Speaking of work, time to get busy.
As a private investigator, I have dozens of online resources and databases available to me. Background checks, public records, and social media accounts can all be accessed with a few key strokes, provided you have a name, birth date, and a social security number. In this case, I only had a name but, lucky for me, he was the only Benjamin Bailey living in Bridgeport.
Within minutes, I found a copy of his driver’s license. The photo showed a handsome, clean-shaven kid with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Twenty-seven years old, 5’10”, 165 pounds.
I found out that Benjamin was a junior associate for a patent and trademark law firm in town called Lambkin and Associates, where he’d started working right out of law school.
The website of Lambkin and Associates featured color portraits of each lawyer who worked at the firm, five in all, plus three paralegals. One of the paralegals listed was Karen Pavlis. She had black wavy hair, a strong, protruding chin, and big brown eyes. I sent Molly a text with a picture to confirm this was the woman, and a minute later she replied in the affirmative.
Now the real fun part could begin.
Over the next two hours, I dug up everything I could find on Karen Pavlis.
The first thing I checked was arrest records, which happened to be non-existent.
The next thing surprised me: she wasn’t married. Had never been married, in fact. No serious boyfriend that I could find, either. Her Facebook status hadn’t been updated in months. No Instagram or Twitter accounts—at least, not in her real name.
If Karen wasn’t planning to kill a husband or boyfriend, then who? Her boss? A co-worker? A neighbor? A family member?
Karen grew up in Brooklyn, New York with no siblings. Her father had died in 2008. Mother was still alive and had remarried. The new husband’s name was Clark Washburn and they lived in Bridgeport, too.
There was a simple solution, of course. Meet Karen in person and explain the situation. Talk some sense into her, and offer my help if she’s in danger.
But how?
I closed the laptop, rubbed my eyes, and thought about going to bed, but my mind kept going back to Molly.
Molly Fisher was a bit of a mystery to me. She seemed guarded and insecure, and the way she dressed in those overly baggy clothes just didn’t make sense. Plus, she had black hair with blonde eyebrows. Maybe that was the new fashion trend, but I had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to alter her appearance.
I could tell she was lying to me when I asked where she was from. Not that it was any of my business, but I figured since I had agreed to help her, she might open up a little and trust me.
I booted up my laptop again and performed another search. Molly did not possess a New Hampshire driver’s license, and she wasn’t on any social media sites. Not one.
The anxious and secretive vibe Molly had put out there was a clue. Perhaps she had changed her name to avoid a stalker or to escape an abusive relationship. That would also explain why she seemed reluctant to talk about her past.
Then again, she could be running from the law or debt collectors.
The urge to pry deeper was overwhelming, but something stopped me from doing that. Why did it matter? If she wanted to remain incognito, then that was her prerogative. Still, my mind wouldn’t stop concocting possible scenarios.
It was after 10:00 when I closed my laptop for the second time. The two glasses of wine had rendered me sleepy enough to go to bed.
Chapter 5
Sarah
When I woke up the next morning, there was a text message from Carter. Basically, he had his hands full in Hawaii.
A wave of relief washed over me as I put on a pot of coffee and called his number. He answered on the first ring.
“Sarah. You got my text?”
“Yeah. I was a little worried yesterday when you didn’t call me back. Everything OK there in paradise?”
When he hesitated, I knew there was trouble.
“Long story,” he finally said. “Looks like our case is more involved than we thought. I might be out here longer than a week.”
I was disappointed, but not entirely surprised. “Any clues about the missing girl’s location?”
“No, but I’ll keep you updated.”
I heard some voices in the background, and I got the feeling our phone call was about to end. I wanted to tell him about my conversation with Molly, and that I would be working on a small project, but that would have to wait for another time.
“Sounds like you have a lot going on there,” I said. “I’ll let you go. I still haven’t had my coffee.”
“Love you, Sarah. Talk later, OK?”
“You bet. I love you, too.”
By 9:00, I was thoroughly caffeinated, showered, and anxious to get the day started.
It was also my first full day without the arm sling. It felt good to be back to normal. Well, almost normal. I knew there would be days ahead that I’d feel achy, but I could deal.
Instead of the jeans, blouse, and boots I usually wore, I decided to dress ‘business casual’ for my visit with Karen Pavlis. Maybe she’d give me the time of day if she thought I was a potential client for her firm.
I didn’t look half bad in my black slacks, beige blazer and patent leather pumps. With my hair styled in a sleek French twist, I might have been able to pass as a lawyer. Or, at least, a secretary for a law firm.
As I drove across town toward Lambkin and Associates, I wondered how I might convince Karen to have a private meeting with me. Being a Friday, she would probably be slammed with work before the weekend.
The website of Lambkin and Associates had given me the impression that they were a sophisticated and highly sought-after law firm that catered to the most discriminating client. In fact, this place looked more like a dentist’s office from the seventies with the fake wood paneling on the walls.
