by Ann Granger
It occurred to me that with his white clothes and my black wig, and seated opposite one another, we must look like chess pieces set out on a board. Perhaps the analogy was an apt one. We were both waiting for one of us to make a move. I pulled off the wig, put it on my lap and ran my fingers through my own hair. He’d been studying me with the same frankness I’d shown towards him. When I took off the wig a new look of assessment entered his eyes, as if making up his mind whether I looked better with it or without.
‘Skip the comment,’ I said.
The waitress came up and took our order. I first asked just for coffee but my companion ordered fish and chips. Well, why not? I thought. It was now lunchtime and all that walking had made me hungry. I told the waitress I’d have the same.
‘I always eat when I can,’ my companion informed me with a nod of the baseball cap which he still hadn’t removed. I wondered how much hair he had beneath it. ‘Professional habit,’ he went on. ‘I never know what may turn up to prevent me eating for the rest of the day, especially if I’m tailing someone.’
‘Yes, all right,’ I told him. ‘You don’t have to overdo it.’
‘Who goes first?’ he returned. ‘You or me? Only I have to protect the privacy of my client. I can’t give you a name or any information. It’s privileged.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I said. ‘You’re not a priest and you’re not a lawyer. I’ve only your word for it you’re a private eye.’
He extracted a battered business card from one of the pockets of his long shorts and handed it across the table. It told me his name was Duane Gardner and he was an ‘Enquiry Agent’. The address was in Teddington on the edge of London.
‘If I wanted,’ I said, ‘I could produce a dozen cards like this on a computer.’
‘Phone the number,’ he said simply. ‘I work on my own but I’m in business with my girlfriend. You might get the answerphone or you’ll get my girlfriend. But the answer machine and Lottie will both tell you the same thing. She does the office work. I do the foot-slogging. We’re private detectives. That’s what I - we - do.’
I could have replied, ‘So do I from time to time,’ if I’d been so inclined. But I decided there was no need for him to know that I, too, had done a bit of detecting, at least not just now. I’d already told him I was a friend of Edna’s and if I changed my story at all, he’d be suspicious and that would be the end of our conversation. Nor would he believe if I was any kind of detective, professional or otherwise, that I hadn’t been hired by someone. From being a possible source of information, I’d turn into a rival.
‘I do have to be discreet,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’m not a lawyer but I’ve done work for solicitors and they have to trust me. My professional reputation matters. People don’t go to private enquiry agencies if they want their names and business blabbed around everywhere. But now you know who I am, so who are you?’
Fair enough. I owed him my name and gave it to him. He frowned as the coffee arrived, ahead of the food. Duane stirred his cappuccino and appeared to be running my name through some sort of index in his head. It must have come up a blank.
‘Where and when did you live next door to Edna?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t say I lived next door to her. I said we were neighbours of a sort and so we were. It was in Rotherhithe getting on for a couple of years ago. I lived in a squat in Jubilee Road. It’s been pulled down now, all the houses were, and developers moved in. Edna wasn’t a squatter. She lived in a little disused burial ground at the end of the road. We all, everyone who lived round there, knew her well. The burial ground went under the bulldozers too. I don’t know what they do about the graves when that happens.’
I’d set him thinking and he answered me in an absent-minded way. ‘If it’s abandoned, been no burials there for ages, they dig out a grave and see if anything’s left. If there’s nothing, they just carry on. If there’s something, they have to let the archaeologists have a look. Any coffins will be reburied somewhere else if they’ve still got remains in ’em. Really old burials have generally just mouldered away.’
‘Dust to dust,’ I said.
‘That’s about it. Depends on the soil and the coffin itself. A lead coffin, that and anything in it’ll keep pretty well. Wooden ones just rot. If it’s peaty soil then things get preserved. They’ve dug really interesting bodies out of peat bogs.You know, prehistoric but look like someone dumped them in there yesterday.’
‘You sound like you spend a lot of time in cemeteries, ’ I said, putting a stop to this macabre lecture.
‘Yeah, I do sometimes,’ he said.
The happiest days of his life, probably. ‘Why is Edna scared of you?’ I asked.
‘She’s not, as far as I know,’ he defended himself.
‘Come off it.’
‘I told you, confidentiality—’
I put a stop to his excuses there and then. ‘Edna’s not your client. The person who hired you is. I accept you can’t tell me about him, whoever he or she is. But, if you like, Edna is my interest. When she saw you watching her from across the road - while I was talking to her outside Camden Town Tube station - she really flipped out.’
‘Yeah, nuisance, that,’ he muttered. He sipped at his coffee.
‘So, tell me why.’
‘Means I can’t get to talk to her easily. I want to talk to her on my client’s behalf.’
‘Aha!’ I exclaimed in triumph. ‘So your client asked you to find her.’
He glowered at me. ‘I’m not saying. Confidential. ’
‘Is he a solicitor?’ I asked. I was beginning to see where this might be leading, just possibly. ‘Is it about a will?’
