The Mystery of the Detective Agency Tailor & Morsky

Mr Sheller stood in front of the entrance door, which was made of shabby yet heavy wood with dull brass fittings. He noted with some amusement that the company sign was made of enamelled sheet metal. It had severe rust stains and displayed the company name in ornate lettering: Tailor & Morsky.

Sheller had his doubts, but his best friend had recommended this detective agency to him, saying: 'It's not exactly modern, but they work incredibly efficiently there. And they're cheap. You'll see.' Sheller shrugged his shoulders. In his mind, the terms 'cheap' and 'efficient' weren't compatible terms.

While this house might have been a charming museum piece, he needed investigators who knew their stuff. However, since he had already made the appointment, he didn't want to turn around at the front door. At the very least, he wanted to take a look at the place.

The interior looked exactly as you would expect from the outside: a spacious staircase with wrought-iron banisters and high stucco ceilings. Another enamel sign indicated that the detective agency was on the first floor.

Slightly annoyed, Sheller followed the sign and found himself in front of an old door with colourful stained glass inserts, the kind used a hundred years ago. Just as he was about to open it, it swung open and a smart, fairly young woman greeted him with an irresistible smile.

Pleasantly surprised, Sheller returned the greeting and allowed himself to be led into the offices of Tailor & Morsky.

They walked down a long corridor with very high ceilings, lit only by colourful skylights above the doors to the individual rooms, until the employee opened the last door. The large room behind it was dimly lit and smelled of tobacco. Standing indecisively in the doorway, Sheller watched as an old man rose from his desk chair and approached him with an outstretched hand. 'I am delighted to welcome you here, Mr Sheller. I am Albert Tailor.'

The man was very slim and wore a well-tailored, dark grey suit. His white hair was neatly parted, and his light grey eyes looked at Sheller kindly and benevolently. Tailor then gestured towards a lovely sitting area with leather armchairs and a marble table. Sheller had not noticed it before.

Sheller sat down and was offered a cup of coffee, which he accepted, but declined the cigarette. The atmosphere was peaceful, just as it had been fifty years ago. Surprisingly, Sheller didn't even mind. He was about to say something when a soft knock on the door distracted him.

A portly gentleman with a bald head and round cheeks approached him and offered him a handshake. 'Please stay where you are', he said. 'My name is Frank Morsky.' The small man's smile could only be described as sunny. Although Sheller found him very likeable, he wondered whether this group of old men could really help him.

Once everyone had a cup in their hands, Tailor finally asked the new client what he wanted. Sheller explained what it was about. He had overheard a phone call and knew that his partner was meeting someone. He also knew where. His suspicion that his partner was working with a company that had been making him offers for months was slowly but surely growing. Orders were being cancelled or going to competitors, and there had been strange disruptions in production. Miklish, his partner, had been behaving just as strangely for just as long. He was pushing harder and harder for a sale. The company meant nothing to Miklish. He just wanted quick and easy money, Tailor realised. If the streak of bad luck continued, they would actually have to consider it.

However, Sheller was not one to give up easily – he was attached to his business. But he was missing one thing: proof. 'Who could be the fly on the wall at this meeting?' he wondered. That was the reason he was here. He wanted to know if his suspicions were correct. 'You see', he said to the two old men, 'you meet in a café where there are always lots of people. No one can get close to them amid all the activity, except perhaps with the latest technology. After all, you can't make yourself invisible.' Morsky and Tailor exchanged amused glances.

Then Tailor said, 'Oh, you know, Mr Sheller, technology has its limits. We work with minimal equipment, not high-tech toys. But invisibility is part of our service.' The two investigators then chuckled a little. Sheller placed Miklish's photo on the coffee table and gave them the date and location of the meeting.

As he said goodbye, he felt reassured for some reason, but put this down to the two gentlemen's friendly manner. The estimate had pleasantly surprised him, so he decided to give it a try.

The Old Woman in the Waiting Room

Exactly four days later, Sheller made his way to Tailor & Morsky for the second time. They had agreed that Sheller would arrive at the detective agency about an hour after his partner's meeting to await the results. This was by no means usual, as Sheller knew. Normally, it all took a little longer. However, when he arrived, the same pleasant lady as the previous day asked him to wait a few minutes and take a seat in the waiting room. Sheller headed for one of the old-fashioned leather chairs and greeted an elderly woman sitting in the corner with a handbag on her lap.

It only took a few minutes before he was called. Tailor was already sitting at a small coffee table set for three, but he stood up and greeted Sheller. 'We have what you wanted, Mr Sheller.'

'So quickly? I'm really surprised. How on earth did you manage that?'

Tailor smiled, handed his client a cup, and asked: 'Could you describe the woman who was sitting in the waiting room earlier?'

Completely taken aback, Sheller thought for a moment, but could only remember someone with grey hair and an old bag. Nothing else. He must have looked rather dumbfounded because Tailor laughed warmly and kindly. He was still chuckling to himself when the door opened and an elderly woman entered the office, limping slightly as she made her way over to the two men at the desk. She sat down in the high-backed chair with a smile and took a small camera out of her bag. Sheller watched intently, although he didn't understand what was happening.

The old woman opened a notebook and connected the small device. 'As you can see, Mr Sheller, we have also adapted to modern times. However, only as far as is absolutely necessary. Otherwise, we prefer to rely on invisibility, don't we, Frank?'

Before Sheller's astonished eyes, the old woman removed her grey curls to reveal Frank Morsky's bald head. Sheller finally recognised the round little man, although the make-up obscured the resemblance somewhat. Then Morsky switched on the device, and Sheller learned everything he needed to know. The recording was excellent, and the picture and sound quality were brilliant.

'You see', said a highly satisfied Albert Tailor, 'the two of them were very careful. They wouldn't have let anyone get close to them. But they simply didn't perceive the old woman with her scuffed bag, who was standing right next to them at the table drinking tea, as a threat. They certainly didn't see the bag in front of her as anything suspicious. They didn't see the large button on the flap, just as they didn't see the old woman. She was invisible, as the elderly usually are in our society. You have proven that once again, dear Mr Sheller. You couldn't remember the person who had been sitting very close to you in the waiting room earlier. Please excuse this little demonstration.'

Sheller was a little ashamed, but very pleased with the outcome. He would certainly recommend these two elderly gentlemen, who understood the magic of invisibility.

© 'The Mystery of the Detective Agency Tailor & Morsky': A short story by Pressenet (translated by Izabel Comati), 07/2025. Image credits: top Detective with hat, bottom Magnifying glass and fingerprints, both CC0 (Public Domain Licence).