Floundering Adrift (Detective Linda Galbes)

by Combs, Sasha

  ************************

  Chapter 10

  When Stone pulled into a parking spot directly in front of the large four story brownstone, at first Linda didn’t notice the long sleek vehicle circling the block. It didn’t look out of place, so her mind didn’t register it. But the glimpse did make her think about the ratio of people to cars. Finding a spot for a midsize car was hard enough, but for anything larger, the search could be near to impossible. Most people in and around the city found it difficult enough finding a place to call their home. And when compounding the problem with a vehicle, and trying to find a curbside spot. Hopes like that are what dreams are made of. Yet, she was certain the people in this area weren’t burdened by that dilemma. Like Hayford, Linda was quite sure that these people stored their vehicles in one of the many garages or they used car services. She didn’t begrudge them, and a few times she’d been tempted to use the service that Hayford authorized her to use whenever she needed it. She sighed at the memory, then shifted her focus. She reminded herself that she wasn’t here to think about Hayford or chauffeured town cars. But, when the door swung wide open by the houseman, Linda’s eyes widened in shock because in a million years she would have never expected to see Hayford standing in Constance Davis-Wellington’s foyer. And Stone was just as surprised as her.

  “Hayford... What are you doing here?”

  Linda walked into the house, followed closely by Stone. The detective was in no mood to referee two mismatched lovers. But he also wouldn’t stand for Hayford’s interference in his investigation.

  Hayford purposely chose not to look at Stone. He pulled Linda to the side, guiding her as he cupped her elbow. He spoke low when they were more than a few steps out of Stones hearing.

  “Linda... When I gave you Constance’s information, you didn’t think that I wouldn’t call her first to warn her that you were coming?”

  “I most certainly did. This is a murder investigation Hayford. I purposely didn’t call her because I didn’t want to give her time to prepare for the questions I intend to ask her.”

  “Linda... Constance is an old family friend. She and my mother go back a long way.”

  “So, you decided that protecting her is more important than me solving these crimes?”

  “No... That isn’t why I called her.”

  “Hayford... Right now, I don’t care to hear your reasons. But I do want you to know that I am disappointed in you.”

  She attempted to turn, heading back where her partner stood looking perturbed, but she felt a tug on her shoulder, turning her back around to face him. Hayford stepped in close, crowding her space. He said...

  “I didn’t tell her anything Linda. Just that soon, someone from the police department would be contacting her about an open case.”

  “That’s more than I wanted her to know.”

  “Linda... Constance has nothing to do with these murders. I don’t understand why surprising her, or shocking her is so important.”

  “That’s right Hayford... You don’t understand.”

  “Linda... If I didn’t contact her, you wouldn’t be standing in her foyer.” He challenged her fixed stare when he said... “She employes a team of lawyers to take care of things like this. Believe me when I say... Had you arrived before I contacted her... You would be standing on the curb, with a number and instructions telling you to contact her attorneys.” Not once did he blink while he explained how tenuous her outlook would have been without his interference. She studied his face for half a minute more.

  Linda turned, and she noticed that the houseman who’d opened the door wasn’t standing in the foyer. Her eyes drifted back to Hayford and a new comprehension overtook her. He’d been in the house in the past. That would explain the level of trust that had been placed upon him. Constance wanted Hayford to escort the police to her; not the man whose job it was to perform this simplest of task.

  “Where is she, Hayford?”

  “Constance is in the library, taking her tea.”

  “All right. Then lets get this over with.”

  He nodded, then led them down a long hallway, to a small elevator. The space was large enough for two, but three made the small enclosed area more than cramped. The library was located on the third floor, taking up two stories in the house. No one talked while they rode up; not until the elevator doors sprung open.

  “Naturally, Constance was surprised when I called her. She can’t imagine how she can be of help to the police. However, she does know quite a few people involved in hairy financial schemes and more than a few questionable scams. As I said... I didn’t tell her anything, so I left her to come to her own conclusion. By the conversation, I think she believes that she’s going to be questioned about one of her friends.”

  Hayford had hoped hearing this would smooth Linda’s ruffled feathers. But she’d put her poker face on, and he didn’t know if his efforts had freed him from the hot seat. However, Stone was an entirely different matter. He spoke his mind, while ignoring Linda’s devilish warning eyes.

  “You know... As a reporter, I thought you would understand the importance of never letting on, when it comes to questioning a potential witness or an informant. I just hope you haven’t sunk our ship before we’ve had a chance to leave the dock.”

  Hayford narrowed his eyes, and responded.

  “I guess we’ll just have to see which of you is the most talented investigator.”

  Before a war of words boiled out of control. Linda held up her hand, stifling both men.

  “This isn’t the place for a pissing contest, and we don’t have time to discuss the pros and cons in this situation.” She looked at the closed door just down the hall, then her eyes lay on Hayford. “Is that the way?”

  He nodded, then led the way. Before they reached the room, Linda said...

  “We’ll want to talk to her alone Hayford.”

  “I told her as much. But let me do the introductions Linda. That’s the way it’s done.”

  She was sure of that, and she’d already prepared herself to deal with the formalities that governor this house.

