Missing - Mark Kane Mysteries - Book Five: A Private Investigator Crime Series of Murder, Mystery, Suspense & Thriller Stories...with a dash of Romance. A Murder Mystery & Suspense Thriller

by John Hemmings

  She heard the sound of the car braking, and a sudden rush of relief swept over her. And then the car was almost on top of her. As she tried to step back out of its path she was momentarily aware of the car turning sideways and then an intense blow to her hip threw her into the air. Then she felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing.

  As the offside of the car side-swiped the girl the loud bang woke Catherine up. Glen’s car came to a stop, the silence broken only by an exclamation from Catherine.

  “What the hell was that?” she said.

  Chapter Two

  A Double Celebration

  “What are you going to wear for the wedding?”

  I was lying supine on my recliner nursing a medium-sized hangover and was feeling a bit under the weather. For a split second I was seized by blind panic. I had scant memory of last evening and it briefly occurred to me that in my inebriated state I might have inadvertently proposed to Lucy, or she to me. This thought probably lasted no more than a millisecond but it was enough to bring me round. I sat up; the relief was palpable.

  “It’s not for more than six weeks,” I said, “so I haven’t really given it a lot of thought. We only got the invitation yesterday morning.”

  Lucy was referring to the wedding of Jenny and Jamie – the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Ribac. They were former clients of mine. It was to be a spring wedding.

  “You’ll have to buy something. There’s nothing suitable in your closet.”

  “I thought I might go disguised as a nineteen thirties’ private detective – you know, just for a bit of fun,” I said.

  Lucy stood in front of me, arms akimbo. “I hope you’re not going to embarrass me.”

  “You started it,” I said.

  “Started what?”

  “With those movie posters you decided to decorate the office with.”

  “They lend a certain panache to the place, don’t you think?” Lucy said.

  “Shouldn’t you be there,” I said, “in case a potential client drops in?”

  “It’s not necessary – there’s a sign on the door which says ‘by appointment only’.”

  “Highly organized,” I said. “No doubt you’ve had a price list printed as well.”

  “No, but I have been reviewing your advertising policy; or rather the lack of one. I’m considering a website.”

  I groaned inwardly but smiled sweetly to pacify her. I sensed that she was in a potentially critical or even argumentative frame of mind, so I decided to err on the safe side. “I can’t wait,” I said, with what I thought was mild enthusiasm; but Lucy had apparently picked up on an undertone of insincerity.

  “Rather than drinking myself into oblivion,” she said.

  “It was a rare indulgence to celebrate a special occasion.”

  The arms were still akimbo, the expression challenging. “What special occasion?” she said, somewhat impatiently.

  “The anniversary of the birth of MK Investigations,” I said, lying through my teeth.

  “Well if you carry on like that it’ll be the last anniversary,” she said. “Anyway, you never told me.”

  “I thought it would be a date etched in your memory,” I said. I should have known better; I should have let it go.

  “It’s February,” she said. “You started your business in October – I should know, I was there.”

  “It’s like the Queen of England,” I said. “I have two celebrations each year – one for the actual birthday and one for the official one.”

  “Is that true? Does the Queen really have two birthdays?” she said.

  “So I’m told. And being an admirer of the English monarchy my following suit is by way of showing respect to an old established tradition.”

  “So she must be about a hundred and seventy,” she said, thoughtfully.

  Lucy had wandered off into my kitchen and was opening drawers and doors in a fruitless search for something to prepare for lunch.

  “It’s two celebrations for the same birthday,” I said. “You don’t count it twice.”

  “If there was an award for talking gibberish you’d be at the front of the line,” she called over to me. “You need to do some shopping.”

  She came back into the living room and settled herself on the sofa. “I’ve decided to become a vegetarian,” she said. “I think that would be good for you too. It apparently helps to unclog the arteries and detoxifies the body. It’s particularly recommended for those approaching middle age,” she said, looking me straight in the eye.

  “Lucy, if God had intended us to be vegetarians he wouldn’t have given us incisors – or cows.”

  “You could still have milk,” she said, “and cheese. And alcohol,” she added, in an attempt to lure me into submission.

  “Nope. But we’ll compromise,” I said. “I’ll eat vegetarian food if I come to your place; how’s that?”

  “Well I think you should try it for a while. Janey’s been a vegetarian for six months now and she says it’s completely reinvigorated her – she feels years younger.”

  She didn’t look years younger the last time I saw her, I thought, but I kept the thought to myself.

  “Each to his or her own,” I said. “You’ll soon get tired of it. I suppose you know that cows have four stomachs in order to digest their vegetarian diet? Nature hasn’t designed us to be vegetarians.”

  “Nature didn’t design us to be intoxicated on a regular basis,” she said.

  I decided to change the subject. “Now what’s the plan of action for this afternoon – apart from shopping?” I said.

  “We’ve got two insurance jobs. Obviously even I can’t be in two places at once so I suggest we do one each.”

