The first case of PI Walthenson – “A Case of Working With the Jones Brothers”

This case has everything, red herrings, jealous brothers, femme fatales, and at the heart of it all, greed.

See below for an excerpt from the book…

Coming soon!

PIWalthJones1

An excerpt from the book:

When Harry took the time to consider his position, a rather uncomfortable position at that, he concluded that he was somehow involved in another case that meant very little to him.

Not that it wasn’t important in some way he was yet to determine, it was just that his curiosity had got the better of him, and it had led to this: sitting in a chair, securely bound, waiting for someone one of his captors had called Doug.

It was not the name that worried him so much, it was the evil laugh that had come after the name was spoken.

Doug what? Doug the ‘destroyer’, Doug the ‘dangerous’, Doug the ‘deadly’; there was any number of sinister connotations, and perhaps that was the point of the laugh, to make it more frightening than it was.

But there was no doubt about one thing in his mind right then: he’d made a mistake. A very big. and costly, mistake. Just how big the cost, no doubt he would soon find out.

His mother, and his grandmother, the wisest person he had ever known, had once told him never to eavesdrop.

At the time he couldn’t help himself and instead of minding his own business, listening to a one-sided conversation which ended with a time and a place. The very nature of the person receiving the call was, at the very least, sinister, and, because of the cryptic conversation, there appeared to be, or at least to Harry, criminal activity involved.

For several days he had wrestled with the thought of whether he should go. Stay on the fringe, keep out of sight, observe and report to the police if it was a crime. Instead, he had willingly gone down the rabbit hole.

Now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, several heat lamps hanging over his head, he was perspiring, and if perspiration could be used as a measure of fear, then Harry’s fear was at the highest level.

Another runnel of sweat rolled into his left eye, and, having his hands tied, literally, it made it impossible to clear it. The burning sensation momentarily took his mind off his predicament. He cursed and then shook his head trying to prevent a re-occurrence. It was to no avail.

Let the stinging sensation be a reminder of what was right and what was wrong.

It was obvious that it was the right place and the right time, but in considering his current perilous situation, it definitely was the wrong place to be, at the worst possible time.

It was meant to be his escape, an escape from the generations of lawyers, what were to Harry, dry, dusty men who had been in business since George Washington said to the first Walthenson to step foot on American soil, ‘Why don’t you become a lawyer?” when asked what he could do for the great man.

Or so it was handed down as lore, though Harry didn’t think Washington meant it literally, the Walthenson’s, then as now, were not shy of taking advice.

Except, of course, when it came to Harry.

He was, Harry’s father was prone to saying, the exception to every rule. Harry guessed his father was referring to the fact his son wanted to be a Private Detective rather than a dry, dusty lawyer. Just the clothes were enough to turn Harry off the profession.

So, with a little of the money Harry inherited from one of his aunts, he leased an office in Gramercy Park and had it renovated to look like the Sam Spade detective agency, you know the one, Spade and Archer, and The Maltese Falcon.

There’s a movie and a book by Dashiell Hammett if you’re interested.

So, there it was, painted on the opaque glass inset of the front door, ‘Harold Walthenson, Private Detective’.

There was enough money to hire an assistant, and it took a week before the right person came along, or, more to the point, didn’t just see his business plan as something sinister. Ellen, a tall cool woman in a long black dress, or so the words of a song in his head told him, fitted in perfectly.

She’d seen the movie, but she said with a grin, Harry was no Humphrey Bogart.

Of course not, he said, he didn’t smoke.

Three months on the job, and it had been a few calls, no ‘real’ cases, nothing but missing animals, and other miscellaneous items. What he really wanted was a missing person. Or perhaps a beguiling, sophisticated woman who was as deadly as she was charming, looking for an errant husband, perhaps one that she had already ‘dispatched’.

Or for a tall, dark and handsome foreigner who spoke in riddles and in heavily accented English, a spy, or perhaps an assassin, in town to take out the mayor. The man was such an imbecile Harry had considered doing it himself.

Now, in a back room of a disused warehouse, that wishful thinking might be just about to come to a very abrupt end, with none of the romanticized trappings of the business befalling him. No beguiling women, no sinister criminals, no stupid policemen.

Just a nasty little man whose only concern was how quickly or how slowly Harry’s end was going to be.

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to go on a treasure hunt – Episode 19

Here’s the thing…

Every time I close my eyes, I see something different.

