"Val, what do you think about this?"

"Who are you talking to, Mr. Hymes?"

"Just call me Graham. I'm talking to no one; just myself, to keep me focused, you see? Say, Mr. Arnaud, your last name is not really common along these parts. Are your parents from abroad?"

"So you've noticed, Mr. Hym- I mean, Graham. In that case, you can call me Ruben, to be more familiar. They say it's always a good idea to be on the good side of law enforcers." said the plump Ruben somewhat cheerfully.

"But I'm not a law enforcer, just a private detective." Graham retorted.

"Arent private detectives on the good side of the law? Anyway, my father was from Verne, Rodin. Do you know where that is? He moved here to make a fortune and I must say the poor man succeeded."

Ruben paused for a second and took a deep breath. His face turned reddish from just saying those short sentences. "He's dead now, but thanks to him my family and I can live this lavish life. I pray for him every Sunday you see, as a form of respect. But enough of my story, we're here for my son. You can check around the room to help you with your investigation. I'll wait outside. Ask me anything if you need it."

"He's a talkative one, isn't he, Val?" said Graham while entering the bedroom carefully. He pushed his hickory trilby hat down and took out a pen and a notebook from his coat pocket.

The man in the dark brown trench coat observed the big sized bedroom attentively. The room had a king-sized bed placed in the middle with a drawer on the left side and an end table on the right side. There was a lamp on the end table. On the other corner of the room were a chair and a coffee table situated opposite a black and white TV. The bed itself was still made as if no one had slept on it.

"Val, what are we looking for here? This room is very clean." Graham turned over and asked Ruben who was standing just outside the door.

"So, do the maids clean this room every day? When was the last time they cleaned this room?"

"Yes, she does. There is only one maid responsible for this room. The others are given other parts of the house to take care of." answered Ruben somewhat proudly. "We pay her seventeen duits a week because we're very satisfied with her work," he said while casting a glance at the clean room. A glimmer of pride can be seen in his tired eyes.

"Val, he seems very generous. Seventeen duits equal thirty-four pennings. Food normally costs two to three pennings for something humble, not to mention she must also get food from the house's kitchen. Being a maid here doesn't sound like a bad idea; this family must be very rich." muttered Graham with a tinge of envy in his words, "I wonder how much hagelslag I can buy with that money."

"Were you saying something, Mr. Hy- Graham?" asked Ruben curiously.

"No, nothing. Are those drawers locked?" Graham pointed at the drawers near the bed. "Also, can you please go over the events again? Don't miss any single detail if you can."

"They are locked, but I have the spare keys here." Ruben reached into his pants' left pocket and went into the room to hand the keys to Graham. "So it was last night, around eight. I was in the study when the landline rang. I picked it up and heard my son's panicked voice, bombarding me before I could even say anything," he paused, " He said something about him being followed and that he needed help. My son sounded very desperate and in a hurry. After saying that, the call was hung up. I called for my assistant and told him to contact the police and a trustworthy detective agency." Ruben recounted what had happened last night.

"You mentioned the police, does that mean they're on this as well?"

"No, they aren't. They told me, to wait seventy-two hours before filing a missing person report. Those zakkenwassers!" answered Ruben with a hint of anger in his voice.

"That's just their procedure. What can you tell me about your son? What even is his name?" asked Graham while opening the drawers one by one, starting from the topmost.

"His name is Fabien; he should turn twenty-two in two months. He studied business here in this city, at Sloten University. He is not very social, that boy. All he has probably brought friends home only very few times. He takes after his mother, preferring to stay at home with his books and his trinkets. I never understand that side of him. When I was young, I was very social, popular even. I went to a lot of social gatherings. That was where I met my wife..."

"Can we keep it about him, please. And where is your wife?" interjected Graham, seemingly rather irritated by his fat client's off-topic talk. He continued to listen while rummaging the drawers.

"Ah, pardon. It's a habit you see. They say it dies hard. Anne is in her room. Her health hasn't been good lately. My son, he never really tells me what he's doing or what he's involved in, so I don't really have anything that might help. I hope you can find something inside those." said Ruben while pointing at the drawers.

"As a matter of fact, I have," answered Graham while picking up an ornate ring with a complicated pattern on it. He showed it to the chubby man and asked, "Recognize it?"

"No, Mr. Detective. Where did you find it?"

"It's hidden in the second drawer from the top, underneath a pile of clothes."

