First Drafts: Detective Christopher Robin and the Hundred Acre Wood Mystery
This is one of my favorites. It’s due or a continuation along with a second draft…. what do you think?
Detective Milne stared intently down at the paperwork in front of him. He’d found, unfortunately, that working in the organized crime division was mostly paperwork. Filling out requests for bank records, telephone records, and search warrants which were almost always denied. While he’d requested this posting for the thrill of the chase, hunting down mobsters and drug lords, what he actually did was sit at his desk. Christopher’s eyes unfocused as he looked down at the telephone record request form in front of him, and his mind wandered. He drifted back to his first big case as a detective, the Ashdown Slasher. The seven o’clock news anchor's voice echoed in his head. “First year detective Christopher R. Milne captures the elusive Ashdown Slasher, now known to be Sterling Holloway!”. A very out of place and silly looking smile must have been plastered on his face as his partner, Ernest Shepard, slammed a large stack of files down on the desk in front of him.
“You’d better not be daydreaming Chris. Not when very important telephone record request forms need to be filled out and immediately denied!” Ernest smirked and sat down in his own chair at the desk opposite Detective Milne.
“No, definitely not daydreaming. Just… remembering.” Christopher replied, rubbing his eyes and taking a long swig of his now lukewarm coffee. He frowned at the tower of folders Ernest had so carefully set in front of him. “And what’s this? Oh, let me guess, someone’s cousin’s dry cleaner’s financial records containing not even an ounce of useful information?”
“I wish. I’ve been twiddling my thumbs for two weeks, I’d kill for a stack of useless documents to sort through. No, this is especially for you. Hal handed it to me on my way in, he said it was left for you by somebody named Colebourn with missing persons?”
“Colebourn? That’s weird, I was at homicide with Colebourn.” Ernest did not respond as he sat back in his chair, opening his newspaper with a dramatic flourish. Christopher pulled the top file from the stack. There was a note attached to it.
Chris,
I know it’s been a while, but I could use a little help on this one from the best detective I know. Let me know if anything pops out to you.
- Harry
When he opened the file the first thing he saw was a picture of a little boy. The child’s dirty blonde hair was short and his large brown eyes peered up at Christopher, filled with innocence and joy. He lifted the picture to read the profile beneath it.
“Ernie, have you heard about this? A little boy named Stephen went missing a few weeks ago near the Hundred Acre Wood… no leads at all.” Ernest shook his head, not looking up from his newspaper, as Christopher set aside Stephen’s file and picked up the next one. As he read his brow furrowed and his lips tightened into a hard line.
“Shirley Lasswell, 8 years old, in the vicinity of the Hundred Acre Wood, two weeks ago.” Even the faint whiff of a pattern seemed to rouse Ernest from his disinterested lounging.
“There’s no way that’s a coincidence.” He hopped up out of his chair and swiped the next file off the top of the pile, his eyes darting across the pages quickly and with great curiosity. “This one was only a week ago, David Benedictus. Jesus Christ, why haven’t we heard about this?”
“Well, it isn’t very well organized crime, is it?”
“No. I just mean on the news, or the radio, or in the paper. Not one of these names rings a bell… You don’t think all of these are missing kids, do you?” Ernest asked, his eyes lingering on the files. The stack seemed larger than it had been before, or possibly just more burdensome.
“I suppose we won’t know until we look.” Christopher took one file and held another out to Ernest, and so went the majority of the afternoon.
As it turned out, the three top files were the only ones containing the profile of a missing child. The rest of the folders contained eyewitness accounts, interviews with friends and family, and detailed reports on searches of the Hundred Acre Wood. What they didn’t contain was anything Christopher thought helpful. In every disappearance the child was with their family one minute, and gone the next. No one saw anything, no one knew anything. There wasn’t a strange man or a cry for help or a ransom call. They were just gone.
“Oh damn, it’s already four. I told Shelly I’d be home early today, seeing as it’s Friday. Truth be told, after reading all of this I’d like to go spend some time with my son, and tell his mother to avoid the Hundred Acre Wood on their next walk.” Ernest sighed, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. Christopher didn’t respond as he read through an interview with one of the children’s nanny for seemingly the tenth time. In an attempt to get his attention Ernest lightly tapped Christopher on the back of the head.
“What? Oh, yes of course, goodbye, have a great weekend.” He said offhandedly.
“Now Chris, here’s what’s not going to happen okay? Listen closely. You are not going to take these files home with you and obsess over them all weekend. You are not going to stay here and obsess over them all weekend. Most of all, you are absolutely not going to go exploring the Hundred Acre Wood trying to find clues with no backup. Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, yes! No files, no searching for clues.” Christopher said, shooing Ernest away and returning to the nanny interview, “Get out of here before I get in trouble will Shelly for keeping you here all hours.”
Ernest rolled his eyes and headed out of the station, but not before casting one last worried glance back at his partner.
Detective Milne had to take a taxi home. The files were too heavy for him to carry all the way and filled with too much sensitive information to take on public transport. He hauled them all up to his fifth floor flat and spread them across his small dining room table. Ernests words only echoed in his mind for a moment before he forgot them and sat down to take another crack at finding even the smallest lead for Detective Colebourn.
Christopher woke the next morning, still sitting in his chair, his head on the table. He’d fallen asleep on the open file of the second missing child, Shirley Lasslow. The picture of the young girl stared up at him. Her eyes were so joyful, her smile so bright, and her hair tied up perfectly with a bright pink ribbon. The file said she wore the ribbon every day, it was her favorite.
Christopher closed the folder and got up to make himself coffee. He was beginning to think it might be useful to do some light snooping around the neighborhood right outside the Hundred Acre Wood, but knew it probably wasn’t wise to make decisions before coffee. Even the smell seemed to make him more alert as he sat back down at the table with his freshly brewed beverage in hand. When his mug was empty he opened the first missing persons file again.
