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

Case 2 - Episode 27 - Felicity deals with Corinne's stalker

As Felicity expected, Sykes did not follow up with her, with any information on the boy that was following Corinne.  She had, for a few moments thought he might, but knowing his views on her involvement in matters concerning such people as the Blines and Florenz, perhaps he considered he was protecting her.

And if she took a step back and see things in the same light, she might have believed that.

But Felicity was not one to take a backward step in anything, perhaps one of her least admirable qualities in that it might get her into serious trouble one day.

She glared at her phone and considered calling Sykes, but, in the end, didn’t.  Her training had reached the point of disembarkation and she had to get off.

Ahead of her, Corinne and her friend Daisy were strolling as they had nowhere else to be, and for Felicity, it was frustrating because if anyone looked closely, they would see that she was following them.

Which she was.

And, at the same time, keeping an eye out for the boy who had been following her, the one who had been carrying her photograph in his back pocket.

It gave Felicity enough time to profile Daisy, her friend, and to note from the outset, it was an odd pairing.  Daisy was the complete opposite to Corinne who was at best prim and proper where Daisy looked, to put it bluntly, like a prostitute.  Perhaps that was her form of rebellion because Felicity had checked her out, and her parents were as wealthy as Corinne's, without the attached scandal.

Perhaps Corinne lived her vicarious side through Daisy.

It wasn’t until they were on the University grounds that Felicity finally saw the boy, and it looked like he hadn’t seen Corinne, possibly because he was with a classmate because there didn’t seem to be that air of friends about them.

The two girls headed for the cafeteria and that’s when the boy noticed her, spoke briefly to another boy, and then moved quickly towards the café too.  Felicity hastened her pace too, managing to get to the door the same time Corinne and Daisy were walking away from the counter with cups of coffee.

They sat at a nearby table, and the boy decided against getting a coffee, sat further away, but close enough to keep an eye on them.

Felicity wandered over to his table and stood looking down at him.  “Mind if I sit down here?”

“There are other places.”

“You’re a rude fellow, aren’t you?”  She ignored him and sat down opposite him, putting herself between him and Corinne.

“Don’t you understand plain English?”

He went to stand when she said, “Sit down or I’ll scream, and then you’ll have to deal with the campus police.”

Half out of his seat, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.  Think you can handle a charge of sexual assault?”

He sat down.

“What’s your problem.  What did I do to you?”

“It’s what you’re doing to a friend of mine, that one you’ve been following.”  She took the photograph he had dropped and put it on the table in front of him.  “What did she do to you?”

“Who are you, her sister?”

“I work with her brother, who is a private detective.  I’ve already alerted the police to your interest in Corinne, so if you don’t want me to call the detective in charge of the case, you want to tell me what your interest is, and be damn quick about it.”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

“You’re following her.  I’m willing to be she doesn’t know you, that’s stalking, and an offense.”

“She’s in one of my classes.  I asked around and she comes from the upper west side, a girl far out of my league.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what.  I don’t believe you; I think you’re working for someone who wants to cause her trouble.  So, I’m going to be hereabouts watching you, some days you’ll see me, some says you won’t.  But if I see you doing anything, or anything untoward happens to her, you’re the first person the police are coming after.  As I said, I’ve told the appropriate people and they know who you are, so you want to hope nothing happens to her.”

She stood, and noticed Corinne and Daisy also leaving.

“You try and have a nice day.”

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Case 2 - Episode 26 - Dancing with the devil, sorry, Harry's mother

Harry opened the front door, and his mother was standing in front of it, key in hand ready to put in the lock.

A look of astonishment crossed her face when she saw him.  “What are you doing here?”  It was a question that was quite blunt, the result of her unwanted surprise.

“You asked me to investigate the disappearance of your husband, and this is one of the logical steps in that investigation.”

She glared at him, then brushed her way past, yelling out to Maria in much the same manner someone would call a dog.

