Sebastian Cork: Forget Me Not

by Neal Davies

  Jim shakes his head, “What?”

  Sebastian, grinning, replies, “Well you were about to ask me a question weren’t you?”

  “How the…? What the..? Are you..?

  Well the answer to those questions is; I studied body language and facial expressions for years. The way you looked at me and then looked down, while fidgeting with your pen told me you wanted to ask a question. But when you couldn’t work out how to word it, you felt embarrassed and began fidgeting harder. What I have just told you explains that I’m not psychic, which was going to be your last question. How do I know that? The last lot of papers I wrote was on the art of communication, which is based on listening effectively, word analysis and common sense. Consider this; your last question was, “Are you..?” What are the possibilities here? The question indicates a type of person and the most likely person certainly wouldn’t be a tradesman now would it? But a psychic would be more likely as I knew what you were thinking. So what is it you wanted to ask?” Jim squint’s his eyes as if to say what the…?

  “I can see why the commissioner wanted you on the team for the last couple of years!”

  Jim’s statement catches Sebastian off guard. He cocks his head back in surprise “Sorry?” Sebastian says with a frown. Sebastian‘s response has now made Jim a little uncomfortable.

  “Oh, um, yes. He’s been begging your wife to ask if you would like to help us on some of the bigger cases, but she told him you wouldn’t be able to fit it in with your busy schedule. Sorry, I thought you knew!”

  Sebastian regains his composure and, not wanting to seem like he didn’t have control of his own destiny, replies, “Oh yes, of course, of course. What was I thinking? I remember now she did mention it. I was just so busy it slipped my mind, that’s all.” He smirks, thinking about the deal he had made with Cynthia the day before. “She knew all along I didn’t need her help to become a consultant. All I had to do was come down to the station. What a clever woman!”

  His thoughts are interrupted by Jim’s concerns, “Oh good, I’m glad I didn’t put my foot in something I shouldn’t have!”

  Sebastian grins and half closes his eyes, “Not at all Jim. Now what was the question you were about to ask?”

  Jim begins to fidget again and then just comes straight out with his concerns. “Look, I understand the connection you have with this case and I know it’s been explained to you about the part of town this murder occurred in, plus the limited resources. I cannot stress enough just how difficult it will be to get an outcome or resolution for Tony. Just so you have a clear picture of the place; they have been averaging forty murders a year down there. Those that live in that suburb will tell you they have seen nothing if someone is stabbed, shot or raped on their door step. They’re frightened Sebastian! Trying to get information out of them is like trying to suck a steak through a straw. So my original question was going to be; wouldn’t you rather take on a case that has a lot more support and a bit more significance?”

  Sebastian screws his nose up as he is taken aback by Jim’s use of the word significance, leans forward on his cane and immediately responds, “on the contrary Jim, and I say this with no disrespect to the fine men and women on your force, but I am convinced, for the reasons you have given me, that I may be able to make more inroads on this case than someone who is a member of the constabulary. Let me explain; firstly, I am self-funded and able to spend considerably more time on the case than your detectives can, due to the fact that they have numerous cases to solve in the area, while I only have one.

  My second point is; I am a specialist in the field of getting others to communicate freely, and finally; I am a consultant, not a police officer, but more importantly I am acting on behalf of a friend. As far as the significance goes, I am a little puzzled by that statement!” Sebastian squints in a way that penetrates Jim’s soul. He tilts his head inquisitively on an angle, bites down on his bottom lip and continues, “I clearly comprehend priorities but aren’t all deaths significant to someone, as this is to me?” Jim rubs his brow with the fingertips of his right hand while feeling uncomfortable about his not- so- subtle statement.

  He also knows that Sebastian has made some definable points that cannot be debated and acquiesces, “You’re right Seb, on all accounts. I guess when you’ve done this job for as long as I have significance and priorities intermesh. As far as the points you make regarding the investigation they are very good ones. There is one thing you need to remember though; this isn’t the type of neighbourhood you would have spent a lot of time in. So it is important to remain aware and cautious when you’re poking around down there!”