"I've never seen him wear it. I don't even know when he got it. Is it a clue? I know a jeweler who might be able to help you. I always take Anne there to buy her jewelry. He is a trustworthy man, always delivers. Maybe he knows who made the ring."

"Val, this man has a severe case of verbal diarrhea," whispered Graham while turning his back against Ruben.

He observed the ring carefully trying to find clues to its origin or function, or anything at all. The ring was inlaid with a red, fiery gemstone. Looking at it made people feel like the hidden anger in their hearts could come bursting out at any moment. The complicated pattern on the ring looked like three rectangles with a circle inside each. At the corner of each rectangle were more circles and there were two upside-down crosses at the bottom. Looking at the pattern for too long made Graham feel dizzy and confused. The ring itself was made of lead, grey in color, and light in weight.

"Val, this ring might be an important clue, but it still doesn't tell us where our guy is." he said while turning back to face Ruben, "Tell me about your jeweler. His name and address."

"Sure sure. His shop is called Bron's, I think that is his great-grandfather's name. His name is Emiel, a reputable one that man is. The shop is fifteen to twenty minutes away from here by motor carriage, on Grotemarktstraat, where all the big stores are. His is number 14. Tell him I sent you and he will help you any way he can." answered Ruben enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Ruben. I will look around the room some more."

"In that case, I will be downstairs in my study. Just call for Janssen, my assistant, if you need anything," said Ruben. Shortly after that, he made his way downstairs to this study.

Graham continued to look for clues in the bedroom. He checked the closet, under the bed, behind the television only to find nothing. There was no trace of human activity in the room, not even something that could be a hobby.

"Val, our guy sure is odd. I don't think we will find anything else here. The ring is our only clue for now. We should go check out that jeweler, Emiel, isn't it? Let's pay him a visit." said he as he bid goodbye to Ruben and left the two-story house.

He went to the street and called for a public motor-carriage to head to Grotemarktstraat.

...

It was a busy afternoon on Grotemarktstraat. A lot of motor carriages, public and private ones, drove by the large street. People were walking about, some stopping at stores, some heading to other buildings, some got into various motor carriages. The many stores there were packed with customers, business was good.

At around three in the afternoon, a public motor carriage pulled over by the street and a man in a dark brown trench coat and a trilby got off after giving the driver five penning coins. He looked to be in his late twenties with a rather good-looking appearance. His hair was covered by his trilby, but the uncovered part showed his amber hair and on his face was stubble with a darker shade. His chiseled face was adorned with a long and thin nose and sharp-looking green eyes. The man looked around, seemingly looking for something before finally, he walked into a store with the sign "Bron's".

Inside the store, a bespectacled thin man, who seemed to be the storekeeper, was busy cleaning some glass displays with jewelry inside. The store was rather big, with a lot of luxurious looking rings and necklaces and bracelets placed inside display cases. Before long, he saw the man in a trench coat entering the store while looking around, mumbling something. It was inaudible at first, but the closer he got, the storekeeper could make out some of the words, "Pieces of jewelry... expensive... crazy...."

The storekeeper asked in confusion, "Good afternoon, Sir, can I help you?"

"Good afternoon. I'm Graham Hymes, a private detective. Call me Graham. Are you Emiel the jeweler?"

"That would be me, yes. Are you here to buy jewelry? For the loved one?" answered Emiel, switching on his salesperson mode, his big eyes sparkled.

"No, I'm single." answered Graham, and then he looked over his shoulder and whispered, "Val, it doesn't feel good to be reminded about that." Graham turned back to Emiel and said, "I'm here because Mr. Arnaud told me you were the best person to seek help from. I'm looking for his missing son and this ring is the only clue." He took a ring from one of his many pockets and showed it to Emiel.

"His son is missing?! That Fabien? When?" asked Emiel in exclamation as he took the ring from Graham. Surprise was apparent in his voice. He took a closer look at the ring and studied it. "Hmm... this looks intricate. Is this his ring?"

He went to the back of the counter and took out a loupe and put it close to his eye, the ring on the other end. "This stone looks like fire agate, but that's the only thing I can identify. The ring is made of lead, but I'm sure you know that much."

Graham nodded.

