Nancy ____: The Mystery of the Abducted Child

By Marzipan Maddox

In 2019 there was a contest to write a Nancy ____ book for the television show or something. I missed the deadline after having wrote half this book, then let it sit for a while. My initial effort was to avoid the pages of endless banter of my previous novels and instead have a more plot driven book. There is still plenty of banter, but I tried to keep it to a reasonable level. I decided to finish it because I enjoyed writing it. I love this book. Forgive me for taking liberties with the genre and characters. I’ve not read any of the books, nor have I read a detective novel. This is just my take on the genre.

The novel is an adult novel, it's hard and gritty but in a comical and lighthearted way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marzipan Maddox
• Release date: May 8, 2021

Marzipan Maddox

Me: I'm a good person. I'm a kind and loving person. I've written a considerable amount of objective essays on Medium if you're looking for cut-and-dry real world arguments or shorter books.The books I write are full of the characters I enjoy. I write books because I can seldom if ever find a person to engage in conversation with me beyond whining, crying like a child, or asserting their supremacy above me due to their illiteracy, so my characters serve as sane, intelligent, and rational people that I can have conversations with.I dislike most people because they're endlessly flawed, but flawed in ways that makes them boring, trivial, childish (more than me), annoying, stupid, basal, and otherwise unpleasant to be around. My philosophy is objective, realistic, and anti-humanist.My first book probably needs another round of editing, but I'll get to that when I can.Allegedly: A disagreeable person, not a "real" philosopher or political theorist (all of them are whining douche-bags circle-jerking each other with their heads up each other's asses apparently. Having talked so some who perceive themselves as such online, it makes me glad I'm not one.). I'm a narcissistic cynical misanthrope with a god complex. Allegedly possesses high degrees of intelligence and emotional intelligence. Considerably mentally ill.

Book preview

Nancy ____:

The Mystery of the Abducted Child

By Marzipan Maddox

Morality is the sacrificing of individual liberty whenever this benefits the best-interest of society as a whole.

For the baleen horses

Preface: In 2019 there was a contest to write a Nancy ____ book for the television show or something. I missed the deadline after having wrote half this book, then let it sit for a while. My initial effort was to avoid the pages of endless bater of my previous novels and instead have a more plot driven book. There is still plenty of banter, but I tried to keep it to a reasonable level. I decided to finish it because I enjoyed writing it. I love this book. Forgive me for taking liberties with the genre and characters. I’ve not read any of the books, nor have I read a detective novel. This is just my take on the genre.

I

The phone rings. Mid-morning sun bleeds mercilessly through the half-drawn lace blinds. The room tidy, save for stray bits of clothes tossed carelessly on the floor. The aesthetic of the décor reflecting days gone by, antiquated, but tastefully nostalgic, as none are too fond of abandoning the pleasant memories of their past. The phone rings again.

Nancy. Says a girl

Let it ring. Says Nancy, a command too soft to be stern, the girl is quiet, the phone rings, Nancy sighs, sits up, hunches over, running her hand through her hair, reaches over to the fifth of scotch on the bedside table and pours herself a modest drink into the lowball. She throws it back, quenching a thirst she’s far too tired to be upset about.

Sorry, I’m not here right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon! says the answering machine, cute, bubbly, friendly, warm

Nancy, get down here ASAP. I’m not fucking around right now, so don’t give me any shit. This is serious. Says a gruff male voice on the machine, audibly unsettled, audible only in the trembling of his aggression, he hangs up the phone forcefully, audibly, preemptively frustrated, preemptively disconsolate; Nancy sighs, grabs a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand, then begins to smoke, sitting on the side of the bed

That sounds serious. Says the girl, genuinely concerned

I’m sure it is. Says Nancy, indifferently

"No, like really, serious. Like bad, bad. He… he wouldn’t talk to you like that, he never does. something must be really wrong for him to be that desperate." Says the girl

It is what it is. He’s spit in my face so many times; I’m tempted to return the favor now that the opportunity presents itself. Says Nancy, smoking her cigarette aggressively, despite being entirely indifferent to the message, ashing it in the tray besides the bed

You’re not one to act like this. Especially right now; I’m sure you understand how upset he was. Says the girl

What business is it of mine? asks Nancy, flippant, a thought has yet to cross her mind this morning, only the brutal sensation of being reminded that oneself is still alive burns in her mind