I’d like to think the cinema of my dreams is playing a double feature but it’s a bit like a comedy cartoon night on Fox.

But these dreams are nothing to laugh about.

Once again there’s a new instalment of an old feature, and we’re back on the treasure hunt.

And the perils of writing on the fly often leads to back revisions to aid moving forward, and this is one of those occasions. A few revisions were required.

Short of jumping over the side, there was no way we were getting away. And judging from the expression on Rico’s face, now very plain to see halfway along the pier, he was not happy to see us.

Boggs stepped off the deck and joined me on the pier, just as Rico made it to where we were standing, just as it started in a gentle up and down motion with the water, churned up by a passing speed boat, but it was fear rather than the pier’s motions making me feel sick.

The sound of another boat caused me to glance in the opposite direction, out towards the sandbar, where I could see another large boat coming in our direction very quickly, and by the shape of it, quite possibly a police launch or the coast guard.

Rico had seen it too. “What have you done?”

“I called the police,” I said, trying to act braver than I felt. Even with the police on their way, Rico could still do something we’d all regret.

“Why?”

Movement by the fishing store caught my eye, and I saw it was two of the men who’d left the boat with Rico earlier, retreating. They’d seen the situation and were retreating. A police car with its siren blaring and lights flashing just stopped at the entrance to the pier and two officers were getting out, guns in hand.

Those men would getaway. Rico had seen them too and looked relieved. Odd for a man about to find himself in a lot of trouble.

Boggs blurted out, “There’s a dead body in the cabin.”

Rico shook his head. “That’s not possible. I’ve been gone for an hour and it isn’t possible he put himself there.”

He looked around to see the officers coming from the land side of the pier. There was no escape for him, or for us, but this could still end up a sticky situation for us if Rico decided to shoot his way out. Boggs said he owned a gun, and if it was not on him, it might be in the boat.

Rico climbed on board and then moved to the hatch. He lifted the hatch cover and folded it back to show an opening into the cabin. It hadn’t been locked; it just looked like it was. Just as the officers made it to the boat, he stepped in, then down into the cabin.

A minute later, when he came up Rico looked visibly shaken like he’d seen a ghost.

The police launch had arrived just off the stern, kicking up the water and causing the boat and pier to rock violently, two men at either end ready to secure their boat to ours. The land-based officers also arrived, somewhat out of breath, to join Boggs and I on the pier.

I recognised the officer who appeared to be in charge, a man called Johnson, the police chief’s deputy. He was known to shoot first and ask questions later. What worried me the most, he had his gun drawn and ready to shoot.

He looked at me, Rico, Boggs, then back to me. “What’s this all about?”

“There’s a body in the cabin,” Boggs said before I could say a word, still sounding very frightened, but whether it was the body in the cabin, Rico’s fury at his meddling or the fact the police were involved was hard to say.

He switched his glare to Rico. “That true?”

Rico nodded. “I don’t know where it came from, but it wasn’t there an hour ago.” A last look back at the cabin, he stepped off the boat onto the pier.

The seaman aboard the police launch slipped a rope over the bollard at the rear of our boat and then jumped on board to secure it. Another seaman did the same at the bow. Two more jumped on board, one covering Rico and the other going into the cabin.

When he came back up on deck he was talking into his cell phone.

I think Rico had a lot of explaining to do.

“One Last Look”, nothing is what it seems

A single event can have enormous consequences.

A single event driven by fate, after Ben told his wife Charlotte he would be late home one night, he left early, and by chance discovers his wife having dinner in their favourite restaurant with another man.

A single event where it could be said Ben was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Who was this man? Why was she having dinner with him?

A simple truth to explain the single event was all Ben required. Instead, Charlotte told him a lie.

A single event that forces Ben to question everything he thought he knew about his wife, and the people who are around her.

After a near-death experience and forced retirement into a world he is unfamiliar with, Ben finds himself once again drawn back into that life of lies, violence, and intrigue.

From London to a small village in Tuscany, little by little Ben discovers who the woman he married is, and the real reason why fate had brought them together.

It is available on Amazon here: http://amzn.to/2CqUBcz

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 22

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritising.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

An unlikely ally?

When we were far enough away, not far from the bridge that crossed the Thames towards the Houses of Parliament, and with the London Eye in the foreground, I slackened my pace. There were enough people around to afford us cover if Maury and his team realised quickly enough what we had done to escape.

