Case 2 - Episode 34 - The Prenderville Foundation

The Prenderville Foundation was in a building off-Broadway, not far from where the twin towers used to stand.

It was not far from Wall Street or City Hall, and when I looked at my phone, I saw that Felicity was not far away, having followed Florenz from the Starbucks near the Woolworth building to City Hall.

It was an interesting place for a man of his profession to go.  Perhaps he was trying to drum up business among the civic leaders.

Was it significant that Mandy had set up her business in this district, not far from Wall Street, and Civic Hall, where a lot of her most ardent admirers were located?

To be honest, I wasn’t all that interested in where the Foundation's money came from, it was much the same as those ex-presidential foundations, always flush with funds, but you’re never sure what those funds are being used for, and the newspapers, every now and then made allegations which quickly died as fast as they rose when rich and powerful lawyers start arriving at the chief editor’s office in numbers.

I was just interested in whether she knew my father, and if she did, what their business relationship was.  Of course, I fully expected to get bundled out the door by two burly bouncers long before that happened.

That was how I found myself outside the front door, looking in.

A gust of cold air brushed me as I stood there, and for a day that had been still and warm, I had to take it as an omen.  Nothing good was going to come of this.  I should take heed, turn around, and walk away.

For about five seconds I had the resolve to do just that.

On the sixth second, I took a deep breath and walked through the doors.

I had been expecting a soup kitchen or something similar, with lines of homeless people gratefully accepting food and a place to sit in relative comfort and warmth behind the shaded windows.  It was anything but that, with a counter, a wall, and a door.  I assumed if you had a good enough excuse, you could get through the door, and to the other side.

I walked up to the counter and stood there, waiting.

There were two people behind the counter, dressed in clothes that told me they were Foundation workers, a uniform of sorts, and both were talking, a conversation that was not about work, but an upcoming party at the weekend.  One had been invited, the other not, and the not was wondering why.

Visitors clearly weren’t a priority.

A quick check at the ceiling level showed two cameras that would cover the whole foyer.  It would certainly pick up my face, and it was probably being viewed by a faceless security guard in a small room somewhere, assessing if I was a threat.

Still, the invitation-less employee was bemoaning his bad fortune.

I looked at my watch.  Three and a half minutes.  I was considering making them aware of my presence, but I decided this would be a game, betting mentally with myself on how long it would take before they realized I was standing on the other side of the counter.

Five minutes.  The phone rang, and the nearest staff member picked it up.

There were a number of changes in facial expression, from annoyance, to surprise, to fear, and then astonishment.  Then he replaced the receiver and turned.

“Miss Prenderville is sending her personal assistant down to collect you.  She said to say she’s been expecting you.”

OK, my turn for a surprise then astonishment.  “You don’t even know my name yet.”

“You are Harry Walthenson, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we do know who you are Mr Walthenson.”

The side door opened and a Chinese woman of indeterminate age came out.  “Mr Walthenson, I presume?”

I nodded.

“Then come this way please.”

Without another word I followed her through the door that led to a corridor running down a long wall, to an elevator lobby.  An elevator was waiting for us, one with a driver, we stepped in, he closed the door, and we went up.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.  Stop.

The door opened and we stepped out.  We walked along another corridor to what I thought was a corner office where the assistant knocked on the door, opened it, and motioned for me to pass through.

Once inside, the door closed behind me.

I was the only one in that room.  On two sides there were windows that looked out towards the Hudson, and, if I stood in the right position, I could see the Statue of Liberty.

It was largely empty except for a desk, three chairs and several sideboard cupboards.  Down the side to my left was a doorway, closed.

The room had CCTV cameras as had each of the corridors, so someone had been watching me from the moment I stepped into the building, or even as I approached the building.

I stood in the centre of the room and waited.

After two minutes, the side door opened and a woman I recognised as Mandy Prenderville came into the room.  She looked different from the photos I’d seen of her, then she had been about 200 pounds, now she was no more than 80.  It made a considerable difference, especially if I were to use some of the facial recognition software.

She came over to me, hand outstretched.

It’s good to see you, Harry.  You look just like your father at that age, you know.”

I shook hands which felt strange.

“Sit, let’s talk.”

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Case 2 - Episode 33 - Mandy Prenderville

Harry always tried to make out that computers and he didn’t get along. 

The truth was, he didn’t like them, not because they had suddenly become a universal tool on every desk, in every house, and now in everyone’s left or right hand, but because of the impact they had on your privacy.

And the fact, now, in the age of computers, you had none.

Unless, of course, you chose not to have a footprint, which was Harry s first choice.