“Two blocks west of the Hundred Acre Wood…. Three blocks north of the Hundred Acre Wood…. Two blocks east of the Hundred Acre Wood.” He mumbled to himself as he pulled out a map of the area, drawing a quick triangle between the three spots where the children disappeared. Drawing a star in the middle of the triangle he quickly scribbled an address on the back of his hand and grabbed his coat.
It was surprisingly easy to hail a taxi for a Saturday morning, but it was also quite nippy so the streets were emptier than usual. The taxi driver didn’t look twice at Christopher’s disheveled appearance and the ride was quick, he arrived at his destination before he’d really had time to think twice about his decision.
The taxi dropped him off in a quiet residential neighborhood. Just as innocuous as any suburb. The houses were tidy, the yards trimmed and the gardens well-kept. Christopher wasn’t sure what to do next, so he just started walking. His real skills as a detective were his powers of observation and perception. This seemingly quiet and orderly street must be holding a secret, and all he needed was one stray blade of grass to recognize the anomaly.
However, after an hour of wandering the area, it seemed that every blade of grass was exactly as it should be. It was time to change tactics. If someone in this neighborhood was taking children and not using their own home as a base, they must be using another location. What better place to conceal yourself than the Hundred Acre Wood?
The large forest was the subject of many tall tales in the city and its surrounding suburbs. Stories told of creatures that ambled through the trees at night, of ghosts that haunted the very spots of their gruesome murder, and even unexplained disappearances. Christopher took no stock in these kinds of stories, they were either pure imagination or anecdotes concocted to make sense of things that had an explanation based in reality. The Hundred Acre Wood did not scare Christopher Robin Milne. Well, perhaps it did, but only a very little.
As he walked in the direction of the forest, he noticed that the chill in the air increased and the sun moved behind the clouds just a bit more often. When he reached the edge of the wood, he could feel the anticipation mounting in his chest. It was too cold, he’d brought the wrong coat. He thought perhaps he might go home, get his other coat, or maybe just stay there. This wasn’t his case anyway. But something in the trees almost seemed to call out to him. Just beyond the reach of the sunlight he could see where the forest became dark, and he couldn’t help but walk towards that darkness, his curiosity overwhelming his fear.
Again Christopher wandered, not entirely sure what he was looking for. Maybe something that belonged to one of the children? David’s lunchbox or Shirley’s pink hair ribbon. The wood was filled with small animals, rustling in the bushes and trees. A rather large rabbit hopped out of the brush, making Christopher jump backwards, and then laugh as it wiggled its nose disapprovingly and hopped off.
“The woods make some people a bit jumpy.” A voice came from behind him. It was a soothing voice, very pleasant to listen to, and without seeing who spoke or knowing why, Christopher felt immediately at ease.
“I suppose you could say I’m feeling a bit on edge.” He said as he turned to face whomever had spoken to him. What he saw was strange, yet still he felt calm and relaxed. The figure was quite small and wearing a floor length red cloak with a hood that covered its whole body, and red gloves that covered its hands. Christopher could not see its face but that did not seem to bother him. He smiled at it.
“Well then, you’d better come with me. I’ve got something that will make you feel better.” It said, beckoning him forward with a wave of its red gloved hand. He followed without question or protest, all his nervousness around being in the Hundred Acre Wood had vanished and he was filled with a comfortable serenity.
After only a few minutes of walking the two came upon a small cabin. It seemed to Christopher to be rather hastily built and a bit precarious, and it took up the whole of a very slight clearing in the trees. The figure opened the door and invited him in. Inside was very sparsely laid out. There were two small chairs and a table, and some shelves against the wall. The only possessions he could see were jars lined up and filling the shelves, all labeled honey - but it was spelled wrong, with a u and two n’s.
“Do you live here?” Christopher asked as it sat down in one of its chairs and gestured for him to take the other. The chair was so small, practically child sized, and when he sat his knees almost touched his chest. It ignored his question.
“You must be absolutely famished. Let me get you something to eat.” It got up and retrieved a jar of hunny and a spoon from the shelves. Now that he thought about it, he was starving. Had he eaten breakfast? He tried to remember the morning, but the memory was so hazy. The more he concentrated on his memories, the more they seemed to fade. Try as he might he could not recall if he had eaten, or when he’d left his flat, or why. It placed the jar and spoon in front of him and waited silently.
“You know that’s not how you spell honey, right?”
It did not respond. Christopher opened the jar and looked down into it, gathering a spoonful. He momentarily thought it was odd that the honey should be red, but the thought slid away from him as quickly as it had come. The hunny tasted like nothing he’d ever eaten before, it was sweet but there was something else there, something salty and almost metallic. He scooped up another heaping spoonful, and another. It didn’t speak, it only watched him.
Then, as he put another spoonful in his mouth, his tongue felt something else mixed in with the sweet sticky substance. He reached into his mouth and pulled something out. At first he could not tell what it was, but as he ran his fingers over the piece of cloth wiping away the excess hunny, he saw it. A piece of bright pink hair ribbon. A memory from that morning suddenly came into sharp relief, a picture of a little girl with her hair tied up with pink ribbon.
Christopher dropped the jar on the ground and it shattered, spraying red hunny all over. The world around him started to blur out of focus and he tried to speak, but his breath was coming in so shallow he couldn't utter a word. He turned to the figure, his breath ragged and his vision distorted. It pulled back its hood to reveal a bear, its light brown fur matted with blood and dirt, its eyes pure black and bottomless. It growled at Christopher and the sound seemed to come from somewhere so deep it was beyond the form itself, it came from the very center of the earth. That was the last thing that Christopher saw.