“Sasha,” Orlando began. “Please, come in and take a seat.”
She moved into the office and he gently shut the door behind her. He strode to his own chair and he, too, took a seat.
“So,” he said, as he picked up the file. “You told Emily you suspect that Martin is cheating on you.”
“Yes,” she said, avoiding eye contact. She was clasping her hands together on her lap, and she would not square up her shoulders to face him.
“Why do you suspect Martin of cheating?”
“His behavior is different, and it seems as if the spark has gone out between us. I have been with him since I was sixteen! I have loved him, and I have been there for him, through it all.”
“When did the two of you start having issues?”
“Two years ago,” she said softly. “We were trying to have a baby, and found out that I will never be able to. It took a toll on both of us, and since he learned that I can’t have children, we started drifting apart.”
Orlando was at a loss for words. He recognized the anguish couples can go through in such a situation. Like the storm outside that pounded on the walls and roof, it can produce a hurricane of emotions, and none of them were positive.
“Did he want out of the marriage because of that?”
“No. I mean, I understand what you are asking me; but no, he never mentioned it. But I know him. We both talked about wanting children, and now it is not a possibility. We could adopt, sure, but it would not be the same for him.””
“Does Martin drink?”
“Not the way he did in college,” she said. “After we started our careers, he changed some of his habits, me too, really, you know… we grew up. But after his mother passed away at the beginning of the year, he starting drinking more. I mean, he is a psychologist and all, and he should know that what he is doing is not good, by any means. But he refuses to talk to me.”
“Is there anything else going on in his life?”
“Not that he has disclosed to me. He is a lot more elusive lately, and when I ask him something, anything really, he is easily angered.”
“Does that explain the redness around your eye?”
Sasha gasped. She shifted in her seat.
“It was a flash of temper. We’ve had rough times. He apologized immediately.”
Orlando was surprised when he heard the low growl coming from his lips. He took a deep breath. It seemed to him that Sasha didn’t want to talk about it. She almost jumped into her next sentence, as if she wanted to change the subject.
“I followed him one night. I know it sounds crazy, but I needed to know. So I followed his car from work and he went to… to a strip club. Of course, I was upset, but I couldn’t say anything about it. If he knew I had followed him, it would just make matters worse.”
Orlando nodded. He remembered how Martin was in college, and for him to go to a strip club seemed peculiar, very out of character. Martin had always said that Sasha was the only girl for him, and that he wasn’t interested in other women. Of course, as college students, they teased him about it when he stayed behind, avoiding some of their adventures. So, Orlando would never have suspected that Martin would change his views so drastically. Of course, time can change people. Some for the better, and some not.
“Okay, Sasha, I will find out what’s going on for you, okay? Are you positive you want to know?” After seeing her nod, he continued. “You sure that was the first and only time Martin hit you.”
He watched as her entire body went rigid. She got to her feet, obviously flustered, and she shook her head. “Yes.”
“Sasha, I’m glad, but you need to tell me everything.”
He saw she was attempting not to cry, and wasn’t sure how to comfort her. This was something he had never been good at. This was probably the reason he was unable to maintain a relationship with a woman. He missed clues they would give to let him know they needed to be comforted. She wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together.
“Just… just find out if he is cheating on me or not.”
“Of course,” he said, “and since I am taking on the case, I will assure you that everything is confidential.”
“Thank you,” she said, as she was getting up. “How would you like me to pay?”
“I don’t think I can take your money, Sasha.”
She shook her head. “Look, we knew one another back in college, and it was brief,” she began. “Despite knowing one another, I will still pay you. You are performing services as a professional and not as a friend.”
Orlando nodded. He could not come up with an effective reply. Granted, he wanted to, but he was no good at arguing. That was why he’d never become a lawyer. Even if he had a point to make, he was unable to make it. He always stammered and lost focus, and ended up frustrated and embarrassed. He realized she was still waiting for an answer.
“Emily handles all of the payments,” he said.
He watched as she nodded and walked out of his office. Once the door was closed, he slumped back in his chair and felt drained again. The rain still drummed on the walls. Drops clung to the window panes. He never would have thought that, as a private detective, he would be helping so many people find and gather dirt on their spouses, and then subsequently get divorced, because of the results of his work. He thought the work might be similar, at least some of the time, to a Knight who slayed dragons. He thought there were noble motives in the work. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had even played with the idea of retiring from the profession and seeking another job. One with higher motives. Say, an enforcer for a loan shark.
Looking around his office, he was still frustrated. He got to his feet and paced around for a moment. He had not spoken to Martin for a while, and he wasn’t too sure if he even had his phone number.
Finally, he stopped pacing and looked out the window with a sense of yearning. After this case, he might close up shop. Hearing a knock on the door, and assuming it was Emily, he replied.