Ellen had convinced him otherwise.  She had completed a computer course in college and said she could ‘put them on the map’ with a website.  Harry initially said no, but she worked on him, and in the end, persistence won over, and he left that side of the business to her.

On the strict proviso that little personal information found its way there.

He let Ellen set up a website for the investigative business, and she had spent days, if not weeks, finding a website host and reading a large number of books about programming.  Every day he’d come in, he picked one up off her desk, flicked through the pages, and put it back down again.  There were very few words that he understood.

Still, at the end of the first month there was something quite interesting to look at, and, the very day it went live, Ellen had taken two calls, one of which led to a job.  One she kept reminding him, that paid for the whole of the web sites costs.

He had to begrudgingly agree computers were going to be useful.

 

The one on his desk had lain ideal for months, and, today, he decided to turn it on.  The previous one had been stolen in the break-in, so this was new and different.  And Ellen had yet to set it up properly for him.

But he did know how to load the web browser and typed in the name of his father’s legal practice, and it went straight to the website.

He’d seen it before, and thought it very bland, but what he expected from a group of lawyers.  They left the impact of wealth and power to the visit to the office, not a flashy website.  All it had was small bios on everyone who was anyone and the types of law they handled.

There were, of course, closed areas of the site that needed a login, one which he didn’t have, but he was going to ask Giselle if he, or Ellen since Giselle knew her, could be granted access.  He vaguely remembered his father saying there were areas set up for each of the partners to keep a record of their activities, and notes on cases.

Perhaps there might be a clue in his files.

Harry had also noticed that Ellen had set up areas on their own website where each of the employees could log in, and she had left a post-it note on his desk with his login and temporary password.  There, she noted, were folders for each of his current cases.

When he logged in, he saw he could add new cases, and create case notebooks, so he created one for his next target, Mandy Prenderville.

 

About a minute after he created the file, Ellen was in the doorway, knocking on the door jamb to get his attention.

“Yes?” he said, looking up.

“Mandy Prenderville?  Seriously?  In what lifetime do you think she would have anything to do with any case you were investigating?”

She had a serious expression, and a look of fear in her eyes.  She obviously knew who Many Prenderville was.

“It’s one of the leads we’ve uncovered.  My father apparently had some connection to her, perhaps in a charity sense, but I have to find out.”

“Are you mad?  You know who she is?  Don’t believe everything you read about her in the papers.  My grandmother can tell you stories about her that would make your hair curl/”

“I know.  Tread carefully.  Since I’m not all that good at searching for information, can you have a look, and let me know what you find.  I’ll just poke around the edges.”

She shook her head and stopped short of saying ‘it’ll be your funeral.’  But I could read lips, and that’s what I thought she said.  It also could have been, you are a complete fool.

 

There were several different directions to go in relation to searching for information on Mandy Prenderville, the first, was to follow her brothers on an odyssey of drugs, crimes, and death.  The other, was that of a woman who was striving to make up for the shortcomings of her brothers, by running a charitable institution that had won everyone who was anyone over.

Except for one lone voice in the wilderness, a person with the internet handle of @downwithevilprendervilles, who made one simple statement, she was taking from the poor and giving it to the rich in the form of bribes.  Why else would anyone believe that sob story that she is trying to redeem the Prenderville’s.

Dangerous words to a very dangerous woman.  I wondered briefly if the person behind the handle had adequate protection.  I’d have to ask Ellen if she could track down to who the handle belonged to.

I went to the Prenderville Foundation page and it didn’t have a lot to say about the foundation or it’s principal.  The bio spoke of her in only glowing terms, and any reference to her brothers, or the criminal activities the family had been accused of over the years was sadly lacking.

I typed in the name and it came back with the father’s name at the top of the list.  He’d been killed in a gangster shootout, one family trying to gain the ascension over the other, and the Prenderville’s lost that day.  Several months later the head of the rival family was found floating face down in the Hudson, but no killer had yet been found.  And for the lack of evidence and witnesses, the Prenderville father’s killer had got away with it.

Next was Jason, the dead brother, and after reading three articles on his record as a master criminal, it was fair to say he was anything but.  Three jobs, three disasters, in fact, each of them vied for a spot on a show called ‘the world’s worst criminals.  But, as guilty as he seemed, they’d got him on charges that did not relate to his criminality.

Clever.  I would call that the Al Capone factor.  Careless though, an old rival in the jail they sent him and his brother, shanked and killed him.

The same assassin tried to kill Mason and failed.

