Year One - Day One

Day One: A Perfect World

            “A novel?”

            “Yep.”

            “You’re going to publish a novel based on our lives?”

            “Why not?”

            “You already make a living from blogging our investigations over the Internet. Why make the change? It’s unnecessary.”

            “I beg to differ. The Internet’s not big enough to share our weird and wonderful world with.”

            “It’s not a good idea, Angela. Our ‘world’ should be kept classified.”

            “Nothing we ever do is ‘classified,’ Sammi.”

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            Welcome back!

            I hope everyone’s had a good year since you last heard from me.

            When was that, by the way?

            The Shaggy Shakeup? The Condorman Conundrum? The Missing Navigator?

            Oh, right. Now I remember – it was the Holiday Genesis!

            Well, quite a bit has happened with my little sister and me over the last ten months. Wish I could have had the time to share it all with you, but Sammi and I have decidedly been enjoying ourselves, and she’s made progress in her “social recovery.”

            Ever since our folks visited us in San Fran last Christmas, Sammi has been more spirited and open to others than I’ve seen her in years. I almost can’t explain it, but it’s like she’s a whole new woman now.

            The only side effect to it all is she’s less keen in her forms of observation and deduction, two traits that made her one of the best (if not only) private investigators in San Francisco. It not only hindered our casework, but it ticked off Lisa Stevens of the SFPD, as an added bonus.

            As such, Sammi has to lay off from the cases, at least until we find a better readjustment for her…ahem…performance issues.

            On the bright side, we get to do the one thing we always wanted when we were little: vacation around the world! No investigations, no weird or wonderful cases – just non-stop fun with just us girls!

            With the fees we collected from our cases and our share of the huge severance package Dad received from retirement, Sammi and I made stops to parts we always wanted to see since we were kids. Paris, Egypt, England, New York…it was all ours for the taking…whenever, wherever.

            At least until we received that call from Chrissy Zmijewski (how she got our number, I haven’t yet figured out).

            Zmijewski, the young and super athletic CEO of Szalinski Tech, was once on Sammi’s radar for being a suspect in our Salem case from the Halloween before last. A “tall polish chick” was all we had to go on, and – by Sammi’s standards – Zmijewski fit the description (though several other women in San Fran and all over the world did as well). Zmijewski, on the other hand, had an alibi: her identity was forged in the transaction of equipment used in the Salem crime.

            Not to mention she cares for her adorable son, Barry, who should now be five years old, if I’m not mistaken. You see, as Detective Stevens and I found out in our investigation last Christmas, Barry has been diabetic since infancy and had one of his eyes removed. Zmijewski took him in when she heard of his story and has been such a wonderful mother to the kid ever since.

            How could this amazing woman be held accountable to a crime in another state when she’s too busy running a company and taking care of her son?

            So we declared the case “partially solved.”

            But it seems now Zmijewski hasn’t let the false accusation get to her.

            That call she gave me and Sammi was an invitation to the annual Thanksgiving banquet held at a Szalinski Tech HQ in – fittingly – Istanbul, Turkey. I suppose this is her way of making a good first impression on Sammi. Thankfully, for her sake, she’s catching her in a better mood these days.

            We received the call just a week before the holiday, plenty of time to get ourselves fitted for dresses to wear to the gala. In fact, I strongly advised Sammi to wear one (I can’t even remember the last time this girl did wear a dress), preferably the most expensive-looking one she could find. We were certain to hang with a class of people at the event above ours.

            I offered my assistance, though she reassured me (with a devilish smile) that she “got it covered.”

            Lord, help us.

            The night of the banquet, while I was all set with my makeup carefully applied, hair done in a curly up-do, and my dress (an elegant, luxurious royal blue sleeveless evening dress with a v-neckline, natural waistline, and floor-length hemline) on me, Sammi was nowhere to be seen. Earlier that day, she left to pick up her dress, but she hadn’t returned since.

            Chrissy was courteous enough to provide a limousine escort – a luxury I never dreamed of getting my whole life. Guess it really does pay to have friends in high places.

            Much like the one in San Francisco, the Szalinski Tech HQ of Istanbul, Turkey was a sixty-story building in the heart of the city. At night, the interior illuminated in a bluish-purple tint that reflected through the exterior glass structure; particularly in the case of the ballroom where most of the attention was focused. It was gorgeous area designed with white marble walls and columns and bronze busts of famous inventors (including Wayne Szalinski) situated against the wall, with artist renderings of them framed and hung beside each one.

            The dance floor was a well-polished plate of gold that took up much room space. At the far end of it was a stage reserved for the performing band. Zmijewski certainly spared no expense with the amazing Benjamin Bloom at the mic, serenading the party guests with his incredible vocals.