“What now?” she asked.

“Go back to your people, tell them you’ve been compromised, but only on the basis that your flat was tossed, don’t mention Nobbin or Severin unless you feel compelled you have to, and make sure you don’t go back to the flat. Both of them will have it staked out by now.”

“And what are you doing to do?”

“Try and play them off against each other, which probably won’t work. I’m not nearly good enough at this caper yet. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to talk to both of them and tell them I’m onto McConnell, though that will hardly be a surprise to either of them. After that, find somewhere safe to figure out what to do next.”

“Who was that back at the station?”

“A chap called Maury, and I think he’s one of Severin’s hatchet men. He was one of those who trained me and several others.”

“You do realise what you’re saying?”

“That my situation is so screwed up, yes, I know.”

It was when I stopped to think about it. Trained by a rogue group no one knew about, or so they said, and transferred to another group, but not told about it, well, not officially, anyway.

“Maybe we should keep each other’s back. I mean, if what you say is true, if I go back to my people and tell them about this, it’s likely I’ll be putting a target on my back too.”

True. I had considered that, but not that we might team up. It would introduce a third group to the game, and it might be one too many, or act as a catalyst leading to catastrophic consequences.

“What are you saying?” I asked her, just in case I was misinterpreting what she was saying.

“I’m not safe, you’re not safe, together we might be. I might have something useful about O’Connell, but I wouldn’t know if it was useful of not. You at least know what to look for, and basically who to avoid. Who knows, we might make a great team.”

We might. But it would have to be predicated on trust, and, right now, I was not sure if I could trust her. That pen thing, she might have precipitated it, and was working with Severin. It seemed logical in the circumstances.

But what was that saying, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? I’d soon find out.

“Ok. What do you think we should do first?”

“Find a hotel, an obscure one, nearby, and you call your so-called friends, and see what happens, as you said.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

And, I thought to myself, ideal for her if she was insinuating herself into my world, much the same as she had in O’Connell’s case. In was now in my nature to suspect everyone and everything, because a few words of one lesson came back to haunt me. We trust people because we instinctively want to believe them, and in this line of work, the people we come across are good and sincere storytellers.

It was a question of how much truth they weaved into their story, that made it believable. I wanted to believe her, but the facts, circumstantial or otherwise, pointed me in the other direction.

I would have to wait and see and make sure I was prepared for the worst.

It was Jan’s idea t stay near the Charing Cross station in a hotel that I would not normally stay in because of the cost. I let Jan do the check-in and when we arrived at the room, I discovered she hadn’t booked two rooms, but a Studio Suite with two single beds and a sofa bed.

Apparently, we were brother and sister, which made sense after I had overheard some of the conversation with the check-in clerk. I didn’t hear what her excuse was for lack of luggage. Perhaps the airline had lost it, but I had to admit the girl could think on her feet.

Once inside the room, it felt cramped, but the beds looked comfortable, and it had a minibar.

“Before you make any calls, you need to disable the GPS in your phone.”

“They’ll still be able to track it.”

“Not if you are on it for a short period, and we are outside the hotel.”

Well, before that I need a drink.”

“So, do I. Give me a minute to freshen up and we’ll go down to the bar. It’ll be a lot cheaper than the minibar. Then I think we both need to get some supplies.”

I wondered if this is what it was like to be married.

An excerpt from “Sunday in New York”

Now available on Amazon at: https://amzn.to/2H7ALs8

…

Williams’ Restaurant, East 65^th Street, New York, Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

We met the Blaine’s at Williams’, a rather upmarket restaurant that the Blaine’s frequently visited, and had recommended.

Of course, during the taxi ride there, Alison reminded me that with my new job, we would be able to go to many more places like Williams’. It was, at worst, more emotional blackmail, because as far as Alison was concerned, we were well on our way to posh restaurants, the Trump Tower Apartments, and the trappings of the ‘executive set’.

It would be a miracle if I didn’t strangle Elaine before the night was over. It was she who had filled Alison’s head with all this stuff and nonsense.

Aside from the half frown half-smile, Alison was looking stunning. It was months since she had last dressed up, and she was especially wearing the dress I’d bought her for our 5^th anniversary that cost a month’s salary. On her, it was worth it, and I would have paid more if I had to. She had adored it, and me, for a week or so after.

For tonight, I think I was close to getting back on that pedestal.