Maria came out of the rear just in time to collect the fur coat just before it hit the ground.

“Tea?” Maria asked?

“For two, in the morning room.”

She swiveled around as Maria left the room and glared at Harry.  “We need to talk.”  Equally abruptly, she headed towards the morning room, and Harry followed like a hapless puppy.

The morning room was his favorite in the apartment, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, and for many years, the breakfast room when sustenance was taken on before heading to school.

Those years seemed carefree, though he had never realized the importance of them at the time.  Only when he had finished school and moved out had he realized what he was missing.  Now he was lucky to get breakfast or see Central Park in summer or winter.

“Sit,“ his mother barked.  They sat at either end of the long table.

She gave him several minutes to take in the view and consider his answers, even though he didn’t know the questions.  At times it was difficult to know who scared him the most, his mother or his father.

“What progress have you made?”

A simple question with no double meanings.  They would come later.

“Who is Emile Florenz?”  A dangerous start to the briefing, particularly if he meant something to her.

“Why do you want to know about him?  He’s just a golfing partner of your father's.  I assume you have spoken to him.”

“Not yet.  You have though.”  He looked up, and she was looking straight at him, eyes blazing.

“Have I?  How could you know who I talk to?”

“You might want to reconsider the notion that if you were thinking you’d put a fool in charge of the investigation because you don’t really want to know, or care, where he is, you’d better think again.”

A statement he never thought he’d have the courage to say, and was, in a sense, almost blurted out.  Perhaps he knew that the only way he’d get answers was to come straight for her.

“I don’t think of you as incompetent if that’s what you think.”

“I do.”

“Why would I hire you then?”

Why indeed.  It was something he’d thought about on the way over, and the only reason was that she didn’t want him to succeed.  The idea of her and Florenz together, that surprised him, despite the fact he knew she was as good at having affairs as his father.

Perhaps it angered him.  But it was a bit hypocritical because he could sanction those of his father and not of his mother.  Neither was setting a good example for their children.

“Don’t start answering questions with questions.  Florenz was your flame at University.  I’m going to be digging deeper, are there any other surprises I might find?”

“It depends on how deep you dig.”

“Either of you put a contract on him?”

Maria arrived with a tray with the tea and shortbread biscuits.  The tea service was 18th-century bone china, which I would have locked away in a safe rather than be drinking out of, and I would have to be careful not to drop my cup.

She poured the tea, passed me a cup, and waited until Maria left the room, pulling the double doors closed behind her.

“No.  I am married to your father, that’s non-negotiable.  I fuck Emile because it makes me feel good and it’s none of your business.  There are others, I don’t expect you to understand, nor do I care.  We have an arrangement.  It works.  I’m careful, he isn’t.  How did you find out?”

“I’m a private investigator.  If you have any secrets, I’ll discover them.”

“There’s nothing to find out that’s useful in finding him.  There are two other golf partners, and no, I don’t fuck them, there’s some law society he goes on conferences with, they’re just booze and prostitutes, and he intermittently plays poker with some more salubrious types.  Find his phone, or tap into it, it might give you some leads.”

All good information, he thought and would be on his list had he thought of it.  He took out his notebook and made some notes.

“Now that’s done, who the hell was the girl in your office that said she was your girlfriend?”

----

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Case 2 - Episode 25 - Harry investigates the study

 The door was closed.  It was always closed, the one room in the apartment where it was forbidden to go, which is why Harry had ignored common-sense, and his father's specific orders.  He was a 'curiosity killed the cat' sort of person, always had been.

He tried the door.  Locked.  Of course, it explained why Maria was not overly worried about him going on.  She knew that it was locked.

But not an obstacle for the intrepid private investigator.  If his father ever asked him how he was so adroit at opening locked doors Harry would have told him, it was all the practice he got opening this door in front of him.

And before a minute had passed, he was inside, and the door closed and relocked behind him.

