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Millionaire or Not
By: Katrina M.
"Yes, uhu, sure, yes I realize this is important to you Mrs. Onaire, okay, okay now, yes, and good bye now." I said as I hung up the phone 50 years ago. I am Riley Wite, a retired detective in Greenwich, England. That was a phone call made by Susan Milli Onaire, she was married to a millionaire. She and her son, Stevie Milli Onaire had been living in Greenwich ever since her husband died.
The story began with that phone call. I was 18 years old and was ahead in my schooling. I was taking a detective course in college, but this story takes place in the long summer of 1950. That summer was the hottest summer Greenwich had seen since the depression. The sidewalks were so hot you could not walk bare feet on it or your feet would burn and sting for days. The lowest it had been all week was 37 degrees Celsius. The air smelled like something burnt. The cars seemed so hot you could toast bread on the hoods.
I was running to the Onaire's house not long after the call. I was with my sidekick Squeaker. He barked {squeaked} happily as if he knew we were on another case, yes Squeaker is a dog. When we got to the house Mrs. Onaire was waiting at the door.
"Oh, you have finally come," she said through her tears.
"It was no trouble Ma'am," I assured her. "Now please show me where the boy was last seen. Mrs. Onaire slowly led me to what looked like a teenage boy's room. It was messy and dusty. It was very dreary, still, and cold. There was nothing on the radio but the eerie sound of static. Squeaker nuzzled up close to me and started to whimper softly. I stayed for dinner and kept investigating and around 11-o- clock it started to rain. In Stevie's room I was trying to investigate and Mrs. Onaire croaked drying her tears, "Don't mind the mess. Stevie was never the most organized child."
"How long has he been gone for ?" I asked very professionally, though I was very tired.
" Since yesterday," she choked.
"Are you sure he was kidnapped? Or did he run away?" I asked considering the possibilities. Squeaker left my side and made his way under the wrinkled bed sheets, he barked{which was more of a squeak} and I walked over and saw a key lying on the bedspread. Mrs. Oniare rudely snatched away the key from my hands.
"Sorry ," she apologized unsympathetically.
" Do you know anyone that disliked Stevie, or was jealous of his money?" I asked still a little baffled from the snatch.
"Well now that I think about it Monte Moore um, has always been jealous of Stevie's charm." She was starting to cry again.
"Anyone else come to mind?" I asked.
"Well, now that you mention it," she sputtered. She looked deep into her mind and finally said, "Mr. Louis St. Lawrence, he has always been after my, um I mean the Onaire fortune. He is so greedy, he always wants more money."
I sputtered ,"You mean the Louis St. Lawrence, the prime minister of Canada?"
" The very same," she said . " He is my husband's, great uncle's, cousin's, wife's, brother's, grandpa's, son in law's, brother's, child's, 2nd cousin's, uncle's, 4th cousin."
"Okay, " I said very confused, "I will get back to you soon."
"See you then," Mrs. Onaire whimpered. I didn't even have to call Squeaker to get out of that house. He just got up and ran as soon as I walked out.
"I am puzzled", I told squeaker, "Monte is my good friend, I know he would not have kidnapped Stevie. Look Squeaker, there is his house. Let's go check up on him". I rang the doorbell and Monte opened the door. "Hey', what's up Monte?".
"UMPH", he muttered. My eyes wrinkled and I thought what's up with him? "Come in", Monte grumbled. I walked in wondering did he want me here now and was he the culprit? "So what's up?" he asked, "Why are you here?"
"I heard a bad scoop about you man," I said trying not to blurt it out, then it happened, "Did you kidnap Stevie Milli Onaire yesterday?"
"What, no, how could, what, no way!!!" he sputtered.
"You sure? Mrs. Onaire suspects you," I said in my most questioning voice.
"Get out,"he stated, "GET OUT!!" I was intimidated, but I looked questioningly at Monte. "Get out of my house. I thought you trusted me". His voice was now at a yelling tone. I abruptly got out the door. That was very unpleasant I said to myself, but I still don't know if he did it.
The next day we were walking down a road called Imagine Avenue. We were there to see our second suspect. Louis St. Lawrence, the Prime Minister of Canada. Mrs. Onair said he was staying at Suit Shalea, a Canadian Paradise. Neither the hotel or the street were not paradise. The street was a dark, dreary place. There were rats and mice everywhere. There were broken bottles and constant screams came from the houses.
