The Paper Detective

by E. Joan Sims

She reached over and stroked my cheek as I tried to pull away.

  “There’s no reason to be shy,” she whispered.

  Her fingernails were long and well manicured: painted blood red with white tips. One of those white tips traveled down my chin and neck and was about to disappear inside the collar of my red flannel shirt when I finally found the strength to jump to my feet.

  “I…I gotta go!” I stammered.

  Ta’Ronda laughed delightedly. The cat was back and she was practically purring. “But you’ll call me, won’t you,” she said.

  It was a statement instead of a question.

  “Yeah, sure thing,” I promised in a hoarse voice.

  “Wait!” she commanded.

  I paused with my sweaty hand on the metal doorknob. My inner eye was seeing myself as she perceived me: a middle-aged woman in men’s clothing with short unruly hair and no makeup. She had jumped to a conclusion that anyone who did not know me could have made. I promised myself right then and there to go directly to the nearest Lancôme counter and buy them out. It was definitely high time to quit taking shortcuts with my appearance.

  Ta’Ronda scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper and tucked it in my jacket pocket. I steeled myself while she gave me a provocative pat, then bolted out the door. I heard her calling as I practically ran for the exit.

  “Don’t forget to phone, girlfriend!”

  I almost got a ticket as I raced toward the gate at ten miles over the speed limit. After being waved down twice by M.P.’s, I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to gather my wits. Being propositioned by another woman was a definite first for me. I was still shaking.

  I shrugged out of my jacket and mopped my sweaty face with my scarf. A burly blonde soldier with a military police band around his upper arm saw me illegally parked and started towards me. I didn’t wait for another reprimand. I swung back out on the road and headed for the exit. I couldn’t get out of Fort Morgan fast enough.

  As soon as I got out on the main road I increased my speed. The ratty streets of the south side of town soon gave way to the grace and beauty of the north, but it gave me no comfort. The wide arching limbs of the big oaks seemed to lean down and try to prevent me from fleeing. Leaves brushed against the top of the Jeep like clutching fingers. I didn’t feel free until I was out of town and on the highway to Rowan Springs.

  When my heart slowed to a steady pace and my sweat cooled, I began to feel the chill again. The big grey clouds that had hung in the sky earlier were gone. In their place was a low white cover which looked for all the world like a dirty chenille bedspread. I knew what clouds like that meant. More snow was on the way.

  I tried not to think about what had happened back at the base. Before I considered what had taken place, I wanted to be at home, preferably in the library in front of the fire with my nasty little dog asleep on my lap. I was scared, really scared. I had a feeling that I had come very close to something very evil, and I wanted my mommy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aggie was outside with Mother when I pulled up in the driveway. The puppy was busy chasing dry leaves as the brisk wind tumbled them across the backyard. Mother turned and waved and walked on behind Aggie. I watched them for a moment and thought how lucky I was to have this safe haven and a warm loving family. Mother looked so smart in her red woolen coat and brightly colored Versace silk scarf. From this distance you could never tell that Aggie was a nasty tempered little bitch. The two of them resembled a cover photo for one of those silly magazines of Mother’s—the ones with articles about the socially elite and intellectually deprived. I smiled as she reached down and patted Aggie without getting nipped even once.

  I was home safe and sound, and I was starving. I shrugged back into my jacket but still had to race to the back door to keep from freezing. Tiny little snowflakes were beginning to fall and the sidewalk was already slippery.

  Aggie came running back to the house with Mother in laughing pursuit. The puppy scampered inside as I held the door. I gave Mother a quick peck on the cheek and followed her into the kitchen.

  “My, that didn’t take long!” she smiled as she took off her scarf and coat. “I thought you would be gone all day. I asked Horatio to join me for tea. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Since when have I ever minded Horatio’s presence? And what good would it do if I did?”

  I hung my jacket in the hall closet and took her red coat to her bedroom. I smiled as I heard her prattling on as though I was still at her elbow.

