Episode 71 – Felicity gets down to work

Felicity had had less to work with for a case.  This one was certainly short of leads, or anything she could immediately investigate.

What stood out from the summary of the case Harry had given her, she had two leads, both people, one Sykes, the detective Harry’s been working with, though if she was to hazard a guess, Sykes was just stringing him along, like most detectives did when pretending to work with private investigators.

Sykes, to her, looked the type who’d use others instead of doing the legwork himself.   

The other was Corinne, the sister, who may or may not have visited the office and got a head start on Harry’s case notes.  Not that she was expecting a lot from them, she had her own ideas about Harry’s capabilities, and since he was only new at it, it would be easy for him to miss something that would normally be considered vital.

First stop was the office.

The last time she had visited was at night, when itr was locked up and very quiet, almost too quiet, except for the creaking sounds the building made.  It was old, and she suspected there might be a ghost or two lurking in the basement, or the corridors.

A background check on the building itself told her the basement and ground floor used to house an undertaker.  Retro fitted and restored, the ground floor might look rather up market, but it still had a few secrets to hide behind the walls.

The one take away from that visit, how frightening it had been in the lift.

It was no less creepy this time, slowly sliding, creakily, up to the third floor where it stopped a few inches short of the floor level, then the motor made a succession of noises as the elevated inched up to be level, before stopping, and the door unlatched.

She opened it and stepped out.  The grate slid back, clunked, metal against metal, the latch engaged, and the motor whined as the elevator started to go down.

Was someone else in the building?

She had assumed, being late, that everyone had gone home.

She waited till the elevator cage reached the bottom, and the noise stopped.  She did not hear the door open, the sign of another passenger getting in, so perhaps it returned automatically to the ground floor.

Another minute, and she headed down towards Harry’s door.  There were three other offices at this end of the corridor, a secretarial service, a gem valuer, and an agency of some sort, the sign on the door just said, The Alexander Agency.

She stopped outside the door and noticed immediately the door was slightly ajar.  A closer inspection showed the door had been bashed in, with splintering around where the door handle was.

Someone had broken it.

She pulled out the small snub noised gun she carried around, just in case, and finger on the trigger, slowly pushed the door inwards.

Dark and still.

It didn’t seem like anyone was there.

But this entry was recent, otherwise the cleaner would have raised the alarm.  Today perhaps, after the cleaner left.  These were serviced offices.

She swung the door wider, and ready to shoot an intruder if there was one, stepped in and swept the immediate office area.

First thing she noticed, paper all over the floor.

The second, the sprawled body of what looked to be the cleaner.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 70 - The Affairs of Edwina

“You’re mad.  I think you want to believe that of him, and, now that he’s not here to defend himself, you can give free rein to such a fanciful notion.”

“It’s true.”

“It can’t be.  He was with me the night she died.”

“He was not.  Not unless I saw his double sitting in a car outside our flat several hours before Cathy died.”

Angela studied her mother’s face for any tell tale signs she had been caught out on a lie, but as always, her mother’s expression was set in concrete.  She always was an excellent card player.

“It would have been dark, and it could have been anyone in that car.”

A chink in the armour, a tell tale sign that her mother’s resolve is wavering.

She remembered telling her mother where she planned to go, though not the exact address, for just such a reason, that she would tell her husband.

It had only been a matter of time before he tracked her down.

Angela had thought she had seen him once before, out in the street, watching the front door of the apartment block, and thought at the time it could not be possible.  Now, after all this time, and with other information she had discovered about her father, she’d been right, it had been him.

“You choose to think what you like, Mother.  I know what and who I saw that night.  It was him.  He found out where Cathy and I had moved to.  Did you tell him?”

“No.  Why would I?  You asked me not to, though you didn’t exactly say why.”

“You knew all along why.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell the police.”

“I did.”

Ah, a flicker, just a small tic in the left eye.  Perhaps something she didn’t know.

It precipitated a change in her mother’s demeanour.

“It was never mentioned.”

“No, because by the time I did, Uncle Al had been fitted up for the murder.  Father said he was trying to help him, but incriminated him instead.  You lied when you said you were with my father that night.”

Her mother shook her head slightly.  “You were not here.  You think you saw your father, but you didn’t.”

Angela smiled.

“No, I didn’t, but someone else knew positively you were not with father.  You couldn’t be in two places at once.  Not even you.”