I addressed the young girl sitting behind the reception desk. “Hello, I’d like to meet with Karen Pavlis. Is she in her office today?”
The girl tilted her head at me inquisitively. “May I ask your name and the purpose of your visit?”
“Certainly. My name is Sarah Woods. I’m looking for some legal advice and Ms. Pavlis was recommended to me. I don’t have an appointment, but I only request a few minutes of her time.” I stood tall and confident, hoping she might mistake me for someone of importance.
The girl consulted the computer on the desk in front of her and she clicked away on the keyboard. A few seconds later she said, “Ms. Pavlis can see you now. Her office is the second room on the left.”
“Fantastic. Thank you.”
As I passed through the reception area and toward the corridor, I noticed the two well-dressed gentlemen walking toward me. They were engaged in a quiet conversation, one of them pointing to a sheet of paper that might have been court documents. One of the men I recognized as Benjamin. Neither of the men acknowledged me as they passed, as they were so focused on their own conversation.
When I got to the second door on the left, I knocked softly as I peered in through the pane of glass.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice said.
As I entered the room, I saw a dark-haired woman seated behind a massive desk. Her eyes scanned me head to toe, probably wondering who I was. I made sure to close the door behind me before introducing myself.
I held out my hand. “Ms. Pavlis, my name is Sarah Woods. Thanks so much for seeing me today. I know you must be busy, so I’ll try to make this short.”
Karen gestured to the empty chair in the corner of the room. “Have a seat if you’d like, Ms. Woods. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I’m here to do something for you.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I beg your pardon?”
“You and Benjamin had an interesting conversation last night at his parents’ house. I’m here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.”
Her body stiffened, but her expression remained deadpan. “I’m
sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If you’d rather play it that way, fine. But I was hoping we could speak candidly.”
Karen let out a breath, and I could see her hand shaking as she moved it from the desk to her lap. “How do you know … did Benjamin …?”
“I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but if you need help, why don’t you go to the police?”
Her nostrils flared. “Who are you exactly?”
“Right now, I’d like it if you’d consider me a friend.”
“Why would you want to help me? You don’t even know me.”
I reached into my purse and pulled out my license. I gave it to her to examine. “I’m a private detective.”
The admission seemed to surprise her to the point of speechlessness.
“In my business, people come to me with all kinds of problems,” I said casually, “which makes me a good listener. So, if you need to get something off your chest, then I’m your woman.”
“I don’t know you,” she said. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m coming to you first. I could’ve gone straight to the police. In fact, I still could ...”
Karen waved a hand, her upper lip glistening with sweat. “I appreciate your concern, Ms. Woods, but last night, I was just ... I certainly had never planned to go through with anything.”
“I know it’s healthy to vent once in a while. But I have a feeling that whatever anger you are feeling toward this individual won’t go away.”
She slid my license across her desk toward me. “I really have to get back to work.”
I couldn’t be sure if I had reached her, but I had done what I’d set out to do. The rest was up to her. However, I decided to give her one more opportunity. “Before I go, let me tell you a true story. I killed a guy a few months ago, and it was probably the worst experience of my life.”
She eyed me warily, but I could tell she was interested to know more. “What happened?”
“I deal with some unsavory people in my line of work. Sometimes, they try to hurt me. When I shot this person in the chest, nobody tried to dispute it was self-defense, but it didn’t change the fact that I ended a life. Now I have to live with that.”
Karen said nothing for a few long seconds. When she cleared her throat, she averted her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me, Ms. Woods. I don’t intend to end anyone’s life. Now, I really have to get back to work.”
I rose to my feet to leave, but at the last second I decided to give her my business card. “That’s my number if you change your mind. And, I’ll be across the street for the next hour having a cup of coffee at Lil’s Cafe, just in case you need a coffee break.”
“Thanks anyway,” she said, and then turned her attention to the computer screen on her desk.
Chapter 6
Sarah
I found a quiet window seat inside the cafe and waited—and waited. By 12:30, I had just about given up on Karen when I saw her through the window. She was crossing the street, heading toward the cafe, clutching her purse close to her abdomen.
She entered the cafe, casually looked around, then made her way toward me.
“I only have ten minutes,” she said, pulling out a chair. She wouldn’t look me in the eye as she sat down.
“I’m really glad you came.”
When her hesitant eyes met mine, I knew she was feeling agitated and unsure that this was the right decision.
“I Googled you,” she said. “I guess you were telling me the truth about your investigation where you shot that guy. But you didn’t mention that he shot you, too.”
“I don’t like to brag.”
She smiled. “So you’re a bad ass who doesn’t like to brag. I guess I’m impressed. But that doesn’t mean I should trust you.”
“You wouldn’t be here unless you were ready to talk.”
Karen leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “Have you ever been physically abused by a husband or boyfriend?”