  Sebastian thinks to himself that Jim has no idea of the neighbourhoods he has been in, when he ventured out during his university days to learn more about the people he would one day treat. However, this morning’s attitude with the policeman at reception told him he was a bit rusty and needed to check the way he handled situations a little more thoroughly. “I appreciate your concern Jim and trust me; I have no intention of endangering myself in any way. Now if it’s ok, could I have a look at the file please?”

  Jim goes to his drawer again, “I have them right here waiting for you. Oh, one more thing, if you need help with anything or there’s something your unsure about and I’m not available; Emily has been instructed to help in any way she can. And if she can’t, she will look for someone who can.” He slides the files across the desk to Sebastian. “I knew when I first met you that you were a strong willed guy, so I figured I wouldn’t be able to convince you to change your mind about this case. Enjoy the read.”

  Sebastian, with the files in one hand and his cane in the other, stands and asks, “Who’s the psychic now?”

  Jim smiles at his remark and then realises he’s been a bit complacent, “Sorry Seb, do you have any questions for me?”

  Sebastian extends his hand to shake Jim’s, “No, you’ve pretty much covered it all thanks.” Jim leads the way to the door and calls his secretary into the room.

  “Emily, can you show Sebastian to the dust pit please?’ He turns back to face Sebastian, “I have to apologise about your new office beforehand. With the budget the way it is, and at such short notice, this was the best we could do. I understand you won’t be here on a regular basis and that you may not be working with one specific crew at this stage. But you will need somewhere private to look over files and prepare for debriefs.” He thanks Jim and follows Emily to the room they call the dust pit. She unlocks the door and then hands him the key.

  “All yours.” she says, while walking away and swaying her head of auburn hair side to side in pity. It’s not long before Sebastian understands why.

  The room looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. There is dust everywhere and the paint is peeling off the walls. A set of steel shelves that look like they’ve been built from a meccano set hold several odd items which include; a gas mask, an old baton, a Toothbrush, a Police hat, and several dirty rags that seem to have been used for dusting before. He stands there smiling, blind to the disastrous state the room is in. Even if a bomb had gone off in there, he is ecstatic with the thought of this new lease on life and all he can see is the potential that the dust pit holds.

  In the centre of the room there is an old pine desk with a wooden chair directly behind it. He dusts off the chair and a section of the desk with his handkerchief, sits down and opens the file. After reading it twice, he withdraws the photos of the crime scene from the folder and meticulously places them in groups, relating to the angle from where they were taken. The pictures show Frank sitting in his armchair in front of his television with his head slumped to one side. He had been shot on the left side of his head, which was opposite to the entrance of the apartment and adjacent to the kitchen. There had been no signs of break and enter, so there was no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that Frank knew his killer. Sebastian is suddenly jolted from deep thought by a phone call and can see it’s from Cynthia, “Hi honey, are you checking in on me alr
eady?”

  “No Sebastian, I’ve done what you asked me to do by getting in touch with Ben Coates.” He compresses the phone between his ear and shoulder to free up his hands and continues to flick through the photos on the desk.

  “Ah good, did he have anything interesting to add?”

  “Not really, only that Tony hired him to find his brother, he was good to work for and paid well. He even gave him a couple of paid days off as a bonus, after Ben informed him he was close to finding Frank. He told me he wishes he had never taken the break though.”

  “Why is that Cynthia?”

  “Well, he said two days after he came back from his time off he located Frank but it was too late. He feels bad because he believes he let Tony down. He also said Tony had been devastated by the news and blamed himself for telling Ben to have a couple of days off.”

  “Ok my love, I don’t mean to rush you but I still have quite a few things to do today. So I better go, thanks for ringing, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Make sure you ring in!”

  “Not a problem!” Sebastian hangs up and heads back to Jim’s office.

