Chapter 1
Whit Gibbons had died a solitary man. Nothing unusual there; as Eric Hoffer once wrote, in the end, no matter how significant or insignificant our lives have been, we all die alone. For most of us it's the last thing we do.
At his bedside when he died sat Muriel Sparks, wife of Ezekiel (or Zeke as most people called him) Sparks. Zeke and Whit had been best friends since childhood. Had been because Ezekiel himself had died in the autumn of the past year. Even after Ezekiel had passed away, Muriel and Whit had remained friends, visiting occasionally when Muriel brought over a home cooked meal.
Now Whit was on the verge of returning from whence he came. He said in a barely audible voice to Muriel, "I've always wanted to ask you something, Muriel."
"What's that, Whit dear?" Muriel responded with compassion, but knowing Whit as she did, she wondered if he was about to say something crazy.
"When you and Zeke first met, did sparks fly?"
Chapter 2
My name is Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye, i.e., I work for the Big Guy. The pay is paltry, the hours are long, but the pension plan is literally out of this world. As you may or may not know already, I get my assignments directly from above or to put it in more modern terms, via a celestial cell phone. I am constantly at the ready. This is because the Assignment Associates at Third Heaven Central are never tired, hungry or thirsty. It's always day there and they have no empathy or understanding for those of us who must do most of our work in the Darkness. I haven't had a decent vacation in over five years. It seems that Evil never takes a break.
My latest assignment began when the Celestial started playing 'A Mighty Fortress is our God'. I answered:
"Nick here."
"God morning, Nick. Hope you slept well. Did you have a good breakfast?"
Had the Associates started reading my comments? They never asked me about personal matters before.
"Yes, I microwaved an egg and put it on top of a piece of toast."
"Did you have a cup of coffee?"
"Two, as a matter of fact."
"We're so happy for you."
Did I detect a hint of sarcasm? Well, surely THC wasn't calling me just to see how I was doing.
"Do you have an assignment for me?"
"Oh, yes, we would like you to pay a visit to a Ms. Muriel Sparks, who lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico."
"That's it? Pay a visit to a woman 2000 miles away? What forever for?"
"It's the only way to get your job done."
"And what is that job?"
"You must reclaim a lost soul."
Chapter 3
The subject of lost souls has never been a popular one among the Third Heaven Elite. Most of them don't believe that a soul can be lost. As Hezekiah Rampart, Angel Extraordinaire, First Class, once said:
"The Big Guy isn't in the habit of losing things. If he were, this universe would be a real mess."
Obviously, some thinking had changed either at or near the top. Suddenly (or so it seemed to me) the term 'lost soul' was now a legitimate part of the AR (Atonal Reality). Since I'm just a hired hand dealing with the hand I'm dealt, I'll just do what any other self-respecting TPE would do: my job.
The first part of the job would be easy: drive 2000 miles to Albuquerque, New Mexico. The second part would be almost as easy: locate Ms. Muriel Sparks. But the third part: reclaim a lost soul; that was going to be tricky.
On my celestial, I googled 'Muriel Sparks, Albuquerque, New Mexico'. Up popped the following number and street: 612 Beaton Avenue.
Chapter 4
Beaton Avenue was in the southern part of town. Many of the houses had a faux Colonial Spanish look with a smallish courtyard in the front. I kind of liked the lawns. The grass was sparse on them. The people of the neighborhood lived in a dry climate and they accepted that reality.
I knocked on the front door of 612 Beaton Avenue. A silver haired lady opened it.
"Are you Ms. Sparks?"
"Yes, and who might you be?"
"Nick Neercassel, Theological Private Eye. I'm here to inquire about the late Whit Gibbons."
"Hi, Nick (she didn't ask to call me Nick, she just did), come on in."
"Don't you want some proof of who I am?"
"No, I believe you. Besides I knew you were coming."
"Oh, you did? Who told you?"
"Whit."
Chapter 5
I was back in Shagah country, so I said yes when Muriel (she had asked me to call her by her first name) offered me a cold bottle of Shagah No Pesada.
"Muriel, I'm fascinated by your remark that Whit told you I was coming."
