It first started when I was fired from my newspaper job, Which I will refer too as"The Tabloid,". I had been fired for printing a story about a priceless painting that had been stolen. But the tabloid would rather have an article about Lindsay Lohan's new dog. It had not ended well. In the end the paper got what they wanted:Lindsay's picture on the front page and not a mention of the painting, the greatest heist of the year worth thousands of dollars and taken from a private collectors house. No word no one cared about the truth (and she was in jail anyway) when I went to protest to the editor he threw a book at me.
I had never been a person to beg for a job. But after getting turned down from every newspaper company in town I had come to expect rejection. Ever since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a writer, dreaming of far away places with pirates and elves. Where animals could talk and sing like in a movie, to tell fantastic stories about fun, bravery and adventure. What I didn't know was that at this moment the bravest person in the world was running away from the police just a few blocks over.
This job was interesting. It was a weekly column about the life of a police officer and they had assigned me to write it. Write it and I had the job. When I arrived they made me sign a waiver and prove my age and identity,I was use to this but people always believed I was younger than I was, it was probably my cheeks(I had dimples the size of craters. My age didn't mean anything.) I was a competent writer and always had good grades in school. I refused to be treated as a child. My height was my only setback, I was so short I could barley drive. I could hear police sirens blaring in the background as I walked to the police precinct.
Chapter Two
The Beginning Of A Long And Arduous Road.
The walls of the station were gray and dull, the feeling of criminals and lives wronged was in the air, that coupled with the droning rain outside was enough to put anyone to sleep. But I was so excited when I was sent over to the chief detectives office I barley noticed. There was a woman with mud stained hair, and very dark sunglasses in handcuffs inside the office with the detective. I wondered if she was blind. The exceedingly kind generous and funny woman earlier who occasionally runs from police, this handcuffed woman is her. I was moved into the detectives office. The non handcuffed woman introduced herself as Detective Bowen. She was 5'11 her long brown hair pulled up in a bun was quite a contrast to my blond hair. Her office felt much warmer then the rest of the building. A refreshing atmosphere. I felt like she had more humanity and compassion than anyone else. She asked me to sit and began talking almost like she had forgotten the other woman was there. The other woman appeared to be asleep, or dead,I I couldn;t tell with the sunglasses on but she certainly looked it, her hair was strangely and waist long, her clothes were old and rain soaked and any attempt at makeup had been smeared or rubbed off. Sweat was running down her pale skin and you could almost forget she even existed, her but still she seemed oddly cheery, she had a smile as she slept, but maybe it was just the room.
"Amelia Debord, so nice to meet you, we got your call yesterday about your article." Her voice was pleasant, not something you'd expect from a cop. She kept talking about what an amazing opportunity this was for youth to get a taste of after school careers. I was trying to concentrate on what she was saying but the whole time the other woman slept on. Finally Bowen turned to the sleeping woman.
"Varden?" she said,with the manner as how you would talk to a uninvited party guest. I appreciated she was trying to be calm, but now I know this would never work.
"Varden!"she yelled this time, still the woman wouldn't wake up. Eventually in her frustration she threw a pen at the Varden's head.
"OW!!" she shrieked obviously not expecting to be hit with a pen."What the HELL! Bowen?! I just ran 17 blocks! Give me some credit!" So maybe she wasn't blind.
"There's someone I want you to meet. This is Amelia Debord, she's gonna be assisting you in your cases." This was defiantly not good. I assumed I would be following Detective Bowen around, but instead I was gonna have to follow this person around? This blind drunk mess? Miss Varden didn't like this arrangement either.
"Wait I thought I was going to jail! These are false pretenses. I demand to be sent to prison!" I had never seen anyone so upset about not being in jail before. I almost considered walking out at that moment. There was no chance we would get along. There was nothing wrong with her, yet, despite her horrible hair and dodgy appearance, she seemed perfectly nice, I just didn't like smelly people in my car.
"The reason were taking her is we were hoping to avoid some of the more bad publicity and lawsuits that you cause. We think that having her the team would provide the public with a more human side of you." The word human seemed to be the only thing to confuse Miss Varden, like she didn't include herself as a person. I wondered if she had some dark tragic past and if I should watch my step around her.
Finally I spoke up "I think it could be fun, like a modern day Holmes And Watson." That would make her the socially awkward genius and me the bumbling sidekick. I regretted it as soon as I said it.