The look, now, of fear, Angela had struck the nerve.

“Who is this someone?”  Spoken in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer.

“Brightwater, of course.  You were sleeping with him.  So was Aunt Jennifer, but I suspect you found out and that’s why you broke it off.”

“How could you possibly know all this?”

“Because Brightwater told me, just before he died.”

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 69 - Tea and scones with mother

Angela walked slowly up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.  Would her mother answer the door, or would there be a maid?

They had both a maid and a butler at the Manhattan apartment.  Those were the days when she lived like a princess.  She also acted like one, not that she cared to remember.

The door opened.

It was her mother.  In the four years since she had spoken to her or seen her, she had aged ten.  That youthful glow she had retained into her fifties had now gone.

That woman was still there, inside that older body, the bearing, the manner, and no doubt the speech.  Her mother was polite, well spoken, and had never raised her voice or lost her temper.

Except once.

The day the police told her Cathy was dead.

“Hello mother.”

The woman blinked at her, for a moment Angela thinking she had forgotten who she was, or had early onset dementia, but a few seconds later, she could see the recognition in her mother’s eyes.

“Hello Angela.  Where have you been?”  There was no teary reunion or hug on offer.  Her mother had always been ‘cold’ like that.

“Hiding.  From you, from family, from everything.  You know why.”

Her mother nodded, and stood to one side, opening the door so Angela could enter.  Once inside, she closed the door, and then escorted her daughter into a living room, quite spacious, with paintings on the walls, and glass fronted cabinets with books.

First editions perhaps?  Not to read.  Her father only bought something if it was going to appreciate in value, so he could sell it later for a profit.  He’d done that to several homes they’d lived in, and she guessed the Manhattan apartment had gone that way.

Money, it had always been about the money.

If he could have sold her for a large sum of money, he probably would have.

She sat in an armchair opposite her mother.

On the table between them was a tray with tea, cups, and scones.  Her mother didn’t know the first thing about cooking, so she must have a maid/cook on hand.  She didn’t clean either, but the room, the whole house that she could see, was spotless.

Her mother looked at her, “Why didn’t you come back for the funeral?”

“I hated the bastard, you know that.  If I did, I’d probably dance on his grave.  He was a bastard to you and to me.  I’m glad someone killed him.”

Succinct enough, Angela thought.  He had molested her as a child and had beaten his wife when he was drunk or angry.  Angela had complained to her mother about her father and she did nothing.

It was why she left as soon as she could get out of the house, and refused to come home to dinners or out for dinner in public.  She had punished her mother for her silence.

“Why have you come back?”

“It seems Al was unjustly accused of murdering Cathy.  I think it was my father.”

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 68 - Hell on earth

“So that’s what you’re up to, meeting another woman.  How many have you got on the go?”  Her constricted tone matched the wild-eyed fury.

Angela still didn;t have any idea who this woman was, but it was obvious Al knew her, and she was surprised at the severe expression on her face, one she had not seen on anyone since her old high school science teacher, a woman who kept such an expression for the benefit of dealing with her more annoying students of which Angela had been at the top of the list.

It was also clear that her the woman had not recognized her, but that might be easily explained.  Angela had changed a lot in the last few months, less weight, change in hairstyle and color, new clothes, a complete makeover in fact.

“This is not any other woman.”  Al had been equally furious.  “And what the hell are you doing here?” Al had suddenly become very angry, and Angela had seen flashes of his temper before.

Miriam surveyed Al with very cold eyes.  He was up to something, she thought.  And it must be a secret otherwise he would have told her.  “You didn’t come home, suspicious enough, but leaving a flight number and airport name on your pad made me more suspicious.  I was right to be so.  Who is she?”

Miriam sent a look of pure malevolence in Angela’s direction.  Jealousy, she thought, which made this woman one of Al’s mistresses.  This wasn’t what she came for, to be caught in the middle of a domestic.

Angela saw him hesitate for a few seconds, the look of a man trying to put together a story. It was clear this woman didn’t know who she was, and it looked like Al wanted to keep it that away.

“This is one of the three women that Cathy used to live with before she was murdered.  You and I know both know I didn’t do it, and she has information that will prove it.”

The woman grabbed onto Al’s arm for emphasis and both were standing in the middle of the walkway. Other arriving passengers were finding themselves caught in mid-stride, suddenly confronted by two angry combatants stopped in front of them instead of walking, and found themselves having to walk around, causing a minor disturbance.