"Well, he didn't say you specifically. He just said someone from up above would show up and ask about him."
"And you assumed he was talking about the Third Heaven?"
"Where else? I have a Kindle and for the past few years I've been reading about the adventures of you Theological Private Eyes. Good reading even when the plots are somewhat thin. Do you personally know the author of the TPE Tales?"
"We've met at book signings. TPEs sometimes attend as guests of honor."
"Would you say that the stories are accurate representations of what you TPEs do?"
"Oh, yes, if anything, the stories are even more true than the actual events."
Muriel surprised me with her response, "That's the way it goes in an Atonal Reality."
Chapter 6
I was on my second Shagah No Pesada when I confided in Muriel.
"Muriel, I've been given the toughest assignment of my career. I've been ordered to reclaim a lost soul. Problem is, I don't even know what a lost soul is."
Muriel look surprised. "I thought you theology-minded guys were all over the concept of a soul."
"Not really. Now I know in this case a soul is a human being. At least I think I do. But are we talking about someone who is now dead or is still alive? If he or she is dead, what's the point of me finding him or her? TPE's don't do raising the dead stuff."
"I think it's safe to assume that the soul in this story is still alive."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because I think we're talking about Whit's estranged daughter."
Chapter 7
"So Whit was not always a bachelor?"
"That's a good assumption. Zeke had to tell me about it though. Whit's marriage and subsequent divorce occcured a good bit of time before Zeke and I met."
"And the product of this short-lived union was a daughter?"
"Yes. The ex-wife took the daughter with her when she left town. When the daughter became an adult she came back to try and establish a relationship with Whit."
"I'm assuming that didn't go too well."
"Too many years had passed. They found themselves to be strangers with nothing in common except a similar sense of humor and some DNA."
"And so she left?"
"And Whit was alone again."
Chapter 8
I thanked Muriel for sharing her information with me. She was a nice lady and my hope was that she would enjoy the last years of her life.
On a hunch, I drove south out of Alburquerque and then eventually west and was in a matter of hours in the state of Arizona. For some reason, I knew to get the job done I had to go to Tuscon.
Along the way I thought about the soul. Was it as the Greek philosophers thought, immortal? But what about the phrase 'your mortal soul'? And didn't the Master say don't fear someone who can kill the body, but fear someone who can kill the soul? If the soul is immortal, how can it be killed?
Now I'm mortal, subject to death, decay, and disease just like any other human being. I get marching orders from Third Heaven Central, where I strongly suspect the Assignment Associates are no longer subject to the whims of normal human existence. Maybe they were playing a joke on me. I can picture the scene: 'Hey, let's give Neercassel a job he can't do yet can't refuse. It'll be fun to watch him run around in circles for a while.' I couldn't really blame the Associates for wanting to have a little fun. I imagine it can get a little boring in Third Heaven where every day is the same as the day before and the day before that.
Chapter 9
Well, I can play that game too. I pulled out my celestial and gave THC a call.
"God Evening, Nick. What can THC do for you?"
"I'm in Tuscon and much to your chagrin, I'm getting the job done."
"That's wonderful, Nick. We knew you could do it."
"Cut it out guys. I know you've just been putting me on."
I heard laughter over the celestial.
"Sorry, Nick. Don't take it personally. We drew straws to see which TPE would be punked."
I tried to laugh good-naturedly but I'm not sure if it sounded sincere.
"Well, the joke's on you. I knew all along what you were up to."
"Sure, Nick." was their only reply and I heard more laughter before closing the connection.
Chapter 10
I suddenly realized I was hungry so I decided to try a place called Clymardan Cafe at the corner of Main and Geronimo in downtown Tuscon.
My waitress was a woman who looked to be in her middle forties. After handing me a menu, she checked on another table. Returning to my table, she took my order.
"I'll have a small ribeye, medium rare, with a baked potato and a salad."
"Anything to drink?"
"Yes, an OM (Old Mesquite)."
It was a darn good meal and the service was exceptional. I decided to leave the waitress a larger than normal tip. As I was paying the cashier, I asked her the name of my waitress. The cashier replied.
"Why, that's Brevity. She's most everybody's favorite waitress."
The End
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