Sands of Time

by Bruce A. Sarte

  “Jenny! Is that you? It’s me, Uncle Lancelot! Is that you?” I cupped my hands to my mouth to amplify my voice. I needed to make myself louder.

  Then there was a muffled scream and then there were footfalls on deck. I pulled my Colt from its holster and ran to where the gangway sat pitching back and forth to the rhythm of the river. I shook the padlocked gate fiercely trying to find a way around it.

  “Jenny! I’m coming!” I could still hear the sounds of whoever it was moving towards the stern of the ship that faced Camden, New Jersey. I point my Colt at the lock and fired, shredding the lock into several pieces. I kicked the gate hard and it flow open clanging into the metal posts of the gangway. With a quickness and agility I hadn’t displayed in years I bounded up the platform in four quick steps. I made a beeline for where I thought the noise was coming from.

  I stopped and looked all around me. The rain was still coming down and the wind blowing in from the river made it very difficult to see. Then I saw her. The sight of little Jenny standing on the platform of the deck only inches from the railing sent a chill down my spine.

  “Jenny…” I started but was cut off.

  “If you take one more step, I’ll off the girl…” the man with the gun pointed at Jenny’s temple paused and then added with a sarcastic tone, “Uncle Lancelot”, he then punctuated it with a maniacal laugh. I looked into Jenny’s face and saw pure, unadulterated fear. She was frozen, not able to make a sound or move a muscle.

  “Jenny, don’t move. Everything is going to be OK.” I tried to reassure her while slowly aiming my pistol toward the bad guy.

  “You think so, Uncle Lancelot?” he nudged at her head with the muzzle of his gun. “What makes you so sure of that?” Jenny stumbled to the side as he poked at her. Her hair was matted to her head by the rain and a small, golden key dangled from a necklace around her neck.

  I looked him straight in the eye and said, “This…” and pulled the trigger twice placing two clean shots in his forehead. He had just enough time to register a look of shock on his face before he dropped his gun to the deck. The loud bang from his gun as it struck the deck was punctuated by a fire in my upper right thigh. I felt my leg go numb as I watched the bad guy free fall over the railing and into the river with a soft splash.

  “Jenny!” I exclaimed with relief. I limped to her and took her in my arms in what seemed to be a feeble attempt to keep her safe from harm. On some nights it would have been enough. At this moment not-so-much -- but right here and right now, it was the best I could do.

  “Uncle Lancelot, is it over?” her small voice came to me through the rain. No one else called me by my proper name.

  “Yes, honey… its over.” I replied looking across the Delaware River to the Jersey side. Admiring how the lights from the bridge made the slums of Camden look like the Disneyland of murder and mayhem. But tonight it was the Philadelphia side that was filling my murder and mayhem quota with absolutely no help from Camden.

  “She’s dead…” Jenny said matter-of-factly. How did a ten year old simply work to the acceptance of the loss of her mother so quickly?

  “Yes,” was all I could say and I hugged her just a little tighter.

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Later

  I could sit and stare out the window of my office all day long and the view never changes. My office has a fantastic view of the building right next door. The window was only about five feet away from mine. If I opened my window, I could touch the glass of the building next to mine. Yes, it is a glamorous life but someone has to live it, right?

  Sitting in my chair with my feet up on the windowsill, if I angled myself just right I could clearly see Independence Hall and even a little of the mall. It was a great building. I could sit here and wax on about what great architects our founding fathers were and what brilliant lines the building had. But really I just like to sit and look at the place where the Constitution and Declaration of Independence were both born. Of course, anyone can see this very same building on the back of a hundred dollar bill… but seeing as that’s not something I see very often, I look out the window. The sun glare off the face of the clock was blinding me just a bit when my cell phone began to buzz on the top of my beaten wooden desk. The desk may be old and beaten, but its solid and I love it. I grabbed the phone to keep it from vibrating off and smashing onto the floor in a million pieces. A quick glance at the screen revealed Unknown was calling.