When we reached the hotel I walked up to the desk clerk and asked, "May I please have Louis St. Lawrence's room number?"
The clerk looked up and said, "117". We walked to the room and knocked on the door. Heavy footsteps came to the door. Louis St. Lawrence opened the door. I was horrified.
There he was in his suit, but it was wrinkled and torn. His hair was messy. He looked bad.
"Hello, Mr. Louis," I chirped, trying not to breath in through my nose. You could tell he had not had a shower for a while.
"What do you what?" he asked bluntly.
"Sir, we were just wondering if we could question you about a kidnapping. The victim's mother said you were her brother's wife's uncle's in-law, or something like that," I stammered. He made a gesture with his hands to come in. I sat on a chair, which he had to clear since it was covered in books, papers, garbage and clothing.
"So, what do you want to question me about? This kidnapping, who was the victim?" he asked confused.
"The victim is Stevie Milli Onaire." I said. He looked surprised. I began to question him, and all the answers came up unclear. There was one important clue he gave. It was that a man named Calvin Char who was always around Stevie. When we were about to leave I thanked hem and gave him my number, in case he thought of anything else. He was much mellower than I expected. I couldn't tell if he was the kidnapper.
That night I went through my clues. I had nothing on Monte Moore. Mr. Louis denied being related to Mrs. Onaire, he also denied being jealous of the Onaire money and he gave me Calvin's address. I was still uncertain of their denial.
The next day Squeaker and I went back to Monte's house. Apparently he had calmed down. He was dressed neatly and his hair was styled.
I asked, "Why are you so dressed up?"
He looked at me and said, "My Grandma Sue passed away. We are going to the funeral. That's why I was so grumpy on Saturday. I had just heard the sad news." It was the first time I ever saw Monte cry. I knew he and his grandmother were very close. Now I understood his mood. My sympathies went out to him. I felt in my heart he was not a suspect.
Later that day I went to Calvin's house. He welcomed me in. His welcome was not very indicating clue wise. I asked him some questions about the kidnapping. Calvin said he was Stevie's very good friend and he was worried about him. He let me know Stevie was about to inherit the Onaire fortune, land and house. His mother was worried if he could manage it wisely. She was not quite ready to give it up to him. After I questioned Calvin I did not think he was a suspect
I read over all the clues that night and came to no conclusion. I went back to Louis St. Lawrence and re-questioned him. I found out he had been stressed out about the upcoming election and had been planning in that room for over a week. I checked it with his secretary. He could not have been the culprit.
I went back to the Onaire's house Mrs. Onaire was shocked to see me. "Have you solved the case?" she inquired.
"No, I 've come to look for more clues around the house," I said. To me she seemed to have gotten over her missing son relatively quickly. I looked around the house under the close eye of Mrs. Onaire. I came to a halt in front of a locked door. Behind the door I heard a muffled sound.
"What is behind this door?" I asked Mrs. Onaire.
"Dogs, just dogs," she said firmly.
"May I see them?" I asked suspiciously.
"No", she said in a sharp tone.
I stood closer and put my ear to the door. I managed to make out a mere "Help" from the muffled noise. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped opened. As soon as Mrs. Onaire saw this she grabbed the collar of my shirt, threw me out and yelled never to come back until I find her son, but I suspected I had already found him.
The next day I snuck around the Onaire house and looked in every window. I saw a wiggling figure under a cotton blanket. Once I saw that I ran to the police.
Later that day I showed the police the window in which I had seen the wiggling figure. The Police Chief sent two officers to the front door to distract Mrs. Onaire. Once they were inside the Chief broke through the window and ran to the figure. As guessed, it was Stevie. He was tied up.
"My Mom wanted the money, house and land." Stevie said as he gasped for air. "My Mom wanted to get rid of me so she could keep the fortune."
Once Stevie was untied the Police Chief, the officers, and I ran upstairs. The Police Chief grabbed Mrs. Onaire. He pronounced, "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be held against you in court".
In court Susan Milli Onaire was proven guilty of kidnapping her own son. She was put in jail for fifteen years.
Stevie Milli Onaire ended up with the fortune, land and house. His Mom ended up with nothing.
For solving the mystery I received ten thousand credit points for college and was paid ten thousand dollars. After college I started my detective agency.