Mason Prenderville was a different kettle of fish, as the saying goes.  He was squeaky clean, had others do his dirty work, and ruled by fear and intimidation.  Anyone questioned him, they were dead within 24 hours.  But in one instance, one that defied explanation, he had gone totally off book and killed a rival in front of witnesses, witnesses he could neither intimidate or buy.  Now he was serving a life sentence, or more than one.  He had only one lifetime and that’s how long he’d be staying in jail.

On whether they were guilty or innocent, Mandy had always maintained they had both been framed, and it was illogical that Jason could be guilty, despite the five independent witnesses produced to verify where he was and what he did.

She had bought the best lawyer, and the best lawyer couldn’t get him off.  The best lawyer was now a lawyer with a limp.  And not so many customers for his services.  I added him to my list of potential people who could tell me about Mandy, especially if he hated the family so much, he would waive his professional integrity.

I made a note of that particular lead and closed the file.

It was time to go and pay Mandy a visit.

She was going to be downtown at the coal face of her charity, meeting and greeting the needy.  1 had to wonder, though, what sort of needy people would turn up to a downtown storefront.

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Case 2 - Episode 32 - – Giselle and her secrets

His mother’s email was sparely used, had various references to her charity work, and communications with the likes of Florenz, and others.  Florenz, it seemed, was happy to report on the activities of her husband.  It was clear that to him she had married the wrong man.  But there were no declarations of love between his mother and Florenz, nor anything that could be construed he disliked Xavier Walthenson.

Argeter didn't figure in any conversation.

But there were others, some of whom Harry knew of rather than knew personally, and one in particular, his mother's younger sister, and most vocal against Xavier from her side of the family.  Harry knew his aunt, had once been on a trip to Vegas with both women, and learned then his aunt was a drunk, drug addict and a sleaze, and whose bad conclusions about his father were borne from being rejected by him before he married her older sister.

He hadn't seen Aunt Betty for a few years, the last he'd been told was she was going through another stint of rehab and trying to dodge five to twenty years in jail for killing a passenger in her car, her last husband.  Perhaps she'd finally been jailed, not that it would do much to help her.  By all accounts the man had been a brute and was mixed up is some very dodgy business.

That Xavier was in charge of her defence was telling, because he didn’t have much time for the scornful, if not evil sister whom he had made an obvious mistake getting involved with.

And then Harry saw it.  An email from three days ago.  From the sister, Betty.  She was in town, at the Ritz Carleton hotel on Central Park, requesting a visit.  Just like her to issue commands, and expect to get her way, like the queen bee.

Another note in his book.  Room number, and there was no date she was leaving.

Harry was tempted to look at his brothers' emails but that could wait for another day.  He heard voices at the top of the stairs, one of them being Giselle, so he shut down the computer and moved to the sofa opposite her desk and sat down to wait for her arrival.

 

When she saw Harry sitting in the chair, she looked, momentarily, surprised, then covering it well with a slight stumble.

“Harry?  Tell me you haven’t stopped to sneaking up on people?”

“It’s my business to be both invisible, and stealthy.  But, no, not here, and definitely not with you.  Unless, of course, you have something to hide?”

“Me?  No.  An open book, as you know.”

She sat down behind the desk.  “But me thinks you have questions, perhaps about the Prendevilles'?”

Getting ahead of the narrative, Harry thought, and a sure sign that she wanted to control this interview.

“When you dropped that name, I’m sure you weren’t implying my father was having a relationship with Mandy.  I did some digging, and it seems she has a similar passion for charity events, perhaps trying to change public opinion of her.”

“She would like to think so.  Your father’s connection is only by way of charity unless of course, you have uncovered something else.  Have you spoken to her yet?”

“It’s on the list.  How much do you know about my mother and Florenz?”

She smiled.  “You have been a busy boy.  They are part of a tightly knit group from university days.  I don’t think you should be judging her given the antics of your father, I’m not surprised.”

Harry viewed his grandmother, the woman who was his father’s mother, the woman who had been scorned by his grandfather, in a new light, one, up to now, he would never have thought possible.  Quiet and unassuming, blending into the fabric in the background, always watching, always learning, Harry was sure she knew everything that was going on, and why.

And that somewhere in her armoury was that long knife she was going to stick in Alicia’s back at the appropriate time.  Perhaps she had one for all of them and was just biding her time, down in the basement, the metaphorical spider's web.

“You may not know where my father is, but you know why he’s not here.  And, don’t tell me it’s because of another woman.  He’s got himself mixed up in something that impinges on that group you were referring to, and I’m guessing Argeter is involved.  Mother really doesn’t like him.”