            It was like walking into something out of a fairy tale. Such an extravagant atmosphere.

            I could not divert my eyes from the glass ceiling, which granted a spectacular view of the twinkling night sky. Only the welcoming voice of Chrissy Zmijewski herself managed to bring my attention back to earth.

            She approached me, appearing just as ravishing in a strapless, short-skirted black dress that was tight enough to heighten her fit physique. Her luscious, long light brown hair still in that bob style as I remembered it when we last met. Her skin tone seemed more tanned as well, presumably from her global promotion for Szalinski Tech.

            “Angela, it’s so good seeing you again,” she said to me, genuinely pleased by my presence – enough to give me the warmest (and tightest) hug I’ve ever received. I only met this woman once, and she already thinks of me as her best friend. “I’m so glad you were able to make it. Where’s your sister?”

            Good question.

            “She’s on her way,” I fibbed. Truth be told, by that point, I wasn’t even sure if Sammi had second thoughts on coming. Being reminded of Zmijewski or Szalinski Tech could’ve relapsed her back into that shell of a woman she was before last Christmas.

            “Good, good.” Chrissy gave a hopeful smile to my assurance. “There’s someone I’d love for you to meet. This is Lieutenant Commander Joshua Foss.”

            My focus shifted from her to a dashing young gentleman who accompanied her. He wore a navy dress uniform, pinned with medals that I couldn’t begin to assume what they were for.

            “Please, call me ‘Josh,’” he told me, holding out his right hand to shake.

            When I did, I almost jerked it back from how cold it felt. “Wow!”

            Foss chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout that. Should’ve given you the heads up.” He gestured to his hand. “This isn’t real. Lost my old one back in the service, a few years ago.”

            “Josh is wearing the latest design in our super-advanced prosthetics.” Zmijewski clarified for me.

            I gazed at his hand in near disbelief. “It looks so…lifelike.”

            “Hyper-realistic flesh coating,” Chrissy proudly identified. “That’s how ‘high’ in ‘tech’ it is.”

            I was so enthralled by Josh’s convincing prosthetic arm that I hardly noticed Barry appear at his mother’s hip. “Mama, I wanna go home,” he pleaded to Chrissy in that sweet, small voice I remember so well. He was so cute in his little tuxedo, which I figured Chrissy personally picked out for him.

            “We will later, honey. You’ll want to stay to show everyone your little surprise, don’t you?” Chrissy asked, prompting him to give a little nod.

            Admittedly, I gushed just over the sight of Barry. He was just the cutest kid with his low-cropped black hair, puffy cheeks, and dark chocolate skin. He still had that black eye patch with the skull-and-crossbones design over his left eye, just as I remembered when I last saw him.

            I knelt to his level, doing my best not to put too much strain on my dress, and said to him, “Hiya, Barry. You remember me?”

            “No.”

            Figures.

            “Barry, you remember Miss Leonard,” Chrissy said. “She’s the nice lady that came to see us last Christmas.”

            Barry didn’t say a word. Instead, he just gave me a blank stare, clearly unable to recognize me.

            “I’m sorry.” Zmijewski said on her son’s behalf.

            Of course, I laughed it off. I didn’t really expect a kid as young as Barry to remember every detail of my face. “Oh, it’s alright. I’m just happy to see the lil’ fella still holding up well.”

            Zmijewski beamed. “More so than you can imagine.”

            Our attention briefly went to the stage as Bloom introduced his next song: “Weird & Wonderful” (nice title).

            As Bloom and the band transitioned, I suddenly heard Josh mutter, “Whoa!”

            Chrissy and I followed his mesmerized gaze to the crystal staircase that descended into the ballroom. There stood my dear sister, Sammi, adorned in a sexy, long-sleeved red Chiffon evening dress, brandishing a scoop neckline, a sweep hemline, a trumpet silhouette, and crystal beading. Its backless design exposed her impressive muscle definition.

            To my immediate shock, for the first time in a long time, she wore her long blond hair down in waves, not in its usual bouffant mohawk. Her makeup was applied in flawless fashion; her lips matching the shade of her stunning dress.

            All eyes centered on her with eye-popping astonishment; even Bloom and his band had to take it in for a moment, as it took much longer to prepare for the next song than needed be.

            But no one was more mystified than Josh, who Sammi fixated her alluring gaze on during her entrance. “Hi. My name’s Sammi,” she told him, her voice sounding more confident and empowering than I ever heard it before. “What’s yours?”

            “J-Josh,” he could barely get it out. “L-Lieutenant Commander Josh F-Foss.”