  “Or we could split them between you and either Tony or June,” I said. “That would free me up in case a meaty investigation comes along.”

  Tony and June Scipio were freelancers who did most of my routine surveillance work.

  “Tony or June can be standbys,” Lucy said. “If a meaty investigation manifests itself one of them can take over your surveillance. We can start tomorrow.”

  Insurance surveillance was what paid the office rent every month. The work usually involved keeping tabs on personal injury claimants who asserted that they couldn’t work or play sports or, on some occasions, couldn’t even leave home because of some debilitating injury. It involved making copious notes and taking photographs and video footage of the unsuspecting claimant, sometimes over a period of several days. It was tedious and often mind-numbingly boring. Very few cases ever resulted in litigation. If the subject was proved to be lying, the claim would usually be withdrawn. If the claimant was found to be exaggerating, then a compromised settlement could be achieved. Even in dubious cases both sides would be anxious to avoid the cost of going to court.

  Fortunately, I’d never been involved in a case where I was called upon to testify, but I’d occasionally had sight of the expert medical reports which were prepared pending litigation. It always surprised me that two medical experts on opposing sides could examine the same patient and come to diametrically opposed opinions as to the effect or extent of an injury. Alleged whiplash injuries arising from traffic accidents were a common complaint, because the doctors had to rely on the claimant’s own account of the symptoms since most injuries of that nature are soft tissue injuries, invisible to the probes of x-rays and magnetic resonance imagers.

  “I’ll have to see,” I said. “There may be some urgent paperwork I need to do. In fact, I just remembered that I’ve got a few important calls I need to make this afternoon, so I was wondering whether you could perhaps do my shopping for me as well as your own. You could put any meat products into a separate bag to avoid contamination of your own purchases.”

  “If I do your shopping I’ll only buy things that I consider to be good for you – you do realize that of course?” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows at me.

  “I consider that an added bonus,” I
said, in an attempt to take some of the wind from her sails. “And as for lunch, why don’t we go to your place and you can cook any meat or fish you may have left over pending the commencement of your new diet. I spotted some sea bass in your refrigerator yesterday.”

  Lucy got up with a look of detached resignation. “Come on then – and you’d better bring your cell phone so that you can make some of your ‘urgent calls’ while I prepare lunch,” she said with more than mild sarcasm.

  Chapter Three

  The Cat and the Client

  We were eating our lunch when the call came through.

  “Kane,” I said.

  “Is that Mr. Kane, the private investigator?” a rather quiet voice said.

  “Yes, it is. How may I help you?” I said, grinning at Lucy and pointing triumphantly at my cell phone.

  “You’ve been recommended to me by the police, Mr. Kane. I’m told you’re the best there is. My teenage daughter’s missing and the police haven’t made any progress in their investigation. The case is likely to take at least a week I should think, possibly longer, and it will involve some traveling; would you be free for that period? The matter’s an urgent one – my daughter’s been missing for almost two weeks.” There were labored pauses between each sentence. It was the voice of a tired, elderly man.

  “I’ve just wrapped up an investigation,” I said, “so I’ll be able to give it my full attention. Shall we make an appointment for me to come and see you?”

  “Yes…please. As soon as you possibly can.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” I said. “Perhaps you can give me your address; and your name.”

  “Yes of course, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid I’ve been under a considerable amount of stress recently.” The voice was weak, the speech wheezy. “My name’s Roberts, Dean Roberts and I live in Beacon Hill.” He recited his address and I wrote it down. “If it’s more convenient I can come to your office,” he said, coughing slightly. He didn’t sound well enough to travel to my office; or anywhere else for that matter.

  “Because of the nature of the investigation I’ll no doubt need some photographs and perhaps other documents relating to your daughter. I think it would be preferable to meet at your home. Once I have more details I can let you know exactly what I shall need. I’d better let you have my fees; they’ll be a thousand a day and…”

  “There’s no need for that. I’m assured you’re the best and that’s what I want − what I need.” There was a pause. It sounded as if he was trying to catch his breath. “How early can you come?”

  “Would nine o’clock be suitable?”

  “Thank you…until tomorrow then.”

  “We’re back in business,” I said to Lucy after I hung up. “Sounds like a meaty case – it involves traveling and will last at least a week.”

  “I may as well shelve the shopping for the time being then,” Lucy said. “Traveling to where?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Am I coming to the meeting tomorrow?” she said.

  “Provided you behave; I don’t want any more of that head and tail stuff – it’s probably all over the Twin Cities by now.” Lucy tried to kick me under the table but I was out of range.

  “So it’s good news for Tony and June again,” she said. “What’s the case about?”

  “A missing daughter,” I said. “Missing for several weeks – the police have come up blank. Apparently someone in the department recommended me. Mr. Roberts, the client, says money’s no object, or words to that effect. He lives in Beacon Hill, so I guess he’s pretty well-heeled. He didn’t sound at all well, though.”

