Grave Misgivings

by Kristen Houghton

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 67

  There’s a long pause. “Next time, call me and let me decide if I have to do extra worrying about you.”

  “Okay Myrtle, I promise. I’ll be in after noon.”

  Feeling very loved by everyone’s concern, I sigh happily and check my e-mail from TRUST.

  Possibility Duchovny in ur area

  Right on, TRUST. That he is.

  Chapter 15

  CARRYING A LARGE coffee, I hustle up the stairs to Catherine Harlow, Private Investigations. My calls to Will and Giles were assuring but brief. I told them I had a report to send out and that I’d call later. Giles was fine with that, just told me to finish all the medicine and to call “Dr. Felicia” if I still wasn’t feeling well.

  Will was concerned and pissed that I hadn’t called him but let it go and said he’d be back in two days.“Promise me that you’ll take good care of yourself, Cate. And for Christ’s sake, don’t let me have to call Giles to find out how you are.”

  On the way to my desk I pass Myrtle who is looking intently at her computer screen. Without looking up she says to the computer, “Ah yes, Catherine has finally returned, alive and hopefully well.” I ignore the comment.

  “Is there any yogurt left, Myrtle?”

  “Plenty. I just went shopping yesterday. You know, yesterday? The day before today when I had to find out through a third party that you were at death’s door.” She keeps staring at her screen. I grab a pomegranate yogurt and a spoon.

  “Oh for God’s sake, I was not at death’s door! I simply caught some type of virus. I’m better now. Jeez!” I sigh loudly. “Any calls?”

  “Just Tiger Mom and a company selling bogus land in Central Park.” Her eyes are glued to whatever it is that seems to fascinate her. Curious I walk over to take a look. What I see is a picture of woman’s face swathed in bandages. What you can see of her eyes and lips are a swollen mess.

  “Crime scene victim? Domestic violence? Hit-and-run?” I say, wondering where this has occurred.

  “Face-lift,” says Myrtle. “That picture there is right after the operation. According to the surgeon’s website, she healed in six weeks. Probably looks like your client, Jennifer Brooks- Warren looks now. I wonder where Jennifer got her face done. I may call and ask her.”

  This statement is very strange coming from a woman like Myrtle who acts discreet and professional with my clients. She’d never think to call any one of them with a personal question.

  “Why the sudden interest in cosmetic surgery? You never thought much about it before.”

  Still staring intently at the screen as she goes from one picture to another before saying, “Maybe it’s time for me to reconsider. I’ve been thinking of getting a fresher look.”

  “Seriously? Come on, Myrtle!”

  “Yes, Catherine, seriously. And,” she turns from the screen and fixes me with a stern look, “I definitely don’t want to discuss that either, understand?”

  I nod yes and walk back to my desk. It doesn’t seem as if it’s going to be a fun day at the office.

  ๕๕๕

  My report to Robbie Samuelson’s mother is detailed and to the point without giving out Robbie’s personal information. Only one small lie was added about Tony’s sister.

  “Mrs. Samuelson: As you requested I did a complete surveillance of your son Robbie on Thursday night. I can report that he was studying and working on his art project at the

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 69

  Metropolitan Museum of Art with a male classmate. No romantic girl-boy interaction. The girl

  whose text was on Robbie’s phone is his friend’s older sister who is an art major. She was there

  helping both boys to complete their art project term papers. All three left the area around 9:30

  p.m. Robbie caught the bus back home and his friend and his sister walked a few blocks to their

  home. All in all I found no reason for you to be concerned about any girlfriend. There was none.

  Robbie was doing exactly what he had told you he would be doing and was exactly where he had

  said he would be.”

  I attach the report to an e-mail telling Mrs. Samuelson that a paper copy, along with my bill, will be sent to her later this week and hit send. Then I print out the report and my expenses and bring both papers to Myrtle.

  “Lunch?” I ask casually as I place the report on her desk. The dead silence in my office has been going on all morning and I hate it.

  “Sure, as long as it’s a salad, honey.” Myrtle gives me a half-hearted smile. “Watching my weight.”

  “Well, okay then, let’s go out for lunch. Let’s take a long walk and find some nice place we’ve never been and grab a late lunch. There are so many places that have great salads; this is New York City after all. We can take the afternoon off.”

  “Well...”

  “Oh come on, Myrtle, I’m the boss and I say we should take the rest of the day off. Besides,” I add, playing on her concern for my health, “I need to take a long break today. I’m still not feeling all that great. A walk and a good meal will do me well.”

  My ploy works. She looks at me and smiles with a little more warmth. “All right, Catherine. The weather is perfect for walking and I think we should look for a restaurant where you can have some good hot soup and a healthy sandwich. Let’s go.”

  ๕๕๕

  Lunch is long and pleasant. More hot and spicy chicken soup with lots of chicken pieces and a BLT on toasted rye make for a delicious meal. I pop my last Augmentum with a glass of seltzer under Myrtle’s approving eye. I feel a helluva lot better and I have to seriously thank Dr. Felicia when I can. Maybe she’s a good match for Giles. I mention as much to Myrtle and tell her about my bout of bitchiness. Her response is, as always, practical.

