by H E Joyce
‘Yes, Mrs Peterson, I’m still here.’
‘So you see, I want to call off the investigation. I’m very sorry to have wasted your time.’
‘That’s no problem, Mrs Peterson, but are you sure about this?’
‘Pretty much, yes – I think so.’
‘If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t sound at all sure to me.’
Laura said nothing.
Look, you’ve paid me a week up front, so why don’t you let me check a little more. Of course, if you’d prefer, I could pay you back the money, it’s entirely up to you.’
‘It’s not the money, it’s just that things between us have been good over the weekend, I…’
‘I have to say; you sound quite tense to me. I’d be very happy if everything had sorted itself out between you and your husband, I really would, but I can’t help getting the feeling something still isn’t quite right. Am I right, or am I wrong?’
‘Look, Mr Doyle, I’m very grateful to you, but… it has nothing to do with Michael, anyway.’
‘What doesn’t?’
‘It’s nothing, nothing you can help with anyway.’
‘Try me,’ he said.
‘As I said, it’s nothing.’
‘Well it sure as hell sounds like something to me, Mrs Peterson. If you could tell me what’s bothering you, who knows, maybe I can help you?’
‘Come to think of it, maybe you could, although I don’t see how. The local sheriff called round this morning but doesn’t seem able, or willing to help.’
‘Sheriff? Correct me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t sound like we’re talking about your husband anymore, unless of course he’s become violent towards you. He hasn’t, has he?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. Well you see I’ve been getting these weird phone calls. At first I didn’t think too much about them – no one spoke. But on Saturday someone did speak, a woman, she threatened me, said she was going to kill me.’
Frank sat bolt upright. ‘I see. Did you recognise this woman’s voice?’
‘No, not at all. She sounded crazy. But that’s not all. Michael and I went out for dinner that evening and a couple of girls minded Jody, but at some point during the evening they heard someone outside, and when one of them went to take a look, they found a wreath.’
‘A wreath? You mean a funeral wreath?’
‘Yes, exactly. Not only that, but there was a note, it had some weird kind of quote – from Hamlet, I think.’ There was a moment of silence as Frank Doyle made notes. ‘Are you still there, Mr Doyle.’
‘Yes, I’m still here. I seem to remember you mentioned an intruder on your land the first time we met. Do you know if there is anyone who might have a grudge against you by any chance?’
‘No, no one that I can think of.’
‘Okay, try not to worry. Just make sure your windows and doors are secured at all times. Do you have a security system?’
‘No, I never really thought it was necessary.’
‘Leave it with me, Mrs Peterson, I’ll get to the bottom of this. It’s what I’ve been trained to do.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate it. Do you really think you can?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. Oh, and I’ll need to come and see this note, so you might want to warn your husband. I suggest you tell him you hired me to investigate this matter alone, if you get my meaning.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that, and thanks again.’
‘Don’t mention it. Goodbye Mrs Peterson.’
The wily, battle hardened detective had mixed emotions. On the one hand he was pleased to have the chance of carrying out some real detection work again, in fact he almost tingled with anticipation at the thought of it, yet on the other, he had not become so hardboiled that he did not feel sorry for Laura. He did. And furthermore, he vowed to do everything he could to catch the person responsible for the threats to her.
From what Laura had told him, and with the benefit of experience, he took the threat seriously. There was, he thought, a very real chance she was in danger. It had never been his intention to divulge to her what he had seen on the previous Friday, at least not until he had obtained further evidence of Michael’s possible infidelity, and in light of the latest problem it would have been wholly inappropriate to mention it. He poured another cup of coffee, relit his cigar and considered what course of action to take.
*
It was around six-thirty when Frank arrived at the house. Beforehand, he had parked his car close to Michael’s office and watched for about an hour, but nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Michael left his office at six and Frank followed him at a safe distance again until it became clear that this time he was simply going home. Frank watched him pull into the long tree-lined driveway that led up to the house, waited a few moments, then did the same. He didn’t go straight up to the house, but thought it best to wait a while.
He turned the engine off and got out of the car. Lighting a cigar, he looked around him. It was an isolated property for certain, about three miles from the town and probably no other neighbours for miles he reckoned. Apart from the light wind that whined through the trees, and the occasional crackle of dead leaves rolling along the tarmac, it was deadly silent. With only the glow of his cigar for company, the solitude of the place made him feel quite melancholy.
‘Well, if you’re trying to scare the bejesus out of someone, this sure is the place to do it,’ he said, thinking aloud. He got back in his car and drove up to the house. The double fronted, timber clad house was impressive, as was, so far as he could make out, the extent of the land that went with it. He could just make out the outline of the enormous barn in the distance and could clearly hear the waves crashing around the rocks some way in front of and below him. He noted there was an absence of security lighting outside the house; only a single light above the door lit the porch. He extinguished his cigar, straightened his tie and rang the doorbell.
A few moments went by before a man’s voice from inside asked: ‘Who is it?’
‘Mr Peterson, my name’s Frank Doyle, your wife may have mentioned me. I’m a private investigator.’