“Your mother had him worked over very early on when he tried to shake her down.  He’s not very endearing, and I always believed he had some hold over your father who was rather reckless in his younger days.  You might want to investigate what he got up to back in university.  But a word to the wise, be careful around Argeter.  He knows some very bad people.”

A name that needs to be moved up the list, perhaps Felicity could make discreet enquiries.

“Any chance I could see the file you have on Alicia.  I’m betting it’s the thickest in your filing cabinet, and nothing complimentary in it.”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.  I’m not going to make your job any easier for you.  Alicia is a special kind of animal in this jungle, and you really don’t want to make an enemy out of her.”

So, things learned, Harry thought.  There is a file, somewhere.  Giselle knew everything and everyone.  And, there was going to be a day of reckoning.

“If there’s nothing else, Harry, I’d better start justifying my presence here.”

“Don’t leave town.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon.  Believe me.”

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Case 2 - Episode 31 - Harry and Giselle

Of all the people in the office, Harry considered Giselle his favourite, and she his.  At least that was the impression she gave him from the very first days he was taken there as a child, and later when doing work experience.

She had made the law fun and was one of the reasons why Harry had originally chosen to follow a career in law.  To begin with, at any rate.

But, as Harry began to discover when he started law school, the law was anything but fun.  It was a time when he also discovered that she hadn't been showing him the right way to do things.  And that, Harry considered, was wrong, and caused him to suspect her motives for doing so.

It went on to fuel an investigation into her background, her style of practising the law, and her knowledge of the law in practice.  And that investigation had ended with a discovery that changed everything, and especially his desire the practise law at all. 

A simple open and shut case, Sims v Simpson, a case brought by Sims that alleged that a piece of property belonged to him, and not the defendant.  Suffice to say, documents were discovered, documents were either altered or forged, and a travesty of justice was enacted. 

A year later, her role in the case was discovered, and it led to a very quiet end to what had been, up to then, an interesting career, if somewhat lacklustre after she had married the elder Walthenson.

It could be said she tried to use the case to impress her husband, but by then their relationship had fractured past the point of no return and the marriage was over.  What had been planned as her saving grace had exactly the opposite effect she had hoped for.

Officially, she had ended up in the basement because she decided it was time to stop front-line lawyering as she called it, and move into a research role.  And not long after that old man Walthenson divorced her.

Not because of another woman, younger and more motivated, but because of a legal disaster that cost the practice a small fortune to keep it private.

It was just another secret, one of many that pervaded any legal practice.  The saying, he had heard spoken of in hushed tones within those hallowed hallways, if the court doesn't know about it, no harm done.

Winning then, apparently, was everything, no matter what the cost.

But it was another powerful reason why Harry hated the idea of becoming a lawyer, and even more so in his father's practice.

And after making the discovery which Harry knew his father was privy to, but never spoken of, he decided to keep it to himself as well   No need to upset their rather fractious relationship any further. 

Not unless he needed it as a bargaining chip.

 

Giselle wasn't at her desk that morning he decided to visit the office.  Fortunately, neither of his brothers were there either, both out visiting clients. 

A quick chat with Merilyn told him that Giselle would not be in until later that morning, so it gave him time to poke around in the filing system, one that Giselle had devised to keep others from finding anything in the research system unless she delivered it.

She had told him a long time before what she had to do to ensure her continued employment and had shown it to Harry, whether deliberately or by mistake, and thus he also knew his way around the filing and computer systems.  He had been hoping she might be out because he wanted to look at some of the files, if there were any, relating to the dockside plot.

He needed to know what his father had known.

He also needed to look at his father's electronic diary, not something he could do by asking Merilyn his personal assistant, if she would open it for him.  His credentials for the investigation, given by his mother, were not all-encompassing, and anything she hadn't considered blocking, his brother Robert, had.  That was reason enough to believe his brother had something to hide or was currying favour from Alicia.

There were too many important company trade secrets that the practice could not afford to give access to his brother had told him, a valid enough reason.  Harry thought he would ask first, knowing that he wasn't going to take heed of his brother's decree.  It wouldn't be difficult to get what he needed, and the icing on the cake, he would do it using his brother's access code, and what that didn't cover, well, he had the back door login used by the programmers, people he had worked with when they were installing and setting up the systems.

It was this he could use to gain access to the master hard drive where everything was stored, and where, particularly, his father's and brothers' diaries were stored.  He was not interested, yet, in any other diaries other than those belonging to the family.  It also included his mother whom he knew sometimes consulted for the practice.