Miriam glared at Angela.  “Who are you really?  Don't I recognize you from somewhere?”

“I have been in magazines, once, when I was a model.  Not so much these days.  Other than that, no.  I just have one of those faces.”

“What do you know about Cathy’s death?”

It needed a quick, and decisive answer, and back up Al’s lame excuse.  “You get nothing till I get fifty grand.  I assure you the information is legit.”  She had to do a little adlibbing of her own.  This woman with Al was a problem, a big problem.  She’d finally recognized her, taking into account the garish hair colors and a lot of facial rebuilding, some of it not so good.  Miriam Waters.  Her father had never trusted her and said she was one of Al’s former partners in crime.

Angela was surprised it was not his wife, Aunt Jennifer.  “Who are you, then,” she asked Miriam.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”  Her eyes shifted back to Al.  “This is a shakedown.  Time to walk away.  Now.”

Al looked at Angela and gave a little shrug.  “Sorry.”

Then he joined Miriam, obviously the best outcome for the pair of them, and the throng heading for the exit, leaving her standing, not necessarily open-mouthed watching them.

Very well orchestrated, she thought.  She had the piece of paper that had the hotel name and location on it, given to her just before Miriam arrived, so it off to the hotel, and wait for his call.

She had a million and one questions.

There had not been another meeting   She got a call from Al to meet him at Outtell, the finance company he owned with his brother Joseph, and their partner Brightwater.  That much she knew, but that was about all she knew about her father’s business.  Her mother never talked about it at home.

And, when she arrived, Al was dead, and some Private Detective by the name of Walthenson was tied up in the room with her uncle’s so-called dead body.   Everyone knew dead men didn't walk away, or walk anywhere for that matter.

And in the short period of time both of them had stepped out of that room, that body had disappeared.  She knew that wasn't possible and that something else was going on.

A month later, no one was closer to finding out the truth.

That was why she went to see Walthenson in hospital.  It had been a little disconcerting to see him being carried away by two men who didn’t look the friendly sort, and hoped it had nothing to do with the Jones’ murders.

Despite what he had told her, she still believed it did.

Now it was a case of finding out what her mother knew.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 67 - Angela and Al

Jennifer Morrison, Angela’s mother, lived in New Jersey, in a renovated brick house nestled around many, definitely a step down from her last residence, a Manhattan apartment on the Upper West Side.

Angela could only remember the Manhattan days and those long Sunday afternoons in Central Park.  She stood outside the front of the building, after a short walk from Van Vorst Park.  Not the same as Central Park.

Why had she moved?

She had not seen her mother since the funeral of her cousin, Cathy Jones.  It had been a dark and stormy day, one where she truly believed Cathy’s spirit had been looking down on the congregation, looking for Al to spike him with a lightning bolt.

Al was, at the time, behind bars, accused of her murder.

Significantly, a lightning bolt had hit a mausoleum not far from where Cathy was being buried.

Since then she headed south, away from New York, taking the time to mourn the loss of her cousin, and her friend, time to consider all the things they were going to do,  never did, and now never would.

Then, suddenly, out of left field, she received a call from Al, first to apologize, second to say he was not responsible for Cathy’s death, and that he was working on a new theory as to who was the real murderer.  He added he was getting close and he had a few questions he needed to ask her about Cathy in those last days before her death.

It was all very intriguing, but she hadn’t been in a talking mood, then.

When she heard about her father Joseph’s murder, she called him back; asked if it was related to what Al was working on, and when he said it was possible, she caught the first next plane out of Tampa the next morning.

Al met her at the airport, not what they originally planned, but what he needed from her couldn’t wait   He had also booked her into a hotel, was going to take her there, let her get settled, then come back.

Her first impression of him was that of a man she hardly recognized, someone who looked like he had the hounds of hell after him.  Unshaven and disheveled, he looked like he had slept in his suit.  All the time he was with her, his eyes furtive, looking this way and that, not focusing on her.

It made her also edgy; she started looking over her shoulder too.  Then she had to ask, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I think I’ve got too close to the truth.”

“What truth, Cathy’s murderer?”

“No, another matter I’m looking into.  I came to tell you it’s not safe, and when you get to the hotel, lay low till I call you again.”