The door opened. ‘Mr Doyle, yes she did, just now, but we weren’t expecting you.’
‘No, I’m sorry, look if it’s an inconvenient time…’
‘No, it’s fine, please, come in.’
Laura stood in the hallway. She looked surprised that he had chosen to call so soon after their telephone conversation, but a smile soon emerged on her face. Frank sensed it was a smile of relief that someone was taking her seriously and perhaps also, he hoped, that she liked him.
‘Mr Doyle, it’s good to see you. Come through to the kitchen where we can talk.’ At that moment, Jody appeared briefly, looked him up and down for a moment and simply said, ‘Hi,’ before returning to the living room before Frank had a chance to return the greeting.
‘He looks a fine boy, Mrs Peterson.’
‘Thank you,’ said Laura.
‘So, Mr Doyle, do you think you can do anything to help?’ asked Michael, once they were in the kitchen. He looked Frank Doyle up and down, observing his slightly shabby overcoat.
‘I’ll certainly try, sir. I’ve already asked your wife if she can think of anyone who would do this. How about you Mr Peterson, can you think of anyone?’
‘No, I’m afraid I can’t.’
He turned to Laura. ‘Well is there anything you might have forgotten to tell me – anything out of the ordinary you can think of that’s happened recently? It doesn’t matter how small a detail, any little thing might help.’
Laura swept her fringe back and looked out of the window towards the barn and then at Frank Doyle. ‘Well, yes, there is something.’
‘Laura thought she saw something near the barn the other day, Mr Doyle,’ Michael interjected.
‘Is that right.’
‘I don’t think I saw something, Michael – I did see something. A person.’
‘Okay, honey, okay.’
; ‘I also saw someone out on the road when I was picking up Jody, right opposite the driveway to our house. I’m not sure what day it was, it was either last Monday, or Tuesday perhaps. But I definitely saw someone.’
‘Hmm, did you recognise this person? Was it a male, or female?’
‘I don’t know, it was only a split second. I’m sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t be sorry, it’s not a problem. Do you think I could take a look at the wreath and the note that was left?’
‘Yes, sure, I’ve got the note right here. Michael, could you get the wreath from out back?’
Frank took the note from Laura. He studied it, his facial expression never betraying his thoughts. ‘There may be some prints on this. Would you mind if I kept this for now?’
‘Yes, please do,’ said Laura.
‘And you say the babysitter found this out there on the porch?’
‘Yes, that’s right. What do you make of it?’
‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Mrs Peterson, I take this kind of note seriously, but try not to worry too much. I’m on it, okay?’
‘That’s easier said than done, Mr Doyle. If only I knew who it was, that would be something, but not knowing…’
‘I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this. Please try not to worry. In the meantime, with your permission, I’d like to set up a recorder on your phone. It’ll record all your calls. Would that be alright with you?’
‘Yes, of course, whatever it takes.’
Michael returned to the kitchen with the wreath. Frank Doyle examined it carefully, back and front. ‘Well, there’s nothing to say where this came from. Do you happen to know if there is anywhere in Brooksville that does this sort of thing?’
‘Yes, there’s a small family run florist in town,’ said Michael.
‘Well that’s a start at least. I’ll go and get my recording machine from the car and then I’ll leave you good people in peace.’
‘We were just about to eat,’ Laura said. ‘Why don’t you stay for dinner, Mr Doyle?’
‘That’s very kind of you, but I’ll get going as soon as I’ve set this machine up if you don’t mind,’ he said, wondering if she’d sensed his loneliness. ‘Thanks for the offer though, I appreciate it.’
‘Well, maybe another time then,’ she said, smiling.
He returned from his car with a small recording device which he plugged into the power and then attached a microphone to the earpiece of the phone in the hallway. ‘There, the machine will start automatically the moment there are any incoming calls. One other thing before I go. I noticed you don’t seem to have any proper security lighting – I’d recommend you get some fitted, you’re pretty isolated here.’
‘Yes, you’re right, it’s something I keep meaning to get done. I’ll get onto it.’
Frank made his way to the door, and then turned to Michael. ‘Oh, just one other thing before I go. Mr Peterson, I don’t suppose you have any enemies that might want to get to you through your wife, perhaps. Any old clients with a grudge or anything like that?’
Michael looked stunned. ‘No, not at all.’
‘Okay, well, thanks again, I’ll be in touch. Oh, and if you don’t mind, I might want to stake out your place, so if you see this particular car on your land you’ll know it’s me, is that okay with you?’
‘It’s more than okay Mr Doyle, I’d be very happy to know you’re around,’ said Laura.
‘Great. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Goodbye Mrs Peterson – nice to meet you Mr Peterson.’
‘Goodnight,’ said Laura, as Michael closed the door.
‘Well, he’s thorough, I’ll give him that,’ said Michael, with a hint of cynicism in his voice. ‘How much is this costing anyway?’
‘It doesn’t matter how much. In any case, it’s coming from my personal account.’
