cardboard sign with ‘Detective Bradley Brackett’ scratched out on it with bold black writing.
Bradley made eye contact with the man as he still sat in his seat and pointed to himself and mouthed the words “That’s me.”
The large man smiled politely in response and put the sign down and stood patiently waiting for the detective to get off the train.
Twelve cars back, movement erupted once the train stopped. Keegan’s size fell to his disadvantage as the passengers that shared the car with him through ambivalence, did not notice the boy detective desperately trying to squeeze down the aisle past suitcases, bags, and bodies to the exit
“Excuse me. Pardon me,” he would say to preoccupied ears as he tripped and fumbled out into the station’s landing.
Once Keegan caught his balance, his eagerness quickly turned to panic once he saw the hundreds and hundreds of people crowded throughout the station. “I’m never going to find Bradley in this!”
He stepped up onto an empty bench hoping for a better view. The boy quickly determined that the two added feet to his stature did not provide much of an aid. It did however help him see the entirety of the train he just came in on. “Detective work is eighty five point three percent observation,” he recited from an old adage Bradley constantly told him.
Keegan counted to the twelfth car off in the distance and looked for a prominent object parallel to it in the station he could run to so he would be able to get a better chance of finding his mentor. In the distance he noticed a newspaper stand that appeared to sit across the landing from what he determined was Bradley’s train car.
The detective finally made his way off of the train and casually weaved his way through the sea of people to the large man in the tight business suit.
“Bradley Brackett,” the detective looked up to the man and extended his hand.
The large man shook his hand firmly, “Hello, my name is Master Clifford Boyshoner. I am the personal assistant to Mr. Cantaloupe. Shall I take your bag, detective? I have a car waiting for you outside.”
“Oh sure,” Bradley handed the man his bag. “So how long have you been working with Mr. Cantaloupe?”
“I’m sorry, detective. I abhor small talk,” he turned and pushed his way out of the station and Bradley slightly taken aback from the response, followed Mr. Cantaloupe’s assistant.
Keegan quickly navigated his way past luggage carts, people, and trashcans to the newspaper stand. “Alright Bradley, where are you,” he thought to himself. The boy scanned the crowd for a fedora and trench coat. A wave of cold nausea and helplessness began to flood his body. “What if I already missed him?”
A collection of angry voices caught his attention to his left as he saw a huge man pushing people out of his way about ten feet away from him. He recognized the man instantly.
“That’s the guy who gave me the envelope two nights ago!” Right behind the man was his friend and mentor apologizing profusely to the disgruntled crowd on behalf of his escort. Nausea gave way to excitement once more. Keegan gave himself a self-congratulatory smile as he watched the two men walk out of the station.
“This way, detective.” The two men walked out into the sunlight towards a black stretch limousine.
“Am I getting in this,” Bradley asked excitedly.
“I certainly hope so, detective. This is what I arrived in.”
Keegan snuck out into the street and saw Bradley and the large man next to a black limousine. The boy reached into his backpack and pulled out a jack knife. “A limo, huh?” Keegan darted up to the back of the vehicle and stuck the small blade into the trunk’s lock; and with a quick jerk and a calculated turn of his wrist; the cover popped open and he slid into the trunk.
“Is this one of those limos that has a dry bar and a television set?”
“Yes, Mr. Brackett. It is one of those limos,” Master Boyshoner answered dryly.
Bradley crawled into the spacious limousine and the smell of expensive leather and even more expensive scotch pleasantly invaded his senses. “I could see how someone could get used to a life like this,” he yelled out to Mr. Cantaloupe’s personal assistant.
“Once I put your luggage in the trunk, we will be off, detective,” Clifford announced. He walked around the rear of the vehicle and opened up the trunk. Mild surprise fell over his rarely expressive face as he made eye contact with the boy he met the night before on Hanbury Street # 49.
“I did not expect to see you again,” the large man answered calmly.
“Please don’t tell Bradley I’m here,” he whispered emphatically.
“Detective, it appears we have a stow-away.”
“What?” Bradley already had a glass of single malt scotch whisky in his hand and the television remote in the other.
“It appears that your friend has followed you,” Master Boyshoner yelled over to Bradley as he smiled at Keegan. The boy crossed his arms in anger as his carefully laid plans came crashing down around him.
The detective crawled out of the back seat, scotch in hand, and walked over to the large man. “What are you saying?”
Clifford pointed to the inside of the trunk. Bradley looked over and saw Keegan.
“Hi Bradley.”
“Keegan! What are you doing here?”
“I can explain everything,” the boy rolled out of the trunk holding his backpack. “It’s that the only way I’m going to learn to be a good detective is to observe you on the hard cases, and I was thinking that…”
“Get in the car, Keegan,” Bradley interrupted.
“Really? You mean it? I can stay with you?” Keegan followed his mentor as he stepped back into the limousine.
“Strictly for observational purposes only.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Keegan answered.
Master Boyshoner slid into the front seat and started the engine.
“If at any time things get too dangerous, I am taking you off the case.”
“No problem,” Keegan smiled. “So what changed your mind? Seeing how sneaky I was getting into the trunk?”
The limousine pulled out into the street and began to drive north towards their destination.
“No, that’s not it. I don’t have enough money right now to buy you a ticket to send you back!”