It is your business! It’s your job Nancy! says the girl

I’ll be sure to pay him a visit sometime today. Says Nancy

What happened to ASAP? asks the girl, nagging cattishly, the message alone sent fear coursing through her veins, only in desperation at this point does she even bring up the question

This is ASAP. Says Nancy, sitting, smoking indifferently, blind to reality, eyes motionless, transfixed on nothing, aware only of the relief of the cigarette

Nancy, please, go! says the girl, walking around the bed, taking the cigarette out of Nancy’s hand and extinguishing it forcefully in the ashtray; Nancy grabs the girl by the waist and forcefully pulls her on top of herself

You don’t want to lay in bed with me? asks Nancy, rhetorically, groping the girl’s ass, kissing her, lacking inhibition, drunk on the implicit consent

No, Nancy. Go to work. Now. Says the girl, pushing herself off of Nancy, too prudent to give into temptation for any more than mere seconds, she gets out of bed, hastily picking her sun dress up off the floor and throwing it over herself

Playing hard to get, are we? asks Nancy, playfully

Unless you want to solve the mystery of why you’re out of a job, get out of bed. I’m like 100% sure something really bad has happened. I never feel this scared, Nancy. Says the girl, palpably nervous

You always feel this scared. Teases Nancy

No… this is different. Says the girl, softly

Fine. Says Nancy, lighthearted, well-lubricated, casually indifferent to saving face, she gets out of bed, grabs some panties out of a drawer, slips into a blue cocktail dress taken out of the closet. She lazily grabs some socks and slips into her tasteful athletic shoes. She grabs her tweed trench coat from the hook on the door, takes the cigarettes and a fresh pint of scotch from atop the dresser, slipping them into the inner pockets of her coat.

Really? asks the girl, disheartened enough to sound the part, but hopelessness has led to playful teasing by now

I’m going to need it. Says Nancy, chuckling, shaking her head softly as if the silly question were spoken by a child

I’d rather you didn’t. says the girl, frowning hopelessly

Me too… me too. I’ll see you tonight? Ok? asks Nancy, almost ashamed, grimacing, grabbing the girl, kissing her with routine warmth

Not too late, ok. Says the girl, oddly comforted by the familiar taste of scotch and cigarettes, if only due to the pain of its absence

The sooner the better. Says Nancy, smirking, with a sly wink, the girl rolls her eyes as Nancy walks out the door

Nancy heads down the hallway, making a respectable pace, entirely due to her work ethic, which functions despite her general indifference to the consequential nature of her work, more so the consequences of its absence. She descends the stairs with the pace of an athlete, enthralled by the pleasure of simple movement. The grand room pristine and ornate, save for the somewhat disheveled rebellious looking girl lying asleep on the couch, her jeans neatly folded, yesterday’s socks folded and tucked inside of her casual yet militant stylishly deviant boots.

Wake up, bitch. Says Nancy, warm and amiable, smacking the protruding ass of the girl with a firmness that could not be mistaken for mere horseplay

Damn it, Nancy. What time is it? asks the girl

Fuck if I know, George. It’s time to go to work. If I’m awake, you don’t have an excuse. Chop chop. Says Nancy, flopping casually into the arm chair, the girl

Damn. I’m going. How’s that hangover feel? asks George, putting her pants on, as well as the dirty socks, unbothered by the filth

Miraculously cured; I’m actually feeling just dandy, you? asks Nancy

Getting there. You hungry? asks George

I’m fasting, it’s all the rage, you know? asks Nancy

I don’t see the appeal. Says George

No food to bog you down. You feel crisp. More room for dinner, anyways. I’ve never been as fond of breakfast as I have dinner. Says Nancy

Smells like you’ve already had your breakfast. Jokes George

I’d rather not start my week with a case of the Mondays, so I felt it was proper to nip it in the bud. Says Nancy

So, every day of the week is a Monday now? teases George

Never heard of a case of the Tuesdays, have we? jokes Nancy

Fair enough. I’m going to grab a bite; we can skedaddle after that. Says George

Right-o. I’m off to the loo. I’ve got to make room for second breakfast. Says Nancy

What happened to fasting? asks George

Who said anything about eating? says Nancy, delightfully playful, in high spirits, George chuckles and the girls tend to their business, eventually George meets Nancy in the bathroom