The Harry stood, just inside the door, soaking up the aroma of old leather, carpet cleaner, and air freshener, slightly on the must side because there were no windows or access to fresh air.  And when there was no air conditioning, it was stiflingly hot.

The desk was a turn of the century, that is eighteenth century, oak creation that was a family heirloom, though given the little mountains of wood dust, it was probably being eaten by white ants and one day crumble before his father's eyes.

Harry had found the dust when hiding under it one time when his father came home early and nearly caught him.  It would have been discovered if Maria was allowed to clean in there, but she wasn't, so nothing had been done about the problem.

The desktop was clear, the same as it was at work.  If there was anything to be found it would be in the drawers, and from experience he knew they too would be locked.

Enough with the memories, Harry thought, time to get to work, before Maria realized, he was missing.

He sat in the chair behind the desk, and shuddered, a bad feeling coming over him.  It was like his father's ghost was in the room.  

There were four drawers on either side, three narrow, one, the bottom, much larger.  He tried each of the drawers and discovered the bottom two were open, one on the left empty, and on the right, a bottle and three glasses.  He picked the bottle up and found it to be a very old scotch whiskey, the sort his grandfather drank.

Another secret; Harry used to sneak into his grandfather’s study, and have a drink of the whiskey, not hidden from view, and read some of the old books his grandfather kept in glass-doored shelves.  No doubt the black witch had sold them off the moment the old man died.  That, and everything else worth anything.

His grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he knew just how mercenary all of his family had become.

He passed over the opportunity to have a drink and worked on the first draw, top left.  It took two minutes, longer than he expected.

Inside?  Nothing of consequence, a few papers relating to the apartment, and a sheaf of accounts held together with a paper clip.  Harry shuffled through them and, near the bottom, he found one stamped 'overdue'.  A closer look at some others above and below it showed they were also overdue but spared the garish red stamp of disapproval.

Apparently, the family was experiencing cash flow problems, something, Harry suspected, his mother knew nothing about.  She had, he knew, made a point of letting him manage the family's finances so there'd never be arguments about money.

So, it raised a question, where was all the family fortune.  Last he was told, the Walthenson’s were worth in excess of 250 million dollars, excluding the property portfolio which included the apartment, and a weekender in the Hamptons.

He put the papers back in the drawer and relocked it.

Next was the top drawer on the right, a little easier to open, but sticking when he pulled on it.  The wood had warped, and it took some gentle coaxing to open it halfway, enough to discover the only item in it was a diary.

Harry shuffled through the pages to the date when his father disappeared.

'Lunch with EF and BA'

Going backward from that date, there were a number of similar entries only the initials changing.  It might help to write down the initials and try to marry them back to real people.  If possible.

He then spent five minutes going through cupboards, looking for some paper and a pen, neither of which were in the top drawers, where one would expect to find them.

None.  Five minutes wasted.  He opened the next drawer of the left.   Of course, that's where the stationery would be.   He quickly wrote down as many of the initials and the dates as he could then replace it.  No notes on where he was meeting them, just who and when.

Perhaps his work diary might be more forthcoming.

The other drawers had nothing of consequence, and certainly, nothing to help find him, just more evidence that he was in some financial difficulty.  Harry wondered if his mother knew, or the two brothers.  Or was personal and business separate? 

Another question to ask at the office.

Done, leaving the room as he'd found it, he took a last look around the room, took a moment to guess where a safe might be, and looking, proved he was wrong, then left.

Maria was nowhere in sight when he came out, so rather than see her, and answer any difficult questions, he headed to the front door to pet himself out.

Pity, then, it was exactly the same time his mother chose to return.

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Case 2 - Episode 24 - Harry goes home

 Standing outside the front door of the apartment he used to call home, there were mixed emotions running through his mind.  The rather strange childhood, well, compared to other children of his age at junior school, leaving home to go to college, and then the argument that made it impossible to stay.