  When they reached the large wooden door, Hayford stopped, looking at both Linda and Stone, before saying...

  “Please... Don’t bully her.”

  Linda wanted to say something that would communicate her disappointment in him, but when she looked into his caring eyes, the words wouldn’t come. If it had not been for his interference, she and Stone would be on the phone, talking to attorneys, while following an empty trail of imaginary bread crumbs. In a low tone, she assured him...

  “We’re not here to bully anyone. We’re just looking for a little help. That’s all Hayford.”

  He smiled, letting her know all the reasons he dearly loved her.

  Hayford turned the doorknob; stepping aside, he allowed Linda to enter first, followed by Stone. In the rear of the library, there was a sitting area with large wingback chairs. Constance was seated, sipping from a china teacup. Her eyes lifted, then crinkled at the edges when she smiled.

  “Oh thank Hayford. You’ve been such a dear; showing these two detectives into my home.”

  Constance gestured towards the chairs positioned around a low oriental table; the top was hand painted with swirling legs to form its base. Hayford joined them but he didn’t sit making himself comfortable. Instead he bowed while saying...

  “Constance... You know I’m a pushover when it comes to you.”

  “Handsome as well as gallant.” She said. Linda noticed a royal presence about the woman. Perfectly styled blond hair, showing not a hint of grey. Each strand was held in place, pinned up in a posh sophisticated bun. The suit she wore was most certainly tailored and designed by her favorite fashion house. And the pearls draped around her neck were of a vintage quality. Linda assumed the jewel had to of been an inherited piece. The kind of thing women like Constance received as wedding gifts from a parent or a grandmother. Altogether, Constance Davis-Wellington was an extremely beautiful
woman and Linda imagined in her youth, more than likely, other women paled in comparison. The older woman leaned forward, perching one hip along the edge of her seat. By the look of one perfectly arched eyebrow, her furrowed stare of wonderment captured them all. Hayford had not taken a seat to join them, and he rightly assumed that his host was waiting for an answer to explain his posture. He said...

  “Constance, this is Detective Charles Stone and this is his partner.” Hayford’s eyes softened when he looked at Linda. The gesture was as telling as not. His lip curled into a casual smile, hiding the full emotion of his gaze. But he’d failed in this because Constance and Stone noticed the way Hayford’s eyes admired Linda in a less than subtle way.

  “And this is Detective Linda Gables.”

  It was clear to Linda that today or at another time; Hayford had spoke of her. Constance straightened in her chair, then a mild curiosity shown on her face. Like women tend to do. The overt appraisal of worth and value began. The older woman assessed the younger and for some odd reason, Linda was grateful she’d worn one of the outfits stored at Hayford’s apartment. The suit accentuated her curves, and added a softened feminine touch. In her designer frock, the clothing gave her an attitude of empowerment. She felt like she belonged in Constance Davis-Wellington’s world; where people were judged not only by the country clubs that held their memberships. Every superficial detail held epic meaning for them.

  Now, that the playing field was beginning to feel leveled. Linda returned Hayford’s stare, lacing her voice with a professional tone.

  “Thank you Hayford. If you don’t mind... Detective Stone and I can take it from here.”

  Hayford waited a beat. His eyes drifted to Constance, and he watched as she settled back in her seat. He took his cue; leaving them in silence, he closed the door once he was on the other side. Constance placed her small teacup on the saucer, then spoke using a formal dignified tone.

  “May I offer either of you something to drink?” Her hand rested on a small panel that until now, Linda had not noticed. A button to signal the kitchen staff, Linda thought to herself.

  “No thank you Mrs. Wellington.” Stone replied and Linda added.

  “Nothing for me either ma’am.”

  “Constance... Please, call me Constance. Mrs. Wellington is a name that belongs to my husband’s mother. I never much cared for it, and for that reason I held on to my family name, Davis.”

  Neither Stone nor Linda knew how to respond to that, so they both held their tongues. But it would appear that Constance was well versed, and fully capable to navigate her way through any social setting. The prim woman said...

  “Detectives... When I received a call this afternoon from Hayford, I couldn’t begin to imagine how I could be of help to you. Nonetheless... Here we are.”

  “Yes ma’am...” Stone said, but Constance wagged one slender finger.

  “I’ll have none of that detective... We won’t get far if you persist with the formalities...”

  Stone cleared his throat, then he began again...

  “My apologies ma...” He corrected himself, saying.... “Constance.”

  Linda was tiring of this game. She’d dated Hayford long enough to know that Constance was only being polite and the older woman didn’t view Stone in any way as her equal. As Detective’s, they were paid civil servants, and Constance didn’t value them in the same way she respected her friends. Linda also accepted that as for her; Constance had granted her a pass because she was dating Hayford Mead. Given all of that, Linda didn’t much care if being Hayford’s girlfriend was the only remaining card that would persuade Constance to talk. Especially since it was Linda’s hope to get the woman to expose one of her family’s employees.

  “Constance...” Linda leaned forward a bit, trying not to appear intimidating. “Detective Stone and I would like to ask you a few questions about your son.”

  Constance frowned...

  “My son? Why are you asking questions about my son?”

