A No Name Nothing Sent to No One

A No Name Nothing Sent to No One
The maker of a given time stands solely by it's keeping
As hatchling's birthed beneath the warmth of a true hearts beating

Gaston LaFeu stood next to a tall window peering out over the small town outside.  The shadows of the building he was in spread across the street on to the buildings across the road.  He watched the citizens of Hovington going about their daily lives, feeling like a buzzard watching a struggling raccoon nearing the end of it's life.  Cigar smoke decorated the light shining in from the window filling the entire room like fog after a summer rain.  His partner and personal body guard, Edison Saville, sat in a chair in front of a large desk near the window.  Gaston took out his pocket watch to check the time.  "The first trucks should be here within the hour.  After they go through we'll make our way back to Riverton.  Are you sure Mitchell can handle all of the detail work by himself?"  Edison sipped a light swig of whiskey from the glass in his hand.  "He can handle it."  Gaston turned away from the window taking his seat behind the desk.  He picked up a small pack of papers that had been laying on the right hand corner.  "What's this?"
"Telegraph and phone interceptions" Edison answered.  "Not much there really.  People visiting Riverton sending word back to others that they're alright.  Businesses placing orders to wholesalers in Pembrook and Bridge Port; the usual.  Has been the same for almost three months now."  Gaston shuffled through the messages hap hazardously then stopped on one.  "What's this?"  He held the paper in his hand up toward Edison to see.  Edison looked at the paper and read it silently.  "A name was the best I could decipher.  I told you, those lines are old.  Sometimes we're lucky to make one sentence out of them."  Gaston looked at the paper again.  "A name?  Who sends a name as a telegram?"  Edison sipped his whiskey again unconcerned about the question.  "Thorton's time message was sent before this one.  I believe that was a broken transfer.  That was all that was retrieved, not all that was sent.  There was a wire just before that stating that the plums were ruined, which also was a scrambled message retrieved in more than one sending, then that."  Gaston shuffled back through the papers looking at them closer.  "How much time between them?"  Edison leaned forward to sit his now empty glass on the desk, "half an hour.  But the line was weak then lost current right after the plums." 
"Then this?" Gaston looked at the paper suspiciously.
"Yes" Edison answered.  "What's bothering you?" 
"The name" Gaston snarled his discomfort with the situation so Edison wouldn't mistake his intent. 
"Boris?" Edison asked still not understanding why Gaston should be concerned. 
"Do you know of anyone we've researched between here and Riverton by that name?" 
"Could've been someone passing through.  We're not the only travelers in the world Mr. LaFeu."
"We have people watching the office don't we?"  Gaston continued his query still not satisfied with Edison's answers.
"We have, and we do."
"Where was this sent and by whom?"  Edison took the copy of the intercepted message about the plums and read it carefully.  "From. Riverton.  To. Bridge Port.  Mr. and Mrs. Percival Lochlan. All the plums are sold.  River ruined the last harvest. Best Wishes."
"Who sent it?"
Edison sighed then said, "It's unsigned." 
"So someone sent this telegram" Gaston stood up then walked to the front of his desk to face Edison, "in the telegraph office yesterday that we have staked out for over seven months, and you have no idea who sent it."  Edison started to talk but was interrupted by Gaston LaFeu.  "Then we have Thorton's message.  Now, there wouldn't have happened to have been a Penelope Lochlan in the telegraph office at the same time as Thorton was, would there Edison?"  Edison felt insulted that he was being interrogated by the man he had gave his undivided loyalty to for more than ten years.  "There wasn't a woman there who wasn't accompanied by her husband.  Phillip Hanes and Ari Thorton are the two watching that place night and day.  They've even made new friends with George Thatcher and son Bryce.  Granted it takes a few coins from time to time for the right information about the right questions but so far, it's been a very beneficial arrangement."
