Turns out, it was in the last place I looked!
(Ain't that always the case?) (heh, heh.)
So, I opened it, expecting it to be a yawning chasm of empty space, pleading for me to fill it with accumulated crud. It wasn't empty.
Do any of you who actually know me in surreal life recognize this knife? Seriously? I don't carry weapons, as a general rule. My theory is if you need a weapon, you're not talking fast enough. I don't remember this at all. Where did it come from? Why the hell is it in my briefcase?
Its old and the leather sheath is brittle and cracked. The knife is a little rusty but its still quite sharp. It has a comfortable heft and fits nicely in my hand. When I hold it, I have an almost overwhelming urge to stab things.
Jackson doesn't recognize it. No one I work with claims to know anything about it. In the most approved CSI fashion, I analyzed it carefully and determined that the rubber band is of a type found in my grandfather's rubber band stash. And the knife is impressively sharp like he would have kept it. However, the sheath and blade show evidence of having liquid spilled on them and he would never have let something like that happen. No sir!
So, my forensic investigation has gotten me no where.
I am clueless. This puzzle remains unsolved. Anyone else wanna take a stab at it?