Here's my beloved math story, though only halfway towards completion. Yeah, I thought I'd let you be amused and then have to hold out for part two. Be sure to tell me what you think! Constructive critisim is more than welcome. :]
London, England 1994.
Upon one of the many streets lies a cottage where a hardly middle-aged man lived with his wife. “They were nice folk, always have been,” the neighbors say to help explain why the couple’s recent tragedy evokes greater sorrow. “Neither would hurt a fly.”
The man, William Brickwell, was the manager of a bank just inside town. He had this stable job and never seemed to mind to work later hours calculating compound interests down to the last decimals, even if the bank itself wasn’t open! His wife, Josefina, made jewelry ornate with geometrical figures. She was a lazy, freelance artist. Both were good at what they did, and were overall kind, unique people. Therefore, it seems a shame that one night the two became victims of a murder. Fortunately, the thoughtful neighbors exponentially gathered enough money over a couple of months to hire the best detective east of the Thames River. This detective goes by the name of Eliza Seabring. They chose her specifically because not only does she hold the record for fastest solver, (and highest percent accuracy on first guesses) she specializes in homicides. Hopefully, if all went well, she could bring about closure sooner rather than later.
A sharp knocking at the door pierced the cone of silence amongst the neighbors, as they awaited their company. None had known what to say. Yet they had agreed they’d be together to meet the investigator when she arrived. Some knitted, some leisurely read, others simply sat, obviously deep in their thoughts. All in the group were swelling with anticipation.
Mrs. Smith hurried to meet the guest. She caught a short glimpse of the young woman muttering to the brim of her black hat atop her head, as she swung the heavy door open and peered out. Mrs. Smith found this quite peculiar, but thought nothing of it again. She engaged in a quick exchange of greetings to the lass more formerly known as Private Seabring, then led her though the foyer and into the sitting room.
Immediately, a frazzled Mrs. Johnson sprung to her feet and inquired,
“What’s the probability that you can find the despicable person behind all of this in, oh, say, a couple of weeks?” Everyone turned to Private Seabring, expecting a promising answer or a reassuring, ‘I’ll do my best, ma’m.’ They were shocked to realize she was laughing and shaking uncontrollably.
“This is funny?” Miss Davies, the youngest adult there, asked.
“I estimate it’ll take shorter than that.” Private Seabring finally choked out having regained her composure. Flabbergasted, everyone’s jaws almost literally hit the floor.
“I believe we should leave Miss Seabring to do what she does best.” Mrs. Smith announced to the group. She turned to Private Seabring, “Report right away when you find anything? We trust you.”
“Sure. Sure.” Private Seabring replied dismissively. She had already begun to admire a case of rings on display behind a glass case.