  “These are just routine questions. We’re actually investigating a matter that your son could be of tremendous help.”

  “Trey...?” she said, with a lilt in her voice. “My son is out of the country. But I do believe...” Constance tapped one perfectly manicured nail on the tip of her chin. Stone and Linda watched as she mentally envisioned a calendar. In her head, she tried to recall which day of the week it was. Her social calendar had been full this month; causing her to rely on her secretary to keep her on track. When she factored in committee meetings, charity responsibilities, fittings at the salon, workouts with her personal trainer; Constance couldn’t keep up with her sons comings and goings. But on this point, she could recall vividly the details of their last conversation. She lowered her hand, placing one atop the other, positioned neatly on her lap.

  “I spoke with my son before he left the country on his last business trip. Trey should arrive at JFK this evening. On the five O’clock from Heathrow, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Constance...” Linda asked... “Are you acquainted with the employees staffed at Davis Antiquities.”

  Constance laughed, then she annunciated her words using an embellishing tone...

  “That little company... It is true that my great grandfathers hobby currently clears generous profits that to this day still benefit the Davis family heirs. But I’d hardly call it a business.”

  Stone and Linda stared at each other, then their eyes shifted back to Constance. She noticed their confusion, but the dismissive tone hadn’t left her voice.

  “My great-grandfather was an avid collector of Egyptian art. That passion led him across the continent of Africa, then into Europe and parts of Asia. When his collection grew to expansive to display in his homes, he purchased a building in Hartford. I’m told that the undertaking was massive, but as I said... My great-grandfather’s passion was his love for the past. He crossed the globe, seeking out treasures and trinkets most people would never see, if it weren’t for his inquisitive nature. He housed all of his treasures in that building, then he founded one of the first family owned museums. Unfortunately, the curator was an idiot and soon after its opening, the place had to be closed. So, instead of collecting, my grandfather, he took it upon himself to sell the art. It was an extremely profitable venture; and from that first sell, Davis Antiquities was birthed. Its been nearly one hundred years since the first piece was shipped out of Egypt. Since then, Davis Antiquities, has always been known as one of the most respected privately owned antique dealers in the states and in Europe. My grandfather takes the credit for founding it, and my father nursed it into the company it has become today. When my father turned the reins over to Trey... My sons improvements took the business to its next level. Trey single handedly crafted a system by which buyers are chosen. But, due to the unique way in which clients are chosen; there has never been a need for more than two full time employees.”

  Linda said... “Would one of those employees be a man by the name of Samuel Gilmore?”

  Constance frowned, leaning forward in her chair she said...

  “You miss understand me dear. My son is the only employee at Davis Antiquities. We use a private moving company to ship and move the art, and even then they are never on our books as employees.”

  Confusion clouded the room, causing Constance to say...

  “Where did you hear that name...”

  “Which name...” Stone asked.

  “Samuel Gilmore.” Constance still wore an astonished expression, causing Linda to rethink her line of questioning. She’d come prepared to learn about a man, who based on her knowledge worked for Davis Antiquities. A company that Constance admitted having ties to.

  Confused, neither detective knew how much to share with the baffled Constance Davis-Wellington. But, sitting silent was never a good strategy, no matter how you sliced it. Linda asked...

  “Constance... Do you know anyone by that name...? Samuel Gilmore?”

  “Once upon a time detective.”
>
  Constance had answered them but her words didn’t give them the clues that they’d been waiting for. Linda pressed her further, saying...

  “Can you tell us who he is and where we can find him?”

  “Samuel was a nickname used by his friends, but his given name was Samson Mortimer Gilmore-Davis. My grandfather. And as for his whereabouts... Seven years ago, he was placed in my family’s crypt, in Connecticut.”

  “But...” Stone wanted to pace the room, because nothing was making any sense. His feet were walking but his brain was on a treadmill, trying to keep pace. On the other hand, Linda’s legal brain caught hold to an idea and she wanted to test its buoyancy.

  “Constance... You said that your son Trey... You said that he is the only employee currently working at Davis Antiquities.”

  “That’s right.” She said. “My family owns a number of business. After Trey graduated from Oxford... It was my father’s idea to place my son in charge.”

  “So... If I’m hearing you correctly... Your son Trey is the only person working and operating Davis Antiquities.”

  “That is what I just said.” Constance sounded testy. She was growing impatient and she didn’t much like repeating herself. In spite of that, Linda deflected her annoyance by continuing her line of questions.

  “Has your son ever answered to a nickname?”

  Not sure if she should answer, Constance looked at the closed library door. She wanted to ring, asking her houseman to send for Hayford. Sharing her secrets was a delicate matter and she rarely did this lightly. Linda pressed her again, saying...

  “Constance... Has your son ever answered to the name Sam, Sammy or Samuel Gilmore?”

  She exhaled, sighing loudly.

  “When he was young... I would call him Samson. I did it because when he was born, I’d wanted to name him after my grandfather but Harold wouldn’t hear of it. He... Well, we had an arrangement.”

  This story was already confusing enough and Linda wanted to clear up one thing, before moving on to the complicated mess that crafted Constance Davis-Wellington’s life.