She had the looks and figure to draw attention, the sort movie stars got on the red carpet, and when we walked into the restaurant, I swear there were at least five seconds silence, and many more gasps.

Even I had a sudden loss of breath earlier in the evening when she came out of the dressing room. Once more I was reminded of how lucky I was that she had agreed to marry me. Amid all those self-doubts, I couldn’t believe she had loved me when there were so many others ‘out there’ who were more appealing.

Elaine was out of her seat and came over just as the Head Waiter hovered into sight. She personally escorted Alison to the table, allowing me to follow like the Queen’s consort, while she and Alison basked in the admiring glances of the other patrons.

More than once I heard the muted question, “Who is she?”

Jimmy stood, we shook hands, and then we sat together. It was not the usual boy, girl, boy, girl seating arrangement. Jimmy and I on one side and Elaine and Alison on the other.

The battle lines were drawn.

Jimmy was looking fashionable, with the permanent blade one beard, unkempt hair, and designer dinner suit that looked like he’d slept in it. Alison insisted I wear a tuxedo, and I looked like the proverbial penguin or just a thinner version of Alfred Hitchcock.

The bow tie had been slightly crooked, but just before we stepped out she had straightened it. And took the moment to look deeply into my soul. It was one of those moments when words were not necessary.

Then it was gone.

I relived it briefly as I sat and she looked at me. A penetrating look that told me to ‘behave’.

When we were settled, Elaine said, in that breathless, enthusiastic manner of hers when she was excited, “So, Harry, you are finally moving up.” It was not a question, but a statement.

I was not sure what she meant by ‘finally’ but I accepted it with good grace. Sometimes Elaine was prone to using figures of speech I didn’t understand. I guessed she was talking about the new job. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

She smiled widely. “There are no secrets between Al and I, are there Al?”

I looked at ‘Al’ and saw a brief look of consternation.

I was not sure Alison liked the idea of being called Al. I tried it once and was admonished. But it was interesting her ‘best friend forever’ was allowed that distinction when I was not. It was, perhaps, another indicator of how far I’d slipped in her estimation.

Perhaps, I thought, it was a necessary evil. As I understood it, the Blaine’s were our mentors at the Trump Tower, because they didn’t just let ‘anyone’ in. I didn’t ask if the Blaine’s thought we were just ‘anyone’ before I got the job offer.

And then there was that look between Alison and Elaine, quickly stolen before Alison realized I was looking at both of them. I was out of my depth, in a place I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t understand. And yet, apparently, Alison did. I must have missed the memo.

“No,” Alison said softly, stealing a glance in my direction, “No secrets between friends.”

No secrets. Her look conveyed something else entirely.

The waiter brought champagne, Krug, and poured glasses for each of us. It was not the cheap stuff, and I was glad I brought a couple of thousand dollars with me. We were going to need it.

Then, a toast.

To a new job and a new life.

“When did you decide?” Elaine was effusive at the best of times, but with the champagne, it was worse.

Alison had a strange expression on her face. It was obvious she had told Elaine it was a done deal, even before I’d made up my mind. Perhaps she’d assumed I might be ‘refreshingly honest’ in front of Elaine, but it could also mean she didn’t really care what I might say or do.

Instead of consternation, she looked happy, and I realized it would be churlish, even silly if I made a scene. I knew what I wanted to say. I also knew that it would serve little purpose provoking Elaine, or upsetting Alison. This was not the time or the place. Alison had been looking forward to coming here, and I was not going to spoil it.

Instead, I said, smiling, “When I woke up this morning and found Alison missing. If she had been there, I would not have noticed the water stain on the roof above our bed, and decide there and then how much I hated the place.” I used my reassuring smile, the one I used with the customers when all hell was breaking loose, and the forest fire was out of control. “It’s the little things. They all add up until one day …” I shrugged. “I guess that one day was today.”

I saw an incredulous look pass between Elaine and Alison, a non-verbal question; perhaps, is he for real? Or; I told you he’d come around.

I had no idea the two were so close.

“How quaint,” Elaine said, which just about summed up her feelings towards me. I think, at that moment, I lost some brownie points. It was all I could come up with at short notice.

“Yes,” I added, with a little more emphasis than I wanted. “Alison was off to get some study in with one of her friends.”

“Weren’t the two of you off to the Hamptons, a weekend with some friends?” Jimmy piped up, and immediately got the ‘shut up you fool’ look, that cut that line of conversation dead. Someone forgot to feed Jimmy his lines.