Another sweep of the arrivals hall and she saw him stiffen.

“What?”

His nervousness was infectious.

“Hell is coming to breakfast.”

A glance in the same direction as his eyes revealed who he was referring to, a woman she had seen before and didn’t quite remember her name.

But Al recognized her.  Miriam, the red-headed floozy.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 66 - A visit to the precinct

Corinne felt ill at ease while waiting for Sykes.  The desk officer seemed anything but helpful and was more interested in the ruckus going on behind him where two uniformed officers were trying to hold on to what she thought must be a suspect.

Whether he was on drugs or drunk, he seemed stronger than the two officers because all of a sudden he got free and because more violent forcing more officers to come to the assistance of the original two, three eventually forcing him to the floor rather abruptly whilst another cuffed him.

Another man, very large and unkempt, who was also waiting in the anteroom, had leapt to his feet when he heard the noise and was watching the spectacle with keep interest, all the while hurling abuse at the police accusing them of brutality.

When the 'entertainment' was over and the man was finally subdued, he glared at the two girls and sat down again, muttering to himself.

"Welcome to the precinct."

The voice behind Corinne startled her, and when she turned to see who it was, realized Sykes had been there all the time, also watching the spectacle unfold.

"Does this happen all the time?"

"Today's special.  A new batch of drugs just hit the streets and we get the job of rounding up the crazies.  We’ve met before, you’re Harry's sister right?"

"Yes."  Corinne inclined her head in Daisy's direction, "and this is my friend Daisy."

He gave Daisy a cursory glance, and then returned his attention to Corinne.  "What can I do for you?"

"I've been to see Harry in the hospital and he was telling me about the case he was working on, something about a man named Jones."

"Yes.  I think we might take this discussion inside."

Sykes used his security card to enter the main office and led the two girls to a room that had 'Interview Room 4' painted on the glass door panel, waiting outside till they went in and then he followed, closing the door behind him.

It was cold in the room, perhaps intentionally so, and very bright.  Corinne briefly wondered who had been sitting in her seat before her.  A murderer?  A witness?

She saw Daisy shudder.  It was good of her to come with Corinne, but Corinne doubted Daisy had expected she might find herself inside the police station and in a room where one day, if she got into trouble, she might find herself on the wrong side of the law.

Or not.

Corinne knew Daisy was too timid to get into trouble and if she did for whatever reason, she would get her father, a top-flight city lawyer as she kept telling Corinne, and he would have her out in no time.  He'd already had to do that for her brother, who was a bit of a hot head.

But, for the moment, it was just like it was on those cop shows on television.

Her attention came back to Sykes who was talking, "...you have seen your brother and he had mentioned one of the cases he was working on."

"Yes.  A man named Jones?"

"Which one?"

It seemed a simple question but Corinne could not remember if Harry had mentioned one specifically.  Then she remembered he said the Jones brothers.  "Both."

"Did he give you any specific information, to give me.  He was assisting with our enquiries."

This was where she was going to user her brilliant idea, the one where Sykes would hand over the files and she would have Harry right where she wanted him.

"He's asked me to go the his office and get the files together, read them and give him a fresh view of the case.  He said you might like to give me what you have so I can correlate the information."

Ask nicely; make it sound like you are doing him a favour not the other way around.  How could he refuse?

"Did he?  Then he can't be quite as bad as he's making out.  Let’s turn that around a little and perhaps I’ll bring what I've got and I'll correlate the data."

It would have to do, Corinne thought.  "When?"

"This afternoon, about three."

She agreed, hoping it gave her enough time to think of a new plan to get the files from him.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 65 - Sykes analyses some more

To find the head of the snake he followed the money trail back to the chief beneficiaries if anything happened to the directors.  In Al's case, it was Jennifer Jones, his wife, and in Joseph's case, it was also his wife Edwina Morrison, a rather odd state of affairs for a woman married to Jones and keeping her own surname, and not exactly on very good terms with her husband.

Brightwater died without a will and apparently he had no one special, except at that one interview Sykes had with him, Jennifer Jones was there and she looked very comfortable in his presence. Something is going on, or had been going on, between those two, had written down in the margin of his notebook.

Miriam was just a little too good to be true and he got the impression she had fingers in a number of pies, not just Al's, or in the company.  But her interest in the company had been very difficult to ascertain so he sent the documents he'd found in the Company Accountant's safe to one his friends, a forensic accountant.

