"I may be starting to understand why Luke hates the postal service," Joe muttered, tapping his foot as he sat in the waiting room of the Postal Service branch of MIIO.
He checked his watch and sighed, looking around at the barren waiting room. The receptionist was scribbling something down on a piece of paper, but that was the only noise aside from the hiss of the ventilation systems.
Another ten minutes passed, and Joe eventually decided that he'd had enough of sitting and waiting without anything in hand, so he grabbed one of the small magazines on the center table and began reading through the gossip and awful advertisements for products he'd never used.
Another two hours passed, and then the door to the interior office finally opened, revealing a disheveled man rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
The man's eyes widened as he realized someone had been waiting for him.
"Can I help you, sir?" The man tried to straighten out his jacket, shirt, and tie.
"You can give me access to the records I've spent two days trying to get to, Mister?" Joe growled, standing and straightening his tall frame to tower over the other man.
"James," the man gulped. "And what request was it?"
"I'm checking to see if there's a hold on a particular person's mail for intelligence purposes," Joe pulled out the approved form.
"Oh, right," James moved back to the door. "Follow me, and I'll check on that for you."
Joe followed the man into an office and watched as he leafed through the documents piled on his desk.
"I know I pulled the documentation and put it somewhere around here," he finally pulled out one document and slapped it down on the one clean section of the desk. "So, upon reviewing everything, the Postal Service finds no restrictions placed upon the mail delivered to and received from one Mark Smith and one Morgan Davion."
"I'm keeping this," Joe grabbed the folder.
"I have copies," James shrugged. "Take it."
"Maybe don't keep someone waiting next time," Joe glared. "You never know if it might be something of critical importance."
Joe had worked as a field agent in the past, but his real love had never been the adventure. He lived to put together puzzles, to search out secrets and mysteries and figure them out. So, a few years after joining MIIO, he changed jobs and became an analyst.
This was the job he loved, what he lived for; a new mystery was now in front of him, and he would figure it out. Even if it were something as innocent as someone forgetting to send a letter.
He chewed on the end of a pen, a highlighter in his hand, as he reviewed the copy of the mail and the records that the postal service had finally given him. At first glance, everything seemed normal. Regular letters were sent not only back to New Avalon but onwards to Tharkad as well. Sure, they might arrive after the person who sent them, but they were sent all the same.
Grabbing a star map, he plotted out the standard jump route from New Avalon to Tharkad, writing out the jump times, the dates on the letters, and every other data point he could find.
Running through everything, he found that the data point that separated everything was at Rigil Kentares, where reports showed that the Jumpship had some sort of issue and had to stop for emergency repairs.
Grabbing his phone, he punched in a number and waited for the other person to answer.
"What do you need this time?" an old tired voice asked.
"Can you get me the maintenance records for a Jumpship?" Joe asked. "I'm looking into something that might be important."
"Yeah," her voice perked up a bit. "Give me the details, and I'll track down those logs for you."
"I'll fax it over in a few minutes," Joe tapped the desk. "Lemme know if you need anything else, Vonda."
"I shouldn't need anything extra for these records, but I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Vonda, I'm faxing over what I need now," Joe hung up and grabbed what he needed before walking over to the fax machine.
"Let's see what kind of mystery we have here."
We catered to the executives from seven in the morning until ten. We arrived at the office at six, set everything up, and waited for them to arrive and start eating.
Admittedly, this wasn't the healthiest breakfast around, but the coffee and sweets were both good, and it was apparently sufficient for this group of executives.
I'd expected the donuts to be the main food eaten, but instead a little bit of everything we'd brought had been eaten instead.
"Damn," one of the executives bit into a cookie. "These are terrific, what's the secret?"
"No mystery here," I shrugged. "Just good sweets made locally."
"I'll have to thank Buzz for providing the catering today," he said after finishing the cookie and pouring a cup of coffee.
"We were actually hired by Alex Hayes," I replied. "So if you thank anyone, be sure to pass the praise his way."
"I will definitely do so," he walked off.
I turned away and began working on the rest of the tables. Swapping out old boxes of treats with new ones. I rotated new donuts, cookies, muffins, and coffee cakes through the breakfast tables and spent the rest of the time brewing coffee.
"Alright," Luke sat down next to me a few minutes later. "We need to start packing things up so that the lunch caterers can set things up here."
"Got it, boss," I started packing up the boxes.
"Once we've loaded everything up in your truck, we'll head back and prep things for tomorrow. Then we'll call it an early day," He started stacking the boxes of sweets onto a dolly.
"Just let me grab one more cup of coffee," Alex said, pouring a cup and sighing in relief. "Thanks for bailing me out. I might actually get considered for a promotion after everything's said and done."
"We're glad that we were your first option," Luke replied, stretching out his hand and shaking Alex's. "We'll be back in the morning with a different spread."
"I'll see you guys then."
"We've got to find you a better truck," Luke sighed as he helped me load things into the bed of the old pickup.
"It's only two hundred years old!" I defended the rebuilt farm truck. "They still make spare parts for it too!"
"Mark, there's enough rust on this thing that if you get a cut back there, you'll need a tetanus shot," he shot back as I turned the key and felt the internal combustion engine roar to life.
"I'm planning on doing the full restoration," I replied. "I just needed to finish the farmhouse first."
"All I'm hearing are excuses," Luke smirked. "You know I'd have written a restoration off on the business's taxes, right? You use it for the bakery almost as much as for the farm."
"It's fine," I shrugged. "I'll get to it when I get to it. Now that the house is done and painted, I'm restoring some of the fields."
"Lemme know when you get that berm put up," Luke nodded as we moved down the street. "The wife and I haven't gotten to shoot in a while, and she hates indoor ranges."
"They're too loud," I agreed. "But yeah, I'll tell you when you can bring everyone back out. I need some extra perspective on my ideas for the property."
"I dunno what help I can be there," Luke shrugged. "But I'll do what I can."
I turned on my signal and pulled into the bakery's back parking lot, backing my truck up to a small loading door.
"I'll unload," I put the truck into park and set the hand brake. "You stage things for the morning, and we should be done in about twenty minutes."
"Sounds good," Luke climbed out of the truck and headed inside, triggering the automatic door while he headed into the bakery itself. "Let's go home early today."
"Amen," I began, pulling the dollys off the truck. "Let's go home early."
Author's note: I'd planned on having this up a few days ago, but I've had a head cold since Thursday, on top of working four twelve-hour shifts back to back. So, please be forgiving of any errors in here. I'm not entirely lucid ATM.