Episode 25 – The girl in a red dress

As the door slowly swung inwards, a dark shadow started moving towards him.  It was much brighter outside the room and the door opening brightened the room, and the sudden burst of bright light hurt his eyes.

He blinked once, then again, hardly believing his eyes.

The proverbial beguiling blonde.

Early twenties, slim, in a one-piece red dress that looked like it cost more than his annual salary, with matching shoes and nails.  Holding a gun pointed directly at his head.

The door hitting the stopper broke his reverie.

If he was going to die, this was one of the preferred methods.

Lavender, her perfume was lavender.

The gun never left his head.  It would be his luck she was an expert marksman, the local gun club champion.

"Make it quick," he said voice hoarse.

"Make what quick?"

Even in the pale light, her perplexed look was obvious.  She stopped several feet short of where he was now sitting.  High heels made her look taller than she was.

There was no mistaking the look of annoyance on her face.

 Why?  Because of Al?  Who was she?

"If you're going to shoot me..."

"I'm not.  Well, not yet."  She glanced at the body.  "Your work?"

"No.  I don't carry a gun."

"Perhaps you should."

He noticed her gun hand had acquired the shakes.  "Don't you think you should aim it elsewhere?  I'm just a little nervous..."

"...it might accidentally go off?  You're safe.  Whoever shot him did the world a favor.  I take it you were not his friend."

"He was my client.  I'm a private detective."

After Harry said it, he thought it sounded stupid.  He certainly felt stupid, tied up.

"Apparently not a very good one.  What are you doing here?"

"Got hit on the head, and didn’t have a choice.  Who are you?"

"I‘m his daughter, Cathy."

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 24 – Was it a case of cases closed?

Aside from the shock of being left tied up in a dark room with a dead man, Harry had time to reflect of the possibility that he no longer had cases to investigate because one client was dead, Joe, and the client, Jennifer, her husband was now dead.

No need to try and catch either of them with each other’s spouse, or Miriam.

Cases closed.

But it did beg the question, was Jeremy Brightwater either in deep trouble or dead, or both.

Harry knew he was in deep trouble himself, and if he could not find a way out of his current situation, he might also be dead.  If only he could get his hands free, and call Felicity.  She could find him, no doubt tracking him by GPS.

He looked around to see if there was anything to aid his escape.

A dead body, no.  But it might need some explaining though if he ever did get out of the room.

A cardboard box, one or more of many on the shelves, no.

Anything loose and made of metal?  Maybe.

Why couldn't this be like the movies?

There was always an implement on hand to facilitate the hero's escape against all odds.  Perhaps he wasn't the hero.

He closed his eyes and groaned inwardly.  Hadn't he known all along it might come to this?  His father warned him when Harry told him he was going to take up the profession, there would come a time when everything would go wrong.

Lamenting the failure to heed what seemed no to be sage advice, he heard a key in the door and the rattle of the handle turning.

The door slowly creaked open.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 23 - There’s a body in the...

Harry woke in what he first thought was darkness, but it was just his eyes not quite working as well as they should.  The room was dark, smelling of old paper and the mustiness of age and neglect.

It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust, hoping that the blow to the head hadn’t cause temporary or permanent blindness.  It was a room, fully enclosed, very quiet, and lit by a single low wattage bulb over what appeared to be a doorway.

The door was closed, adding to the effect of a confined space.

But instead of being cold and damp, it felt hot and humid, and he blinked away another bead of sweat that ran slowly down his forehead and into his eye and stinging.  Others were running down the side of his face.

He was tied up, lying on his hands behind his back making them feel numb, and his legs tied in front of him.  Harry wished now he had paid more attention to the Houdini movie to learn his escape moves.

How did he get to this room, and who brought him and tied him up?

Frightened didn't quite describe how he felt.

Harry wriggled his hands and felt the tightly knotted rope dig into his skin.  No escape there.

Did Al do it?  The last thing he remembered was talking to Al.  But Al was in front of him after he turned.  The blow had come from behind so Al could not have hit him.  Someone else, perhaps an accomplice?

Why would Al do this to him?  He was working for him and had a job to do.

Then there was another issue, questions popping into his head faster than an oncoming train.  How did they, whoever they were, or for that matter Al, know he had left his car in the car park?

He'd not picked up on the fact he was being followed, a sure sign he needed to work on his surveillance skills.

But, where was Al now?

After another, more concentrated investigation, Harry discovered he was in a sparsely furnished room, with shelves and boxes along two of the walls, and a row of cabinets along the other.

It was an effort to turn around or focus his eyes.  Waves of pain ran through his head.

Then he realized there was something on the floor behind him. He worked his body around to take a closer look.

It was a body.

His heart missed a beat.  It was his client, Al.

