International Woman of Mystery
Always start with The Gun.
When I first embarked upon my life of mystery, I didn’t think anyone would notice, or rather I hoped no one would. For the first thirty years of my life I would be thwarted by the terrible obligation of having been born a Woman in America, whose life was not her own, in fact it belonged to advertisement agencies and BIG MAKEUP. And my womb would be programmed to a “biological urgency” setting, demanding I shoot out children, document them in my tax forms, and send them forth to school thus contributing to the great lord census. ALL HAIL THE CENSUS. But alas, just last week I scribbled down a note to such offspring and told them, “I have too many commitments here, I must get away. Remember me as a loving mother for my image is much more charming than I am.”
I persevered with my dream of living on the lam because honestly, I believe that it’s churlish of society not to regard me as an exception, one who should be free of the obligations which bind everyone else. So I write this as a labor of love on an intercontinental train sipping espresso and plotting my next move. And yes, there is a gun.
The plan has been to rob the rich elite who travel in luxury compartments, I would hit them when the train went through tunnels and left the aisles dark and ominous. Unfortunately for me, it is the year 2023. We have already encountered two tunnels and this compartment remained very well lit. I also fear that I am not in a luxury compartment, I am not even sure any of these people are even a little bit rich. It would seem as though these bozos are all riff raff, not a jewel in sight.
I know what you’re thinking, its not a very good plan. But you are hardly in any position to determine what separates good train robbers from average women of mystery since you are neither one, or an authority on either. In the countless train mystery novels I have researched, becoming trapped on board with a mysterious traveler and their gun is a superb trope. Someone will die tonight.
As I sit, in a fabulous red lip, veiled hat and long cigarette in hand I preen myself on my enigma. I get up to drop a handkerchief near a handsome stranger, eventually tricking him into falling madly in love with me, just then some child of twenty coughs and tells me to put out my cigarette. Absurdities.
“Now listen here slim, I left a life where children called the shots so I will smoke my Gasper as I please and you, young dew dropper, will just have to go chase yourself into oblivion.” Now, that would’ve been the perfect person to murder, if only this compartment darkened in mountainous tunnels.
It turns out this international life of mystery will take a while to figure out. However, do not fret my dears, its out of tenacity and stubborn resolve that I will bestow the five tricks of mysterious behavior I have learned unto you:
Become a master of disguise - don’t just rely on wigs and thick mustaches… eat donuts, gain weight, wear absurd glasses and don’t be afraid to imitate other nationalities.
Own your need to command in any important situation - one rarely confronts the person in charge. Be in charge at all times.
Disappearing act – masterfully exit the party without saying goodbye. The trick to this is to cease conversations and excuse yourself to powder your nose. Make sure cocaine addicts don’t follow and slip out of the front door, in plain sight.
Learn the lingo – eventually you will have a handler, it takes decades I’ve been told to develop your street credibility. In the meantime, learn phrases such as “the eagle has landed” or “code blue” their use is like death…inevitable.
Know how to wield a gun – black, silver or just old fashioned… you need to get your manicure so when you eventually have to hold a gun to a target or mark, you look good while doing so.
Stay tuned for Part 2 of the Murder… I mean Mystery…. saga.
