A Slight Case of Death

Chapter 1

My name is Mandolin, Tony Mandolin. And yes, I know the name is a great straight line so go ahead, get the jokes and puns out of your system, I've heard more than my share pretty much all of my thirty-plus years. What I do is find things, all sorts and I've gotten so good at it that some folks tend to think I'm gifted with some sort of ESP or mumbo jumbo. No, I'm just stubborn.

Over the years, through a combination of word of mouth and, to be honest, dumb luck, I'd managed to solve some pretty big cases and unfortunately embarrass a few influential members of San Francisco's police force.

I keep an office that could have a second career as a large coat closet. It's located in a second floor walk-up in an office building not located in one of the fog city's better business districts. This month my in-basket held mostly bills and my out-basket held a partially eaten deli sandwich. I was busying myself with trying to find out what word fit in the Chronicle's crossword that used seven letters with hardly any vowels when she came through my door.

It took a couple of seconds before I managed to get my eyes in focus. Thick red curls cascaded past her shoulders, framing a heart-shaped face. She looked like Jessica Rabbit, only real. "Uh..." I said intelligently, blinding her with my witty repartee.

She smiled but it looked forced. "Are you Tony Mandolin?"

I gave up on the crossword and concentrated on the vision before me. She was wearing red to go along with her hair and the outfit looked like it cost more than what I paid in rent last year. A whiff of very expensive perfume floated my way and I coughed. "Um, yes, that's me. What can I do for you, Miss...?"

"I need your help."

I noticed she'd avoided mentioning her name. I leaned back in my chair, wondering who this lady was. It was obvious she was fishing way below her station. "What sort of help?"

"Your ad says you find things."

"That's right."

"What kinds of things?"

"All kinds."

She chewed that over for a couple of seconds and sat in the old wooden chair across from my desk. Like the rest of the furniture in my office, it had no hope of ever making the Antiques Road Show.

"I see..." Her reply came out in a voice so small I had to lean forward and ask her to repeat it. "...my sister."

"What about your sister, Miss...?" I tried again. You never know, sometimes information can be tricked rather than dug out. I still had to strain to hear what she said.

"She's missing. She didn't come home and it's been two days."

Probably a kid sister, I thought. With that kind of competition, you could see where the younger one would feel unfairly put upon. The kid most likely ran away to a friend's house, an easy job for easy money. "I see," I said. "What's she look like?"

She looked me straight in the eye. "Like me. We're twins."

Hoo boy. I leaned further back in my chair and considered. The city has its own red carpet set. A pair of twins looking like that had to have some sort of notoriety. A thread of memory began nibbling around in the back of my brain. You're obviously worried about her, I thought. What aren't you telling me?

I decided to try the direct approach. "All right, Miss whoever you are, I'll need to know a lot more before I can even decide to help you. I've tried twice now with broad hints, but you're giving me nothing to work with here."