And there were also the email accounts, always a go-to when things went awry in business, and something the others didn't know, deleting emails didn't actually delete them, it just hid them from view.

Fortunately for him, the server bank was installed down in a room off the archive and was rarely visited except by the maintenance company, and any one of three servicemen.  Giselle also poked her head in the door from time to time, pretending she didn't know what was going on, and was, as far as Henry was concerned, more switched on to an opportunity when one presented itself to her, and poking around in the computer’s filing system was one of them.

She had been the first person to put her hand up as a network system administrator.

There were two computers side by side, near the server room door, one an administrative machine, the other for upstairs staff to use for searches of online documents.

The first thing Harry did was put a USB drive into the main server to upload a small program that Felicity said would enable her to log in as an administrator and leave no trace of her activity.  He trusted her when she said it would not do anything else.

Then Harry sat at the search machine so that if anyone came down, they would not see him on the admin machine and raise suspicions.  He knew the necessary login information worked on both machines, unlike those upstairs in the offices, set up for only one user, and their rather narrow permissions.

He logged into the mail administrator and brought up all the accounts.  His father was first, and he picked three days on either side of his disappearing.  Those emails before were standard requests and discussion points with clients as he gathered evidence and discussed strategy for his current cases, and then one, from Argeter, setting up lunch the day he disappeared.  Nothing was added to say what it was about, just a time and a place.  He noted down the details in his notebook.

Harry then narrowed the search to only Argeter's emails, and firstly, noted a consistent email on the 25th of May of each year reminding his father of the interest and principal repayment due but the end of the month.  An amount wasn't mentioned but Harry got the impression it was a substantial amount.

Harry then checked for an expense spreadsheet, a specially created ledger account each of the lawyers had so they could bill their time and expenses to clients and found no mention of Argeter.  It must be, he thought, somewhere else, though it was odd to Harry that the head of chambers didn't have such information.

Harry made a note that it might be a secret loan, his father not wanting to borrow money from his wife, or her family, or, for that matter, his father, what was once a sticking point for him.  Another note gave the impression that Argeter might be a reason for his disappearance, perhaps because he couldn't pay back the money.  Or did his father use the money for gambling?  He remembered a long time ago when he and his brothers were home for the holidays, the arguments their parents had over his father's drinking and gambling.

It was an odd memory that popped into his head, the fact that his father had resented the fact his wife was an heiress, and richer than he ever would be, and the fact that he had told her he would make his own way in the world, without the benefit of her wealth.  They seemed to him, now, such an unlikely couple, and more than once he had thought she might be better off without him.  That shine of those early days of marriage had long worn off, and she had often moved in her circle without him.

More than once his friends had told him his parents were 'odd fish'.

Odd fish indeed.

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Case 2 - Episode 30 – Being candid doesn’t describe it

It was doubtful children gave any thought to whether or not their parents were having affairs, international or domestic criminals, but more whether they were good or bad parents.

It may have been a little different for those children whose parents had a big profile in the community, because the obsession the general public had in following celebrities making fools of themselves.

There was a stage where Harry, and later Corinne, dreaded opening the newspaper at breakfast for fear of seeing their father’s latest folly.  That fear had faded once he left home, and Corinne to a lesser extent now she had grown up.

Their mother, on the other hand, often graced to pages of the newspapers for other reasons, and it was true when she said that if, and that was a very big if, she was to seek attachments, she would be very discreet.

"After all, it seems you took this long to find out, and then, only because I chose to admit it.  And I expect you to be equally discreet, because it has nothing to do with your investigation."

That was a moot point, it could have everything to do with it, but Harry was happy to tell her what she wanted to hear.

The admission though fuelled a personal curiosity.

"Did you always know he would be unfaithful?  You had the pick of any one of four, a group that interestingly called itself the four musketeers, and you chose him.  Why not Florenz?"

"Emile was not interested, then, committing to one girl, and still doesn't believe in monogamy.  At the time I did, and your father was of like mind.  He was under a lot of pressure to marry well, and my parents wanted me off their hands, as shocking as that might sound."

Harry had not had a very good relationship with his grandparents on his mother's side, and come to think of it, on his father's side either, not when he realised his heart was not in law.  His paternal grandfather was not a good role model, at least not after he dumped Giselle for Alicia, and coming on top of his father's infidelities, it was no surprise his brothers were like their father.

His mother’s parents had always looked down on his father, to the point where if they ever visited, it was when his father was away, or if they went there, it was almost always without their father.  Worse still, they had no interest in the progeny of their daughter, and for a long time Harry had attributed that attitude to their being among the wealthiest people in the country.