"Ok what do you suggest?" Varden asked. She had finally given up in defeat, and cooperated. It was the only time that would ever happen.
"How about the private painting theft?" What great luck that was the article I wrote for the "Tabloid "but was rejected, I had done my research, even written the article for the paper, but people were more interested in Lindsay Lohan's dog."Yeah, a Monet painting was purchased by the Anderson family last Thursday for, 2 Million dollars and was on private collection in there house."Detective Bowen handed us the police report."The painting was stolen Saturday night from their private vault. And they refuse police help."As happy as her voice may have seemed, her stare was penetrating, and while I wanted to do nothing more than leave, I agreed.
"What about you Varden."She wasn't asking, more like she was ordering."Nice and interesting, should keep you preoccupied for a couple hours?" And as much as it may have pained her inside. A genius like her to be stuck with me an idiot like me. But she didn't want to be hit with a pen again so she agreed.
"Uncuff me first."Compromise, a once and a life time opportunity with Ms Varden.
"Address?" She had the look a dog has on his face when you drive to the vet. She was probably used to getting her way, being treated like a genius, and of course she was, a socially awkward ADHD genius. Like the cold serial killer on TV. A genius in her own right.
"Micheal Anderson and his wife Lily live at 230 East Street in a private house. Can't miss it."
For once I had felt like I was going on a real adventure. Off to fight crime and catch criminals. Like James Bond. I grabbed my notepad and recorder, I forgot so easily, I hoped she wouldn't mind. Finally we left the office."Aren't you coming?" I asked Bowen,"Oh no I'd much rather be here."
As I we were leaving I heard Bowen mumbled "Fresh Meat". I wondered what she was talking about until I realized the Fresh Meat was me! This was the beginning of long and arduous road.
Chapter 3
Making Friends
It became immediately apparent to me that Sofia Varden was not good at making friends. She lacked the basic social concept of when to be polite and when to back off. It is because of this she never gets invited into houses. Again I wondered if she was going to change her clothes before we got to the the Anderson's house.
"Aren't you gonna change?"A question I had been considering asking for several minutes.
"Oh?"Like if she had forgotten that people wore clothes outside, preferably clean ones, especially when they weren't invited."What we need are disguises."Another great quality of hers was her devious smile. Somewhere between Freddy Kruger and a Cheshire cat.
"Why??"I had never worn a disguise before, unless Halloween counted. But what she had in mind was more in the area of shoplifting. Walking by shops and pulling things of the outside racks. Some of the items she used her "5 Finger Discount" on were a scarf, a pair of ugg boots, and a fedora.
"Are you blind?" I was still interested in who exactly this person was. She just waltzed around like she knew everything. No dignity or common courtesy.
"Do I look blind?" Sophia said as she stole some fries off of someone's table.
Finally I had enough"You have no shame do you?" The smiled her eerie Kruger Cat smile at me,
"Nope. None!"
"Well I don't want to call you Varden. Whats your first name?"
"Sophia."
"You don't look like a Sophia."
"Yeah, I look more like a Bob."
This was the normal level of intellectual depth our conversations got to.
"Do you mind if I turn my tape recorder on?" We were now walking down Pilgrim Street. Two more streets until we got to there. Just enough time to ask questions."Yeah sure."The most agreeable she was all day.
"Do you have hyper awareness? Can you say the alphabet backwards in seconds or something?"(Her all time record was 7 seconds.)
"No I just notice things,"Sofia paused. She wanted to be more specific but she wasn't sure how."It's like everythings just clearer. Everything makes more sense."
"If your do smart prove it" How interesting it would be to see her mind in work. I had my notes and my tape recorder ready.
"Ok fine" she stopped to crack her knuckles began her challenge face on. She took of her glasses. Her cold eyes staring at me like I was transparent. "Your 19 years old, 5''4 tall, 115 pounds. You also normally where glasses but today you want to look professional hence the contacts and the bun. You follow me around like a sheep so you must be the baby of the family which makes you always longing for approval of your controlling lawyer mom and your psychiatrist dad"
I stood there in utter shock as she walked away. The way she looked at me made me feel so cold, like I didn't exist but she knew everything about me."How did you know that? Did you google me?" It was so eerie that another person could know everything about me. Maybe it was just Bowen's office that was warm. She was defiantly cold. I was playing with an equal. Someone who my mother hadn't even prepared me for.
