The Mysterious Incident Involving a Fire

Fire is always an unpleasant sight to behold, especially when a loved one has perished due to this fire. My research began on a Monday, which is the most Dreadful day of the week. I had just pulled up to my home to find black charred wood and the crackle of burning fire engulfing my house in flames. Smoke filled my lungs as mist gently landed on my face coming from a firehose putting out the last of the flames. I panicked, crying out for my wife. A rather tall, bulky man dressed in a firefighting suit approached. The man's face was obscured by his helmet, the only thing I could make out was a bushy Mustache. His voice was cold and firm, "I'm sorry sir, I regret to inform you but there has been an unfortunate event", I felt my body shiver as each chilling word escaped from his lips. "Your wife has sadly perished due to a fire which started in your kitchen and carried throughout your house" he continued. To most this would be sad news and don't get me wrong it was, but as a reporter, I was intrigued. I knew my wife very well and she would never go near a kitchen due to an irrational fear of cooking utensils. The pieces of this burnt puzzle weren't falling into place, and I was going to find out why.
Investigating a fire is a tricky and daunting task often because most of your evidence is burnt black or has turned to ash. I walked through what used to be my home but now stood as a ghostly image of what my home used to be. The reminence of my life lay underneath beams of wood which had fallen during the fire. I made my way to my study reaching for the melted handle and turned the knob opening the door. The room had a noir style look with streaks of light pouring through small holes created by the flames. The room was almost empty except for a scorched bookcase filled with ash from the books in which the shelf once held, a few paintings that escaped the fire, and an eerie piece of white paper which laid on my desk. As I approached my desk the white slip of paper in contrast to the black burnt walls look as if it was the moon at midnight. I took the slip and examined it closely, all that appeared was the image of an eye. It doesn't take an expert to figure that the piece of paper was placed there after the fire. The eye was a logo for a newspaper which was infamous for publishing false information. I worked for this newspaper but was fired after I was caught snooping around the office. The Daily Punctilio went down the drain which is an expression used to describe something that isn't up to the same standards, it once was after I left anyway, but why would a slip of paper from my old work be sitting in my study. Once again things weren't adding up.
To many staying in a hotel is a pleasant experience, twenty four hour room service and for those lonely nights you can always call down to the front desk for a chat. After spending a week in this dismal place I can tell you that the charm wears off quite quickly. My room was a bit too high for my liking, and the height meant awkward elevator rides to the lobby. Where you are met with plastic smiles from all the staff as they greet you and constantly ask "how is your stay with us been Mr. Hindo", as if they are all programmed to do so. I often reply because it's the polite thing to do, but after what feels like an eternity I have slowly begun to block out all of their voices. My research is too hard for the chit-chat anyway. After looking over the many files That I stole from The Daily Punctilio which resulted in my aforementioned firing, I notice something interesting. The recurrence set of three letters "V.F.D.", which is even more mysterious than the fire that took my wife's life. Hours of boring research into the files and still there was no explanation on what the letters meant. "Various Fight Dates" and "Very Frightening Divas" were some of the countless headlines that appeared in "The Daily Punctilio" news files. Countless hours sifting through meaningless articles and hundreds of words strung together to create what The Daily Punctilio sadly called news has left me even more puzzled than before.
If you are ever in need of some information, it is often a good time to visit your local library, where a kind old lady will greet you and ask you to be quiet, but after you read a great part of your book and can't contain yourself she will kindly ask you to leave. The city has many libraries with many different purposes, there's the library of telephone pole designs, the library of lakes with L names, and personally my favourite the library of oddly shaped rocks. But I was in need of a normal library, with many normal books such as "The encyclopedia of encyclopedias", or "every time an author has spelt a word wrong". The library's location was on 457 lugubre lane; where you can find the wax museum of almost dead actors. The building was quite large and had a glass dome letting rays of sunlight pour in, the doors were made out of heavy brass and had been carved with detailed designs ranging from a crying baby to a bird flying in the wind. Inside a nice old lady greeted me and kindly told me to be quiet. "where would I find the library's files" I asked, the librarian gestured over towards a stairwell leading to the lower level. I thanked her and headed towards the stairs noticing the entire building was empty except for the librarian and myself. The lower level had rows upon rows of filing cabinets all with tiny labels, so small you had to squint to make out the letters. I checked the V section of the files, the F section, and lastly the D section, all with no luck. I decided to check the secret organizations cabinet, and quickly found what I was looking for. "Volunteer. Fire. Department, is a secret organization that has been involved with many fires, whether they are putting them out or starting them" "finally something is starting to making sense" I spoke aloud to myself. I continued to read further into the vague history of the not so secret, secret organization. It seems that V.F.D and The Daily Punctilio had very close ties, which may explain the reason the three letters appear so often. I sprang up from the desk I was seated at and congratulated myself for my great work. The nice librarian approached me and kindly asked me to leave after making an uproarious - word which here means "too much noise" - , disturbing all but no one.
Stealing is never the right thing to do, unless it is most certainly your only option, well in that case steal away. After being kicked out of the city's library I quickly grabbed the few V.F.D files and stuffed them under my coat. I called for a taxi and began to make my way back to my hotel. The drive was short and only gave me a few minutes to prepare for what I'd find back at the hotel. Fire is always an unpleasant sight to behold, especially when the fire is your fault to begin with. Smoke filled my lungs for a second time in such a short timespan. The red flashing lights continuously blinked as I stepped out from the taxi. I turned to pay the man but was surprised when he handed me a slip of white paper with a eye on it. The eye was all too familiar, it's was the  logo of  which belonged to The Daily Punctilio and V.F.D. He told me that the ride was compliments of V.F.D and with a cheery wave he rolled his window up and stepped on the gas. He drove off leaving a cloud of dust behind and the image of his headlights slowly disappearing into the darkness. I examined the piece of paper closely and notice that this time it had writing on it. The paper stated "Your snooping Mr. Hindo has gotten your wife and now 700 hotel guests and staff killed, continue with your research and the consequences will be much greater. furthermore best regards V.D.F".
By Nicholas Huber