With a bullet hole in his shirt about where Al’s heart would be situated, and a large red stain around it.  A very familiar face staring at him from sightless eyes.

There was no doubt about it.

Al was dead.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 22 – Speaking of the devil

It was a not very far to the multi-story car park where Harry left his car.

On the way it rained twice, the first time a light shower, the second, probably because he had to walk in the open, was a deluge, and he was almost soaked to the skin by the time he reached the entrance and stepped into the elevator.

Just his luck to follow the weather prediction of no rain today.  When had the weather bureau ever got the weather right?

It was that thought on his mind when he stepped out of the elevator and headed towards his car, that and the thought of spending time with Felicity.

As he went to open the door of his car, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry."

There was no mistaking the undoubted menace in his tone.

"Al?"

As Harry turned to look him, he noticed Al's face was red.  He looked angry, very angry.

"Did you get the incriminating photo?"

 “What the hell are you talking about?  I just found him about five minutes before someone shot him.  And he was certainly not out jogging with your wife.”

“You didn’t see her?”

“No.  The last time I saw her she was in a large car, handing out envelopes of money.  I doubt she’s conducting an affair in the back of the car.

“Did you shoot your brother?  It sure as hell looked like you bursting out of the bushes and jumping into a red car, which I might add belongs to the company you work for, or own.”

“What?  Me?  No.  Why would I?  He was the brains behind the business.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I went to talk to him.  Didn’t get a chance.  I saw him get shot and left in a hurry, thinking if the cops found me there, I’d get blamed for it.”

“Any ideas about who would want to kill him?”

“Anyone of a dozen other jealous husbands.  But I think I know who the killer is.  You have to protect me."

"If you know who it was, go to the police."

He laughed.  "Do you expect them to believe an ex-con?"

Harry conceded that might be a problem, but surely Sykes wouldn't be biased.  Perhaps he would but it was a risk he would have to take if Al wanted to stay alive.

 Harry went to reassure Al, but instead felt a heavy blow on the back of his head.

And, just after that, everything went black.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 21 – Some sage advice

It was mid-afternoon, and it had started raining.

Felicity didn’t seem to care, not like some of the girls Harry had known in the past.  Felicity was more of the tomboy sort, who cared little for appearances and less about what people thought of her.

They reached a cafe not far from Outtel just before the rain started to pour down.

Once they’d ordered coffee and cake, Felicity said, “You look like you’ve got a very interesting case going on.  The finance place, that’s a front for something, and it’s got nothing to do with loans, commercial or otherwise.”

“Money laundering?  I’m only here for the cheating husbands, not take on the mafia or organized crime.  That’s Sykes’ department.”

“Who’s this Sykes?”

“A cop.”

“And you think he’s legit?  Hell, most of the cops we’ve dealt with hare bent one way or another.  You want something done properly; you have to do it yourself.”

“I’m not looking for trouble.”

“You saw the mug shots on the wall, you’re already knee deep in trouble.  That Al character, he looks like an enforcer, that Miriam type, red hair or not, she looks like she escaped from jail.  She’s got criminal written all over her.”

She had he phone in her hand and had been typing in information, and now, when Harry glanced over, he could see she’d been searching the internet.

She showed me the phone and a picture of Al.  “This your guy?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got a rap sheet a mile long.  Assault, aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, illegal gambling, loan sharking, even went away for a few months for suspected murder.  Guys like that don’t go straight, they just buy fancier suits and speak politely, while still banging your head against the wall.”

“What about Brightwater and the brother, Joseph.  They didn’t look like criminals.”

“If Al is, the brother is, and as for Brightwater, I’m betting he’s the schmuck front man who’ll take the fall when it all falls apart.  The Al’s and Joe’s of this world just move on.”

“You’re very cynical.”

“Realistic, Harry.  There’s a difference.”

Harry couldn’t help but think either she or her father had been a schmuck somewhere along the line

“So what you’re telling me is that I have to be careful dealing with these people?”

“Yes.  Now, I have to get back to my office, my father just sent me a message to tell me we’ve got a break in the case I’m working on.  You tread carefully with the Jones brothers, and let me know if you need any help.”

Coffee drunk, cake eaten, advice given and taken.

Time to go back to work.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 20 - The Unhelpful Receptionist

It was a short walk back to the office building, showing the signs of recent renovation with brick pillars and large glass windows, suitable opaque, with the company name across the front in large yellow letters/

Two large doors in the centre opened automatically as they approached.

Anyone passing the office would set off the door, and Harry wondered if that would annoy the receptionist.

Inside it was polished white tiles, a shiny dazzling white counter, with the company name again across the front of it in silver raised letters.  All of the letters bar one were in perfect symmetry.  The walls were white, and the lights were very bright.

It felt like they were on a movie set.