Come to have a go? asks Nancy, making the smallest of talk

Figure I’ve got time to kill seeing how you’re putting your face on. Says George, lazily venturing to the toilet

One must look presentable. Says Nancy

I take it the aroma of scotch and cigarettes is part of keeping up appearances. Says George

Of course, a woman must smell delightful, fragrance is a very important part of presentation. Jokes Nancy

You can’t smell, can you? asks George

Not in the slightest. I just infer the smell from the taste. Says Nancy

Delightful. Says George, entirely unabashed in relieving herself, now more so comforted by Nancy’s admission

Good heavens, George. Says Nancy, reluctantly impressed

So you can smell that one? asks George

That smell would disgust the even the dead. Says Nancy, chuckling

She’ll be gone in a second. Says George

I’m just glad that we’ll be gone in a moment, as I’m sure the smell will still be here when we get home. Says Nancy

It’s funny that you still revert to talking like some prim and proper girl, like an aristocrat. Says George, cleaning herself and flushing the toilet

I have airs, George, airs. Not that you’ve developed any taste for the art. Says Nancy

I can taste food, Nancy. I can’t taste art. Says George, washing her hands in the double sink of the half-bath, drinking a few handfuls of water, Done yet? asks George

This is good enough. Even if that’s just an excuse to get out of this room. Says Nancy

I see I’ve done my job. Let’s go, toots. Says George, leading Nancy out of the bathroom, grabbing her leather smoking jacket from the hooks in the hall, walking out of the front door, starting down the pathway extending through immaculate the lawn, pleasant yet modest flowerbeds and shrubbery artistically scattered through the estate

You’d look good if you put some work into your appearance you know. Says Nancy

I don’t want to look good. I want to look bad. Says George

You’re not fond of the gothic look? asks Nancy

Face-paint is for actors, and I’m not acting. Says George

It’s where the money is, you know. Says Nancy

I prefer hard work. Says George

So noble. Teases Nancy

We’re off, Hannah. Says Nancy, with the lightest of hearts, nearly singing, her lyrical accent of privilege exaggerated to the point of pretentiousness

Somebody’s in a good mood. Off to school? asks Hannah

Off to work. I’m too old for school, Hannah. Says Nancy

They ask me why you don’t come, you know. Says Hannah

You know I’m working now, full time and then some. It would be nice if I could go, but school is not the place for many a girl. Says Nancy

There’s truth in that. I always say that I have my diploma, but back when I was a girl you would get it at the end of the 5th grade. Says Hannah, chuckling

And you’re no worse for the lack of schooling, are you? asks Nancy

Of course not, honey. I’ve done as well as I ever could have imagined, far better in fact. Says Hannah, matter-of-factly, filled with genuine pride and sincere gratitude

I hate to drag her away from you Hannah, but if I don’t we’d be here chatting all day. Our work doesn’t make too much room for pleasantries, unfortunately. Says George

Such a pity. It boggles my mind why they expect girls to work like men these days. Such a waste of a proper lady. Says Hannah

Funny enough, it’s actually my knack for proper pleasantries that keeps me employed. There’s a certain sway a charming girl has over men, you know, even the rough and tumble kind. Says Nancy

It all makes sense to me now. I’m happy you’ve found a job that suits you so well, Nancy. It makes me wonder what Georgia does, but I know she’s a really sweetheart deep-down, even if she’s too shy to show it. Teases Hannah

You’ve seen through my disguise. You’re wise beyond your years, Hannah. Chuckles George, rolling her eyes, almost bashful

I’ve got plenty of them behind me, more than enough to know what’s in the heart of a young girl, even if she’s too shy to share it with the world. Teases Hannah

I can’t hide nothing from you, Hannah. You know that. I’ll be a little bit sweeter to people today, just for you, ok? says George

Of course you will. You don’t need to hide yourself from the world, you know. Says Hannah

I’m sure I won’t be hiding today. You be good, not that I have to tell you to do so. Let’s go Nancy. Says George

Bye, Hannah! says Nancy, sweetly

Bye, girls. Be good. Says Hannah

We will. Say the girls in unison, walking towards the driveway

II

The girls approach a pristine copper-beige 1989 Buick Century 4-door. George enters the driver’s-side door and starts the car; Nancy a bit more relaxed in her approach. She sits shotgun and rolls the power-window down as George puts the car into drive, steadily moving down the driveway towards the gates of the estate. She stops for a moment, the gates automatically open to let her out. Nancy lights a cigarette as George turns onto the thoroughfare towards town.