  “There’s nothing wrong with feeling jealous, cookie. You and he had a good thing going there for a while. There was a time when I truly thought that Dr. Giles Barrett might be the one for you. I had my misgivings because I always felt, and still feel that you and Detective Benigni belong together somehow. Still, Dr. Barrett seemed to make you happy and he is a steadying influence on you, even now.” She looks away then back at me. “You’re back with Detective Benigni, with Will, now and I hope you two can make a go of it and that it’s not all sex with no real substance. “Of course,” she continues with her schoolteacher voice, “sex is normal and healthy and you’re a young woman. If Will satisfies you in that area, then good for you, enjoy it.”

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 70

  I’m a bit shocked; Myrtle has never mentioned my sex life before. “Sex is important, Myrtle. We can’t discount that. I really don’t know if Will and I can have more than that. It’s complicated. Lots of relationships are, but many times the sex aspect of it is good.” I look at her before continuing. I don’t want to go too far but this seems an opportune moment to find out what’s been bothering her and Harry. “I mean, sex is healthy at any age, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Yes, well, um, I didn’t want to say anything but since you brought up the topic of sex, you did mention that Harry has gotten a bottle of Cialis. It seems as if he’s happy with that part of the marriage and wants it to continue.”

  Myrtle closes her eyes and puts her hand on her forehead. “My dear Catherine, stop. I did find the bottle of Cialis in his drawer but I have to tell you that Harry and I haven’t had any intimate relations for over two months. Obviously the Cialis either isn’t working for my benefit or its effects are being enjoyed by Harry with someone else. And Catherine?” she gives me her schoolteacher look, the one that has silenced scores of eighth graders over the years.

  “Yes?”

  “This conversation has come to an end.”

  Chapter 16

  MYRTLE PUTS A CALL through to me while I’m driving on the Long Island Parkway. The word driving is a joke; traffic is a bitch, as usual; the L.I.E. is a virtual parking lot.

  “Catherine, I’m putting t
hrough a call from a woman named Moira. No last name but she says you’ll want to speak to her. Moira? Hmmm. That name sounds very familiar to me. Should I know her? A client, maybe? Anyway, here she is.” The line clicks over to the call.

  The only Moira I know is Moira Hollis, the woman who used the services of the eliminator to ‘off’ her abusive father. Now why is she calling me? I assumed that she’d never want to have anything to do with me after my late-night visit to her condo and thinly veiled threats. I hit ok on the phone button of my steering wheel.

  “Moira, this is interesting. I never expected to hear from you again.”

  A cool but uncertain voice answers me. “Yes, I’m very sure you didn’t…I certainly never expected to call you but I have some information that you might want for that case you mentioned to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that poor woman, you know, the one whose life is in danger, and how frightened she must be. Whether what she wanted done was rational or not, she doesn’t deserve to die for her stupidity.” There’s a pause then she says, “Are you recording this conversation? You are a PI and what I have to say, I don’t want recorded.”

  I assure her that I’m not recording anything and that she can speak freely. “It’s just me, Moira. Go ahead.”

  “All right. I am sorry but I had to know. I know you told me that I was to forget that we ever met but after you hear what I have to say I think you’ll agree that calling you was the right thing to do.” She pauses and I hear her take a shaky breath. “Cate, I think I saw that man, the Eliminator, yesterday evening. I debated calling you but, after a sleepless night, I knew that I had to let you know what I overheard.”

  “Overheard?” I’m all ears.

  “Yes. I was at a cocktail party last night held at the home of an older couple I know, the Ramsteins. It was a charity event for a women’s shelter and I always donate bath linens and other items from my shop to local charities. Peter Karis was there; his wife is co-chair of this charitable organization. We see each other rarely but sometimes it is unavoidable and I do run into him. He’s always kind and friendly to me. Oh if he only knew what he unwittingly helped me to do!”

  I don’t need drama so I say tersely, “Yes, go on.”

  “Peter was talking to a group of people and then I saw him go over to a man who was standing alone by the bar. The man turned and looked around the room very casually and then he looked right at me. If he remembered me he didn’t show any trace of it at all. He did not seem as if he knew me but I knew that he was the man who...took...care of...my father. It was him but he was different somehow. His hair was darker and a bit longer too. He was wearing sunglasses.”

  Dark hair to change his appearance, sunglasses of course. Goes with the territory.

  “Did he approach you?”

  “Oh no, he acted as if I was a complete stranger.”

  “Is this it? You called to tell me that you saw him there? My sources believe he was in New York City three days ago, Moira. Are you sure it was the same man?”

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 72

  “Yes, yes I am sure, absolutely certain. I saw his eyes. When he was talking to Peter he took his sunglasses off and turned in my direction. I saw his eyes, those cold, blue eyes. I’ll never forget those eyes. It was definitely him!”

  I’m skeptical but need more information. “Moira, just because you saw him last night in Virginia doesn’t mean that he’s still there. I have it on very good intel that he’s been around doing what he does best. My sources tell me that his last known job was in Georgia last month. He could be anywhere now.”

  “I think he talked about your case, about having to finish a job in New York City.”

