The Queen and the King: Jess Thornton Detective, #2

By Jess Thornton

In this tale, detective Jess Thornton is hired by a sweet old lady to find her "handbag", containing her private possessions- her 'trifles', nothing important at all..  She gives him a string of sapphires, bright blue gemstones that turn out to be a means to time travel…

Jess and his warrior friend Alexander Blackdeer wind up traveling to various times, in search of this handbag.  In 1956, they become involved with the 21 year old Elvis Presley as he prepares to perform in the Mary E. Sawyer Auditorium in La Crosse.  Elvis has met a young beauty, and literally disappears with her!

Jess is in a tough situation- not only does he have to make sure that "the show goes on" with Elvis not available, he has promised Elvis personally that he will make sure that it does!

After this trial, he goes on the trail of both the missing handbag, and to retrieve the rock and roll icon from far back in time, in medieval Britain no less.  He and Alexander head back in time, and become involved with kingship of two different kinds!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jess Thornton
• Release date: Dec 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386283768

Jess Thornton

Jess Eden Thornton is the author of several books on family, the post office past and present, and Americana.  His writings espouse traditional family values, while displaying the underlying humor in the family, neighborhood, and of working life. He also has written a few fantasy stories, one in collaboration with Robert E. Howard, the inventor of Conan. He resides in the driftless region of Wisconsin, deep in an isolated coulee.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Down by the Riverside

Iwas sitting in my high rise office in the Hoeschler building.  My feet were on the desk, and as I admired the red tennis shoes that lay there in the bright glow from the window on the top floor - I guessed that I had it made!  For how many detectives could say that their office was on the top floor of a high-rise office building in a metropolis?  Not many, I thought, blowing smoke in satisfaction up towards my art deco ceiling.

There was a knock at the door.  Standing, I went to open my frosted glass oak door from the 1930’s, admiring the lettering upon it- Jess Thornton Detective Agency.  The smoking revolver underneath always made me smile, and I hadn’t gotten any complaints about it, yet- but you never knew about people.  The door swung wide, revealing a small lady, with graying hair and the sweetest little face I had ever seen.  She looked like an aged Hummel!

Are you the detective? she asked smiling widely.  It almost seemed that she should be carrying a large shepherd’s crook, and wearing a bonnet around her old head.  I nearly expected to see a small bunny and other gentle forest creatures gamboling about her skirts, as in an old Disney movie. 

Yes, Ma’am.  I smiled back at her, but I’m sure not as sweetly.  I tried, though.  She was like the nicest grandma that anyone had ever seen.  I ushered her into my guest chair on the other side of my old maple desk, where she slowly sank down. 

I am ever so tired!  I have been trudging all about downtown, looking and looking.  Just no luck though, none whatsoever. She broke off with a sigh, and gave me a hopeful look.  I’m sure you can find if, though, she said, with another grandmotherly smile that made me think of Mrs. Claus. 

I had let my cigar go out in the green glass ash tray, hoping the smoke from the dying embers wouldn’t bother her old nostrils overmuch.  I leaned back against my desk, looking down at her.  Just what did you lose?  I asked brightly.

Oh, land’s sake- what must you think of me!  And then she broke out into the most infectious, high-pitched laughter ever, the kind that made you want to reach for one of her home made ginger snaps.  I waited until she finished, she seemed actually to be completely delighted that she had been so forgetful and foolish.

Wh-why my handbag- my purse. It is quite large, and all covered in prints of flowers.  You must think me a foolish old woman, and I dare say I am, but that purse contains so many things of value to me that I can’t say- photos of my late husband, my family, and of course lesser things like my checkbook and such.  She laughed again, saying You really must forgive a forgetful old woman now, can’t you?  And she looked at me so beseechingly that I almost felt I should hug her and give her all the money I had in my wallet, which unfortunately wasn’t much. 

What is your name, ma’am, I asked with my friendliest smile ever, the one I only used on sweet old ladies, puppies, kittens, and babies. 

Why, Guin Britton, she simpered coyly.  So nice to meet you, Mr. Thornton, private detective!  And please, she pointed to my cigar, almost smoldered out, please smoke- my dear Art was always burning something, - oh, how I miss the aroma!

I caught myself as I jerked reflexively forward to hug her, my hand pulling out my wallet at the same time.  This would never do- but what a sweetie.  Walking the other way, I sat behind my desk, and picked up my cigar.  I looked back across at her- did she really mean it?

She did.  She was looking at me expectantly, as if at a small child whom she had given a home-baked treat, just waiting for the little tyke to enjoy it.  I shrugged, and lit it again with my brass lighter.  The smoke curled up towards the ceiling as I drew on it, getting it glowing red again. 

The satisfaction on her cherubic little face was as if I was her grandchild, and had just been potty trained.  I do so love a man who smokes a cigar! she exclaimed rapturously.  If I had been 60 years older, and been 86 rather than my own age, I probably would have proposed on the spot.

But after a couple of draws, more for her benefit it seems than my own, I returned to business.  Where do you think you might have left it?  Where did you go before you found it missing?

