The Downhill Hunt

Just like the other days, Amelia drove her Chevy through as the hydraulic main doors motioned themselves apart. She wheeled over the pebbles and parked her Chevy about five meters away from the stone mansion by the time the doors auto-locked themselves behind.

Amelia got out of the wheels, collected her purse, and closed the door. Keeping her keys in her pocket, she glanced at the mansion before moving further. A big abode, yet to be home. She carefully suppressed her sigh and walked up to the entrance.

The pavement to her entrance is a bit messy tonight. Must be her raging departure this morning, Amelia thought. It was that call from her agent Luther. She’s been trying to buy that rare oriental artefact for almost two years. After several failures, she somehow managed to spot a link to the authorized owners of that ancient piece. Amazingly, her agent Luther had lost the clue to the owners two days ago and managed to inform her about this blunder only this morning.

If it wasn’t for that dumbhead, she wouldn't have rushed her morning. Damn, that brainless git!

Amelia was having her day-starter coffee when Luther called on her cell phone.

“Yes.” Amelia’s cold answer.

“Good morning, Ms. Davis.”

Amelia sensed something amiss. Usually, there’s no 'Good Morning' in the business talks between Luther and her.

“What happened, Luther?” Amelia was curt.

There was a pause for a moment. But Amelia waited, steaming into her coffee mug.

“Actually, I can’t find Mr. Ito’s number.” Luther sounded short. But it echoed in Amelia’s eardrums for ages. It took a while for her to find words.

“You’ve lost Mr. Dai Ito’s phone number!” An unpleasant and hot tone from Amelia’s words seeped into Luther’s ears.

“Yes... Ms. Davis.” Luther could utter these three words, which were followed by a stressed pause and a click.

Amelia thrashed her coffee mug down on the counter, spilling over the brown hot liquids all around, including her pajama. The mug would have shattered into pieces if it wasn’t a real buffalo-horn Viking mug. But Amelia cared sparsely about her pajama or the mug. All she cared about at that moment was to grab Luther’s shirt and slam him to the ground multiple times.

She knew she couldn’t do it, although she was athletic and active in her late twenties. And a five-foot eleven-inches Luther wasn’t a slender guy at all. But things should be straightened up big time. Amelia has been noticing some discrepancies in her Beverly Hills office of rare artifacts collection lately. Files are going missing, a database is getting hanged frequently, two night guards are absent without any urgent replacements, artifacts are poorly placed, and whatnot!

All due to Curl Barrymore’s presence and experience, Amelia has been staying low in her response to all these nuisances. Curl has been the Conservator and Curator of this artifacts museum and office for nearly thirty years. A trusted man to Amelia’s father, and someone related to her mother’s descent.

But this time it went too far. She couldn’t let go of such irresponsible acts under her nose each time. She wrapped a coat around her night pajama and slipped into express trousers and a pair of boots. Then she picked up the purse and keys, dashed out of the door, and swung into the Chevy. Her angry windy driving took only ten minutes to reach her office.

Nobody was expecting her in the office so early in the morning, like at 7:30! The surprise on everyone’s face was apparent as she barged through the entrance, but not remotely close to what Luther looked at seeing her glowering entry.

Amelia could notice only two persons in her increasing temperament– the shocked Luther and a surprised Curl who was seemingly talking to a newly appointed nightguard a moment before her firing entry.

Amelia took a deep breath, still watching Luther with her smoldering eyes, waited a moment, and then ushered Luther into her office. Curl grasped the scenario within a moment. He instructed the young guard urgently, so he took off. Then Curl strode towards Amelia’s office too.

The first twenty-minute interrogation and telling off from Amelia erupted over Luther, leaving him mute and impassive. Only a last strike of order from Amelia’s mouth and a supportive nudge on his back by Curl could move him from his rooted spot.

“IN ONE HOUR!” Amelia chewed these words off her mouth and threw them at Luther’s back as he slipped out of her office, his body hasty, but head rigid.

“A piece of an airtight can! That’s what he is!” Amelia gritted her teeth.

“Oh come on, now, Ami. Calm down, will ya?” Curl spoke for the first time he entered her office today.

Amelia didn’t speak. But she didn’t calm down either. It’s just she couldn’t disrespect Curl’s words. He’s been like a father figure to her since her parent’s demise.

She sat on her swivel chair, bringing out her cell phone to dial a number. Curl was still standing, noticing her closely.

“No breakfast yet, right?” Curl asked Amelia.

Amelia’s fingers paused as she looked up at Curl, “Yeah, I’ve had a coffee rush.” She smirked and then went back to her cell phone again.