  “I can’t hear you, Mother,” I called.

  She couldn’t hear me either. I caught the tail end of her sentence as I walked back in the kitchen.

  “…so he left without a by your leave. Connie Joiner says it’s very unlike him. She said Andy is beginning to suspect something.”

  “Who are we discussing?” I asked as I sneaked a hot cornbread stick from the iron baking pan that had been my Grandmother Sterling’s.

  “Why, I thought you heard me, dear. Bert Atkins, that’s who. He’s gone. Even Danny doesn’t know where he went.”

  The hot bread sizzled in my mouth and burned my tongue as I stared at her in astonishment. How dare he leave, I thought, as my heart sank. I’m not finished with him!

  “When? Mummf, when did he go?” I asked with my mouth full.

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full, dear.”

  “Dammit, Mother! This is important!”

  “So are good manners, dear.”

  “I don’t have time…”

  “One should always make time for…”

  “Damn!”

  “And cursing is the last resort of the uneducated,” she added.

  I stormed out of the kitchen, my appetite and my warm familial feelings forgotten.

  Bert Atkins had left and not even said goodbye. I was furious. I threw myself down on my bed, unaware that Aggie had followed. I landed on her long fluffy white tail when we both hit the bed at the same time. I’m sure I didn’t hurt her, but she was startled. She lunged and bit my hand before I could pull it out of the way.

  “Damn dog!”

  I jumped back up and tried to push her off my bed. She nipped at me again and growled viciously. She backed up until her fuzzy little canine behind was pressed against my down pillow. That did it! I advanced on her with every intention of doing some doggie damage. She knew it, too. She snarled and barked and bared her teeth like a badger. I grabbed my satin house slipper and held it out menacingly. She snagged the toe with her front teeth and tore it out of my hands, shaking it madly as if trying to break its back.

  I gave up. She had me beat. The whole world had me beat. I sank down on the floor with my back up against the bed. I took a deep breath and let it out with a loud despondent sigh. Aggie crawled up behind me and licked my ear.

  “You’re insane, dog,” I told her. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to be my best friend? All you ever do is cause me grief.”

  Aggie finished licking my ear and cocked her head attentively. I heard it, too. It was the expensive hum of Horatio’s Bentley coming up the drive. Aggie hopped off of my bed and skittered around the corner and down the hall, her little toenails clicking on the wooden floor until she reached the carpet in the library. She barked and barked at the French door as Horatio parked his car. I knew she would bark incessantly until I got up and let him in, so I cut short my pity party.

  Horatio looked handsome and dapper in his black Chesterfield coat with the black velvet collar. His white hair was as thick as whipped cream and his goatee was neatly trimmed. He stood tall and slim outside the French doors as I unlocked them and let him inside.

  “Hello, my dear,” he greeted me. “Are you under the weather? You look somewhat glum on this beautiful winter day. Usually you’re the first to welcome the snow. What is the reason my lovely Paisley is not smiling?”

  I had to smile at that. I took his coat. I was folding his cashmere scarf when I burst into tears.

  “Oh, ho! I thought so
!”

  He took the scarf from my hands and led me over to the sofa. He sat me down and turned on the gas logs. I cried dispiritedly for a few moments while he fussed with the fire screen. He turned to regard my performance.

  “Not very convincing, am I?” I snuffled.

  “On a scale from one to ten, I would give you a three,” he smiled.

  I wiped my tears away and smiled back. “I’m just so damned, so damned…” I searched my mind for a word to express my feelings.

  “Frustrated?” he offered.

  “Yes, that and more. I’m at a loss to understand how I do feel.”

  “You do look a little frazzled,” he observed.

  “Is that what you think when you look at me? Is that all you see? Is that what I have become since I moved back here?” I started sniffling again.

  Horatio moved over to the sofa and sat beside me again. He lifted his hands and cupped my face. He looked at me closely and grunted. I had to laugh. I had never heard him make such an undignified sound, and I told him so.