Her question didn’t come as a surprise. I kind of figured her problems might have to do with an abusive relationship. “No, I’ve been fortunate,” I said. “Are you being abused?”
“This isn’t about me. It’s my mom. Her new husband gets rough with her. And I recently found out that she’s been to the hospital three times in the last two years.”
“How do you know that her injuries were caused by her husband?”
“About a month ago I stopped by their house, unannounced, and I heard them arguing on the back patio. I crept around the house to see if I could make out their conversation. I saw him shove her so hard that she fell back on the table and knocked over a bunch of glasses. Who knows, he might have hurt her worse if I hadn’t shown up. I was appalled and called 911. Of course, he downplayed the whole thing. Said I blew the situation out of proportion.”
“Was he arrested?” I asked.
“No. When the officers showed up, my mom told the cops that I was lying. That Clark never shoved her. I couldn’t believe that she defended that jerk.”
“What does he do for work?” I asked.
“He’s the manager at a used car dealership in town.”
“What kind of relationship do you have with your mom?”
“We were close before she got re-married. After my dad died, she didn’t date for years. When I left for college, she started dating Clark. He seemed like a sweetheart at first. Mom moved in with him, and a year later they were married. Soon after that, I noticed the changes in her.”
“What kind of changes exactly?”
“She became … I don’t know, really skittish. She never invited me over to their house. And if we did make plans, we always went out to eat. Clark never came with us. Over the last few months, whenever I call my mom, she rarely answers the phone. And when she does, she never has time to talk to me. There’s always an excuse. I’ve tried to show up at their house a few times, but Clark always answers the door if he’s there, and he’ll tell me that my mom is taking a nap.”
“Why do you think your mom stays with an abusive man?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he threatened to kill her if she left him. Or he’s brainwashed her into thinking it’s her fault that he loses his temper.”
“Out of curiosity,” I said, keeping my voice low. “How did you plan to, you know … kill him?”
She mashed her lips together and shook her head. “I had fantasies of poisoning him, but of course, I never would’ve gone through with it.”
“I understand your frustration, Karen. I’d be just as conflicted about what to do. Have you tried to talk to him?”
“I tried once, but he got all defensive. He pretends like I’m the one who’s crazy. He says he loves my mom, and he would never hurt her. The bastard is very convincing.” Karen shook her head and let out a low moan. “I’ve talked to a few of my mother’s friends. They all say the same thing. My mom is different.”
“Does she work?”
“No. She has an accounting degree, but she quit her job the first year she moved in with Clark. They have a nice home, and I guess they don’t need her income. Or he’s too controlling to let her work. ”
“Is Benjamin the only person you’ve spoken to about this?”
She nodded. “I consulted him to find out what I could do legally. There is little I have the power to do. It’s Clark’s word against mine. Unless I have some kind of proof.”
“Have you spoken to the staff at the hospital?” I asked. “Maybe a doctor or nurse will talk to you about your mother’s medical files. They might be able to shed some light on her injuries. Certainly, if they thought she was being abused, they’d have to report it, wouldn’t they?”
“I tried to talk to the nurses, but they wouldn’t give me any information without my mother’s consent. This is such a nightmare. I feel like my mom is a totally different person. I don’t know her anymore. And I’m afraid for her life.”
I tried to put myself in Kar
en’s shoes. If my mother was being abused, I’d do just about anything to convince her to leave. I could see that Karen was at her wit’s end and needed some guidance.
“Do you want my help, Karen?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I don’t have a lot of money to pay you. I might be able to scrounge together a few hundred dollars. Paying for law school eats up everything I have left.”
“Let’s do a trade, then. I might need some legal advice in the future. Deal?”
“OK,” she said after a few seconds, “it’s a deal.”
* * *
When I got home that afternoon, I sat at the kitchen table with a notebook and pen and spent the next few hours gathering any info I could find on Clark Washburn.
His driver’s license showed a handsome face even with the receding hairline. He was 6 foot 2 and 185 pounds, so he probably kept himself in shape. He had brown hair and green eyes. 54 years old.
A thorough background check confirmed that Clark had no priors. He’d been married once before, but his wife died in 2003. After a little digging, I was able to find out that she’d died of ovarian cancer. They didn’t have kids.
The used car dealership Clark managed in town was one of the more reputable ones around. There were hundreds of positive reviews online, and many of them specifically mentioned Clark by name, touting his integrity and charm. Which probably meant that he was what my mom had once called my dad: Street angel, house devil.
I decided the next step was to meet this guy in person and make my own assessment of his character, so I grabbed my car keys and headed out. With any luck, Clark would be at the dealership until five, so I had an hour.
Chapter 7
Sarah
Big Al’s Car Emporium seemed to be doing a brisk business for a Friday afternoon. I wandered the lot of used cars hoping to catch a glimpse of Clark, but he must have been in his office or had already left for the day.
The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7) Page 3