  “I wonder where we’ll be going; maybe to some exotic foreign location. I hope it’s somewhere warm,” she said.

  “I’m not taking a vegetarian with me,” I said.

  “Oh, that can wait until we get back,” she said. “It’s not an urgent thing. Since we’ve got a client to pay the expenses this time we’ll be able to stay somewhere half-decent, instead of those crappy places we stayed in on the last trip.”

  “I think basic rather than crappy would be a fairer description,” I said. “And your instant abandonment of your proposed new lifestyle shows a degree of fickleness in my opinion.”

  “I haven’t abandoned it – I’ve just postponed it,” Lucy said. “If we’re going to the Bible belt we’ll probably have to have separate rooms. I’ve heard they frown on unmarried couples sharing hotel rooms down there.”

  “Especially non-couples,” I said. “I think you’ll find those somewhat anachronistic views have mellowed in recent times, but I’ll tell you something – when my parents first visited New York as a married couple back in the sixties they stayed in the Y. In those days they didn’t just have separate rooms for men and women, they had separate floors – and that included married couples. So my folks had to stay on different floors and call each other when they wanted to meet.”

  “Get outa here.”

  “For real,” I said.

  “It’s a good job they didn’t have to stay there long or Duncan might not have been born,” Lucy said.

  “My parents always maintained that Duncan was conceived at a drive-in. Maybe a similar set of circumstances with your parents explains your love of movies; did that ever occur to you?”

  “No it didn’t,” she said, prissily. “And if it had happened like that it’s not the sort of thing my parents would have told me about.”

  Lucy started to clear away the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “It’s funny how things work out just when you least expect them to, isn’t it?” she said.

  “That’s probably why I allowed myself to run out of food,” I said. “It must’ve been like a sixth sense. Somehow I knew that this was going to happen and that I’d be going away.”

  “Or maybe it was just laziness on your part.”

  “I prefer my theory to yours,” I said.

  “So what kind of things do we need to discuss with the client tomorrow?” Lucy said. “I’d like to take part in the discussion so that he doesn’t think I’m just some kind of decorative menial.”

  “I’m sure nobody would ever form that impression, Lucy. The first thing we need to establish is whether she’s missing voluntarily or not. I don’t know how old his daughter is yet – Roberts sounded quite elderly − but he said she’s a teenager so she may simply have decided to fly the nest. You remember Prudence?”

  “Brad’s daughter? Yes of course. I wonder if she’s still around.”

  “Well let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that she’s a girl in her late teens, and that there’s some evidence that she hasn’t absented herself voluntarily. From what he told me I assume that he has some notion of where she might be or he wouldn’t have said that travel was necessary. I also assume that he knows her last point of contact, and that’s where we’ll have to begin the search. No doubt the local police in wherever that is have already made comprehensive enquiries. They’ll have checked the local hospitals within a certain radius and they’ve probably checked whether she’s accessed her bank account or used her credit cards. Probably they’ve interviewed her known friends and contacts. She may be at college or she may have been working away from home before she disappeared. So those are the general sort of things we’ll need to find out, but it really depends on what he tells us tomorrow.”

  “But if the police have carried out all these investigations already do you think there’s much chance of us finding her? I mean thousands of kids go missing every year,” Lucy said.

  “Tens of thousands, actually; but the vast majority go missing of their own accord. If this is such a case then our chances are slim − she would have covered her tracks, probably told her friends not to give any information to the police and so on. But if she’s been abducted, for example, there’ll likely be something that the police have overlooked. The problem with this kind of case is the delay – if Roberts had come to me earlier then the chances of f
inding her would have been substantially increased. Still, it’s no good crying over spilled milk.”

  “God, you don’t think she’s dead, do you?” Lucy said.

  “That’s obviously a possibility. I certainly hope not. If she’s been abducted and there’s been no contact from her abductor it certainly wouldn’t look good – but on the other hand the police inquiry obviously hasn’t thrown up any reason to expect the worst. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.”

  “It’s a pity the client isn’t coming to the office,” Lucy said. “I’ve worked so hard getting everything right and nobody’s been there yet.”

  “Except the woman who lost her cat,” I said.

  “Oh yes, except her.”

  “How did that go?”

  “She thinks it’s been kidnapped.”

  “Or catnapped,” I said. “Did she receive a ransom note then?”

  “No, of course not.” Lucy giggled. “She didn’t mean it like that. She meant she thought it had been taken on purpose, rather than just wandering off or been run down or something.”

  “Did she check the local ethnic restaurants,” I said. “The French eat horses and the Chinese eat dogs. I expect cats are a delicacy in some places.”

  “Oh that’s horrible,” Lucy said. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “I don’t really understand the attraction of cats,” I said. “I mean they don’t come when they’re called and you can’t take them for walks or play fetch. They just disappear all day and all night and only show up when they’re hungry. And they’re not even useful to society. I mean they don’t use cats to sniff out drugs at the airport or to run down criminals. And did you ever hear of a seeing-eye cat?”