Emiel continued, "I don't know who made this ring, there is no engraving of their name, but this should be expensive, considering the complication of the pattern." He put back the loupe, gave the ring back to Graham, and said while massaging his temples, "I am feeling rather dizzy... maybe I've worked too long"

After pausing for a while, he adjusted his spectacles and continued, "but I might be able to point you in the right direction. I heard there is an antique store somewhere on Oosteindestraat. I don't know where exactly, I just heard rumors. But be careful, that area is pretty infamous. You can try to buy my good luck necklaces. Many rich men and rich ladies wear them." he said while gesturing open arms as if welcoming a customer.

"I will be careful, and no, I don't need good luck charms." answered Graham and then whispered in his usual style: head down to his shoulder, "Val, he is rather thick-faced... That area should be the street with a lot of crime happening. A pretty fitting place for a suspicious antique store, I must say."

Seeing his customer talking to himself, Emiel ignored it and continued his sales pitch, "So, anything else I can help you with? Maybe you want to buy a necklace for your mother? Or a ring for a potential partner. You never know when you will need a ring."

"No, thank you, and I'm pretty sure there won't be a situation where I desperately need a ring." rejected Graham. "Thanks for your help. I'll be leaving now," said he while walking out of the store.

"Anytime! Come again, don't be a stranger!" shouted Emiel from the back of the counter.

"I don't think I will... I don't think I will..."

Graham walked out to the street and stopped for a while. "What now... Val, I think we should get back and prepare first. We might want to blend in there-- I don't want any pickpockets. But before that, I like me something sweet."

After saying that, he walked along the street to find a convenience store. It only took him about three minutes of walking to reach one, since it was the market street. The sign at the front read Tulpwinkel. It was the most famous convenience store chain in the republic, with hundreds of branches everywhere. Graham entered the store and went to the bonbon section, near the entrance.

"Val, what do we feel like eating today? I want some chocolate. This Dolcebambini brand is here. You know that it is my favorite, right, Val? Especially the one with chewy jelly beans inside. Voila! Here it is. I'll take two."

The few people in the store, including the cashier, were looking at the mysterious man in a trench coat talking to himself in front of the chocolate shelf.

Graham, not noticing their stare, walked up to the cashier to pay for the two big sized chocolate bars, 165 grams each. He handed them over to the cashier and waited for the cashier to enter the item code to the register. "The total is thirteen pennings, Sir." said the cashier.

"Are you sure that's correct? It was only six pennings each when I bought them yesterday." Graham tried to haggle.

"I'm sure it's correct." answered the cashier, feeling somewhat on guard against the weird man in a trench coat trying to haggle the price of chocolate bars.

"Okay, here you go," said Graham reluctantly after taking seven duit coins from one of his pockets. He waited patiently for his one penning change.

"Here's your change. Thank you and come back again." said the cashier in an automated voice like he had said the same line over a hundred times.

Graham went out of the store with light steps, almost jumping. He went to the side of the street and stopped a public motor carriage that was about to pass and got in it. The space inside was only enough for two, at most three if the passengers were small enough, so to save money, people usually split the bill between passengers. It cost somewhere between five to twenty pennings, depending on the distance-- not very cheap, but it was one of the fastest methods of transport available.

"Take me to Tuinstraat no. 7, Vakbond Apartment. I'm rather in a hurry, so you can drive fast."

"That would be seven pennings, Sir." said the driver from behind the glass separating them.

"When did the price go up? I only paid six pennings this morning," argued Graham.

"Sir, the price has always been like that. You can pay or you can walk." retorted the driver calmly. He seemed to have had a lot of experience with haggling customers.

"Alright alright, here you go." Graham gave up. He took out three duit and one penning coins from one of his pockets and gave it to the driver, sliding it through the small opening in the glass.

The motor carriage drove along the street fast. Inside, Graham opened one chocolate bar and ate it slowly, piece by piece. He tried to savor the taste for as long as he could. He was looking out the window while eating, people watching. It was already a little after five, the streets still quite busy. People walking about, wearing colorful but warm clothing. The sun had started its journey to the horizon, so the sky was orangish in color. Graham took another bite of his chocolate and let it melt in his mouth, happiness shown in his eyes. It took the motor carriage no more than eight minutes to reach Tuinstraat.

"Sir, we're here. Don't forget your belongings." reminded the driver.

"Thanks, good man, but everything is here," Graham said while pointing at his dark brown trench coat. He got out of the motor carriage while holding down his trilby. He checked his watch: it was five twelve. He went to building number seven on Tuinstraat: Vakbond Apartment.