There was a brief silence.
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘I want to talk to him about a mutual friend.’
‘Who?’
‘Jim O’Reilly.’
‘The bar guy?’
‘That would be him.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘I know that. It doesn’t mean I can’t talk about him,’ Simm said. He seemed to have to say it often. ‘So, what about it? Can you set it up for me?’
‘I can’t guarantee anything. First, I gotta know who you are and what it’s about.’
Simm knew he had to be honest. They would find out anyway, and if they caught him in a lie, it wouldn’t go good for him.
‘I’m an ex-cop. I work as a private investigator now. I’ve been hired for a case that may be connected to Jim O’Reilly, and I need information.’
‘Who hired you?’
Simm didn’t like to give her name, but he couldn’t hide it.
‘Charlene Butler.’
‘Give me your number. I’ll get back to you.’
The conversation ended the instant he finished reciting his cell phone number. Connor’s voice didn’t give anything away. Simm would have to wait and see how it unfolded.
Chapter 32:
Charlie hurried inside the bank, anxious to get her business finished. She hated hauling around cash. Normally, she sent Frank to do the errand for her, but she needed to get out of the bar. She spent her days like a prisoner, either at the pub, or escorted to and from it. It took a lot of coaxing and cajoling to get Frank to let her run a few errands in the middle of the day while she was surrounded by crowds of people, but she eventually got her way. She cursed the mysterious letter sender once again. It was because of him that she lived this way.
Charlie also felt her normally optimistic outlook slipping away. It was inconceivable to her that one person could change the shape of someone’s personality, and she didn’t want him to succeed. But she didn’t know how to stop him. Not yet.
When the deposit was made, she ran one other errand, which took her longer than she expected, and it was almost four thirty before she made it to the pub. Frank was busy, trying to furnish the larger-than-usual crowd drawn by the nice weather and the scent of summer on its way. Melissa was running the tables and looked a little harried by all the action. Charlie pitched in without hesitation.
At six o’clock, Nathalie showed up, and they spread out the load. Charlie made a sign to Frank to tell him she was heading to the back to check on Harley.
As usual, the door squeaked noisily when she pushed it open. Most times, it roused the pug from his siesta. Charlie smiled when she was ignored.
‘Harley. Wake up, you lazy lug.’
She circled her desk and peered underneath. His doggy bed was empty.
‘Harley? Where are you?’
The room wasn’t big enough for many hiding spaces.
‘Harley,’ she said gruffly.
She didn’t appreciate this game. She circled the room, pushing aside boxes and chairs, looking for the dog, but he was nowhere in sight. Her heart rapped against her ribs. Where could he be? Had he slipped out the door? Was he hiding in the bar area? Wouldn’t someone have noticed him?
She left the office and rushed along the corridor, only to backtrack when she thought to check the washrooms along the way. Two men, who stood facing the urinals, jumped in surprise and scrambled to cover themselves when she barged into the men’s room. She didn’t care.
‘Did either of you see a pug in here?’
Their twin looks of incomprehension were answer enough.
She repeated the search in the women’s washroom to no avail.
When she reached the bar, her fingers dug into Frank’s arm and wrenched his attention from a customer.
‘I can’t find Harley!’
‘What? He’s not in the office?’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘Not since you took him for his walk. I was too busy to go to the office.’
‘He’s not there. We have to find him.’ Her voice shook with desperation.
‘He has to be around here somewhere.’
Frank took charge. He sent Melissa to the door to make sure no one left with a pug under their coat. Then, he put two fingers into his mouth and emitted an ear-piercing whistle that brought complete silence to the crowded room.
‘I want everybody to check under their seats and tables to see if there’s a little dog there,’ he boomed.
No one argued or questioned his demand. Simultaneously, all heads ducked to scour the area around them. The silence continued for a few moments. No one shouted, ‘Here he is!’. Charlie’s heart sank into her stomach. She saw her look mirrored on Frank’s face as conversation gradually resumed.
‘Someone took him,’ she said, clutching her elbows, trying to stop the trembling. ‘Who would do that?’
‘It has to be someone who walked right by me. The back door can only be opened from the inside.’
‘My poor baby. He must be so scared.’
Tears filled her eyes. Frank hauled her into his arms and mumbled platitudes, but she knew he had no more of an idea what to do than she did. Nothing he said would console her.
‘Do you think it’s the same guy?’
Charlie leaned back to look at him, confused.
‘Who?’ she asked, but her eyes widened as his meaning became clear. ‘Oh my God. Please, no.’
Frank grasped her shoulders.
‘Don’t panic, Charlie. I don’t know. I just said that. I’m probably way off base.’
Charlie pulled free and raced back to the office. The door slammed loudly again as she grabbed the phone.
