Monday, 27 July 2020

Case 2 - Episode 12 – It’s not what you know, but who

Felicity already hated Alicia Wentworth long before she started her surveillance on her.  Harry had given her the details on the woman, and a lot more than was normally required, but it was clear he thought she was a person of interest in her husband’s untimely death, and the kidnapping, if it was that, of his father.

Not to mention the years of torment played upon Harry’s family since the grandfather’s death.  It was an interesting tale, but one that had more than a few loose ends.  And dangling at the end of them, what appeared to be a woman who would do anything for wealth.

Just a quick check showed she had come from the backblocks of LA, her mother a movie extra who missed her shot at becoming a star, her father, any one of a hundred stars, directors, and other film luminaries who promised her everything and gave her nothing.

But a child who had to fight for everything she wanted and more.

It was almost straight out of a film script.  Joan Crawford could have played the mother, and the daughter, well, she wasn’t quite sure who would fit the bill.  But it would be a star-making role if it ever came to the big screen back in the day.

Alicia Wentworth lived in the grandfather’s house.  It was a sprawling mansion that was looked after by a housekeeper, a maid, a cook, a groundsman, and a chauffeur.  That meant the house was never empty, so it was going to be impossible to search.

Unless she found a way of getting the incumbents to leave for a while.

She’d work on that later.

There were plenty of places she could take up a position to watch the house, without her activities being investigated or noticed by the other residents.  The other residents kept to themselves, behind their high walls and quest for privacy.

The neighbors were a who’s who of the city’s luminaries and watching them come and go, and who visited, was as interesting as that of her primary target.

This was the second day of her stakeout.  This morning she was doing the early morning jog, the one that ran the length of the street and back, the one that kept Alicia’s house in sight the whole time, thanks to some special headphones, and glasses.

Her father had some of the best surveillance equipment in the business, and she was compiling a list for Harry so that he might keep up with the latest equipment because sooner or later he was going to need it.

Nothing happened on the first leg.

Three residents departed in their cars, an Audi, a BMW, and a Hummer.  The most interesting was the Hummer.  It was the size of two cars, and she was seriously considering buying one.  Perhaps talk to the owner if the opportunity arose.

The third leg had her meet with the strange lady two houses along, a thick Russian accent, and a medium-sized dog, the breed of which she was not sure.

“You are new,” the woman said, stopping.

Felicity stopped too, breathing hard.  She was a little out of shape.

The dog sat, but it was growling.  Perhaps it didn’t like strangers.

“Just visiting my aunt who lives around the corner.  I’ve just got back from Berlin, and she said I could languish there while I assess my options.”

“What do you do?” the woman asked in fluent German.

“Translator, multiple languages,” she replied in Russian.  “Don’t need a translator, do you?”

The woman shook her head.  “Good luck to you and your exercise.  It’ll no doubt kill you in the end.  It’s what happened to my husband.”

The woman tugged on the dog leash ready to continue her walk.

“What happened, heart attack?”

“No.  His enemies knew he went for a jog every morning, lay in wait, and shot him.  He wasn’t a nice man.”

Then she shrugged and left Felicity still gasping for breath.

“I hope you don’t have any enemies, Miss.”

Not yet, anyway, Felicity thought.

Behind her, she could see the gate to Alicia’s property opening, and a minute later a car drove up to the road and stopped for a moment.  Felicity bent down to look as though she was tying her laces as the car then turned right and headed up the road away from her.

She noticed that Alicia was in the rear, being chauffeur driven in the Audi SUV.  She memorized the license plate and model of the car.  It was another because the previous evening Alicia had returned home in her red Mercedes coupe.

When Alicia’s car turned the corner, Felicity knew she had at least a minute before the car could turn off the road.  It was lucky this time that Felicity’s car was only seconds away, but still it took nearly a minute and a half to get in, start it, and get moving.

Luck was with her, she caught up just as the Audi turned off, heading towards what she assumed would be the main road back to New York.


Forty-five minutes later, the Audi dropped its passenger off near Wall Street, and Felicity tarried long enough at the intersection to see which building Alicia had gone into.  And get a photo of the man she had met outside before going in.

She didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t matter.  Most of the tenants in this part of the city were financial advisors, stockbrokers, and a new variety of con men out to fleece the people who wanted to get into investment but didn’t know-how.

Perhaps she was just cynical.

She found a car park, parked the car, and bet on the fact Alicia would not have concluded her business by the time she got back to the building.  Not far away was a café, and where she needed a well-earned cup of coffee.  Now she knew why she would never drive into the city and rely on public transit.

She might have to jostle with thousands of other passengers, but it beat the traffic jams, and cabbies who were very quick to blow their horns of you were in their way.

She watched for an hour, playing a guessing game of who was who going in and out of the building.  Rich people predominantly, who probably knew more than anyone else how to play the game, and then the players, those traders in their expensive suits and swanky manner.

Then there were lawyers in even more expensive suits, playing a different sort of game.
Some met outside the building before going in, some others met outside the building, but couldn’t afford to go in, or were not allowed in, a politician or two, faces she had seen in the papers, probably working on their permanent campaign to stay in office.

And then there were the tourists.  They stood out and viewed the whole place as just another collection of tall buildings.  The bull was nearby, so was the memorial to 9/11.  This part of town was just a stepping stone for them going to another place.

So, it was not going to be the man she went into the building with, it was always going to be about the person she came out with and showing a little more than just a friendly gesture when parting.

None other than Harry’s fathers golfing friend, Florenz.


© Charles Heath 2020

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