  “Carter Investigations, you lost it we’ll find it. Lance here.” My witty response to the violent ringing of my phone hung there for a minute. I could hear someone breathing on the other end of the phone so I tried again. “Hello, Lance Carter, can I help youuuu?”

  “Um, no…” a soft, sweet sounding young female voice responded, “I think… I mean I must have the wrong number.” And just like that, she hung up. I shrugged my shoulders, dropped the phone back on my ink blotter and returned to staring at the two hundred and sixty year old birthplace of American freedom.

  No sooner had my feet achieved their destination then my door swung open suddenly. Without even turning around I could feel the whirlwind that was my neighbor from across the hall bearing down on me.

  “Carter!” Sally Ann Franklin started in on me, “where have you been? I’ve been looking and watching and waiting for you but every time – No Carter!” My chair squealed in pain as I swung around to face Sally Ann.

  “Good afternoon to you, too Miss Sally.” I said trying not to make it obvious that the cleavage of her pert breasts had my full attention. She always wore her blouses unbuttoned down right far enough that you could see just the top of her bra on each side. Today the bra was black. I’m a big fan of the black bra under the white shirt.

  “Carter, where have you been?” She propped her arms up on her hips, further accentuating her breasts. I wonder if she did that on purpose or if I was just a pig?

  “Why? Someone looking for me?” I responded as aloof as possible while forcing my eyes to meet her cerulean blue spheres. It was difficult to do. Sally Ann Franklin stood about five foot two inches tall and had the body of a gymnast. She usually wore heals that added a couple of inches to her height and today she definitely had a nice pair on. I couldn’t see them but the way she held her hands on her hips told me they were nice. Her dark hair was pinned up in a loose bun that added a touch of professionalism to her young face. When she started shaking her black-rimmed glasses at me I knew she wasn’t really happy with me.

  “I,” she emphasized this, “am looking for you! I never know where you are; you disappear for days… no weeks at a time. Why don’t you come into your office everyday?” She put the glasses on her round, pretty face. The glasses were perfect for her. She had such a great fashion sense. I spread my hands out in a appeasing gesture.

  “You do know what I do for a living, right?” That came out a lot more sarcastic then I’d intended. Sally Ann’s stern gaze floundered for just a moment so I continued. “I’m a private investigator. I get cases… I go out on them and sometimes that means I am away. I didn’t know I had to check in with you, den-mother.”

  Sally harrumphed at me, spun on her heel and stalked toward the door with a loud clack-clack-clack. She paused for a moment with the door open in her perfectly painted fingernails.

  “I just…” her voice was softer now, “I worry.” She began through the door but I called out to her.

  “Sally – wait!” She stopped and turned around quickly coming back into the office. Sally ran the Franklin Public Relations Company that had a small office down the hall from Carter Investigations. I’d only known her for about a year since she opened up shop but she was young and had a lot of drive to make her business successful. The problem was she was young and being young she was very insecure. She’d made a habit of walking down the hall every morning and every afternoon since she opened her office. I’d hear her high-heels clacking down the hall and see her form through the frosted glass of my door slow down just a little before c
ontinuing down the hall. She was checking to make sure I was here.

  “Here,” I grabbed a pen and scribbled down my cell phone number for her, “take this. If I’m not here and you want to know what is going on or where I am just give me a call.”

  “Thank you, Lance.” She said quietly. “I appreciate it, I won’t worry quite as much about you now.” She added quickly with a small smile that made her face just a little bit prettier. Before I could say anything else Sally Ann Franklin had slipped out of my office. The sound of the door clicking softly accented her heels clacking down the hall.