Chapter 33:
Once again, Simm raced to Butler’s. Her message had been almost incomprehensible, something about ‘the guy’ and Harley. All he knew was she was very upset, and if any harm had come to her pug, it would explain her level of panic.
He swept through the bar and caught a look from Frank on his way to the office. It was enough to prepare him for Charlie’s state of mind.
‘Finally. It took you so long to get here. We have to find him.’
‘First, you’ll sit down and tell me what happened,’ Simm said, prying her hands off his forearms.
‘What happened is that someone came in here and took Harley. And it must be the same guy.’
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions.’
‘What will happen to him?’ she said between sobs. ‘He’ll hurt him, maybe even…’ She bit her lip, obviously unable to think about the, ‘maybe even’.
‘There’s nothing to say it’s the same guy who took him. It could’ve been anyone. It could be someone who wants to love him and give him a good home.’
‘And I’ll never see him again,’ she wailed.
‘Look, the first step is to search for him. He could have slipped out the door as someone entered. He could be wandering around outside.’
‘He’d never do that. He’s a good dog. He wouldn’t go outside without Frank or me.’
‘Maybe he spotted another dog, or a cat. Let me call the SPCA to see if a stray dog was reported. And we’ll get a few people together to go out and search around the neighborhood.’
Before she could argue with him, he turned on his heels and headed to the main room. He had spent enough time here that he could spot the regulars and know who he trusted to think about Harley’s well-being. He gathered together a group of five twenty-somethings and explained
their mission to them. Cell phone contacts were exchanged so news, good or bad, could be transmitted as rapidly as possible. Without hesitation, they set out to search a two-block radius. Simm didn’t think Harley would have strayed any farther than that on his own.
He returned to the office to find Charlie on the phone. By the tone of the conversation, she had taken it upon herself to contact the SPCA. When it came time to describe her pet, her face crumpled, and she couldn’t go on. Simm took the phone and provided the rest of the information. When he hung up, he turned and pulled her into his arms. There was nothing he could say, but he hoped the physical contact would help calm her.
‘I want to go look for him,’ she mumbled.
‘I’ll go with you. You’re not going out there alone.’
She looked up at him.
‘You think it’s him.’
He did, but he wouldn’t tell her that.
‘I’m not taking any chances,’ he said.
‘Should we call the police?’
‘Let’s see if our search party turns up anything first. We’ll give it an hour.’
An hour later, Simm talked to Detective Ranfort on the phone. All the members of Simm’s search party had returned to home base empty-handed, and it looked like Harley’s disappearance was not due to an innocent wandering-off. Normally, a lost or stolen dog would not be given a high priority by law enforcement, but with Charlie’s recently-received attention, the detective took the phone call seriously. A team was on its way.
Charlie was inconsolable. Simm and Frank tried to change her mind by drawing her attention to small incidents in the busy pub, but their efforts were fruitless. She was convinced Harley was being tortured, and any argument to the contrary was rejected.
‘He didn’t hesitate to hurt those poor sheep, did he? Why would he take pity on a dog?’
‘In all likelihood, he stole those organs from somewhere,’ Frank said calmly. ‘The police told us the people at MacDonald College thought they were missing some. He didn’t massacre the sheep.’
‘He’s got a sick mind. Look at the letters. He’s not sane.’
‘Yes, he’s got a loose screw, but that doesn’t mean he’ll hurt Harley,’ Simm said.
‘Why would he take him?’
‘Maybe, he wants to send you a message.’
‘Like what?’
Simm hesitated. He didn’t know if he should voice his thoughts, but as it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything.
‘He wants to let me know he can get close to me and the things I love. That’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe.’
‘There’s no maybe about it. He’s threatening me through Harley.’
Charlie was pacing the small office floor, at times bumping up against her desk or chair, without seeming to notice. Her brows were lowered, and her lips were pressed tightly together. Gone was the desolate and heartbroken expression. She had turned into Mama Bear.
‘I’ll kill him.’ Definitely Mama Bear.
She turned and shook a fierce finger at Simm.
‘I’ll put his organs in a plastic bag. I’ll take great pleasure in yanking them, bit by bit, out of his body. Let’s see how he likes that.’
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. The police had arrived. And so began another round of questioning for Charlie.
Chapter 34:
It was a long night. Charlie couldn’t sleep. Simm snuck off to his bedroom and tried to catch a couple of hours of rest, but he heard her pacing, mumbling, and banging around in the kitchen, making coffee to fuel her restlessness.