It was followed by the condescending smile from Elaine, and “I need to powder my nose. Care to join me, Al?”

A frown, then a forced smile for her new best friend. “Yes.”

I watched them leave the table and head in the direction of the restroom, looking like they were in earnest conversation. I thought ‘Al’ looked annoyed, but I could be wrong.

I had to say Jimmy looked more surprised than I did.

There was that odd moment of silence between us, Jimmy still smarting from his death stare, and for me, the Alison and Elaine show. I was quite literally gob-smacked.

I drained my champagne glass gathering some courage and turned to him. “By the way, we were going to have a weekend away, but this legal tutorial thing came up. You know Alison is doing her law degree.”

He looked startled when he realized I had spoken. He was looking intently at a woman several tables over from us, one who’d obviously forgotten some basic garments when getting dressed. Or perhaps it was deliberate. She’d definitely had some enhancements done.

He dragged his eyes back to me. “Yes. Elaine said something or other about it. But I thought she said the tutor was out of town and it had been postponed until next week. Perhaps I got it wrong. I usually do.”

“Perhaps I’ve got it wrong.” I shrugged, as the dark thoughts started swirling in my head again. “This week or next, what does it matter?”

Of course, it mattered to me, and I digested what he said with a sinking heart. It showed there was another problem between Alison and me; it was possible she was now telling me lies. If what he said was true and I had no reason to doubt him, where was she going tomorrow morning, and had she really been with a friend studying today?

We poured some more champagne, had a drink, then he asked, “This promotion thing, what’s it worth?”

“Trouble, I suspect. Definitely more money, but less time at home.”

“Oh,” raised eyebrows. Obviously, the women had not talked about the job in front of him, or, at least, not all the details. “You sure you want to do that?”

At last the voice of reason. “Me? No.”

“Yet you accepted the job.”

I sucked in a breath or two while I considered whether I could trust him. Even if I couldn’t, I could see my ship was sinking, so it wouldn’t matter what I told him, or what Elaine might find out from him. “Jimmy, between you and me I haven’t as yet decided one way or another. To be honest, I won’t know until I go up to Barclay’s office and he asks me the question.”

“Barclay?”

“My boss.”

“Elaine’s doing a job for a Barclay that recently moved in the tower a block down from us. I thought I recognized the name.”

“How did Elaine get the job?”

“Oh, Alison put him onto her.”

“When?”

“A couple of months ago. Why?”

I shrugged and tried to keep a straight face, while my insides were churning up like the wake of a supertanker. I felt sick, faint, and wanting to die all at the same moment. “Perhaps she said something about it, but it didn’t connect at the time. Too busy with work I expect. I think I seriously need to get away for a while.”

I could hardly breathe, my throat was constricted and I knew I had to keep it together. I could see Elaine and Alison coming back, so I had to calm down. I sucked in some deep breaths, and put my ‘manage a complete and utter disaster’ look on my face.

And I had to change the subject, quickly, so I said, “Jimmy, Elaine told Alison, who told me, you were something of a guru of the cause and effects of the global economic meltdown. Now, I have a couple of friends who have been expounding this theory …”

Like flicking a switch, I launched into the well-worn practice of ‘running a distraction’, like at work when we needed to keep the customer from discovering the truth. It was one of the things I was good at, taking over a conversation and pushing it in a different direction. It was salvaging a good result from an utter disaster, and if ever there was a time that it was required, it was right here, right now.

When Alison sat down and looked at me, she knew something had happened between Jimmy and I. I might have looked pale or red-faced, or angry or disappointed, it didn’t matter. If that didn’t seal the deal for her, the fact I took over the dining engagement did. She knew well enough the only time I did that was when everything was about to go to hell in a handbasket. She’d seen me in action before and had been suitably astonished.

But I got into gear, kept the champagne flowing and steered the conversation, as much as one could from a seasoned professional like Elaine, and, I think, in Jimmy’s eyes, he saw the battle lines and knew who took the crown on points. Neither Elaine nor Jimmy suspected anything, and if the truth be told, I had improved my stocks with Elaine. She was at times both surprised and interested, even willing to take a back seat.

Alison, on the other hand, tried poking around the edges, and, once when Elaine and Jimmy had got up to have a cigarette outside, questioned me directly. I chose to ignore her, and pretend nothing had happened, instead of telling her how much I was enjoying the evening.