  So just as I had before, I threw my feet up and stared out the window. I could see the people milling about. People walking across the street to the Constitution Center or maybe even to Benjamin Franklin’s house. Some people standing in line on the corner, probably waiting for a horse drawn carriage ride to see all the historic sites. There were so many of them in Philadelphia. Just right here in a six block radius you could spend all day and still not see it all. Then I saw her walking from Independence Hall to the corner. Today her dark hair was in a pony-tail and bobbed slightly while I walked. I wasn’t close enough to see her face but I knew what she looked like. I know how her misty blue eyes contrasted with her alabaster skin and how here hair made those eyes just pop out at you. I looked at the clock and sure as the sun it was 10:45. It might seem like I know this woman or maybe I’m a stalker but neither is true. She just reminds me of someone… someone who is… was very special to me.

  “Carolyn…” I muttered softly and returned my gaze out the window. I threw my feet back up on the window sill and saw her face dancing across the window pane. Her beautiful blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and her smile that was so bright it seemed iridescent. She was one of those things in my life that seemed so long ago and so far away then at times I’d wake up and thought I heard her bare feet tapping down the hallway. Or I’d walk into the living room and smell her perfume. It was a lavender scent. She loved lavender and now, so do I. I shook my head and rubbed my face with both palms feeling the unshaven stubble of my beard underneath them. Back to reality, as sad and lonely as that was at times. I was about to resume people watching with everything I had when there was a knock on my office door. Before I could respond to the knock, in walked an eyeful of the feminine form. I am pretty sure my mouth was open just a tad when my eyes went from her expensive burgundy pumps up her fishnet stocking covered legs and then I got stuck for just a moment on her knee length skirt that matched those pumps perfectly. She coughed which drew my gaze up to her perfectly made up face.

  “Do you mind?” She spat at me.

  Not missing a beat, I replied “not at all. I’m quiet enjoying it and it is my office after all.” I looked back down to her feet. “Nice kicks, those Choos shoes?”

  “Choos?” She replied with so much disdain in her voice you’d think someone in the room had just cut one, “These are Louboutin!” She announced emphatically and turned her ankle just enough to reveal a red sole to the shoe. “Only whores wear Jimmy Choo.”

  “Oh,” I replied in my best fake startled voice, “who knew? I mean not too many women stroll in here with a hundred dollar pair of shoes.”

  The look on her face was pure digest. “Hundred? I would be caught dead in a hundred dollar pair of shoes. Try five hundred mister detective!”

  “Excuse me,” I put my hands up in defense, “I was a little caught up in those long legs you have there.” Leaning forward and throwing my best Bob Barker smile at her. She crossed her arms over her white blouse bringing it taut against her now noticeably firm and large breasts. She was one well put together woman.

  “Do you speak to all your clients this way?” She said looking down her perfectly formed nose at me. Seemed a tad too perfect the more I looked at it. Almost had a Michael Jackson feel to it.

  “Are you a client? You seem more like a prospective client at this point.”

  “My name is Janet Pence. This,” she gestured behind her to the empty door and sighed in an annoyed manner before shouting, “Linda!” After waiting a moment, someone whom I assume is Linda appeared in the door.

  “Hi Linda,” I waved at her, “Come on in and have a seat.” Linda came through the door in a yellow sundress that barely concealed her more than ample breasts and hung down to her ankles. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with bleached blonde hair and perfectly blue eyes. She stood in front of me, a little bit awkward, fumbling with a lovely gold heart necklace that would have otherwise sat nicely between the valleys of her tanned breasts.

  “Hi.” Linda sheepishly offered as she moved towards and then sunk slowly into one of the brown leather chairs perched in front of my desk. Janet Pence made her way to the other chair but I put my hand up to stop her.

  “I didn’t ask you to sit. You were saying?” Janet looked at me hard.

  “This,” she pointed at Linda, “is Linda. Linda has a problem that we’ve been told you can help her with.” She reached up with her nails that were painted to match the skirt and shoes to push some of her black hair from her face. I looked from her to Linda.

  “So, Linda. You’ve got an issue you think I can help you with? How did you hear about my services?” Linda had her head down so that all I could see was he lovely dyed blonde hair and her dangly gold hoop earrings.

  “You are a private detective, aren’t you? Cam said you were and that you were very good.” Janet answered.

  “Cam?”

