Corinne was astonished
when she learned that her brother had an office, in Gramercy Park no less.
It was almost as if he
was a real private detective. She was
still thinking he was playing some elaborate game with her. That was, until she met the Detective, Sykes,
at the precinct. Seeing him, talking to
him, made it real, and when Sykes said he would meet her at her brother’s
office, she had to ask him where it was.
Now, standing outside
the front door the name Harry Walthenson, Private Detective painted over the
frosted glass, it just deepened her respect for her brother.
“Your brother looks
like he really went overboard on this private investigator thing,” Daisy said.
“You have no idea just
how much we had to put up with when he was younger. He made cases out of things going missing
around the house. Too much Sherlock
Holmes when he was younger.”
That astonishment grew
even more so when they stepped inside and took in what she suspected was a
faithful reproduction of a 1940's PI office much like a set from a Hollywood
movie.
“Wow,” Daisy muttered.
Corinne remembered
Harry had a penchant for watching PI movies and particularly the Maltese
Falcon, and that he had a collection of PI books, both fiction and nonfiction
second to none when he had been at home.
That library appeared
to have been moved into the office, along one wall, or that is to say, that's
where there used to be. Most of the
books were now scatted on the floor as though someone had hastily pulled them
off the shelves and dumped them.
Daisy’s ‘wow’ was not
so much surprise as it was shock.
It was obvious someone
had turned the office over, looking for something, and judging by the extent of
the mess hadn't found it. The office,
she could see, was not trashed in the sense it was done by youths looking to
make a mess, she'd seen that happen to a friend's house, one who lived in the
suburbs and it had been disgusting beyond words.
No, she thought, this place
had been systematically searched, with folders and papers scattered about the
desks and on the floor in a seemingly ordered pattern, like each had been
scanned quickly, then cast aside. It
didn't look like the actions of an impatient person but one who knew they had
plenty of time and wouldn't be disturbed.
“Who would do such a
thing?” Daisy asked no one in particular.
She just stood by the door, a worried look coming over her face. “Do you think...”
“...the person who did
this is still here? No. Long gone I’m afraid.”
But as to who would
have done it, it had to be someone who knew he was in the hospital or
incapacitated, or who believed he was dead.
That would, she thought, narrow the list of suspects.
That initial surprise
of finding the front door unlocked was a bonus because Harry had told her to go
see the building Superintendent to let her in, but on closer inspection, once
she saw the damage, she noticed the door had been forced, and that someone had
made some hasty repairs. She would have
to meet with the Super to see what else needed to be done before she left.
In the meantime, she
was not sure what to do about the mess and decided to pick up only what was
necessary to move around the room, and would ask Sykes, when he arrived, what
she should do.
But, the first question
she should be asking was, what was the intruder looking for?
© Charles Heath
2016-2019
No comments:
Post a Comment