“Come in,” he said.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Emily standing there. She had her tablet in her hand.
“Boss, I was just checking in with you. This past month you have been—well, you haven’t been yourself. I was hoping maybe we could go get a bite to eat, and talk or something. You know, only if you like.”
That was one of the things about Emily. She cared too much. It seemed that she took actions based on her feelings, sometimes, versus thinking everything through and being rational. It was not a bad quality, but it sure as hell could create havoc if she wasn’t careful. If the wrong person ever got close enough to her, she could be easily manipulated.
“No thanks. I’m good. Thank you, though. And Emily, you don’t need to call me ‘Boss.’ David suits me just fine.”
“I know. It’s just a habit, I suppose,” she said, as she was walking out. He remembered interviewing her. She was fresh out of college and just as optimistic as he was. Compared to others who had applied, she had much less work experience, but she just seemed to fit in with what he wanted to do, being a PI and all.
A small red circle lit up on his desk. He pushed the button below it.
“Yes, Emily,” he said.
“Boss, a man named Jack Richardson is here, and he would like to see you. He apologized for not phoning ahead.”
“I can hardly turn down such a courteous gentleman. Show him in.”
Richardson was a tall, lanky gentleman with pale skin and slicked-back hair. He wore small, gold-rimmed glasses and smoked a pipe. Orlando guessed he was a small businessman, the type who had a long-time membership in the local Chamber of Commerce. He also sensed that the guy was honest as a Daylight-Saving Time Day is long. He walked up to the man and shook his hand.
“Mr. Richardson. Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”
Richardson took the pipe out of his mouth and blew out grey smoke. “I would like to hire you, Mr. Orlando, to investigate a possible mu
rder. But this may be one of the most unusual cases you’ve had.”
“It’s an unusual murder?” Orlando said.
“Unusual in the sense that it occurred almost twenty-five years ago.”
“I better sit down for this one,” he said.
He walked back to his desk and eased down into his chair.
“As a cold case, this is colder than most. Why don’t you give me the details”
“The case involves my father, Lyndon Richardson. At the time of his death, he was the mayor of Linwood Springs, the county seat of Cottonwood County.”
“A very nice city. I’ve been down there a number of times.”
“Twenty-six years ago, my father and a political ally, a man named Edgar Longton, were elected to the Linwood Springs City Council. Because many of his voters lived in the beach section of the city, his political faction was nicknamed the ‘Beachwalkers’. Opponents called them the ‘Beachnuts’. That election gave the majority on the council to the Beachwalkers, and they elected my father as mayor. The opposing faction was called the ‘Old Guard’. My father felt, and rightly I may add, that the council and some of the city department heads had been playing fast and loose with the public’s money, often enriching themselves from city projects. He wanted to make extensive reforms in city government. So, when he and the other Beachwalkers took control of the council, they took control with a vengeance.”
“It’s always nice to hear about the good guys winning one.”
“The day after the election, when the city council met, the city manager, city attorney, city finance director and two other department heads resigned. Of course, if they hadn’t, they would have been fired.”
Orlando grinned and nodded. “The way of the wicked is hard, when they get caught, that is.”
“Yes. City policies changed drastically after the election. Linwood Springs holds city council elections every year. The first year my father was mayor, the two Old Guard incumbents won re-election, and one Beachwalker won. All were long-time residents of the city, and generally well-liked. The following year, the city council elections were bitterly contested. But political observers thought my father and Longton had the edge and would be re-elected. If so, the Beachwalkers would keep their majority on the council. In September, two months before the election, my father was walking with a friend, Allan Bayridge. They had been friends for years, and Allan was also a political ally of my father’s. Several days a week my father and mother would walk to the Bayridge house, which was only four blocks away, and they would walk about three miles with Allan and Sylvi Bayridge. The trail circled around a rural area, and had become sort of a natural hiking path. But part of the trail was at the edge of two roads in the area. During that September, there a bad flu epidemic. Both my mother and Sylvi Bayridge were sick and they didn’t walk on that Monday. The day of the murders, a speeding car smashed into my father and Mr. Bayridge, and kept going. My father died instantly. Mr. Bayridge died the day after, in the hospital.”
Orlando paused for a moment. “And you think one of his political opponents killed your father, or found someone to kill him?”
“Yes. The car had to be going at least sixty miles per hour, which was well over the speed limit on that stretch of road. Investigators have left open the possibility that it was an accident, but the driver didn’t stop. The guilty party has never been found. I would like to make one last stab at finding out who killed the two men.”
Orlando thought for a moment. “How did the reform group make out in the election?”
“They won. My mother stepped up and declared her candidacy. She had lived in Linwood Springs all her life and everybody respected her. She won handily. The reform group’s majority on the council was preserved. Mr. Orlando, I lean toward the theory that my father’s death was murder, but I’m not certain. To me, it seemed like a very stupid act. Wouldn’t the killers know that the murder of a mayor would cast a great deal of suspicion on dad’s political opponents, and gain a huge sympathy vote in the coming election?”