  “To quote a famous Broadway musical—you’re a ‘puzzlement,’ my child. At the best of times you seem happy beyond belief. And yet, on occasion, this being one, you appear to be quite inexplicably anxious.”

  He patted my cheek, and went to sit on the other sofa.

  “Do you mind?” he gestured with his pipe. “The new tobacco I ordered from London came in today and I’m quite excited about trying it.”

  “Go ahead,” I sighed. “I love the smell of your pipe.”

  He busied himself with the process of filling his pipe and lighting it. I blew my nose on a tissue and got up to throw it away. I crossed over to make sure I had locked the door and sat back down. I looked up and saw that he had watched my every move with enormous interest.

  “I think I have had an ‘ah ha’ experience,” he ventured and went on to explain. “A friend from my bad old days in the er, service, used to work on coded messages that frequently passed our way. He was quite the absent-minded professor in his daily life, but an absolute genius at breaking encryptions. For days he would exist only on coffee and cigarettes while he worked away, and then suddenly you would hear him shouting, ‘Ah ha!’ That was my signal to order a fortifying meal and a cot. He had broken the code. It was time to eat and sleep.”

  I laughed at Horatio’s story. I knew he had a million of them, and there were only a few he could relate even after all these years.

  “And what ‘ah ha’ experience have you had about me? I can’t believe you’ve discovered something new about me. You’ve known me for over forty years. How could I possibly do anything to surprise you?”

  “You’re a woman, my dear. And even as a girl child, you were constantly a surprise. Haven’t you realized that while Velvet is fairly predictable, you are ever the chimera?”

  “Velvet predictable?” I laughed. “Not likely! I would have never have guessed that she would be a divorcee three times over, a widow once, and a wife to her fifth husband before her fortieth birthday.”

  “Really? Think back. Imagine her in your little sandbox under the maple tree in the backyard. I can see her now,” he mused. “You would play for hours with the same little shovel and bucket, while our lovely Velvet would lose interest at a moment’s notice. She would run from sandbox to swing, to wading pool, and back again, a dozen times over. Don’t you remember her capricious behavior as a child? How is that different from her actions as an adult?”

  I pulled my legs up under me and snuggled back in the corner of the big sofa.

  “I’ve never thought about it that way, but I guess you’re right. If you knew her so well, how come you don’t know everything about me?”

  “Like I said before, you are quite different. You enjoy taking risks. You like the unknown. That brings an element of unpredictability into your life.”

  “So what’s the ‘ah ha’?”

  “You’re terrified,” he said quietly.

  The smoke from his pipe was deliciously aromatic. I watched as it wafted above his head like a fragrant cloud. It was on the tip of my tongue to say he was crazy, but I knew he was absolutely correct. If I protested, I would reveal even more of myself than I already had. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to do so.

  Mother, bless her heart, saved the day. I could hear the wheels of the tea cart in the hallway. I jumped up to open the door and let her in the library. A dozen lovely smells entered the room along with her.

  “Yum! I am famished, Mother. I hope this is high tea and not some skimpy little cucumber sandwich thing.”

  She ignored me completely and went over to greet her friend.

  “Horatio, dear. Your new tobacco arrived!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The snow fell throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the night. Mother and Horatio sat in the library, laughing and talking for hours. They were so cozy and companionable, I felt even more isolated and alone. I finally excused myself and went to my room. I tried to call Cassie, but her roommate said she was out on a date. I hung up the phone with a self-pitying sigh and decided to take a long hot bath.

  When the water was hot and sudsy with bubble bath and fragrance, I undressed. I was just climbing into the tub when the phone rang. Naked and shivering, I ran back to the bedroom to answer it. Mother had already picked up in the library. I started to hang up but I caught the menacing sound of the voice on the other end. I sat on the edge of the bed, my bare skin covered with goose bumps, and eavesdropped. My heart chilled as I heard:

  “…stone cold dead if she doesn’t mind her own business!”