‘Confidential,’ he repeated.
‘So why is she scared? You can tell me that.’
‘Guess I frightened her. My mistake. I thought she hadn’t spotted me but she had. I had tried to chat to her once before, just nicely. Crazy old crone took off like a bat out of hell. I didn’t do anything to scare her, I swear.’
‘Depends what you said to her. Did you let her know someone had asked you to find her?’
‘Confidential.’
I tried to flush out some information. ‘Suppose,’ I suggested, ‘I went to the police and told them about this?’
He grinned at me then. ‘Tell them what? What do they care about an old bag lady? I’m a legit enquiry agent. They can check me out. I’m just doing a job.’
‘And I’m just making it my job to look out for Edna and make sure you don’t frighten the living daylights out of her,’ I said.
‘Spend your time any way you want to,’ he returned insolently and grinned at me with his little mouth. It made his whole face look really strange, like one of those Halloween masks.
Our food arrived. We tackled it in silence. Both of us, I guessed, were planning our next conversational gambit.
I wasn’t going to get any more out of him, so much was clear. Nor was he going to get anything out of me. I did have his card. I might as well eat up and go. Edna would be well away from here by now. If nothing else, the time spent with Duane in this café meant she’d had time to put distance between us.
But one thing was still bothering me. I had kept an eye out for him at the hostel and I hadn’t seen him. ‘Where did you pick us up? I mean, if you were following me, exactly where did you pick me up?’
‘Outside that hostel where she lives, where do you think?’
‘I looked for you,’ I said defiantly.
‘Yeah,’ was the irritating reply. ‘I know you did. You were rubbernecking around the place thinking I was behind every tree. I got there first, see.You’ve got to be up early in this business. I saw you arrive. You had to be waiting for her to leave, just like I was. I let you set off after her and Bob’s your uncle.’ He sounded really chirpy.
Duane wasn’t bad as a private detective, I realised. He’d located Edna, in itself not easy, and he’d found out where she lived. He’d run rings round me again today. One thing I still w
anted to know.
‘I kept my eyes open while I was waiting outside the hostel. I didn’t spot you. Perhaps you were there but where the hell were you?’
He made that funny mask-like grimace again. ‘I was under cover, like a birdwatcher in a hide. I was in the back of a parked van. I’ll be honest. I saw, when you arrived and took up position, that it was someone on the same errand I was, but I didn’t know it was you because of that Morticia wig. It didn’t make any difference. You were following the old girl, so you had an interest. Actually, I was quite relieved, back there in the cemetery, to see that it was you. Otherwise that would have meant two other people were targeting the old lady, three of us all told, and that would have made life real complicated.’
‘Your decorator mates,’ I said crossly. ‘They let you hide in that empty house yesterday when I ran after you, and they let you hide in their van today. I hope it cost you.’
‘Cost the client,’ he said serenely. ‘Day-to-day expenses.’
That, more than the card or anything else, convinced me he was a real private detective.
He had an idea of his own in mind. He leaned across the table. ‘My client is generous with expenses. The old lady probably won’t talk to me. But if you’re her friend, she’ll talk to you. What do you say? I could put you on the payroll for this job. It’d be a nice little earner.’
‘I don’t sell my friends’ confidences,’ I said, getting to my feet.
‘You’d find out a bit more about all this,’ he coaxed.
‘I’ll find out,’ I promised him. ‘Only I’ll do it my own way. Oh, since you are on expenses, as you say, you can pay for both our meals. Bill the client.’
I had the satisfaction of knowing, as I left, that he didn’t look very happy.
I went back to the newsagent’s, collected Bonnie and arranged to meet Ganesh outside at twenty past eight that evening. They close up at eight. Then I went home with Bonnie and sat in front of the television watching some made-for-TV American detective series. All the women in it were glamorous and most of the men had body-builder physiques except for a distinguished-looking couple of oldies with silver hair who looked like moonlighting senators. In half an hour neatly they had solved a crime which had been baffling the sheriff’s office, the Homicide department of the local cops, the DA’s office, the FBI and probably the CIA. At no time did anyone appear in this line-up remotely resembling a bag lady, an out-of-work young female actor, a stressed-out newsagent or a tennis-hatted private eye who looked like an alien.
Usually watching this kind of thing helps me relax and solve whatever problem is facing me at the time. I think it disconnects my mind from reality long enough to gain distance so that when I come back to my own world I can see it more clearly. This time it didn’t really work. I had a feeling that, sooner or later, I was going to have to tackle Edna herself. If a private detective has been hired to find you, you generally know why. The trouble was, she wouldn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have worried so much if she hadn’t looked so frightened outside the Tube station. She saw Duane - or whoever was behind him - as a threat. Because that’s another thing she probably knew: who had hired him.