"Really" Gaston wasn't impressed by his answer.  "Because yesterday a young woman, unmarried and unaccompanied by a husband, looking every bit like a young man, walked into the city council building in Riverton to speak on behalf of herself and the other women there that she had met Mr. Longfellow personally.  If it hadn't have been for one of Riverton's, how should I say this, over zealous young business men, she would have fooled every one that looked at her.  But apparently Charles Samuels isn't as partial to Penelope Lochlan as is his father, the mayor."  Edison stood up from his seat to face his employer boldly.  "I am aware of that situation, Mr. LaFeu.  However, I do regret that I have to defend my own integrity this way. My men, or rather I should say, your men, are the best your money can buy.  So are their allegiances.  They follow your orders only.  Every last one of them because you're the one who pays them; not me. Phillip and Thorton make sure they get names of anyone new they haven't seen before from Mr. Thatcher and son.  There was no Penelope Lochlan in their establishment yesterday.  There was however a few business men selling war bonds," Edison took a small notebook from his jacket pocket opening it then turning a few pages into the book.  "A Mr. Jonathan Olsen from Abingdon, a Mr. Richard Walters from Tazewell, and a produce wholesaler from Bridge Port by the name of Mr. Clyde Price, who was only a temporary replacement for the regular wholesale driver, by the name of Mr. Selby Lawrence.  Making Mr. Price the obvious sender of the telegram."
"Did Thorton send a trace message for time" Gaston pressed his point again.
"Went through right after Mr. Price's plum telegram."
"Then the line failed" Gaston continued.
"Then the line failed for half an hour; Thorton went to the diner to meet the others then the line came back up and that message went out."
"To Bridge Port?"
"To the library in Bridge Port, yes sir."
"No named recipient."
"No sir, just that."
"Well then, it obviously wasn't about ruined plums then was it?  Boris" Gaston spoke again still unsettled about not knowing what it could have meant.
Edison stood still and said nothing.  He was sure about his theory; it was all a simple missed communication.   
"And this morning's wires?"  Gaston wanted a better answer.
"Not much of anything really.  The line has been stable.  Phillip made a phone call through their room phone.  Thorton sent a time message through promptly at eight o'clock when the office opened."  Gaston walked over to the small bar in the corner behind where Edison had been seated to pour a drink.  He drank the whiskey he poured in one quick gulp.  Then poured another and drank it the same.  "And Matilda Dayhuff?"  He stopped to wince from the warm liquid in his throat.  Then continued to ask, "have we heard anything else about her?"
"Only what Sheffield told us, sir.  Which was confirmed by her family in Pembrook."
"She eloped with some under classed fabric sales man from Europe?"
"Spain, sir.  They're traveling in Europe but the young man was from Spain."
"No plans to return I suppose."
"According to her family, no sir.  They were quiet distraught with the matter." Gaston poured and chugged another glass of whiskey then threw his glass at the wall.  Edison stood as still as stone.  "They" Gaston's temper heated with the alcohol now rushing through his blood, "were distraught."
"Yes sir" Edison spoke solemnly.  "People of their breeding standards don't fair well in the eyes of their constituents when things like this happen.  As I understand it, Mr. Dayhuff has all but banned his family from mentioning her name in the same sentence as the rest of the Dayhuff's." Gaston didn't respond to Edison's comment.  Rather he walked to the door, removed his coat and hat from the clothing rack then proceeded to put them on.  He stood for a moment staring at the wall in front of him; an eerie silence invaded the room between him and Edison.   "Find Boris" he ordered.  "Excuse me" Edison questioned his employer.  "I said" Gaston snorted through his nose like a wild animal, "find Boris.  I want to know this Boris who sent this message, and I want to know why it was sent to the library.  You have until tomorrow." 
"But sir" Edison tried to talk to LaFeu who did nothing except open the door of the room to leave then slam it closed as he left. 
Edison looked at the door.  "Boris" he whispered.  "A one name nothing sent to no one."  
He looked at the door again then went to the telephone sitting on the desk.  He lifted the receiver then spoke to the operator on the other end of the line.  "Put me through to the Hotel lobby please."  Then he waited.  After only a few seconds of waiting some one answered his call.  "Yes, I need to speak with a Mr. Clive Parker please.  Thank you."  While he waited he picked up the stack of intercepted messages that was still laying atop the desk top.  "Clive?" He responded to the voice on the other end of the line.  "We have a problem, in Riverton.  A man by the name of Boris.  I don't know the last name.  Mr. LaFeu is certain that we've over looked some one.  Now he wants us to find him.  Buy a watch or maybe a lighter before you leave Hovington.  Have it engraved with that name, Boris.  Then get Lawrence and yourself over to Riverton, they don't know you two there.  You'll be sales men passing through who stopped at the diner then found the watch outside.  Ask the locals around town if they know who it belongs to.  Don't skip anyone.  Then let me know what you learn, but don't call.  Just get yourself back here." 

An Itinerary of an Explanation