I didn't even realize I was crying until she spoke again. It wasn't a mocking tone like I expected, it was warm, it felt like she was sorry. I wondered how she did it maybe she did researched me and she was just lying.
"It's called cold reading."She was trying to make me feel better, Sophia always apologized for her mistakes when she knew she was wrong."It's simple I just read your body language." Sophia wouldn't even look at me now. Maybe she would say more if she looked up. Maybe she couldn't turn it off and she saw everything. My anger suddenly became an overwhelming case of pity.
"Wow, you should meet my mother." I was genuinely concerned if she was ok her face was turned even paler and she seemed to be sick."So what was it."
"Tan lines."She still wasn't looking at me."Your have a bridge tan line on your nose and a tan line on your neck where your hair would be."Sophia had started to regain her little color. Tan lines I had been to the beach earlier that week."Your age, weight and height are obvious."
"How did you know about my parents?"
"Not many people want to catch criminals. There's a type. A sheltered home, a longing for danger or you don't want to be-" She quickly put her hand over her mouth as thought she'd let go of a big secret she promised never to tell. She put her glasses back on and she could finally look at me. It was ok. Finally someone I couldn't lie to.
"Oh look there's the house!" She had finally retained her normal pale color. But now I realized it wasn't a sick pale, it was a moon light pale. It looked like light radiating from her skin.
"No one taught you to make friends did they?"Two new best going of to annoy some police officers.
Chapter 4
out
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The Varden Chronicles
Chapter 4
Normal Police Work.
The house smelled like rich people. It was what you would expect a house on the best street, with the best view,and the best family to live. It wasn't very homey. It was night black with creaky windows. It felt like a mental facility. The perfect place for Sophia.
I had never seen a crime scene. Aside from the descriptions of what my mother told me in her speeches. That were supposed to keep out of trouble or be put in a facility ourselves. A crime scene felt like crime. And what that felt like was based on your perception of right and wrong. To Sophia this is her natural environment. A perfect place for her to work her magic.
"Is you tape recorder still on?" Magic time. I had forgotten completely about that."This is important."
"Ok so what do we have here?" Sophia asked as she lead me upstairs. When we arrived upstairs I saw that the window had been completely smashed in and that the house has been torn apart. It looked like the remnants of a college party.
"They came in through the window stole painting from that case there." The case was in the corner of the room, not far from the window. It had been broken, and the very expensive painting taken out.
"But then why didn't they take anything else? You see the problem with stealing a painting is you can't sell it anywhere because alreasypeople know it's missing."Criminals are stupid they make mistakes but there is only one place you can sell it. At Black Market price that painting would go for about 1 million dollars."
"Wait The Black Market?" She needed to slow down. Her brain was faster than normal people's. Especially mine."This is San Fransisco we don't have Black Market. We have Baseball games and stadiums of people who cheer while kids eat corn dogs. We don't have The Black Market!" But as determined I was not to go Sophia was doubly determined to go.
"Come on Watson! We're going to do illegal shit!"Great. Exactly what police detective's should be doing. Just normal police work.
Chapter 5
Black Market Palooza
Once you met Sophia Varden it was apparent she had connections. I first thought she was a drug dealer when I saw her sitting in Bowen's office. She was just sent to run around like a pet on a leash. She was a pet. And she hated it.
We were smashed together cab heading to the Tenderloin District. The most dangerous district of San Francisco. Well known for it's heroin and homeless people. The tiny cab was filled with smoke from the driven and we would have rolled down the window if it wasn't so cold outside.
"Where is this place?" There had never been any accounts on the news and normally there was so much that went along with the market. Organ Sales, Weapons Trading. I had expected a dark room with all manner of people. The most dangerous people in the world buying the most dangerous things.
"An abandoned subway tunnel." She had apparently been there many times. I had never been comfortable with being alone on a dark street, but somehow being with Sophia made me even worse. She knew the area and the people and was sure to have some dangerous friends.
The Market was exactly as I had imagined it. It looked like an evil farmer's market. The black canopies smelled like mold and were masked by the strong smell of cigarette smoke. Sophia lit one herself.
"Isn't that bad for your health?" Again she looked at me and smiled her Kruger Cat smile. When she didn't have an answer to a question she would do this.