  “Yes, he said you were very good at finding people and Linda needs someone found.”

  “Linda?” I looked at her wondering who the hell Cam was. “How can I help you?” Linda looked up at me, then at Janet.

  “Linda’s husband has taken her baby and run off!” Janet announced with a great flourish of her hands. “You must find him and get her baby back!” I looked at Janet wondering if her name was really Linda. I was taken by how the muscles on her neck played into her shoulders. She looked like she had been an athlete not too long ago. A swimmer? No, a dancer I bet.t

  “I’m taking your word for it that your name is, indeed, Janet but every time I talk to Linda you speak. How is that, exactly?” Janet pursed her lips and her eyes threw daggers at me. Man she was attractive when she was mad. I turned to Linda and spoke to her again. “Now, Linda. Tell me about it.”

  “Well,” Linda began unsure of herself. “It’s Lenny. He’s gone and he took Sammy with him.”

  “Lenny is such a loser…” Janet threw out there, in case I was interested.

  “He is not,” Linda shot at her, “Lar… I mean Lenny… he just gets confused sometimes is all.”

  I leaned forward and put my elbows on my desk, “Tell me about it. What happened?”

  “Well,” Linda began gaining a little confidence now. “Lenny was supposed to be home on Friday at six.” She stopped and looked up at the ceiling as if a script was written up there for her to read and then continued without looking back down, “but he didn’t. Then it was Saturday and he didn’t come home and then Sunday and well today is Monday and he’s still not home.” I nodded my head in my best understanding manner.

  “And Sammy?”

  “Oh, yea!” She exclaimed now looking back at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Janet’s face bunch up as if she was in pain. “He was supposed to bring Sammy home Friday. He always brings Sammy home from school on Friday.” She nodded her head emphatically. I looked from her to Janet.

  “He’s an ass.” Janet offered.

  “Can you stand up for me?” I asked Linda. She looked at me with a confused expression. I nodded my head and waved her to stand. Linda looked at Janet before slowly beginning to rise and as expected, Janet interjected by placing her hand on Linda’s arm.

  “Why does she need to stand up?” She shot at me.

  “Listen, Janet. As much as I’d like to lick fresh maple syrup off that flat stomach of yours, you need to shut up now unless you have something to offer besides snide remarks and negative
attitude.”

  “Well, I never!” She shot up in front of my desk. “Cam said you’d be like this.”

  “Oh he did, did he? Tell me, how do you know Cam exactly?” The detective beginning to detect.

  “I used to clerk down at Judge Snyder’s office. I knew him from my time there.” I nodded my head now making the connection. Cameron Simile was a not-so-hot assistant district attorney in Philadelphia. Not much with digging up facts and people, so he’d call me every so often for small things like finding a guy who knew a thing about a thing. He slipped my mind because I never heard him referred to as Cam. This guy was no Cam. “And,” she unfortunately continued, “how dare you speak to me that way!”

  “Listen lady, I’d love to not speak to you at all. I have more nefarious things in mind that include,” I began to tick off each finger, “syrup, whipped cream and cherries. But right now, it seems this poor girl may or may not need my help.” I pointed to Linda who looked more confused then ever. “Now, if you don’t mind sit that perfectly rounded ass down and shut that expertly sticked set of lips. Thank you.” She sat. “Now, Linda?” I gestured for her to stand again.

  “Stand up?” She questioned.

  “Yes, dear. If you don’t mind.” Linda stood in front of me and I looked her up and down. In particular I took in her very thin and young looking midsection.

  “Is this good?” She asked, twirling just a little making the dress dance.

  “Yes, it is. Thank you.” I sat back contemplating that either this was a body that never pushed a baby from inside it. I whisked softly. “You are in incredible shape, my dear.” Linda smiled and blushed before sitting back down. “How old did you say Sammy was?”

  “He is seven.” Janet answered matter-of-factly. I looked at her blankly.

  Still looking at Janet, “And where does Sammy go to school, Linda?”