She had her ‘secrets’. I had mine.

At the end of the evening, when I got up to go to the bathroom, I was physically sick from the pent up tension and the implications of what Jimmy had told me. It took a while for me to pull myself together; so long, in fact, Jimmy came looking for me. I told him I’d drunk too much champagne, and he seemed satisfied with that excuse. When I returned, both Alison and Elaine noticed how pale I was but neither made any comment.

It was a sad way to end what was supposed to be a delightful evening, which to a large degree it was for the other three. But I had achieved what I set out to do, and that was to play them at their own game, watching the deception, once I knew there was a deception, as warily as a cat watches its prey.

I had also discovered Jimmy’s real calling; a professor of economics at the same University Alison was doing her law degree. It was no surprise in the end, on a night where surprises abounded, that the world could really be that small.

We parted in the early hours of the morning, a taxi whisking us back to the Lower East Side, another taking the Blaine’s back to the Upper West Side. But, in our case, as Alison reminded me, it would not be for much longer. She showed concern for my health, asked me what was wrong. It took all the courage I could muster to tell her it was most likely something I ate and the champagne, and that I would be fine in the morning.

She could see quite plainly it was anything other than what I told her, but she didn’t pursue it. Perhaps she just didn’t care what I was playing at.

And yet, after everything that had happened, once inside our ‘palace’, the events of the evening were discarded, like her clothing, and she again reminded me of what we had together in the early years before the problems had set in.

It left me confused and lost.

I couldn’t sleep because my mind had now gone down that irreversible path that told me I was losing her, that she had found someone else, and that our marriage was in its last death throes.

And now I knew it had something to do with Barclay.

Sunday In New York

Writing a book about a book – Day 35

Time now to bring in the police and this is in the form of Chief Inspector Gator, an odd sort of man who fits the mold of those ubiquitous policemen who don’t look like policemen but have a very sharp mind.

I guess watching too many Columbo episodes has had an effect on me.

…

The police officer who came to interview Aitchison arrived as I was leaving. He nodded at me and announced himself as Chief Inspector Gator as I closed the door behind him. My only thought of him was that he didn’t look like a policeman, and didn’t give him another thought.

Merrilyn’s expression had transformed into one of dismay, like the moment the sun went behind a cloud, and no doubt the result of learning Richardson’s fate.

“Shocking news isn’t it?” she said.

“Not good for the company. Who found him?”

“One of the building security guards doing his rounds. He literally fell over him, or so I heard. There was a blackout or power failure and the lights failed to go back on. We have been advised it was something to do with a circuit breaker.”

“So there was power everywhere, except that floor?”

“I don’t know. But news has also just come through advising there was a burglary attempt in the basement computer storeroom. No one can tell if any equipment has been stolen yet. I’m sure you will be informed about it soon.”

“Another excuse for Benton to pester me,” I sighed. “Security must have had a rough night last night.”

“That, and pleading that they are understaffed. Mr. Aitchison thinks they are trying to use that as an excuse to draw attention away from their lack of responsibility.” She looked at me with a serious expression, and lowered her voice, “I have to organize an emergency board meeting, and to be honest, I don’t know where to start. On top of everything, Mr. Halligan is also dead, in tragic circumstances. I could not imagine dying at home, alone.”

“It’s a terrible business. By the way, I didn’t get that promotion. You were right. There’s a very long list ahead of me. Until I am summoned again, try not to let it upset you.”

She tried to smile, but her heart was not in it.

When I stepped into the elevator and reached for the 18th-floor button, I realized I had acquired a case of the shakes. Aitchison’s fear was infections, and perhaps I should have had a drink before I left his office.

As the doors closed, I felt a shiver go down my spine as a thought came into my head, the ramifications of which had many possibilities. In the greater scheme of things, it would not have registered, not until now.

There was an instance when this new, or other, network could have been installed.

Some months ago we had the telephone system re-engineered to move away from the conventional land-based systems offered by the major Telcos and moved to VOIP, a less expensive option. These new desktop phones, though looking exactly like those they replaced, used the network connection to run.

I had not been asked to supervise their installation, which had been done by a team of experts from the United States, flown out especially to do the work, and at the time, the whole building had been closed off for the entire weekend in order to carry it out. I came in, just to make sure nothing on our network system had been compromised, but it would have been a perfect opportunity to lay down the foundations of another system.

