We Find What Is Lost: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 1)

Part One: The Venom of God; Chapter One: Al, Wednesday

The ringing of the workroom phone distracted Al from the bibliographic record he was editing. It was distracting because it hardly ever rang. The Cataloguing Department rarely got an urgent call because it was a closed division and not accessible to the public. He looked around to see if any of his coworkers were going to answer it. At least three of them were closer to the phone, but they all appeared to be away from their desks at the moment. He sighed, walked over to the phone and picked up the receiver. "Good morning, Catalogue workroom."

"Hi, I'm looking for Alistair Mackenzie," said a woman whose voice he didn't recognize.

Al blinked in surprise. "This is Al. Is this HR? That must be the only department that knows my given name."

"No," she said playfully, and he could tell she was smiling on the other end of the line. "When we were first introduced, that was the name Rachel called you, and you were so angry when the boys made fun of it."

Al was confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who is this?"

"Hi, Al. I guess you don't remember me. This is Lauren."

"Lauren?" At first he wondered in which division or branch Lauren worked. He used to know almost everyone at Vancouver Public Library, but the longer he worked there, and the more people came and went, the harder it was to remember everyone's name.

"Lauren Hasegawa. Or, I guess you could say Lauren DiTomaso now, but I never took Joe's name. Remember now?"

And then he did. Lauren. Joe. They got married?

"Holy shit," he breathed. "Lauren! How the hell are you?"

"I'm good, really good. How are you?"

"A little dumbfounded, to tell you the truth, but physically I'm fine."

"Same here. Hey, look, I just wanted to call you and give you some sad news. Martha Anderson passed away."

"Martha..." Suddenly he remembered. "Jesus. What was she, like, a hundred?"

"A hundred and four as of two nights ago. They're having a memorial service down at the Queensborough Community Centre, and I was hoping you'd come; maybe we can all have a little reunion."

He almost couldn't keep his attention on what Lauren was saying, he was still too amazed to hear her voice at all. "Wow... you and Joe married... Martha Anderson... sorry, this is all so surreal..."

"I know. Blast from the past, right?"

"How did you get this number?"

"Sorry, I didn't know your home number, so I had to do a little sleuthing using your Facebook page. I'm a private investigator, but you don't need to be one to call the library and be directed to this line."

"You're a private investigator?" It felt like the past and the present were colliding, the sound of it like two train cars coupling. "My God, you never left the LSDC, did you."

She burst out laughing. "Holy shit! I guess not! Wow. Lawrence Street Detective Club. I haven't thought of that acronym in a long time."

Al felt a swelling in his chest, and his voice grew heavy. He was in danger of embarrassing himself in front of his coworkers by crying on the phone. "Me neither, and yet it came back to me as if it were only yesterday we were cruising on our bikes." 

"Yeah." Lauren sounded like she was choking up too. "Good days."

"Good days."

In truth, he hadn't given a thought to those magic years in a long time; they'd faded in his mind like an old Polaroid, the brand of instant photo that lived in countless albums in his mother's house, the kind with the sticky pages and the acetate covers that peeled away so satisfyingly. He couldn't remember the last time he even looked through them (to be fair, if he visited his mother more he might have more occasion to do so.)