You can’t just let it smell like new car? asks George

It’s a used car, it should smell like a used car. Says Nancy

It’s a new car. Says George

It became used the second we drove it off the lot. Says Nancy, slowly drifting into a feigned New-Jersian accent

So we’re using car-salesman logic as a justification to defile the new car? asks George

It’s my car, George. I’m not defiling it either, I’m breaking it in. Go get one of those little trees that hangs from the mirror if you’re so revolted. says Nancy

I’m not revolted, I’m just saying new car smell is a nice smell. Says George

Cigarettes are a nice smell too. Says Nancy

Yeah, when people rank pleasant smells, a chain smoker’s car usually comes second, right after new car smell. What’s with the accent? Why are you trying to act tough? Says George

It’s just aesthetic, it seems appropriate if I’m being sleazy. Says Nancy, dropping the accent

You’re not from Jersey and it makes you look ridiculous. A detective trying to talk like a two-bit mafia goon from Jersey. Says George

I’ll admit the accent needs work. I just find it hard to keep up my airs of prestige when I’m removed from the environment. Says Nancy, changing to her previous, articulate accent, flicking the cigarette but into the fields beside her

Just talk normal. Says George

Fair enough, I’m a thespian at heart. The worlds a stage, why not put on a good show? asks Nancy

You’re bubbly this morning. Says George, chuckling under her breath

You’ve got a keen eye. As much as I might enjoy it, I’ll admit it is inappropriate, certainly for work. Says Nancy, honestly concerned

I’m glad you had the foresight to see that. Says George, dryly sarcastic

To be fair I didn’t, but thankfully you’ve made me aware of the fact. Says Nancy, reaching into her trench-coat and withdrawing the scotch, cracking it, and taking a healthy swig of it

Christ, Nancy. You’re 16, take it easy. Says George

I believe that is exactly what I’m doing. I’ve got the scotch, the cigarettes, what part of taking it easy am I missing? asks Nancy, playfully genuine

You’re a piece of work, but who am I to judge? asks George

Breakfast? asks Nancy, offering the bottle to George

I already ate. Says George, dismissively

Second breakfast? asks Nancy, offering the bottle again

Fuck it. Says George, taking the bottle, having herself a swig, giving it back to Nancy; That shit is fucking awful, Nancy. She says

That’s exactly why I drink it. If I opted for something delicious, I wouldn’t be able to walk right now. Says Nancy, George laughs

I’m glad you’ve still got some sense left in that head of yours. Says George, having grown callous to Nancy’s vices

More than enough to pay the bills, you know. Says Nancy

Your dad pays the bills… says George

I have my fair share of expenses, so at the very least I cover those bases. Says Nancy

Fair enough… How fucked are we, by the way? asks George

Judging by the sound of the Chief’s voice, I’d say it’s a matter of perspective. Says Nancy

What do you mean by that? asks George

Well, seeing how he was quite serious about the fact that he needs our help, we’ve basically got free reign today, even an asshole like the Chief wouldn’t chew out the lynchpin to his success. That being said, when the Chief actually wants to see us, despite his own incredible passion to avoid ever finding himself in that situation, that means some serious shit has happened. So personally, we’re not fucked in the slightest, but needless to say we’ll have our work cut out for us today. Says Nancy

So you know we’ve got some serious shit to do, and you start drinking as soon as you wake up? asks George

Well, I’d rather be functional than dysfunctional. Says Nancy, matter-of-factly

How does drinking scotch make you functional? asks George

I’m a functional alcoholic, George. It’s hard to work when you’re fighting off the tremens. Says Nancy

You better not be at that point yet, Nancy. Says George

I’d rather not find out. Says Nancy, giggling cutely

You’re fucked in the head, you know that. Says George

I’m not the one who looks like a man, George. Teases Nancy

I’ll admit I’m fucked in the face, but at least I’m not fucked in the head. Give me a cigarette, damn it. Says George

Your cousin is the one who’s getting fucked in the face, George, and she’s damn good at giving it. Says Nancy, lighting up a cigarette, handing one to George, lighting hers, giving the lighter to George

"I’m pretty sure