Why, that’s just it. she said.  I went so many places, I can scarcely remember them all- let’s see- the post office, I know I went there, since I mailed a letter, and talked with that nice window clerk Jason with the dark hair... and then, I went to the Social Services building; I had a call from that nice Angie there- she is so worried about me, bless her soul, thinking I don’t eat enough, or something... Guin thought then, and resumed with a little smile, Oh, and I took a walk around Riverside Park- I really love to walk, even though Angie and those others are always offering me rides and such- and oh yes, I also took a long walk around Hixon Forest, up one of those trails, I forget which one. 

I was startled.  The Hixon Forest trails are steep, and quite long as well!  This was one remarkable senior citizen indeed.

She went on in her remembrance.  And I stopped at the library, after dropping by the Hixon House. I like that place, reminds me of my youth.  As she said that, her face actually seemed to become youthful, just for a moment.  Beautiful, really.  Then, like a vanishing mirage, she was once again just sweet old Guin Britton, Mrs. Claus meets Aunt Bea, or Grandmother Willow, once again.

I felt tired just from this listing of far-flung local places.  At this point, I was surprised she hadn’t walked up to Galesville and back!  I knew I would be taxed even at my young age to track down all of these location that she had gone to in one day.  I thought about asking about her fitness and nutrition secrets, but instead just assured her I would examine all of those locations to the best of my abilities. 

Can I give you a ride back home?  I asked her.  It was December in the Coulee region, and there was close to a foot of snow on the ground, while the wind was a cold 15 degrees and blowing.

She looked at me for a moment, apparently mildly shocked.  Then, her pleasant smile returned, as she said Oh my gracious- you are just like Angie- I have two good feet, and I can use them.  She straightened her old-fashioned house dress, and stood up.  Walking is healthy, young man, and don’t you forget it!  She tried to sound stern, but she was just too friendly and happy to pull it off.  She headed towards the door.

I jumped up with alacrity, and barely managed to reach my door before she did.  I realized she was less than 5 feet tall in her heeled boots.  She settled her bonnet about her head, and turned to go, but turned at the last second, looking up at me.

Young man- I know you are a professional detective and undoubtedly very good at what you do, but I have one thing that I think will help you immensely.  It failed me, today, but then I am not a detective.  Her blue eyes were clear, bright and sharp, the eyes of a twenty year old.  Piercing in their intensity.  They actually for a moment made me glad that I had a shoulder holster with a .357 Ruger revolver in it.  She reached into her side pocket-

Her hand emerged holding a bracelet of small blue stones, strung on a gold chain.  They were exquisitely cut, brilliant sapphires- I knew, were I to take them to the excellent Mark’s Jewelers on the north side, they would concur!  Fleetingly, I realized the stones exactly matched her brilliant, piercing eyes.  Take this, she said, and her voice vibrated in its intensity.  Though it failed me at last, perhaps it can help you to aid me. 

I took the chain, gazing down at the stone.  The sharp azure glow was hypnotic, and when I next looked up again, she was gone.

I thought for a bit on my visitor, seated back in my office.  I did always seem to get the eccentric ones, but then I was located in La Crosse Wisconsin, a relatively crime-free metropolis; although I had seen a few extreme crimes in my brief time on this planet, here in the Driftless zone of the Coulee region. 

I held the string of sapphires up to the light, admiring their gleaming iridescence.  They really were exactly like that old lady’s eyes... I broke away, abruptly- they were hypnotic!  I slipped them back into my pocket, deciding I’d have them checked out for authenticity at Mark’s Jewelers on the north side.  My old office had been on the same block of Caledonia street with them, and I knew they were completely trustworthy. 

But first, I thought I’d visit the Post Office, just a few blocks away at 4th and State.  I had a package to mail, off to my dear Aunt Toni, for her birthday.  She was turning 99 next week, and had always been my favorite aunt, if only because of the wonderful pasties she made for me in my youth.  I had found an antique marble rolling pin for her, that I knew would tickle her pink, since she was still an avid baker and cook.

I sauntered out onto 5th street, into a brisk, cold wind.  I pulled my long, fur-lined trench coat close about me though, and drew down the brim of my Brewer’s cap against the glare of the winter sun and the errant snowflake in the breeze.  I set off for the post office, my long, heavy cylinder of a package tucked beneath my arm. 

I actually enjoy cold weather, and imagined living in a climate that never varied from warm and sunny all year round as a curse I never wanted to realize.  The four seasons are wonderful, especially here in God’s Country!  The autumn alone is so spectacular that it makes the coldness of winter and the heat of summer worthwhile.  But still, I entered the door into the post office with a sense of some relief.

I unbuttoned my long coat, letting the warmth flow into my garments and myself.  A long line waited before me, as it always did when I visited the post office.  There were five empty window stalls, and only one overworked window clerk behind it.  Typical.

The one clerk was named Sam, a young, fit-looking man who really was trying his best to process all of the customers.  As usual, I had to wonder- why only one?  Behind him, a little off to the side, I saw several supervisors, coffee cups in hand, talking leisurely, but also keeping watchful eyes on Sam.  All were overweight and holding donuts as well. 

As I neared the window, I detected the problem, as I am of