‘Oh come on, honey, I didn’t mean that. But don’t you think it’s going a little too far, hiring a private detective?’
‘No, I don’t. You didn’t hear her, Michael. Maybe you should start taking this a little more seriously – I for one will sleep better tonight knowing that at least Frank does.’
‘Oh, you’re on first name terms already.’
‘He’s a nice guy, there’s something about him that makes me feel safe,’ said Laura, turning her back on him and striding into the kitchen.
Twelve
Frank Doyle headed back to Brooksville. He wasn’t quite sure why.
The florist’s shop would be closed and he couldn’t see how he could gain any leads at such an hour. But one bar was much like another, so he parked his car outside The Fisherman’s Tavern, close to the harbour, and went in. A small change of scene was preferable to returning to his old familiar bar in Bangor.
The place was aptly named; it was by no means the sort of place you would take a lady. The clientele was entirely that of foul-mouthed men who looked and smelt as if they could do with a long hot shower. In fact the whole place had a faint odour of fish about it, but he went in anyway. All eyes seemed to turn towards him as he entered, perhaps because he looked out of place, or perhaps because they simply didn’t like strangers invading their bar. He guessed the chances of that occurring would be extremely rare.
A lesser man would have turned and left, but despite not being in as good a shape as he once was, Frank could still handle himself. It was, nevertheless, unnerving, the way in which the place fell silent as he approached the bar and ordered bourbon on the rocks.
‘We don’t have no ice mister, don’t have no call for it here,’ said a weasel-faced bartender with greasy slicked back hair and who was equally unfriendly.
‘Okay, in that case I’ll have it without – if that’s okay with you?’
The man poured his bourbon. ‘That’ll be five bucks.’
‘Five bucks eh, expensive establishment you have here.’
The man shrugged indifferently. ‘Take it or leave it pal, makes no difference to me.’
‘No, it’s okay, I’ll take it, thanks.’
Frank’s easy manner seemed to subdue the bartender’s aggressive approach to customer relations. ‘So, haven’t seen you before, you just passing through, or what?’
‘Yes, sort of,’ said Frank. ‘Actually, I’m doing some work for a local couple.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘You may know them, the Petersons, they live up on the hill, Brooksville Heights.’
‘You mean the old Coopers place?’
‘Possibly, I’ve no idea who lived there before. Do you know the Petersons?’
‘Never met ‘em, but ain’t he a lawyer or somethin’?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s as much as I know. What kind of work you do anyway?’
‘Oh nothing very interesting – security systems, that sort of thing.’ Frank looked around him, it seemed that with the bartender’s seeming approval, all had returned to normal and it was as raucous as it had been when he first went in.
‘Security eh? Don’t see why anyone would need a security system round here, there ain’t no crime around this town.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I know what you’re thinkin’, but these boys are harmless enough. They work hard and play hard, end of story.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Frank, downing the remainder of his bourbon. ‘Anyway, I’d better be going.’
‘Okay, nice talkin’ with ya. See you again maybe.’
Frank turned to him. ‘Yes, maybe.’
After Frank had left, a woman, who herself seemed to be out of place, emerged from a dark corner of the bar and approached the bartender. He knew her; she had begun to frequent the place and always sat alone at the same table. She was strikingly attractive and at first had attracted unwanted attention from some of the men, but she quickly sent them on their way; they never bothered her again.
‘Who was that you were talking to?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I dunno, just some guy.’
‘He looked like a
cop to me.’
‘Na, he ain’t no cop, he’s fitting a security system or somethin’ up at the Coopers old place.’
She swallowed the remnants of her drink and slid the glass towards the bartender. Her face contorted slightly as she said tersely: ‘Fill it up.’
*
‘Laura, all I’m saying is, I think you may be overreacting, that’s all. I mean, don’t you think hiring a private investigator might be going overboard a little?’ said Michael.
‘No, I don’t, and neither should you,’ she snapped.
‘I mean he drops around unexpected, you know nothing about him, he’s probably going to con you out of hundreds of dollars for nothing, believe me I know something about private investigators.’
‘He’s a good man, I know he is.’
‘How do you know? How could you possibly know that?’
‘I just do, okay.’
‘Well on your own head be it. I don’t know why you didn’t listen to Ron, he knows what he’s doing.’
‘Yeah, sure he does,’ she said sarcastically. She paused for a moment. ‘Look, I’m not concerned for myself, but if there’s a fruitcake on the loose there is no way I’m going to put Jody in danger by standing around doing nothing. Can you even begin to understand that? He’s been through enough, Michael.’
‘I know he has.’ He sighed, knowing he had to let it go. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, opening his arms. ‘come here.’
She leaned her head on his chest. ‘Michael, just tell me one thing. Please tell me this has nothing to do with you.’
He pulled away from her sharply. ‘What?’
His sudden anger stunned her. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, oh I don’t know what I meant. Forgive me, that wasn’t fair of me. I’ve just been so tense recently.’
He nodded. ‘I know, me too. I’d just like things to get back to normal as quickly as possible.’