Outtel's accountant, a weedy little man named Bernard Dillingham, had a record when Sykes checked his credentials, undoubtedly the reason why he had insisted on a search warrant the first time Sykes called, and which suggested he had something to hide.  Or shred.

When Sykes returned the next day, they discovered a large bag of shredded material out the back and he had taken it in as evidence but he doubted it would yield any secrets.  It was done by one of those cross shredders and nearly all of the documents had been completely destroyed.

What was left barely filled a manila folder, documents couched in legal speak designed for laymen to give up trying to understand after the first paragraph?

Not Sykes.

After cutting away the red herrings and verbal padding, both he and the forensic accountant came to the same conclusion.

Miriam was better off if all three partners were dead.  A small clause in the company's operating guidelines was that in the event of the demise of all three partners, the company's business was to be sold and the funds from the liquidation of the company divided among the shareholders according to their shareholding.  With them alive, her shareholding was just a fancy piece of paper, a promise that would never be kept.

He had followed the money, and it led to a very interesting discovery.

Miriam had a shelf company that apparently Al had set up for her that owned 25 percent of the business, as did Al, Joseph, and Brightwater.  Why he did this was anyone's guess, but it provided a motive, not only for Miriam but the other two spouses who were set to become reasonable wealthy.  With Brightwater gone, it was down to a split three ways, not four.

It yielded three more suspects, but apparently without motive means or opportunity.  Or the knowhow.

But there was a lot more to it, and Miriam was next in the interview room to explain her hand in the original financial arrangements.  And what was more interesting was that neither of the two widows were aware of the clause or Miriam's interest.  

That was going to be an interesting meeting when all three women got together in the same room.  If it happened.  The Captain was far from interested in interviewing any of the three women and had made it plain Sykes had to find more substantial evidence before he could interview any of them.

The case was stalling like an airliner flying at the wrong speed and about to crash land

The last thing Sykes wanted to do was go back to listening to whiny old dowagers complaining about strange noises next door, or that their foreign maid had stolen some of their jewelry when in fact they had sold it off to keep up appearances, and used the police as a means of getting an insurance payout as well.

It was remarkable to him; no one cared about the truth.  Just fill out the paperwork and move on.

No, he would retire before going back down that rabbit hole.

Or got to work with someone like Walthenson, and become a private detective.  It was odd he hadn't thought of it before.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 64 - Analysing Sykes

Sykes looked down at the coffee cup and realized once again he'd let the brew go cold, distracted by other people's problems.

He'd just come from the Captain's office where he had been told that unless he had some solid leads to follow up on both the Jones cases they could go to the bottom of the stack or he could hand them over to one of the junior detectives.

That wasn't going to happen.  Not on his watch.

But ...

In the case of Joseph Jones, the chief suspect, his wife, had an unshakable alibi, being corroborated by not only Brightwater but also several other prominent people.

It could not have been his brother, Al, as he too had an alibi for the time if the murder, and as for Walthenson’s mysterious woman in the red car, that turned out to be Miriam the woman allegedly having an affair with Al, but all of his investigations proved otherwise.

Miriam was adamant she had not known where Al was after she left him the night he allegedly died, because the body was still missing.  Once again he only had Walthenson’s statement that there actually was a body.

And it didn’t escape his attention that Walthenson was involved in this Jones business up to his scrawny neck, which, if it hadn't been so near death Sykes might have wrung it before now.

Also, he was convinced what happened to Walthenson wasn't linked to the Outtel Finance Company in some way, which was the basis of a third case also irking his boss with no results so far in finding out what happened.

Then there was the problem of Brightwater's so-called suicide.  The medical examiner had written it off as suicide because even Sykes had to admit it was impossible to prove it was anything else, but his investigation into the man showed he was anything but the type who would.

It was why he’d ordered a more intensive panel of tests and was still awaiting the results.

So, after careful examination of all the evidence he had accumulated up to that point and considering of all his notes, in Sykes opinion it was pointing towards Brightwater who murdered his two partners the Jones brothers.  He had the means, an unlicensed gun found at his apartment, recently fired, that matched the bullet pulled out of Joseph, and the opportunity.

