Still in a good mood from the Detective’s triumphant return yesterday, Alistair got straight to work looking for a new case. “What better way to think of an idea for a case than to take a walk?” he thought. After ringing up a present the mailman bought for his daughter, he set off.
As he walked down the street, bundled up from the snowflakes that filled his vision, he saw the old blind man at it again. This time he was collecting money for the Salvation Army. As Alistair walked by, he dropped his loose change into the bucket. Just as he had last time, the blind man shouted. “What’s Pantophobia?” he yelled into the snowy sky. At first, Alistair continued walking. As soon as he processed what the blind man had said, he ran to the church in search of a library.
In the back of the church, Alistair stumbled upon a jewel of a book collection. As he thumbed through the ancient volumes, he couldn’t help but wish he had some of them in his shop. Finally he found what he needed, a book entitled Phobias: The History and Science of Fear from Hippocrates to Freud to the Present Day, by Helen Saul. As Alistair looked through the pages of the book he thought about his single mother in England. He hadn’t seen her since he was just over twelve. The last glimpse he saw of his mother’s face was right before she got into the car that took her to Bostall House. Although Alistair had not quite understood why his mother left at the time, he now knew that what had started as a small fear in the back of his mother’s mind grew until finally she was scared of everything. She had developed Pantophobia. He slammed the book shut. He had blocked out those old memories when he came to America. He tried to escape his past, while also helping others, hence the detective agency.
Having accomplished nothing but remind himself of memories he worked hard to forget, Alistair thought it best to leave the little room at the back of the church. He picked up the book, and stood up. Just as he started to leave, an open book on a desk caught his eye. He looked at the title: How to Live Without Parents: From One Orphan to Another. “Interesting,” thought Alistair. He had a soft spot for orphans, understandably. “Could it be an orphan from the orphanage run by the church sneaking out to read? No matter. He had no need to deprive an innocent young one from discovering the mysteries of books.
Walking back to his shop, Alistair could hardly see one foot in front of him. He was trying to be cautious, but the snow was so thick that no matter what he did, he was blinded. He didn’t even notice at first when the headlights began to come towards him. At the last second he jumped off to the side and rolled along the ground, just as a car whizzed past his head. Still shaken, Alistair got up and continued on his way home, realizing that he didn’t always need a case to be happy. He realized how lucky he was to be living in such an interesting place, with full health of body and mind. From now on, he’d just let work come to him when it pleased. One thing would never change though. When mystery arrived, the Detective would be there to greet it.