I was outside the shop at eight, hanging about on the pavement. Ganesh came out at half past, glowering. He took my arm and propelled me along the street at a fast clip.
‘What’s up?’ I protested. ‘Oy, let go of me! I’ll fall over.’
‘He’ll call me back. He’ll find something else for me to do.’
‘Ganesh!’ I said, coming to a halt once we were round the corner and detaching myself from his grip. ‘You’ve got to sort this out with Hari. He’s worried, that’s why he’s being so difficult.’
‘He was always difficult,’ argued Ganesh.
‘Be fair. He’s not so bad. He’s trying to make a living. That supermarket has taken his trade.’
Ganesh sighed. ‘I know, I know. Let’s go and eat. I can’t face another one of Jimmie’s spuds.’
We ended up in an Italian place eating pasta arrabiata and mixed salad. I told Ganesh about my experience following Edna and how I’d been followed by Duane Gardner.
‘So you see,’ I said smugly, ‘I wasn’t imagining things.’
Ganesh hesitated but then said magnanimously, ‘OK, you were right and I was wrong. It seems pretty odd, though. Who’d want to find Edna?’
‘I don’t know but I’ll find out. Duane will go on watching her. He’ll try and talk to her again. I don’t know what’s happening but someone has to stop it.’
As usual, he played devil’s advocate. ‘It sounds like meddling and if you really don’t have any idea what’s behind it, you ought to leave well alone. Whoever has hired this character Gardner won’t like you sticking your nose in. Have you still got that agency card on you?’
I took out the business card and handed it across the table. Ganesh squinted at it in the guttering light of the candle in a wine bottle which was attempting to look as if it was there to give atmosphere. I suspected an excuse to save on the electricity bill rather than a prop to encourage romantic moments. It caused customers to peer at their food and companions as if either one might be a mistake.
‘Right, Gardner,’ Ganesh muttered, handing the card back. ‘Although I could print off a dozen cards like that saying I represented Patel’s detective agency.’
‘That’s more or less what I told him. He told me to check out the number.’
Ganesh leaned back in his chair with a faraway look on his face. ‘You reckon it would be a good business, Fran? Investigations undertaken, strict confidence assured?’
‘Not if your Uncle Hari had anything to do with it.’
‘True,’ said Ganesh, shaking his head sadly. ‘He’d want to vet all the clients and none of them would come up to his standards. But it’s an idea. I know you’re not keen on us going into a dry-cleaning business . . .’
‘Gan! This is not the time to discuss your daft idea about us opening a dry-cleaner’s. And a detective agency, no, it’s too complicated. I like doing things my own way, on my own, picking the cases I want to look into. I don’t want to be like Susie taking all kinds of seedy jobs.’
‘I suppose so,’ mumbled Ganesh.
‘Edna!’ I said firmly. ‘We are talking about her and what I’m going to do.’
‘Do nothing,’ he told me, ‘because you don’t know what the set-up is. Whoever is looking for her must have a strong motive. If you interfere you might not be doing her a favour, as you seem to think.’
‘A strong motive doesn’t mean it’s in Edna’s interest. We don’t know it.’There was a pause while we both mulled it over. ‘Perhaps I was right when I asked Gardner if it was about a will,’ I said wistfully. ‘Hey, Gan, perhaps someone has died and left her millions.’
‘Not likely, is it?’ Ganesh said in that dampening way. ‘She’s so old, anyone older than her with millions to leave would have to be ancient and have younger heirs.’
‘In fact she’s not that old, not nearly as old as I imagined. She’s in her sixties.’
He thought about it for a few moments and I waited because Ganesh can come up with some interesting ideas.
‘All right, she could be someone’s wife. Perhaps they split years ago and now the old chap wants to put his affairs in order, because he’s ancient even if she isn’t . . .’ Ganesh was growing enthusiastic with his scenario. ‘And make his will and so he wants to know if she’s alive so he can fix a divorce. You know, make sure she doesn’t turn up and contest it.’
‘Funny you should say that,’ I mused, ‘because she told me she thought she had been engaged to be married once. But she couldn’t remember to whom.’
Ganesh put down his fork. ‘What’s the worst thing that can happen, Fran? This Duane Gardner finds Edna again and talks to her. He won’t get any sense out of her, any more than you did.’
‘She needs protecting.’
‘She’s got protection of a sort. She lives in that hostel.’
&n
bsp; ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And the people there ought to know about this.’
‘What,’ asked Ganesh, ‘makes you think they don’t already?’
‘That’s another thing I’m going to find out,’ I told him.
Chapter Five
I returned to the hostel the following day. Mindful of what had happened on my previous visit, I waited until I saw Edna leave and hung around long enough to make sure Duane Gardner wasn’t following her. But Duane wasn’t around in the street nor, as far as I’d been able to establish, was he anywhere else, hidden away. What’s more, this time I had taken the precaution of first checking out the house being renovated.