Aaron slammed the newspaper onto the table and leaned back in his chair. Leaned back, with a little too much enthusiasm, for his chair toppled and crashed against the wall behind him.
Enthusiasm wasn’t nearly the right word. Aaron was bored, desperately bored. And, twenty-five years old with all the Bolt elements, he was full of energy, energy that had nowhere to go at the moment. A lovely Saturday morning, Aunt Irene would say. Aaron, however, found weekends the most dreadful two days of the week.
Now he had leveled his chair and sat, slightly shaken by the unexpected fall. This subsided quickly, however, as things did with Aaron. He leaned over the newspaper and scanned the front cover again.
A black and white photograph showed a picture of a school office, with a grinning teacher standing by the principal’s desk. Next to him stood a stiffer, younger man, clad in navy blue uniform, a policeman. Aaron observed him closely. Even in black and white, he seemed handsome enough. His features were even; his dark hair eyes making his face appear to glow.
Aaron smiled. Aunt Irene would surely reprimand him. She would say he was being vain. He turned to look at the teacher standing next to him in the photograph and recalled why it was that he had been called to the school at all.
The principal’s office had been broken into, and it appeared that several important documents had been stolen. The police had been notified immediately, and of course Inspector Bolt had men at the ready. He had been waiting for something like this to happen since he had been appointed to the position. Sadly, that was a whole (number) of years.
Not sadly, Aaron rebuked himself. It was a good thing that the people of Hazelville were so, well, good. But it definitely was not the place in need for any detective. Aaron often dreamed of relocating himself to New York, where there would be plenty of opportunity for him to exercise his mind. The only reason he was still here was because of his mother…
Aaron snapped out of his thoughts, as he so often did when they went down the street marked mother. His mind, as though it could not possibly live blank, searched for another subject for thought, and Aaron focused again on the newspaper lying in front of him.
It was the most exciting thing that had happened, ever. Aaron remembered the thrill that beat in him as he drove to the school. He had walked into the office, but, his detective self, the part of him that could find answers, was telling him already that there was no problem at all.
No, he argued. Secretly, Aaron wished that it was something, some kind of mystery, some kind of adventure. Childish as those thoughts were, he couldn’t help feel that way sometimes. And it was something after all, Aaron thought; A tasteless joke. Bitterly, Aaron read the caption under the picture.
“Mr. Dock plays April’s Fools Trick on Inspector Bolt. Controversy arises on the banning of April Fools traditions.”
That, wondered Aaron, was the sort of thing that made cover page for the Hazelville Journal.