“I see your point,” Orlando said.
“I’m in a good financial state, and my brother works at Price-Waterhouse. He has a way with figures. I’m willing to offer you ten thousand dollars, upfront, if you will take the case.”
“I should warn you, Mr. Richardson, that cold cases are not easy. At times one can be solved, but most often stay cold. I can’t promise you that I will find the murderer, if there is one.”
“I realize that, but that’s a risk I’ll take. As I said, this is the family’s last chance to find out who killed our father.”
Orlando raised his hand to cover his almost involuntary grin. He thought it amusing that, on a day like this one, he was described as ‘a last chance’. He’d been feeling like a last chance. But the case appealed to him. The elder Mr. Richardson was trying to bring honest government to a city, and someone may have killed him. The murderer should not get away with such a heinous crime. He should be brought to justice.
Richardson reached into his coat pocket and brought out a fat envelope. He took two steps and dropped the envelope on Orlando’s desk.
“Ten thousand dollars,” he said.
Orlando opened the envelope and saw the stack of bills. It was the most money he had ever been offered. He smiled.
“I’ll take the case,” he said. “In your case, justice has been sleeping for a long time. Perhaps I can give her a wakeup call.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Richardson reached into his coat again and brought out a larger, mailing envelope.
“I’ve written down names and details surrounding the case. Plus, I printed out a number of news stories about the murders that you may want to read. It gives you background on the case.”
“Glad you thought ahead, Mr. Richardson. The information is something I will definitely need.”
They shook hands again and he watched Richardson walk out. He looked back out the window. The rain had not diminished and the sky was even darker. Orlando blinked. For the first time, he thought there was a glimmer of light in the darkness.
CHAPTER TWO
Two Days Later
It had been raining yet again, and as he walked down the street, he could feel the cold air on his face. The restaurant he was headed to was one he had never been to before, largely because he never fancied the more luxurious eateries that had dishes smaller than your palm, and were unreasonably priced. He cheered a bit as he reached his destination, happy to be getting out of the weather.
Pulling open the door, he felt the temperature difference, and it was wonderful. He saw the hostess looking at him and recognized the look. She knew this was not his scene, and that he did not belong here. Faking a smile, she walked over to him.
“Welcome. How many?”
“Just me,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “I — I’m meeting with Martin Hawkins.”
Her expression changed, as if he, David, was now suddenly suitable to fit into this place. He did not like how these things worked, but she smiled a real smile. “Follow me, then,” she said as she began to walk away.
Following behind her, he realized how high the ceilings were, and that the décor here was ostentatious. Yes, her first impression was correct. This was not somewhere he belonged, and he did not want to be here any longer than necessary. They entered the main dining room. There were large windows that were frosted due to the weather, and a bar located in the back. Everyone here was well dressed, at a level far beyond his attire, despite the fact that he was wearing one of his finest suits. As they walked between the tables, he noticed the men all wore fancy watches and rings of some sort, and he wore, nor owned, nothing of the sort.
Approaching Martin, David could see that he was absorbed with something on his phone. He wasn’t too sure what was going on, and what it was that he was hoping to accomplish today with this meeting. He needed to know that this man, someone he had admired for his morals, had not turned his back on every
thing he believed in.
Martin looked up and smiled. “David, it has been a while. How have you been?”
“I have been busy,” David said, as he sat down. “How about you? I hear you’ve been busy too.”
Martin took his phone and turned it off. He shrugged, and David was able to see how exhausted he was. “I wish I was back in college again,” he chuckled. “How crazy does that sound?”
“Very, especially considering how crazy things were on campus.”
“I know, but things—things have not been going too well with me and Sasha. I love her to death, but she can’t have children. That was the one thing my mother wanted, for me to give her a grandchild before the cancer finished her off, and now, it’s too late. She’s gone, and I will never be able to give her that.”
“Well, uh…” Orlando began. He was no good at this, at comforting people. It was something he was never good at and he never would be. “Look, a lot of people would say they are sorry, and I am, but I don’t know how to phrase it.”
Martin looked up from the table and met his eyes for a moment, and he nodded. “You always were a little odd when it came to expressing emotions, which is fine. Thank you anyway. I don’t know, I just have no idea what I am going to do with my life anymore. I don’t even know if Sasha wants me anymore.”
“I’ve talked to Sasha. The marriage does seem to be under a strain, Martin.”
Martin swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’m not a good man when I get to drinking. I have been sinning, and I feel that what I’m doing now is pushing Sasha away from me.”
“How exactly have you been sinning and pushing Sasha away from you,” David said.
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