            The poor boy was practically enchanted by her.

            “You look…wonderful,” he complimented.

            Sammi smiled (another “first time in a long time” moment). “Thank you.”

            He offered his left hand (his real one) to her. “Care to dance?”

            Sammi accepted, taking his hand and following him to the golden dance floor.

            Right on cue, Bloom and his band began their performance. Though there were many other couples on the floor, all the attention felt like it had been centered on my little sister and the handsome lieutenant commander. They followed perfectly in step to the beautiful melody of Bloom’s song.

            Chrissy and I stood by each other, with Barry standing in between us, watching Sammi and Josh shine on the dance floor. Just as noticeably stunned as I was, Zmijewski (who, I should note, was seeing Sammi in person for the first time that evening) voiced her surprise to me: “She’s fantastic! From the way you described her to me last year, I figured her to be more – excuse my expression – aloof. It’s like a whole different woman I’m seeing here.”

            I snickered at the irony in her observation. “Believe me – it is.”

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            Half an hour later, Zmijewski was onstage. Bloom and his band left, leaving the space all to Chrissy as she gave her speech:

            “I want to thank you all for coming tonight. Thanksgiving has to be my favorite time of the year, not because of the food, but for the people and things you are thankful to have in your life. I am truly thankful to the men and women of Szalinski Tech, helping in its marvelous journey to become a company beyond the reaches of imagination.”

            These words were welcomed with applause from me and the other guests, which surprisingly included Sammi, who may have clapped the loudest.

            “Thank you,” Zmijewski continued. “Indeed, none of this would have been possible if not for the dream of one man: Wayne Szalinski.” More applause to the namedrop of the famous inventor and the company’s founder. “Unfortunately, Professor Szalinski could not be here with us tonight, as he’s attending his grandson’s recital, but his presence is certainly felt in this room. I remember when I was first hired into the company, I would pester him about his ‘shrinking machine,’ or the ‘old myth’ as we refer it as. I would ask him, ‘Is it true you shrunk your kids to ant size and they spent two days lost in your backyard?’ And he would tell me, ‘No, but I did have quite an infestation, if that’s what you mean.’”

            Laughter filled the ballroom for a good minute. I have to admit myself that it was a good punchline.

            “But, seriously, Szalinski’s ‘shrinking machine’ is indeed only a myth,” she clarified. “A myth that represents an idea that has inspired our beloved company for what I believe our team have achieved in advanced technology. At this time, I’d like to bring my son Barry to the stage.”

            Escorted by Raimundo, Zmijewski’s receptionist (a short twenty-something Hispanic man with a bald head, busy black eyebrows, and dark skin, wearing a white tuxedo for the event), Barry appeared onstage to a collective “Aww” from the audience. His cuteness had that universal effect, I must say.

            Chrissy took him by the hand as she resumed in her speech: “As many of you know, Barry has battled with an acute form of diabetes since he was a baby. The doctors had no other choice but to remove his left eye, only two months after he was born.” A slideshow of images were projected on the white marble wall behind her. They started with photos of Barry as a newborn baby, looking even cuter than he does now with puffed-up cheeks and lips glossed with a hint of drool. But they quickly transitioned to more heartbreaking photos of the infant Barry post-surgery, with one unsettling image of his left eyelid surgically stitched closed.

            There were scattered moans from the audience.

            I had to look away briefly, my heart shattering at the thought of little Barry having to live five years of his life with that burden. I refocused on Chrissy, who was heartbroken herself, without even looking to the photo. She had already seen it before, presumably when she first adopted him.

            Fighting back tears and her voice breaking slightly, she concluded: “I swore to give my son the freedom he so rightfully deserves in seeing the world with both his eyes…and I have done just that. My team and I have broken new ground in both medicine and mechanics, creating Szalinski Tech’s first-ever cyber-organic eye.” She then turned to Barry and nodded. “Show them, baby. It’s okay.”

            On his mother’s permission, Barry removed his skull-and-crossbones eyepatch.

            Gasps of unexpected surprise led into roars of energetic applause.

            I couldn’t believe it myself, but it was right there in living proof: Barry had a fresh new eye that looked exactly like his other one and moved in excellent sync with it. It was as if it had been there his whole life, hidden beneath the eyepatch.

            This was indeed a massive breakthrough in medical science. It made me think about what I witnessed earlier with Josh and his prosthetic arm, driving my attention back over to him. But, in looking his way, I noticed something almost as shocking as what was revealed onstage…

            Sammi was crying.

            A few happy tears she shed just for Barry.

            My god. Who is this new woman she’s become?