Curl's lips twitched. “Then before we start off big, let's have a good breakfast.” He offered smilingly. “It’s still forty minutes before nine, you know.”

“I don’t need it,” Amelia answered quickly, though she didn’t realize her temper had brought her to the office that early today!

She gazed back at Curl and added a bit more politely, “How about you?”

Curl’s smile broadened. “I’m as usual an early bird, and Rose doesn’t let me out without a bite a single day.” He looked amused.

Amelia smiled too. The mention of Aunt Rose drained her anger instantly. “I’m sure she doesn’t.” She affirmed. “So, how’s my old and naughty candy?”

“She’s as good as you left her months ago,” Curl responded. Still smiling.

Amelia looked a bit off at this. She looked through the window. It gazes at the wild and modern combo infrastructure, though she’s more attracted to the wilder parts, still. Vibrant and deep.

Her professional bustling life has pushed many good things away from her. Like naughty candy. She was pensive for a few moments. Curl’s little throat-clearing returned her to the office.

She found Curl eyeing her with concern. She looked away.

Before Curl could ask anything, Amelia announced, “I’m going to the canteen.”

“Of course, you are.” Curl obliged.

***

Recalling the rest of the days, Amelia clicked her house key into the lock. The rest of the day wasn’t as bad as things had begun.

Luther actually managed to retrieve the contact details of Mr. Dai Ito, the Japanese artifact owner. Although he took three hours instead of one to manage his mischief, receiving the information from Luther made Amelia a bit guilty about her morning attitude.

She avoided him mostly during her presence at the museum. Apparently, Luther kept on doing the same trick.

Amelia finished two important meetings with Curl, along with their archivist and graphic designer, conducted a scheduled inspection into the most expensive artifacts section, buzzed a few more crucial instructions to her subordinates (including Luther), and then set off for her home at around 8 pm.

The director needs to give it a rest for the day. But before leaving, she received a small package from one of the maintenance men. The package only read: ‘You asked for it.’

The weird message on the package couldn’t let her stay afloat since she was too tired to deal with any more official or non-official stuff. She slid that into her coat pocket to let that slip her mind for now.

As she entered her house and strolled up to the kitchen, she noticed her spilled brown coffee dried already, leaving a sticky goldish stain all around. The mug wasn’t there on the countertop. It lay askew a bit far from where she’d put that down in the morning.

That weird package came around quickly as she thought she had noticed something besides the coffee stain on the floor. As she bent to look down at what it was, the small piece of package fell off her coat pocket. She picked it up and read the message again, frowning.

She shook her head in amazement but was unwilling to open it now.

She also noticed a curtain on her kitchen window was kept aside. She must’ve forgotten to draw it back to its place in her hot head. She went into her bedroom, turned off the air conditioner she left on, and dashed into the bathroom. She tossed the small package off to her bed before getting in.

Amelia bathed slowly, carefully draining her stresses with warm water. After fifteen minutes, she changed into a casual t-shirt and jacket and put on tracker trousers. she’s planning to go for a walk on the hilly tracks. It hardly bothers her that it’s gusty and windy dark out there since she’s been rooted in this land for ages.

She used a wide-tooth comb to set her wet dark-velvety hair. She checked herself in the mirror as she looked much bubblier than she poses to be. Her emerald eyes glinted and her lips curled in a not-so-warm smile.

“Better enough,” she muttered.

At that moment, an indistinct sound caught her attention. She looked through the window of her bedroom, but couldn’t see anything. Thinking of that as a mistake, she drew out her walking shoes and sat on a stool to slip her feet in. Her eyes fell on the small package on her bed she threw before going to bathe.

She carried the flashlight on her way to the kitchen, took out a bottle of water, and went outside.

She realized the moment the door locked itself, what a mishap she’s done now! Her keys are inside.

Although it wasn’t a matter of a big concern, since she keeps an extra set of keys in a safe place outside the main residence building, something else disturbed her now.

Maybe a long warm bath was responsible that she could think straight again, which is why she noticed for the first time since she returned home that a bigger set of footprints were visible on the pavement. Someone else entered the mansion before she did.

The footprints went on and vanished just outside the door of the main building. Another set of the same footprints came out of that door. Judging by the freshness of pebbly footprints, the intrusion wasn’t done far ago.

The idea of robbery or a mere theft crossed her mind naturally, but she couldn’t dwell on her imagination for long. As she took a step forward to grab her extra set of keys, a sound of footsteps approached her from behind.