  Emily doesn’t hear Sebastian approaching at first. She is wearing dark red ear phones that seem a little weird to him, as the colour of them identically matches her fifty’s style glasses. She is merrily typing away and gets a bit of a surprise when she catches sight of him near the doorway.

  Her whole persona changes as she looks up in despair. “I suppose you’ve come back to complain about the dust pit, Mr Cork!”

  “Not at all Emily, the dust pit is fine.”

  She pulls her chin back into her neck and looks at him inquisitively, “Really?” One of his eyebrows lift and he looks back at her as though he doesn’t even understand why she asked the question in the first place.

  “Seriously it’s great; I don’t have a problem with it.” She scratches her neck in disbelief.

  “Oh, ok. Well how can I help you, Mr Cork?”

  “I just want a quick word with Jim if I could? And please, please call me Sebastian or Seb.”

  Emily’s finally coming to grips with the response he has shown to his new office replies with a smile. “Not a problem, I’ll let him know you’re here Sebastian.” She rises from behind her desk and raps sharply on Jim’s door, then opens it enough to poke her head in. “Sebastian asked if he could have a quick word?”

  “Send him in Emily.” She pushes the door all the way open, turns and smiles at Sebastian and indicates by nodding her head toward the open door that it is ok for him to enter. Sebastian thanks Emily and walks through to Jim’s office,

  “Sorry Jim, I don’t want to be a pain. I only need a couple of moments of your time, if that’s ok?” Jim smiles “Don’t apologise. Whenever I have the time you are more than welcome to it. But if I haven’t, Emily will pleasantly tell you to go away and come back later.” Sebastian gives a small grin, not quite knowing how to take Jim’s comment.

  “Thanks Jim. I just wanted you to know I have read the file but there is not a lot of background on Tony’s private investigator, Ben Coates. Is there anything you can tell me about him?” Jim sits back in his chair while Sebastian remains standing,

  “I have met him a couple of times. He seems to have a good reputation and he gets a lot of high paying clients. You wouldn’t think so to look at him though.” Sebastian is curious to learn more.

  “What do you mean? He urges.” Jim leans even further back in his chair, places his hands behind his head, shrugs his shoulders and continues, “Just his persona I guess. Most people envisage PI’s as tall dark and handsome; where Ben’s only a little guy. As far as we’re concerned though, he hasn’t got a record and he pretty much keeps his nose clean. Does that help?”

  “Yes that’s great. Thanks very much, Jim. I’ll catch you later.”

  Sebastian has one more thing to do while he’s at the office and that is to ring the number he found on the file for the landlord of the apartments where Frank lived. “Hello Mr Sheldon, my name is Sebastian Cork and I am a consultant with the police. I’m wondering if you can spare me some of your time to show me the room where Frank Portola’s body was found. I would also like to discuss the circumstances leading up to his death. Does an hour’s time sound good to you?” Mr Sheldon doesn’t care about Frank’s demise; he just wants to be left alone. He also wants the police to get the investigation out of the way, so he can start leasing the room again. So his reply isn’t what Sebastian wants to hear.

  “No! An hour’s time isn’t good. You’re only a consultant, right?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Then why the hell am I going to go over this crap again, when I’ve already told the cops all I know? Now if you need to know anything, you go and talk to those two smart arses that were down here giving me the third degree. They’ll tell you everything I told them. So if you don’t mind, I’m done talking!”

  Sebastian thinks quickly about the situation and knows if he doesn’t change his approach with this character he’ll get nowhere fast.

  “Ok, you’ve had your say! Now it’s my turn, Mr Sheldon. If you don’t want to help the cops, that’s fine! But you better get this straight; you’re going to help me! Now before you open your mouth, I’m going to let you know why you’re going to help me. For a start, I haven’t been down to your cosy little corner yet but I have been to enough shit holes like yours in the past to know what I will find. All I need to do is pick up the phone and contact the health inspector and ask him to meet me there. I’m sure we’ll be able to find enough evidence to shut that rat- infested hell hole down. Or then again, let’s try the building inspector and see how the place is holding up. And surely a vigilant rookie cop looking to get his stripes is bound to have a drug bust or two. To say nothing of other interesting facts he may uncover. Now as I said, I’ll see you in an hour at the building, won’t I?”