  “Who is this?” demanded Mother. “How dare you call my home and threaten my daughter!”

  The dial tone was the only answer she got.

  With shaking hands, I threw on my pajamas and housecoat. Mother would need some calming down, and Horatio would want some answers.

  Mother and I met head-on at the library door. Her face was almost as white as her hair, and her lips were trembling. I took her cold hands in mine and led her back in front of the fire.

  “It would seem you have a good reason for being afraid, Paisley,” observed Horatio, calmly. “Perhaps now you’d care to tell us all about it.”

  His voice was tightly controlled, but I knew he would allow no more evasive maneuvers on my part. No matter how much he might care for me, his first priority was Anna Howard Sterling, and she had just had the fright of her life.

  “Oh, Paisley, darling, what in the world?” she cried.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” I sighed, putting my arms around her. “I honestly don’t know who that was, or how they got this number. I really don’t even know what’s going on.”

  I hugged her and pulled her down beside me on the sofa. I turned and faced Horatio. “You were right when you said I was terrified. But the crazy thing is that I haven’t a clue as to why.”

  I shook my head and bit my lip to keep it from trembling before I continued.

  “People are shooting at one another and talking about getting killed, and now they’re threatening me. I just don’t get it.”

  My voice ended on a quavering note as I sat back in the cushions and held Mother’s hands in mine. No one spoke for a long moment. The flames of the gas logs flickered and warmed the room with a rosy glow. The gilded letters on the spines of my father’s books twinkled in the firelight. The polished walnut paneling, lovely oriental rugs, and red chintz flowered sofas made this room a welcome refuge from the world. I tried to draw comfort from the pictures of family and friends, and other beloved objects placed on table­top and mantle. It was a room designed with love. It was a paean to generations of a family. And my family would see me through anything, I was positive of that. I told Mother and Horatio everything that had happened.

  When I had finished my narrative, Horatio asked if we could fix “a small repast” to “fortify his ancient brain.” The tea cart had indeed been just a cucumber sandwich sort of thing. Mother and I hastened to the kitchen. She cut
paper thin slices from a country ham while I buttered biscuits and slipped the ham inside. I warmed up some apple cider and cut thick wedges of mince pie. She filled one large bowl with potato salad, and a smaller one with piccalilli.

  “There,” she said with satisfaction. “That should keep us awake for hours! The heartburn alone should be enough to fuel our imaginations. We’ll figure this out, don’t you worry, dear. Horatio is on the case!”

  I had to smile as I followed her back to the library with our midnight supper on a large tray. Mother was the eternal optimist, and like any true Southern lady, she had enormous faith in her men. But then she had reason for that faith. Her men had never let her down. I wasn’t so lucky. But I was willing to give Horatio a chance. After all, I had nothing to lose but my life.

  He was speaking quietly into the telephone when we entered, and it occurred to me then that he had requested the food in order to get rid of us while he made his call. I put the heavy tray down on the table between the sofas and ran back to the kitchen for the cider. I didn’t want to miss anything else.

  It wasn’t a ruse after all. When I returned, Horatio was eating as though he expected a famine. I poured his cider and watched in amazement as he served himself two more biscuits and heaped on the piccalilli. My stomach was too nervous for more than a cup of cider, so I filled Mother’s cup and sat back to wait. I knew Horatio would take the floor when he had fortified himself sufficiently.

  After another biscuit and a small wedge of mince pie, Horatio cleared his throat and sat back in the big leather wing chair to the right of the fireplace. Mother and I, each perched on a sofa in front of him, watched and waited for what he had to say.

  “Paisley,” he began. “I took the liberty of making a few phone calls while you and your Mother were in the kitchen. I have alerted a network of my former, ah, colleagues to the possibility that we might be in need of their assistance. By this time tomorrow night, we should have their considerable resources at our command. One member of this august group has already provided me with vital information. He convinced someone in the local communications network to trace the unpleasant phone call my Anna received.