Now, it sees that it was simply a matter of disliking her choice of husband.  That could easily have been remedied by just leaving him and moving on, but she hadn't.

"So, why are you still here?"

"I could use that trite excuse of for the sake of the children, but you've all grown up now, and Corinne can look after herself.  I might be a lot of things but deserting you, no matter what the provocation, was never a priority.  These days marriage is a joke, just look at the number of divorce cases the practice handles, but it isn't to me, and despite everything your father still is my one and only real love.  That's a rarity in this disposable world, and you should count yourself lucky if you find the one.  That's why I would never harm him, even if the off thought passes through my mind from time to time."

Looking at her, listening to her, there was no doubting the affection she had for him.  And she was right about the world of disposable relationships, it was far too easy to rid yourself of a problem and move on to the next.

The practice had several clients who had been marries and divorced more times than fingers on one hand.  Out specially, and what should come as no surprise, was the prenuptial agreement.

In his mother’s case, there was no financial briefing in his premature death, not unless there was an insurance policy on his life.

"Does Dad have life insurance."

"No.  Never needed it."

"Or you?"

"No.  Anything happens to me; he gets an annuity that will be more than adequate.  Anything happens to him, I get nothing, just in case you are thinking of using money as motivation the kill him.  I don't need his money, not that there is any."

"What about his share in the practise?"

"Oh that?  There is very little he will see of it, the way his father had treated him in the will.  He'd promised Xavier a full half share along with that grubby little harlot he married, but died before he could change the will, which, after a blazing row between father and son, left Xavier with nothing.  His father was a proper bastard, and he should have just left after his father died and taken his clients with him."

So, no one in the practise was going to kill him for his share because there was no share.  A business he had successfully helped his father to build into the business it was now, and get no compensation or recognition, which must have hurt.  Just having to work with his father's mistress have been particularly galling.

There was question there, why didn't he leave?

Harry could see his mother was getting restless, and he realised that he had been dragged off track by a very skilled manipulator.  Had she been leading him away in the direction of Gillian?

"There's the other two musketeers, Alexander Argeter, and Clay Shawville.  I'm assuming you remember these two, who are Dads current golfing foursome, both date back to your university days, and I will not believe you if you day you don't know them.

He'd been watching her expression when he told her the two names, one was benign, but the other raised an expression that demonstrated hatred. Or worse.  Argeter.  It was obvious that she did not like him.  More digging into their school days was warranted

"I take it you dislike Argeter."

"He was a pest then and a worse pest now.  If you want to whatever that deep dive is that you referred to, he'd be the one I'd be looking at."

"What do you know about him?"

I saw her shudder, which to Harry meant something really bad happened.

"I don't want to talk about him, now or ever."

Harry shrugged.  She might not get that luxury later, depending in what he turned up.

"Shawville?"

"He's from very wealthy but remarkably sane parents, never had to do anything in his life, except go from one holiday to the next.  Only here a few times a year for golf and, well, I don't know what they get up to, and don't want to know."

"You see him when he's here?"

“Sometimes.”

Her tone indicated that there might be more to it, and his expression might have showed it, because she added, “But not in the way you might think.”

Expect there was an inflection in it that told him otherwise, and just the way she mentioned his name.

“We were all friends back at University.”

If that was meant to be an explanation, it wasn’t helping.

“Make of it what you will Harry, but there’s nothing to be gained from it, and certainly nothing to do with your father disappearing.  Perhaps you should go to the den of iniquity called the golf club.  It’s where he spent the rest of his time when he was not in the office, and, if you ask me, it was his office.  Now, if that’s all…”

It would matter if it was not, Harry knew he was being dismissed, and that odd feeling he was being sent on a wild goose chase.

Before that, there was just enough time to catch up with Giselle.

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

Case 2 - Episode 29 - Harry back home again

Home hadn't been home for quite some time, because Harry, unlike his brothers, wanted to distance himself from his father, and the family business.

He didn't have to, but inside that home was a stifling effect that cast a pall over any form of resistance, and it despaired him to see his brother's becoming their father.

His father was not a good role model, because of his disregard for the sanctity of marriage, he was less scrupulous when it came to taking on clients, cherry picking the most lucrative, rather than on merit.  Admittedly that attitude started with his father, but there had been an opportunity to change it, and he hadn't.

Then there was his mother, though he was not sure the description fitted, because it seemed she was devoid of any form of emotion or attachment, except for Corinne, though that was not as good as a daughter needed.

It might be why Corinne was detached herself.