There was little they could do to find Harley. The police and the SPCA would be in contact with them if he crossed their paths. A team of friends had put up posters around the neighborhood asking for information. If it was the letter-writer who had taken him, Simm hoped he would get in touch with them somehow. His only wish was that the dog be returned unharmed, but he was worried it wouldn’t be the case. His plan was to intercept whatever packages were sent to Charlie, and he spoke to Frank to make sure he also kept an eye out for anything suspicious.
At seven in the morning, Simm and Charlie were on their way to the pub. It was a ridiculously early hour to open a bar, but Charlie was too restless to hang around Simm’s place any longer.
‘Let’s scoot by the apartment for a minute,’ Charlie stated as soon as she settled into the passenger seat.
‘You need to pick something up?’
‘Yep.’
Simm knew it was an excuse to check the premises for any sign of Harley, but since he thought it was a valid reason, he didn’t hesitate to play along. Unfortunately, the apartment was exactly as it had been the last time they had seen it. Harley wasn’t there.
Her face grim, she wordlessly slid into the car, and repeated the exercise at Butler’s Pub.
‘I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed,’ she said, blinking back tears. ‘I wanted him to be here, but I was deathly afraid of what condition he would be in when I found him.’
‘Why don’t you let me do the searching from now on?’
‘I hate doing nothing! It’s so frustrating.’
‘I know, but you have a business to manage, and that’s what you should be doing. At the very least, it’ll provide a distraction.’
She conceded, setting to work with a vengeance. The already-spotless bar was cleaned again. Frank would be impressed. Next, she tackled the storage boxes in her office. Items she had hung on to preciously were now considered of no use and were tossed in the garbage bin. Whenever Simm offered to help, he was told he would just get in the way. After her third trip to the outside bin lugging boxes half her weight, he stepped forward. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to stand back and watch.
‘Let me take that.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Charlie, you’re sweating like a dock worker. You’re so red in the face, I’m afraid you’ll have a stroke.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Stop it. Killing yourself won’t bring Harley back.’
It felt good to yell at her, but seconds later he regretted his lack of constraint. When she bent over to set the box on the floor, she remained hunched over it, her head lowered. Her shoulders shook, and the sound of her sobs broke his heart.
‘Come here.’
He grabbed her forearms and pulled her into his arms. All the toughness and all the fight left her body. She felt as limp as a wet noodle. He sat on the box and lowered her onto his lap, pressing her head against his chest. He let her cry until the sobs turned into sniffles.
‘He’s not coming back, is he?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. I hope so, but the more time goes by, the less chance there is of him coming back.’
‘I won’t replace him. No other dog could take his place.’
‘You may change your mind.’
‘No. I can’t go through this again. It hurts too much.’
They sat in silence for several minutes.
‘I’m exhausted. Every muscle in my body hurts,’ she said.
‘I’m not surprised. You’re a machine.’
‘It felt good for a while, but now I feel like hell.’
‘The bad news is, it’s time to actually start your workday. The good news is, it’ll keep you busy.’
Chapter 35:
It was a warm, sunny Saturday, and the customers were thirsty and happy to socialize on the outdoor patio. Some of them were under the green canvas awning they had unfurled for the occasion, others preferred to soak up the sun. Usually da
ys like this made Charlie happy, but today was just another day. A busy one, but nothing more than that.
Saturday bled into Sunday, and it was more of the same. At least, she had slept the night before. She was so tired by the time she got to Simm’s apartment she was almost comatose. Putting one foot in front of the other had required an enormous effort.
On Sundays, the pub closed at eleven in the evening. By eleven fifteen, they were in the car and headed to Simm’s place.
‘I want to go home,’ Charlie said
‘That’s where we’re going.’
‘No, I mean my home, my apartment.’
Simm sighed audibly.
‘Charlie, we were there yesterday morning, remember? There was nothing. We’re both tired. We’ll stop by tomorrow morning on our way to work.’
‘No. I want to go now.’
Charlie caught the eye-roll, but she ignored it. The fact that she hadn’t checked the apartment yet today bothered her. She should have gone whether she was there the day before or not.
They found a parking spot in front of the building, and Charlie hurriedly climbed the stairs. She heard Simm’s heavy steps following her at a slower pace. She tried the door, hoping to find it unlocked, but it was as they had left it the previous morning. The air inside was stuffy and warm. She heard Simm opening a window in the living room as she made her way to the kitchen.
‘What?’ she asked, spinning around to face Simm.
He gave her a confused look.
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘Are you sure?’ she said.
‘Of course, I’m sure. I’d know, wouldn’t I?’
Charlie was certain she had heard a noise. She raced along the hallway, throwing open doors.
‘Harley? Are you here, baby?’
Each room was undisturbed. There wasn’t a dog, or any sign of anything unusual. When she stepped back into the corridor, Simm stood at the end, staring at her.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I was sure I heard something,’ she said.
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