"We've got to find Raul he can help us. Knows this place like back of his hook." Raul had in fact lost his hand in a tragic dolphin training accident in 09' and had a hook fitted on his stub. "Don't question it." And I never questioned anything she will ever said again.
We walked up to a shop selling marijuana. "Hey Warden!" Raul had yelled at us. He called Sophia "Warden". But before I had time to question even this something more confusing happened.
"Raul where would we find some paintings?" Raul was a short man with a buzz cut and a goatee. His hook was defiantly to big for his arm.
"No way I'm telling you anything!" Sophia took this to mean a challenge she took of her glasses and looked directly at the pot.
"This isn't real marijuana this is lint." He was selling Couch Lint as marijuana.
Raul was visibly worried. "Three blocks down then a left."
"Come on. How could you possibly know that?" The marijuana looked real to me. I wondered how she knew that maybe her glasses made everything blurry so she wouldn't have to see anything. Or maybe she was blind and just had super senses?
"Raul's never been trustworthy. Do anything for a buck." Raul did indeed look like the kind of shady person you would think of.
"Then how do you know he isn''t lying?" I had heard about cold reading before. There were these things called "tells". You could tell when a person is lying. She hadn't even looked at him when she took her glasses off.
"I don't I just thought it would be fun." Yeah fun. Going into the Black Market to hunt a Art Thief. Fun.
As soon as we came around the corner the atmosphere was completely different. This section of the track had been taken out and replaced with a new floor. A single light hung from the ceiling illuminating a square figure under a red tarp.
"Who are you?!" Yelled a thick Russian accent from behind us.
"WHAT THE FUCK!!!" We jumped up. Standing behind us was a very tall, very meaty Russian man pointing a gun directly at us.
"Vat are you doing here?!" Said the tall fat Russian man. I was very surprised that Sophia didn't hear him coming maybe she was so distracted by the painting.
"Darn, I HATE being held at gun point!" Sophia was more experienced with Russian Mobsters than me.
"I'm just a lost blind woman and this nice person was just trying to help me." There went the puppy dog face. The adorable face of cuteness and innocence. The tall fat Russian man lowered his gun.
And Sophia took his kind opportunity to punch him in the face.
"GRAB THE PAINTING AND RUN!!!!" She didn't have to tell me twice.
"COME ON WATSON!!!!"
We ran down the abandoned subway tunnel, a priceless painting under our arms, being chased by a tall fat Russian mobster who was very mad because he had just been punched in the face.
We were in quite a hurry.
There was now over 5 tall fat Russian mobsters chasing us. All yelling obscenities in there respective languages. A barrage of bullets were flying past us at over 820 mph. Several of them going through my tape recorder and notepad spilling the condense of my bag all over the ground. It was ok. I had a pretty good idea I would remember this.
Finally we found another tunnel exit and took the happy opportunity to leave it screaming at the top of our lungs.
"Do cases normally go this WAY!" I yelled gasping between breaths.
"NO that was an exception like. Black Market Palooza." Indeed it was. The two friends headed of to the police station to rub their success in every ones face.
Chapter-
We returned painting to its rightful owners.
Needless to say this doesn't seem like much of a first case. But then again most of our cases were like this. A theft or murder would be committed and the perpetrator would be obvious. There were no complicated murders in real life. This is one of the reasons that my decided to pursue a more, private, practice. Where we could help the police and still offer our services to the private consulting group. I was to be her biographer, writing our exploits down and publishing them. All that was to settle was we're I was to live. My measly 100 dollar a week salary could not afford my own apartment, and I felt Sophia owed me. So I moved in with her.
We were now roommates, sharing a townhouse at 606 Bart's Dr.
Needless to say this doesn't seem like much of a first case. But then again most of our cases were like this. A theft or murder would be committed and the perpetrator would be obvious. There were no complicated murders in real life. This is one of the reasons that my decided to pursue a more, private, practice. Where we could help the police and still offer our services to the private consulting group. I was to be her biographer, writing our exploits down and publishing them. All that was to settle was we're I was to live. My measly 100 dollar a week salary could not afford my own apartment, and I felt Sophia owed me. So I moved in with her.
We were now roommates, sharing a townhouse at 606 Bart's Dr.
Oh my god, what have I gotten myself into.
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