The receptionist was not at her desk, if there was a receptionist, and if it was a ‘her’.  Harry realized he was making assumptions when he should be keeping an open mind.

Hew remembered the workshop that told him to leave his prejudices at the door, and to unlearn all of his preconceptions about people and places.  It was a little bit harder than he thought it would be.

Felicity inclined her head towards a set of photos on the wall.

Harry had been looking back towards the desk, and to one side a doorway secured by a digital lock.  Twice he had seen a shadow behind the opaque glass window.  Someone was watching them.

“Some of the staff,” Felicity whispered.

In the corner no far from them was a CCTV camera, watching and no doubt recording their movements.  For security no doubt.

Some of those in the photos Harry recognised.

Jospeh Jones, titled Loans Facilitator,

Alphonse Jones, Collections Manager,

Jeremy Brightwater. General Manager,

Jennifer Jones, Customer Services Manager,

Miriam Walters, Accounts manager,

Edwina Jones, Office Manager.

Quite possibly a family owned business, Harry thought.  It was good to put names to faces, and a little insight into family relationships.  According to two of those in the photos, Joseph said his wife Edwina was having an affair with Al, and Jennifer said Al was having an affair with Miriam.

Edwina, from her photo, didn’t look the type to have an affair with anyone, striking a pose that looked like that of a woman in the temperance league at the turn of the last century.

Miriam didn’t have her trade mark red hair in her photo and actually looked reasonably attractive.

Jennifer was the only one who looked happy.

Al, in his shiny polyester suit looked like a thug in an ill fitting suit.  Admittedly he looked thinner now than he did in his picture.

Harry heard the door beside the reception desk close gently and turned.  A young woman who didn’t have her photo on the wall was standing behind the desk.

“May I help you?”

Just a hint of a Chinese accent.  Harry thought she might be Japanese. 

“What sort of loans do you have here?”

“We provide the financial options for large projects, and we do not deal with the general public.  I’m sorry.”

“The name outside seemed to suggest otherwise.  My mistake.”

I looked at Felicity.  “We should go.”

She whispered back, just loud enough for the receptionist to hear, “I told you they wouldn’t give us a loan.”

I opened the door for her, she smiled at me, and we left.

If Miriam was there, Harry hoped she hadn’t recognised him.

© Charles Heath 2016-2018

Episode 19 - The Outtell Finance Company

Harry was, quite literally, astonished.

He'd hoped it would be the killer who’d got in the red car.

But Al?  It couldn’t possibly be him because the person who came out of the bushes was a lot thinner.

What was he expecting?

A blonde bombshell, dressed in a matching red dress?  He'd been reading too many detective stories!  He had to get his mind back on the job.  What was Al doing at the Outtel Finance Company? What was he doing driving one of their company cars?

What exactly was the Outtel Finance Company?

Given Joe’s description of his brother, was it the front for a loan sharking operation?

It was time to do a little detective work, whilst fending off questions from Felicity, and having lunch.

“So, you’re investigating this Al Jones character, are you?”  Felicity picked over her Caesar salad like a sparrow looking for morsels.

“Yes.”  Harry decided to start with the monosyllabic answers and see how long he could get away with it.

“There must be more to it than just ‘investigate’.”

“There is.”

“So spill it.  What’s he done?”  She found something she liked and scooped it up with the fork.

“It’s just an ordinary divorce case.  The wife thinks he’s having an affair with the office manager, calls her a red-headed floozy.”

“Wow.  A floozy?  Haven’t heard that expression except in the old movies.” 

She found another morsel and scooped it up, followed by a sip of what was a half decent chardonnay, even if it wasn’t from France.

“Neither had I, but having seen her, somehow it seemed apt.”

His steak was a little on the tough side, more medium than medium rare.  He was still tossing up whether he’d send it back.  He decided against it, the waiter looked like he was having a bad day.

“Who were you expecting to get into that car?  It seems to me you were both surprised, and disappointed.”

Perceptive girl.  Harry was, thinking it might be a big break, and a chance to get some points from Sykes.

No such luck.

Al didn’t fit the profile of the man who’d got into the car at the crime scene.  Unless the man in the bushes didn’t shoot Joe, but, then, why was he in the bushes?

“I’m not sure.  The murdered brother, Joe, told me he suspected his brother Al, the man who got into the car was having an affair with his wife.  Motive enough for Al to shoot him, since Joe said his brother was capable of anything, but it doesn’t fit the profile of the person I saw fleeing the scene of the crime.”

“You were there when it happened?”

“More by chance than good management.  I had Joe under surveillance, and he rumbled me in the car.  Seems I was not the first to play the brothers’ game.”

She pushed the plate away, finished.  It didn’t look like she’d started.  Harry was not up to eating any more of that steak.

“What now?” she asked.

“Let’s see if we can get a loan.”

© Charles Heath 2016-2018