All he needed was a motive, and the rumors of possible embezzlement were neither corroborated or denied by the current management could have been perpetrated by Brightwater himself, and not either of the Jones’.  That left him with the possibility of a third player, someone higher up the food chain, pulling the invisible strings.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 63 - Into the breach

Daisy, Corinne’s best friend forever, was slightly amused at the thought she was being ‘used’ as the excuse for Corinne to escape her parent's watchful eye.  Corinne had long lamented her lack of freedom, and this was not the first time Daisy had helped her.

“You haven’t told me what this field trip is about,” Daisy said.  

Whenever Corinne wanted to ‘escape’ it was always to do something that pushed boundaries, not that she really cared all that much, she was already a rebel.

They had just left Corinne’s apartment, supposedly on their way to the movies.

“My brother has given me a job.”

“Which brother?  Neither Jacob or Neville could care less about you.”

“Harry.”

“Mr. Defiance himself.  Are you mad?  If your mother and especially your father, find out, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

“Well, if you don’t tell them, and I don’t tell them, how will they find out?”

“Your mother has spies everywhere.”

It seemed that way, Corinne thought.  She’s already been caught out a few times on a lie, but it would pale to insignificance if her parents found out she was working with Harry.  Defiance had its price, the question really was whether she wanted to accept the consequences.

“Then we will have to be careful.”

They went down into the station at 86^th Street and waited for the 1 train. While waiting on the platform, Corinne told her, “I’m going to help my brother solve several murder cases.”

“Isn’t that the job for the police?”

“Harry is a Private Detective.  He’s been hired to find out who killed several men.”

“Why isn’t he doing it himself?”

“He’s in hospital.”

“I’m guessing, shot by a jealous husband or wife?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I watch television.  It’s very dangerous.  You might get shot yourself.”

It was a possibility, Corinne thought, but she was skirting the issue of danger until it happened.

“We’re going to see the policeman in charge of the case to ask him a few questions.  What could possibly happen to us at the police station?”

The train came; they got on, then got off at 14^th Street, walked to the 6^th Avenue station and took the L train to 3^rd.  From there it was a short walk to the Police Department building.

Both had deliberately avoided talking any more about the reason they were making the trip until they were both standing outside the front of the building

Daisy looked at the building, then back at Corinne.  “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

It had also sounded so much easier in her head, but now she was there, Corinne realized this task was going to be a lot harder than she imagined.

She shrugged.  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Daisy didn’t say, but her imagination was running wild right at that moment.

© Charles Heath 2016-2019

Episode 62 -The 'Impossible' task

Corinne could not believe what she had just done.  

If her parents found out she would be grounded for life.  A fairly impressive punishment seeing she was over the age of twenty-one.

She had watched Harry defy their parents, and walk away from the family fortune.  Her other two bothers were scaredy-cats and did as they were told.  She, on the other hand, didn’t have to follow the family tradition, even if she wanted to.  Her job, her mother said, was to marry money and increase the family’s wealth and position.

Didn’t that die out in the early 1800s or something, she had thought at the time.  It was what she read about in historical romances, and perhaps that’s where her mother got the idea from.  It was not what happened in this day and age.  Women were emancipated and could do what they liked.

She spent too many years at University, had degree upon degree, and patiently sat through excruciating dinners with families and boys that her parents specially selected as possible candidates in marriage.

‘Candidates?’

She wanted to pick her own man, someone she could gradually fall in love with, enjoy spending their time together, compatible with the ideas and tastes.  Sons of Bankers’, Financial Institutions, Politicians, Transportation moguls, and Doctors were not what she was looking for.

The idea had come to her on the way up in the elevator in the hospital.  She could pretend to be seeing Harry in hospital, and instead, do his job for him while he was incapacitated. 

How hard could it be?

There would be a danger, but anything would be better than sitting around at home being bored to tears or doing that mundane job her parents had conjured up to keep her ready for the right marital opportunity.

But the test...

She didn’t for one minute think he was going to let her join him, whether she completed the task or not, but, just for own satisfaction, she was going to try.

On the other hand, he might do it just to defy their parents.  Harry had always been headstrong and committed.  Even when he was wrong.

Yes, the odds were in her favor.

All she had to do was find the grubby policeman, Sykes.

And that would be easy, using her newly found Private Detective skills; she knew her mother had taken Sykes’ card, just in case she wanted to call him about Harry.

She smiled to herself.  Really, this was going to be easy peasy

© Charles Heath 2016-2019