His father's expectations were not the same as Harry's even though he'd done as he promised, going to law school, and working in his father's practice.  But law just wasn't Harry's thing, well, that side of the law, which he discovered was more about defending the criminals, not prosecuting them.

It was a lucrative occupation, proof of what was just beyond that door held ajar for those who wanted to pass through it, to the multi-million-dollar apartments and the trappings that come with it, that life his family called home.

Would his mother be home?  At that hour of the day, he suspected not, though he never really knew, nor had he ever known, what she did with her day.  

As far back as he could remember, neither of his parents had ever spoken about their day over dinner, in fact, dinner was always a somber affair and none of the five children could wait to leave the oppressive atmosphere at the table.

Yes, Harry thought, it was surprising how quickly the bad memories came flooding back the moment he outside that front door.

Not having a key, forced to surrender it after the conflagration with his father, he was reduced to pushing the button for the chime that would summon the maid.

The door opened.  Maria.  She was not a live-in maid, but one that came early and left late, what Harry always believed to be a thankless job.  Even so, it was one she had been doing since he was about five.

"Master Harry."

He was the only one of the four boys she referred to as master for some reason.

"Maria.  How are you?"

"I am well.  Your parents are not here."

"I'm not here to see them.  May I come in?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, most likely wrestling with a command from either of his parents not to let him cross the threshold, the pariah of the family to be viewed with suspicion.

Then, with a shake of her head, she stepped to one side, saying, "Of course."

He was, after all, still a Walthenson.

He passed by her and waited until she closed the door.  Just crossing the threshold, he felt like he had been transported to a different world, one where opulence was everywhere, the mainstay, the ten-million-dollar painting on the foyer wall, setting the gold plate standard.

Notwithstanding the fact, it had a gold-plated frame.  Harry hated it, mainly because it was garish, but also because he didn’t understand what it represented.  No one did.  A needless trinket, his mother had said when she first saw it, but a good investment.  

To her, everything had a monetary value.  Everything.

"Why are you here, Master Harry?  It is not something I will get into trouble for, is it?"

She had every reason to ask because it would not be the first time she had suffered because of his actions.  A regret he could not make up for

"No.  My mother has asked me to find Mr. Walthenson.  Apparently, he's gone missing, well, in her eyes he's missing, but he could be just on another of his, er, you know what I mean."

By the expression on her face, she didn’t know what he meant.  She had always been grateful for the job he had given her and would brook no bad words about him.  "No one has told me anything.  The Mistress never tells me anything.  For my own protection, she says."

"And probably the best course of action for her.  I suspect she has secrets of her own, which, I emphasize, I don't want to know about. Do you have any idea where my father has gone?"

"Me.  No.  I know better than to ask either of them anything.  I just do as I'm told."

"Ok.  Then I'll just go and have a look in the study, just in case he left a clue to his whereabouts, or what he was working on."

"So long as it does not cause trouble.  And leave it the way you found it.  Both are very particular about that room.  No dusting, no cleaning, no entry."  She shook her head, walking towards the kitchen at the rear.  "I don't want to know."

Harry didn't blame her.  His father's wrath was not something you wanted raining down on you, a fate Harry was well acquainted with.

And it was a room he tried extremely hard to keep out of, as indeed had his brothers and sister.  A summons to the study was like standing in court waiting for the death sentence.

It took a moment to collect his courage, then walk towards the double door entrance.

© Charles Heath 2020-2021

Case 2 - Episode 23 - Felicity drops in on Harry

 Harry ordered in.  Felicity was coming and he knew she liked either pizza or Chinese.  They had Chinese the last time, and she had made him feel bad when she displayed her dexterity with chopsticks, so this time it would be pizza.

He had made the acquaintance of the pizzeria owner just up the road very early on, mainly because he had a passion for authentic Italian pizzas, like those he had eaten on one of several holidays his mother had taken him and his brothers on.

The owner was Italian, and his pizzas were almost authentic.