But he had never considered the whys and wherefores of how the family had got to this point, he had just accepted that rich people were all dysfunctional, that his parents went their own separate ways, and the kids were left to fend for themselves, provided they did as was expected.

If he had a choice, though, he would prefer not to know anything about his parents, other than what they had told them over the years, which was precisely nothing.  Admittedly, none of them asked, so perhaps it was on them that they knew so little.

Now, with his father missing, he was about to a deep dive into their history.  Already there was one secret about to come out of Pandora's box.  His mother’s relationship with Florenz.

There were four of them, back in university days, who called themselves the four musketeers.  This revelation was from Felicity who had done the initial groundwork from school papers, and it gave a more lighthearted view of their time at law school, and two of whom were also looking at accounting and business management

What was clear, to both of them, that his mother was, back then, more involved with Florenz than his father, and if the reports were true, his father was the weakest of the four study wise, and now Harry realised he was lucky to pass the bar exam.

And surprised that his mother was the best and smartest of all of them.  Harry had questions, some of them she was going to get annoyed with.  He was going to need a plan to manage her, which was odd when he said it in his mind that he would have to.

Which, standing outside the front door, Harry was trying to come to grips with.  There was a strong possibility she might cancel his commission if he pushed too hard, but that was the only way he was going to get a result

Harry had a key to the door, thought about knocking in the door, but then decided the surprise factor was more important.

Inside the door in the little anteroom, he stopped to listen, but it was silent.  He wondered where [name] was, she was usually bustling about making herself look busy, even if she wasn't.  His mother could be a pain sometimes, and he had wondered more than once why she stayed.

Out into the formal living area, he noticed several subtle changes in the decor, the old leather chairs had gone, the chairs his father said had been handed down through the generations and were, in his opinion. heirlooms.

My mother considered them junk, and knowing the family she came from, she would know what and what was not an heirloom.  Was it tine for a change now my father wasn't here?

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

His mother had come up the passage, possibly from her office.  She stopped when she saw him.

"I came on the off chance you would be here.  I have a few questions."

She looked at me in that witheringly manner she used on his father when she could tolerate his presence no longer.

"I did not kill him, nor do I know where he is.  Nor do I have the time to participate in whatever it is you have planned."

She was dressed to go out, perhaps a lunch with her friends, or an assignation.  Now that her husband was not looking over her shoulder, maybe she was taking advantage of his absence.

"Now, if you don't mind," she picked up her handbag from the coffee table and started walking towards the front entrance.

I expected as much.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way," I said.

Two more steps, then she stopped and turned.  "You can discontinue the assignment.  Tell me how much I owe you."

Not unexpected either.  "Then it's the hard way.  You can dismiss me from the case, but that doesn't mean I'll stop, in fact, it'll simply move you to the top of the suspect list, and I'll start by take a deep dive into your life."

"And why would you do that?"

"Well, that meeting you had with Emile Florenz the other morning, where he all but told you that asking me to investigate was a mistake wouldn't have anything to do with it.  Or did you get him to remove Dad from the playing board?  After all, you've been having an affair with him off and on since university days."

Harry expected vehement denials, or a flash of that temper she had exercised on her hapless husband after being caught out yet again, not the tilted head and wry smile.  "My God, you're good.  He was right, but I figured at some point you were going to draw one of several conclusions.  I hope you're not going to be sanctimonious about what you're labelling an affair."

"To be honest, I don't care what you do, so long as there's no repercussions on Corinne or me.  The other boys are clones of their father which is disappointing, so they probably wouldn't understand what was happening anyway."

"If it's any consolation, I would never let that happen, unlike your father who it seems doesn't care.  It was not always like that."

She obviously changed her mind, and headed back to one of the lounge chairs, and indicated that Harry should sit in another.

"So, what are your questions?"

© Charles Heath 2020-2021 

Case 2 - Episode 28 – Back at the office

 

When Harry walked into the office, the first thing he noticed was cardboard boxes and plastic sheets stacked in a corner.

The next, Gwen was at her desk, looking slightly dishevelled.  There were any number of possible explanations, when there were noises coming from the room next to his office.

A storeroom, the ideal place to hide something, or someone.

But that didn't explain the cardboard and plastic.

"You're looking a little flustered," Harry said, also noticing a rather sheepish expression, like she'd been caught unexpectedly.

"Been helping your, well, what is Felicity?  Private investigator partner, colleague, or girlfriend, or just a friend who’s a girl?"

Good question.  But that wasn't the first thing that was on my mind.  "Helping with what?"

"She moved on.  This office is rapidly becoming an apartment."

