Hart's Detective Agency

The Case

A man in a smart suit stepped into Priss' house. I was kind of shocked by the fact that he didnt gasp and comment how huge or great the house was, like normal people would. Well, being the director of the Metropolitan Art Museum, he had to be pretty rich so maybe he was used to all this. For all I knew, his house could be a mansion.

Mr Smith looked around 50 years old, his eyes were dark, almost black and he had greying hair that was neatly cropped. He was quite attractive for his age, I guess. I was a little unnerved by his serene smile- the case we had to take was serious. How could he be smiling so peacefully at a time like this?

I started tugging on my blouse nervously.

Priss, however, smiled back at the man as elegant as ever, her face revealing no signs of anxiety. I tried to do the same. "Good afternoon, Mr Smith," Priss greeted. "Very good afternoon to you too, Miss Hart."

Both of us escorted our guest to the living room. "Would you like a cup of tea, sir? Earl grey, perhaps?" she asked politely. "Yes, please. I would appreciate it very much," he replied amiably.

Priss walked with perfect posture to the kitchen, not too fast or too slow.

I tried to smile naturally at Mr Smith but it probably looked like a grimace. There was something about this man...

"Do take a seat, sir. Make yourself at home." I gestured at the sofa. He sat down. I awkwardly stood there, not knowing where to look. "Oh, do take a seat too," he said.

"So... this may sound a bit rude, but who exactly are you?"

"I'm Emmeline Bell, Priscilla's partner in the detective agency."

"I see."

Mr Smith gave me the same serene smile. This made me shift uncomfortably in the armchair. Oh, Priss...

Priscilla waltzed in at the moment with a pretty china tea pot and three matching tea cups as well as a plate full of glorious jam donuts, all perfectly balanced on a tray. She set the tray down on the marble topped table with poise. Sometimes, I hated how flawless Priss was. I sighed internally.

She sat down on the third armchair.

"Mr Smith. You mentioned a condition for us to fufil to take on this case?"

Mr Smith casually picked up the tea cup and took a sip from it. "Do you know you look a lot like your mother?" he stated.

Priss stiffened. Her parents were always a sore topic for her and nobody ever brought it up. Hold on. Did he know her mother personally?

"Could we get back to the case, please? Let's not side track," she said with a forced smile.

"Of course. The case. As we all know, a thief has been stealing paintings from numerous art museums in England. It is common sense to presume that he would also target paintings from the Metropolitan Art Museum, the second greatest art museum in all of England.

Your mission, as I have already said, is to track down this thief, before he steals the most valuable art piece at our newest exhibition-"

"-the Mona Lisa," I finished the sentence.

"Yes, that is correct, Miss Bell. And the one request I have," he paused.

I hoped it wasnt something impossible to do.

"Is for my son, Percival, to join this quest of yours."