The name's Tracker McCeno, for you folks who don't know me. It's about 7:30pm on a rainy Tuesday night in up state New York. As I sit in my short, squeaky, dirty brown rolley chair, I can't help but wonder who's going to walk through the doors needing help. It's been about 3 years since I've cataloged my findings but better late then never. I practically live in this office but when the only thing that's on your mind 24 hours a day is solving the next big crime, than what can you do? Lay down on that crunched in dark green couch by the water dispenser and piece one clue to the next. Solving crimes are like putting together a 500 piece puzzle with fifty different colors in them.
All of a sudden there was a knock at the door. It was a very light knock which I could hear fairly well. The only noise I could hear besides the ceiling fan rattling was that tiny knock. I got up and made my way to the dead bolt. I turned the latch and slowly cranked the knob. I never just open the door all the way, I always peak out slowly with my left eye. There was a short petite young lady with curly brown hair standing there. "Excuse me," she said in a quiet voice. "This is suite 136 I assume......"She said. "It sure is, probably couldn't tell because the sign on the door is kind of faded," I said jokingly. "How can I help you? Well, I was told this is the best investigator in town," she said confidently." I don't know about the best but I have been known to solve extremely difficult cases from time to time."
She had sort of a smile on her face but it was one of those tiny grins but in a cute way. "Come on in and have a seat at my desk. Why thank you." She seemed pretty relaxed but a little confused. "Would you care for some water? No thank you, I had plenty on the way here with all the rain," she was trying to be funny. "So what seems to be the problem? You see one of my relatives runs the Archive Museum down on 5th and Rasberry. He's in charge of the stamps collection there. "Stamps Collection?" I said with a tad bit of confusion. "Yes they have an entire department dedicated to Stamps from the 1800s and 1900s. These pieces are worth over three million dollars. I think maybe I'm in the wrong profession," I said with a smile on my face. "Well 3 days ago my Uncle mysteriously vanished one night as he was reordering some new stamps they got in as a new shipment. Hang on one second," I stopped her to get my pen and pad. I started to write some notes down with scribbly handwriting. "How long has your Uncle worked at the Archive Museum? It will be 28 years this fall," she said. I'm thinking, "Okay, this is a simple missing persons case and all I have to do is retrace some clues and find out where this person went to. What is your Uncle's name? Stanley, but most all the people who know him call him Sam," she said very certainly. "Describe your uncle Stan for me. Well he's about 5 foot 8 and has a mustache. He's in his early 60s and just a normal build, not a muscley guy and not little." All of a sudden the phone rang. I picked up the dark handset and said hello. Nothing but silence on the other end. "Hello this is McCeno." I hung up the phone. "Sorry miss, anyways as you were saying. Yes, well he's an average looking gentlemen with short hair. The museum trusted him very much and didn't think anything would happen. Trusted him? I said with concern. "Well, yes they found 1 stamp stolen from the vault there. 1 stamp?" I said. " Do you know anything about this stamp? Well, it's a United States stamp and it was only worth twenty six cents." I definitely had a puzzled look on my face. "Miss, I didn't catch your name, I apologize. Oh, yes my name is Rachel Jacques. Thank you Rachel. Let me tell you the first thing that I will need to do to get this case going. I'm going to have to take a trip over to the museum and get a better idea of the setting. Are the police involved in this case? Yes they are, but they haven't made much lead-way. Then I would say I need to do that first."
After about an hour of talking, this Rachel lady got up and headed for the door. I turned the handle and opened the door for her. "Don't worry about a thing, We'll find your uncle Miss Rachel. Oh I'm not worried, I'm in the best of hands," her eyes squinted and she gave me matter of factly answer. I thought that was a little odd. I knew that in the morning I'd have to take a trip over to the museum to start gathering information.
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