Codename: Mascara, Episode 8: The Monolith

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

Thursday, 10:30 AM

The Archbishop’s Office

The Archbishop came bursting through the office door, flustered.

“Mr. Leach, when did Rafa say he would be here?” said the Archbishop.  “What a day!  That photograph has got me all flustered.”

“I haven’t a clue how that was left here.  The only one who was in here was that radiator repairman,” said Stacy.

“Well, he wouldn’t have done anything,” said the Archbishop, naively.

“No,” said Stacy.  “I would have noticed.  Let’s ask Jo.”

A few moments later, Jo was seated in front of the Archbishop’s massive desk.  One foot masculinely crossed over the opposite knee “…No, sir…I’ve noticed nothing,” she said.

“Are you quite sure?” he asked

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said.  “Is something missing?”

“No,” said the Archbishop, looking through his desk.  “Quite the opposite.  Someone’s been rifling through my drawers!”

“Oh, dear,” said Jo, sitting up.  “But if nothing is missing than how do you know?”

“They left someth…” he trailed off, mid sentence.  He blanched and then pulled a large, white envelope from one of the drawers.  “Oh my…not again,” he said, looking up at Jo but not seeing her.

“What is that, sir?  Perhaps I should examine it,” said Jo moving to take the envelope.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” said the Archbishop, sharply.  “You may go.”

“Are you sure, sir?” asked Jo.  “That might be important evidence for apprehending an intruder.  I can dust it for prints and scan it.  You know we have access to Her Majesty’s criminal database.  Constable Constance gave us access to it after that incident with Knickers-Nicker Nick a few months ago.”

The Archbishop cut across her, stiffening. He suddenly looked quite presybteral.  “That won’t be  necessary.  Thank you, Jo.  You are dismissed.”  He said this with a rather distinctive authority.

As soon as Jo had left the office the Archbishop pressed a button on his phone.  “Mr. Leach, get in here, sharpish!”

Stacy Leach was in the office in the blink of an eye.  “What’s wrong, Snugglebum?” sounding reassuringly placatory.

“Look at this,” he handed the envelope and its removed contents to Stacy.  Both slipped and floated leaf-like to the floor.  The contents turned out to be a photograph of a very attractive woman dressed in a long, black 50s style dress.

They both looked up at each other, jaws dropped.  At that precise moment, Rafa burst into the room sporting a construction worker’s apron, extremely short cut-off shorts, and hiking boots with thick, white socks that went up to his knees.  “Here I am!”

There was a pause as he moved over to the other two and peered down at the photograph.  “Wow – nice dress!  That looks just like…”

“Never mind,” said the Archbishop sweeping over the photograph so that his long gold chasuble covered it.  “What position would you like me in today?”

“I brought everything for something special.  Jo helped me get it up.”  Rafa went to the office door.  Both Stacy and the Archbishop watched his smooth, olive-complexioned, surprisingly defined thighs ripple as he dramatically opened both office doors.  “Jo, you can bring it in now.”

In what seemed like slow motion, into the room Jo brought a wagon with a seven foot tall block of solid black marble.  It was like a scene out of 2001: A Space Odyssey.  “And I brought all my tools!” he poured the contents of the apron on the floor.  Various chisels and two wooden mallets tumbled out onto the burgundy rug with a musical clink.

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.