  “How do you know this bit of info?”

  She takes a deep breath before continuing. “After I saw him there I was so unnerved that I wanted to get away, just get away from the house where the benefit was being held. But I couldn’t leave without telling my hosts. I was scheduled to make a presentation of my gifts. I wanted to ask if one of them would do it for me. I was going to say that I felt unwell.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I couldn’t find either one in the living room or dining room so I went looking for them. I searched the house and was about to go outside by the pool. I felt dizzy so I sat down in the library. That’s when I heard Peter’s voice and the voice of that...other man. They were coming toward the library. I should have made my presence known but I didn’t. I hid.”

  “They didn’t know you were there? How’s that possible? The Eliminator would have searched the room.”

  “Yes, he did. But he didn’t know about the door hidden behind one of the bookcases. It is a secret door that leads to a panic room. No one knows about it. I only know about it because of my father. Isn’t that strange? There had been a series of break-ins in the Ramsteins’ neighborhood. My father was their lawyer. When they went to him for legal advice on another matter and mentioned the break-ins, he suggested they have a panic room built. This was quite a few years ago and panic rooms were a new type of security for those who could afford them. And my father, for all that he was a bastard to his family, was very good at keeping client-lawyer confidences. He told them not to let anyone, not even their friends or relatives know of its existence. I was working part-time as his secretary that summer and overheard the conversation. My father never thought of me as anyone who would break a confidence. But he swore me to secrecy when I went with him to see the panic room.

  “The room is completely concealed if you don’t know where to press the entrance button. After you enter the panic room the bookcase closes tightly and locks. Believe me there’s no way anyone would suspect there’s anything but a bookcase there.”

  “So you were able to hide before they came in?”

  “Yes, when I knew they were going to enter the library I quickly got into the room and the bookcase closed behind me. I heard the Eliminator going around the room checking everything. I nearly screamed when I heard him pause near the bookcase. He seemed to be examining something there for so long. Then he said that it was clear and told Peter to close and lock the French doors of the library. When that was done they began talking.”

  “What did you hear?” I’m maneuvering slowly to the next lane as I listen to her.

  GRAVE MISGIVINGS 73

  She takes a deep breath and says shakily, “The Eliminator said, ‘Do you need a memento?’ and Peter laughed. ‘Of course I do. Make it his left thumb. He’s got a mole on it. I want to know the mission succeeded.’ He told him ‘It’ll be done by the weekend. I have a job in New York City in a few weeks and this new contract is a very interesting and lucrative one, a nice double dip.’

  “Peter laughed again and said something that sounded like, ‘You certainly know how to work it.’ Then someone knocked on the door of the library and I heard Mrs. Karis saying that the presentations were about to be made and that her husband had better hurry. I heard Peter and that man leave. I waited for about twenty minutes before I felt safe enough to come out.”

  There’s a silence on both ends of the call. Finally I ask her if she knew what the Eliminator meant by double dip.

  “I have no idea. But...doesn’t that usually mean to get something twice?”

  “Yes, it does but we don’t know if what he said in reference to a job has the same meaning. Did you hear anything else before they left the room?”

  “The Eliminator, oh I hate saying that word!”

  I tell her it’s just a word to describe him and what he does. “Go on, Moira.”

  “He said there was a nuisance factor involved in his job up north and he had to deal with it. I don’t know what he meant, but that’s what he said.”

  I think about what she’s saying. A nuisance factor; that can mean he knows about the security detail or intends to make sure Edward Penn is out of the way. It can also mean that he knows Jennifer retained a private investigator.

  “Cate? I did the right thing by calling you didn’t I? That woman doesn’
t deserve to die.”

  Traffic is moving at a brisker pace and I merge with it toward the fast lane. “Yes, Moira, you did the right thing by calling me. I’m on high alert anyway and this lets me know that I have to be even more vigilant. Thanks.”

  “All right, well, then, good-bye.”

  “Good-bye Moira.”

  I go with the flow of traffic letting my convoluted mind think about the Eliminator, the possible meaning of the words “a nice double dip,” and the courage it took for Moira Hollis to call me.

  ๕๕๕

  I sleep fairly well that night. The exhaustion from the viral bug and strong antibiotics has given way to restorative sleep and I awake feeling good enough to go hit some balls out at the courts. I hope my tennis ace, Ani, is there. That girl gives me a solid workout.

  I make coffee, feed my cats, and check my e-mail and texts. I’m surprised to see a text message from Dr. Felicia, the beautiful internist Giles brought to my brownstone when I was so sick. It’s a very professional one simply asking how I’m doing and telling me to call the office if I’m still not well. It’s probably from one of her office staff. Myrtle sends text messages and e-mails out to my clients all the time although she much prefers sending a real letter.

  KRISTEN HOUGHTON 74

  Still, the message is nice to receive and to know that I have a doctor to call if I need one. My own doctor, or more correctly former doctor, is eighty-seven years old, still sharp as a tack but he retired last year. I’ve been self-medicating with over the counter cold and flu meds when the need arises. A couple of shots of Grey Goose vodka in a tumbler of cranberry juice helps a lot too. Maybe it’s time I got a new doctor.