He was musing on the idea of going back to Italy, and if she would go with him, he’d take Felicity.  She had yet to experience the charms of Italy herself, and there was a relative who lived in the heart of Tuscany who had recently issued an invitation.

After this case.

The front door rattled as Felicity closed it and flipped the lock.  There would be no more leaving the door open or unlocked in the wake of his previous experience.

Felicity had the pizza boxes in her hand.  “The delivery boy was outside the door when I got there.  These the famous Italian specials?”

“Salami, Cabanossi, pepperoni, mozzarella, chili, peppers, olives, and I forget the rest.  You’ll love it.”

The aroma had followed her into the room.  She dropped the boxes on his desk and pulled up a chair.  A plastic carry bag she had put beside the desk on the floor had a six-pack of Peroni beer, and she took two out and handed him one/

“Italian beer, we’re going all out,” he said, taking the bottle opener out of the top drawer and passing to her.”

“If we do this, we have to set the mood.”

“Wouldn’t we need a full moon?  You know, the moon in the sky is like a big pizza pie, etcetera, etcetera.”

“Is this your version of a romantic night in?”

“It could be.”  Harry hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but it was a possibility.

In fact, he hadn’t been thinking of her in a romantic sense because he was not quite sure what her feelings were on the subject.  It was not something they’d discussed lately.

She lifted the lid on both boxes and took in the aroma.  Having not eaten for hours, her stomach was rumbling.

They ate.

It was not a dish that could foster dialog while eating, and both wanted to get a few slices down before it got cold.  Not that there was anything wrong with cold pizza, it was just he preferred it hot.

Then, when one bottle of beer was gone, and another appeared on the table, it was time to talk.

“I got your cryptic message.  Evidently, my mother is a flirt?”

“She’s more than that with Florenz.  In my research, I found a picture of them together, back in University days, and they were a hot item.  I might be misreading the signs, but they still are.  Perhaps he bumped your father off.”

“I don’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t think he would.  He’s never been a match for my mother, he just does as he’s told, so she’d just screw Florenz and forget to tell him.”

“If he found out?”

“I doubt they’d break up the gold foursome, though I could imagine some crackling conversations on the golf course.”

“You don’t sound surprised your mother is having an affair.”

“I doubt it’s one.  But no.  She’s rich, smart, and more sophisticated than he is.  I always believed she married him because he got her pregnant and was probably honorable once.  I don’t think we should discuss this in from of Corinne.”

“No.  I’m going to visit her again in the next day or so, and make sure she’s safe.”  She didn’t mention the boy who was tailing her, or that she had discussed it with Sykes.  “I just visited a lowlife Willy Blines brother of equally lowlife Theo, the guy I shot.  Seems they’re still mixed up with that plot at the docks.  At the moment the plot is the least of our problems.  How are you going with the missing father?”

“Slowly.  I’m going home to do some snooping, a task that can only be performed when my mother is not there.  But if she turns up later, I will ask her about Florenz.”

“Be careful with that.”

“I will.  I do know how to conduct interrogations.”

“She’s your mother, Harry.  Interrogation indeed.”

Yes, he thought, the thought of interrogating his mother was a little daunting, that was if he got her co-operation.

A change of subject, after another slice.  It was, she thought, excellent pizza, but, then, she had been starving.  “What do you know about Shawville and Argeter?”

“They are familiar names.  Dad’s golf partners, the other two of the four, with Florenz.  WE need to talk to them too, I guess.”

“I’ll find out who they are and where they are.  Now, no more work talk.  Let’s finish the pizza, have some more beer, and talk about where you’re going to take me for our anniversary?”

Anniversary?  What anniversary?  Like most men he hadn’t kept track of women might consider important dates, like when they first me, when they started working together, anything really.  It was the casual nature of their relationship.  Best to act as if he knew what she was talking about.  “Of course.”

© Charles Heath 2020-2021