Whether it was the case or not, the installation crew had given me full access to look over their work, and I’d not seen any indications of anything other than the installation of the telephones. Of course, I was not looking for anything else, and it was possible they could install almost anything, and I would be none the wiser, simply because I was not a wiring expert. Even if I looked now, I was not sure what I’d be looking for.

And then there was the ongoing office refurbishment, where whole floors were being evacuated, gutted, and rebuilt. It had recently been our turn, but our renovation had one minor difference. The refurbishment had worked around the server room. It could not be moved or taken offline.

But during the renovation our movements to that floor and the server room had been restricted, and, at times, we had not been allowed near it.

Planned, coincidental, or something else.

Now away from Aitchison, I was able to think more rationally and consider the points he made.

It was common knowledge Halligan had a bad heart and scheduled to have surgery soon. His death would not surprise some considering his workload and stress factor, and it was understandable he could have died of a heart attack. The fact it had occurred now was probably the only reason why it appeared suspicious.

The question was, did Aitchison know more about Halligan than he was letting on?

The elevator arrived on my floor, and I sent those thoughts to the back of my mind. I’d worry about them later.

…

“Follow that cab…” – A short story

Nothing ever good comes from eavesdropping.

Or, so my mother said, once, with such feeling that I suspect she had some experience of having done so. It might explain the enmity between her and her older sister, the aunt we never saw.

Except all that changed when I received an odd email from a woman who claimed to be that very aunt.

We had all been warned about scams that came from dubious sources online, and this initially struck me as one. I would need more information before I answered.

That meant poking the bear, that is, asking my mother about her sister.

And coming right out with the words she hoped she’d never heard.

“Aunt Guenivere sent me an email, asking if we could meet. It seems she wants to meet the nephew she hasn’t seen since I was born. What happened to you two?”

It brought a look of total hatred in return.

“You would be wise not to respond. That woman is just plain evil.”

“You do realize that a statement like that makes it even more imperative that I should meet her. If you’re not going to tell me what happened, I’m sure she will.”

“Then if you must, you must.”

It wasn’t resignation but suppressed rage. Whatever had happened, it was something she believed no one would believe her, or understand, least of all me.

With that, she stood, and walked out of the room, leaving me with the ominous feeling that it would be the last time I saw her.
After verifying that my so-called aunt was Aunt Guenivere, I arranged a meeting in a public place, a tea room in the next town to where I lived. And it wasn’t going to be hard to recognize her, she would just an older version of my mother.

I knew this because I had found a photograph of my mother and her two sisters, all of who looked very much alike. I’d know about the younger sister, she had died in an accidental car crash many years before, and what my mother regarded as a wasted life.

I saw her about the same time she saw me.

And she just made it to the table when her cell phone rang. She smiled, put a hand up and asked for a moment, and then went back outside. I watched her walk up and down, slowly at first, but I could see the conversation was getting heated.

After a few minutes, I went outside to see if I could be of any assistance.

Apparently not. One look was enough, and I knew what it meant. At least her sister and my mother shared the same facial expressions when angry.

Then the conversation ended. I thought, for a moment, she was going to throw the phone on the ground, and only just managed to stop herself.

Instead, she came over and said. “I’m sorry but something has come up and I have to go. I’ll call you.”

With that, she waved down a taxi, one stopped, and she jumped in.

Another pulled in behind her taxi and on the spur of the moment, and said with a flourish, “Follow that cab.”

The driver turned to look at me, and then said, “You’re kidding.”

I held up a hundred dollar note and said, seriously, “This is yours if you don’t lose them.”

Incentive enough.

It was a lot easier to follow that taxi than I thought. We caught up and the first set of lights and then proceeded to miss every second intersection as if the universe knew I needed to keep her in sight.

All the way to the upper west side and a very expensive apartment block. I paid the cabbie and jumped out, just in time to see a very familiar figure join my aunt.

My father.

And they didn’t look like people who didn’t know each other, or who were at war.

They remained outside the apartment block, and I could see my father had arrived by cab, and it was waiting for him.

I got as close as I could, hidden effectively behind the bushes that lined the building entrance. They were speaking loudly, which surprised me

“What the hell were you thinking,” he said, not angrily, but I could tell he was agitated.

“I was thinking it was time someone told him the truth.”

What truth?

“You know what Evelyn thinks of that, and I do too. You made an agreement.”

“I’ve changed my mind. After all, he is my son, not hers.”

—–