  It doesn’t take long for Mr Sheldon to respond, “Sure, sure, I get it! I’ll be here and sorry, I wasn’t trying to be a smart arse, I’ve got to make a living and this whole thing with the body and all is bad for business. No offense.”

  “None taken, I’ll see you in an hour.” Sebastian doesn’t like some of the roles he has to play to get responses but he also knows from his studies that if you want to break down communication barriers you need to adapt to your environment.

  Chapter 6

  A VISIT TO FRANK’S APPARTMENT

  Sebastian pulls up outside the apartment building where Frank spent his final moments and immediately recalls similar places he had visited in his university days. The long tall, four storeys, grey buildings with concrete steps that haven’t seen a lick of paint in years. He thinks to himself, the only colourful thing about these ghettos is the characters that dwell within them.

  He gets out of the car and the sound of sirens and traffic can be heard clearly, even though they’re coming from the highway which is a block further over. It is a frosty morning and he can see young men gathered around their makeshift heater which is an empty forty-four gallon drum stacked with combustibles. He can’t help but notice how happy they are. The laughter creates a mist that flows from their mouths as they jump back when someone decides to drop more wood into their furnace, sending up sparks and flames that attempt to lick the hands of those warming around it. Sebastian sees the comical side of it all and smiles to himself as he works his way up the steps toward the door, but Mr Sheldon surprises him by opening it before he reaches the top landing.

  He is not a tall man and has one of those faces with beady little eyes that you love to hate. Sebastian begins scanning his eyes over his hand- me- down, pin striped pants that are pulled up way too high over his red checker shirt and thinks to himself, ‘he must have been watching and waiting for me to arrive for some time.’ He looks up at him from his landing and says, “You must be Mr Sheldon. It’s nice to meet you.” He takes a couple more steps then holds out his hand, but the landlord refuses to shake it and nods his
head in a manner that summons Sebastian to enter his domain.

  Indignantly he says as he turns, “I have better things to do than stand around amusing you with idle chit- chat!” No further conversation takes place as he escorts Sebastian to the fourth floor and along the hallway to Frank’s apartment.

  Pulling out a set of keys from his pocket, Mr Sheldon unlocks the door. He looks at Sebastian with contempt and with a gruff voice says, “Just close the door when you’re done.”

  He turns to walk away but Sebastian has other ideas and quickly moves to nudge him on the shoulder with his cane, “Before you duck off, which apartment are you in?”

  The landlord swings around and glares at Sebastian’s cane, “Number 1! That’s the apartment on the left as you enter the building. Do you mind if I go now?”

  “Just one more question, and I want you to think clearly about your answer no matter how irrelevant it seems to be when it comes to the murder. What did you hear and see the night Frank Portola was killed? Remember, it doesn’t matter how irrelevant it may seem.” Mr Sheldon smirks as though he is bored with repeating all he knows.

  “I’ll tell you what I told the cops. I heard a gunshot around 10 pm but I never took much notice of it because it’s not unusual in this neighbourhood for a car to backfire or a gun to go off and that’s it, that’s all I’ve got!” he replied.

  Sebastian persistently continues his questioning, “Ok, now you’ve told me all you believe you know about the murder, but what else did you see or hear on that night that had no connection to the murder?”

  The landlord thinks for a moment and replies, “Well I remember about 10.05, this clown comes running down the stairs that land just back a bit from my door. I thought it was those pesky kids that live on the second floor. I’m always on their backs for continually running up and down. And why wouldn’t I be? Who do you reckon their dumb parents will sue when they break their scrawny little necks?”