Chapter 7: The case of the Missing Paper Clips

The following day, I reported to the White House. The Royal Marine sentry on gate duty consulted his list, but was unable to find my name. When I explained my business, he sent for Edmund Roach, the Investigator that I was replacing. A few minutes later he arrived at the gate with my pass and told the sentry that my name would be added to his list.

Edmund led me to our office. It was a windowless cubby hole. Its only advantage was its closeness to the Oval office and the secretary. She served the Minister of Defense, not us, but Edmund told me that she would do the few jobs that we generated. She was also very easy on the eye. He also told me that she complained of losing paper clips.

I couldn't help but chuckle much to Edmund's puzzlement, until I told him what Charles French had said to me.

He said, "So there's a ready-made problem awaiting your investigation."

Two more days and he'd brought me up-to-date on his current work. I also arranged to take over the lease of his apartment as he is being posted to Seattle. The apartment was conveniently situated to both the White House and our Headquarters building.

Then it was time for our formal hand over. We arranged to meet with the Governor-General the next day.

Unfortunately, when we went to the Oval Office, we were told that the Governor-General had been called away. Instead, we were redirected to his Chief of Staff to conduct the hand over. He apologized for the absence and thanked Edmund for his work over the past three years. He told me that I would be seeing Baron Clinton on his return.

The Chief of Staff dismissed us.

I returned to my cubbyhole and sorted out my paper work. I then approached the secretary with the paper clip problem. She showed me a glass container on her desk, which had four separate containers. One of these had paper clips in it.

"As you can see, Investigator MacLeod, I keep ten paper clips in it; there really isn't room for any more. I always top up each day before I leave. That way, I know when one is missing the next morning."

"How many clips are taken at a time?"

"Only the one."

"Does it disappear on any particular day?"

"Yes. Funny you should ask that. It only happens on a Tuesday ... but not every week, you know."

I returned to my cubicle to ponder on what she had told me. Why should anyone want to steal a single paper clip at regular intervals, or rather on the same day of the week? Why would someone do that and not return it to avoid detection?

The following Tuesday, I waited until the Defense's Minister's secretary went home and then I examined the contents of her glass desk container. There were ten paper clips as she had described. I laid them out in a row and murmured a spell I had prepared earlier, tapping each clip in turn with my wand. I returned the paper clips to their container.

There was nothing left to do, but to return to my cubicle, and sit in the dark until one of the clips moved. My spell would alert me. I must have dozed off, as I suddenly awoke. There was a buzz in my head as someone moved one of the clips. I could see the light in the secretary's office as it crept under the door. The light went out and I could see a faint glow coming from the right. That was the direction of the office of the Defense Minister. Moving noiselessly, I crept out of the cubicle. In the Secretary's office, I could see someone hunched over a tin box. The man was wielding the missing paper clip, which he had bent to unlock the box.