More noises from the storeroom. Time to investigate.

He crossed the room and stood outside the door for a minute before he knocked on the door. He was not quite sure why he would be knocking on the door to the storeroom in his own office.

"Is that you Harry?"

"Why?  Are you not decent?"  Where the hell did that come from?  Was he harbouring secret desires that were only in his deep subconscious?

He heard a laugh from behind the door.  It was a whole different Felicity than the one he had got used to, and had he somehow forgotten that she was a very attractive woman.  He just hadn't thought of her in that way.

Not until now.

"Come in.  The doors not meant to be shut, it just made it easier to move stuff around."

Harry opened the door and stepped in.  It was quite large, meant to be a similar sized and purposed office to his own, just in case he ever took on another investigator.  It hadn't been on his mind, but perhaps it was time.  Her father was happy for her to stay with him, where he considered it would be impossible for her to get into trouble.

Harry didn't have the temerity to tell him he was wrong.  The girl was trouble with a capital T, and just what he needed.

A wall of shelves and filing cabinets, the last time he'd seen then, scattered, then a sofa, desk, mini bar with refrigerator, and a large white board.

Felicity was sitting behind the desk.  "What do you think?"

"Much better than the last time I was in here."

There was a chair opposite the desk, so Harry sat in it.  More comfortable than the one he had.  Her chair was better than his too.

"I knew you wouldn't mind, and I can't keep sleeping on your sofa, can I?"

Was there a salacious invitation there or was his mind going down a path it shouldn't.  There was no question they were in anything other than a comfortable working relationship and should keep it that way.

He liked her, perhaps more than he should, but he was not sure what her feelings were towards him.  Best to leave it that way.

"Good thinking." 

He turned to look at the whiteboard, something he had been considering buying himself.  "We're moving into a more professional mode.  Is it time to put what we know up there?"

"No time like the present."

 

It was a complicated case because of the number of people involved.  A decision had to be made about who the principal suspects were.

"Your mother, Emile Florenz, Clay Shawville, Alexander Argeter, all part of the gang of five who've known and interacted with each other since university days.  You are going to have to tackle your mother over sine very delicate affairs.  I'm sure, from their body language, she's sleeping with him."

Nothing would surprise him, and he knew Felicity wouldn't tell him unless she was certain.  The fact he knew very little about his mother was disappointing.  Now she was under the spotlight, he was not sure if he wanted to know

"Then there's both Gillian and Alicia, both of whom may or may not bear a grudge against the father, particularly the latter.  It's worrying she knows Florenz, but I would put it past him to be sleeping with her too."

“She is.”  He shook his head.  “You have no idea just how much that disappoints me.”

“It’s life Harry.  Most people are not monogamous.”

"So, sex could be a motivation, rather than greed, or for the moment it seems so.  My father's endless affairs would be enough to send any wife over the edge.  It also might mean any number jealous husbands and boyfriends.  Come to that, it just might be a simple case of screwing the wrong woman.,"

"It might, but he left a note when he usually doesn’t.  I think he's been planning this, or at the very least, knew the day was coming that he would have to disappear for a while."

An interesting premise, and one he could agree with.

"Aside from my mother, what other lines of investigation do we have?

"I'm interested in Alicia.  I'm going to do a deep dive into her life, see why she chose your grandfather, and what she's planning to do.  I'm sure she doesn't have your family's best interests at heart, and I'm sure she'd like to have what your mother has, a wealthy and respectable family who's in the top one percent.  Come to think of it, does that make you a very, very eligible bachelor?"

Harry never quite thought of it like that if anything happened to his mother.  It's just not the sort of thing people wanted to think about.  Did that mean that Harry’s father would be a very rich man if anything happened to her.  Again, not something he had to think about, not until now.  Odd that he had never really considered belonging to a very wealthy dynasty.  He wondered if his brothers were aware of

"To be honest, I’ve never been interested in anything to do with my parents.  We've never been spoiled, by parents or grandparents, in fact we don't get to see my mother’s family very often.  If she's rich, then she doesn't splash it about, so who knows?  Does that mean I'm no longer 'eligible'?"

"Wealth is a curse, Harry.  What do you think?"

"I'm just as lovable penniless?"

She smiled.  "You might want to have another chat with Gillian, see what she knows about them now we know a little bit more.  As for you, you are, among other things, incorrigible maybe, and something else to ask your mother is her net worth, though I suggest you trying to be subtle about it.  I guess we have our assignments.  I'll fill out the board with anything else relevant, and you too, when you get those scraps of paper you call a filing system together."

© Charles Heath 2020-2022