Through The Eyes Of The Lion

14.

"He didn't answer." Saunders informed Holmes as he removed his phone from his ear.

Angela glanced up from her seated position as she examined a file. "Hm.." The sound left her lips almost bitterly, as she wondered what could be his reason behind not answering the call.

"I'll try him again in a few." Saunders seemed to be able to shrug it off much easier than the woman seated across from him. "Might be busy."

"Yeah...might be." Angela mumbled.

———

"Mrs. Lawson, I'm telling you. I've checked over and over. Mr. Jenkins does NOT have Fluffy." Chresanto spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. His dark brown orbs were closed and his thick eyebrows deeply furrowed. "Yes... mhm... I don't know....okay." He listened to the angry woman go on, ignoring his phone as it beeped against his ear to signal another call. "Yep....I'll be by first thing tomorrow. We'll check....don't worry, Mrs. Lawson. I'm sure we'll find Fluffy." He assured the woman. "Yes, of course. You have a lovely evening, bye now." With that, he ended the call and kicked his feet up on the desk while releasing a heavy sigh.

His eyes remained shut, his fingers still perched in the bridge of his nose and his eyebrows still furrowed. Scenes from just a few hours ago played in his mind and he licked his lips. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He asked himself. "All she did was break my heart. Why would I go back to her?" He sighed once more and then, remembering the missed call, he raised his phone to return it.

This time, it was he that got no answer.

———

With a cheery whistle on his lips, a man started his short trip from his car to his store's locked front door.

His name was Miles Kline, a tall, slender man aged about 30. His skin was pale, and thick, red curls covered the man's head. His eyes were brown and to many, he resembled Alfredo Linguini from the Disney movie 'Ratatouille'.

A bell's ring met his ears as he pushed the door open and flipped on the nearest light switch. That was when his eyebrows raised in confusion and his mouth stilled mid-whistle as he heard the door shut softly behind him.

"I thought I put this over there last night." He mumbled, confused at the large magician's box that sat in the middle of his store.

'Open ses-Miles' was a small, quaint magic shop on Grant St. It'd been in the Kline family for three generations, with Miles as its new owner just over a year ago. His great-grandfather had been its name sake, and his as well.

Staring at the box, Miles finally shrugged his bony shoulders. It was taller than he, resembling an old trunk one might find in an attic, a leathery feel with one solitary lock right in its middle. It was separated in three with two silver metal bands that wrapped all the way around. That was where the magician was designated to 'cut' to complete the trick.

"Oh well!" He approached the large black box and attempted to move it. "I don't quite remember it being this heavy." He grunted to himself. He stilled his steps when something shifted inside the tall appliance.

With a curious look on his slender face, he fetched the cabinet's key from behind the counter to open the cabinet.

A scream unlike that heard from any grown man before him left his lips and he jumped back. "Oh my!" He shivered and quickly rushed for a phone. "Oh my!"

—-

As August approached Mrs. Lawson's home that morning, his eyes once again shifted to the abandoned blue home nearby. His furrowed them and turned to ring her doorbell.