Chapter 4 – My first case

All too soon, the anticipated charms of my promised new lifestyle became tarnished. When, after several days more had passed, I found myself in Guy’s place of business for the first time, it would have been putting it mildly to say I was disappointed by the surroundings. I hadn’t expected the Ritz, but the building was ancient and its condition could best have been summed up as dilapidated. The furniture in the office itself evidently dated from another era, one long-bygone.

The most pressing difficulty I’d had to face so far was… what ought a private dick’s assistant wear? After much deliberation, I’d decided that a simple white blouse and dark skirt would be de-rigueur for an apprentice sleuth. While I sat taking notes from my principal it was borne upon me that my choice had been a good one. The particular skirt that I’d selected that morning had a muted check pattern. Its cut was cute, hugging my figure, and its demure length put just enough of my hose-clad legs on display, or so I reckoned. I was unamused therefore to see that after Guy’s initial head to toe scrutiny of my person his face bore a frown. “You look nice” was his comment, to my momentary relief. Then he added “very nice. Next time, perhaps try for a livelier style!”

The implied rebuke stung. All the thought and care which had gone into my preparations had been in vain evidently. It was disappointing not to have won the man’s approval though I would have been hard put to it to understand why it mattered so much to me. It wasn’t as if I were attracted to him, for heaven’s sake. Also, I was puzzled why he felt it necessary to critique my outfit, unless he thought, like me, that I needed to project a totally femme image to maintain my female persona. Could that mean he was aware I was even now a fugitive?

Things got worse. As I took notes on the three or four of his cases which were ongoing at that time, the onset of terminal boredom set in. The subject matter of what I was recording was mind-numbingly mundane; a stray pet, a stolen purse, its contents only of sentimental value, and a backyard boundary dispute. They failed to whet my appetite. Perhaps the life of a private eye wasn’t exciting after all.

“Is that it?” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“I also had a call yesterday. It was from a woman called Gloria Simpson who thought she was being followed. Not worth pursuing, in my view.”

Now to me, that sort of case seemed to contain promising potential, though Guy had dismissed it with an airy wave of the hand. “She should be so lucky. Some middle-aged spinster, by the sound of her voice. Just another lonely heart, I’m guessing. There will be no money in that one, so by my reckoning it’s a frost.”

My new boss then told me that he would be engaged in tracking down an absent husband, starting immediately. His search would take him across the country, hence the need for an assistant to staff the office in his absence. By his reckoning the new case promised to be a remunerative one, and he departed shortly after our meeting to follow up on the missing spouse, leaving me in charge, or rather holding the fort.

I pondered my new role. The immediate task which was to occupy my talents was arranging the backlog of case files into some kind of order. The prospect of the dull morning ahead left me feeling disgruntled, wondering whether I had done the right thing by taking the job. Was this career in any way more fulfilling than my previous one and was it what I really wanted? I was aware that I could pick up where I’d left off at the bar if I decided to quit, but it was early days, and so I told myself. One powerful consideration was that I felt a lot safer working here, even if Guy wasn’t always immediately to hand.

I had only got as far as formulating these thoughts when the phone rang. I picked it up and answered with a feeling of liberation. Any excuse to put off the pursuit of my allotted chore was very welcome. I was to be disappointed, however. The call was merely an office supplies company, chasing payment for a stationery order. It stirred up another anxiety in my already troubled head. How was Guy’s business doing, financially speaking? Naively, I hadn’t given that matter any thought up to that moment.

By noon, I was sorting through the penultimate file of papers when the instrument sounded again. With my task nearly complete, I resented the interruption this time and it was with a sigh of resignation that I picked up the receiver. “Abacus Investigations. How may I help?”
My boss had chosen that name, apparently, because it would come near the top of the list in the telephone directory, an important success factor; possibly the only one!

“Who are you? I want to speak to Mr Martinez himself.”

“Unfortunately, he’s out of the office just now. I’m Jennifer, his assistant. Can I be of service?”

“I’m not sure. Can you?”

“If you tell me what you want, I expect I can. Who is this please?”

“This is Mrs Simpson.”

The penny dropped. The ‘lonely heart’!

“I told everything to Mr Martinez, but he hasn’t got back to me. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

The woman’s tone was peremptory, and I could see that dealing with her would require diplomacy. Patience being a quality so far not perceived in Guy’s make-up, here perhaps was an opportunity for my own skills to be brought to bear.

“It’s unfortunate that he’s so busy at present. However, I’m here to help. Would you like me to come and see you?”

“Yes. That would be acceptable. This afternoon, if you please. I live on the south side. Have you a pencil ready?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here is my address.”

Once the woman was sure that I had transcribed her directions faithfully, she rang off without further ceremony. Great! My first case and I hadn’t the remotest idea how to handle it.

I finished my filing chore before heading out across town. It felt like I was going AWOL, but my boss hadn’t specified I was to remain in the office. Neither had he troubled to let me know where to contact him. To square my conscience, I left a note explaining my whereabouts on the desk against his return. Free at last and in glorious sunshine I had a sense that adventure filled the air. Here was life!

The house wasn’t difficult to find; a large grey-stone mansion with an imposing façade, set back from the road. A maid in uniform opened the door for me and ushered me into an imposing hallway. As I took in my surroundings, I noted that the room was expensively furnished. To contradict Guy’s earlier surmise, there clearly might be plenty of revenue to be had in this case and any remaining trace of guilt over my seizing the initiative vanished.

I was announced into the drawing room where the lady of the house was seated. Elegance and opulence met my eyes everywhere I looked. She did not rise to greet me but sat, frostily eyeing me up and down with a critical glare. Despite a pause during which I found myself holding my breath, the overall result seemed to be favourable, thankfully.

“Please sit Miss Cartwright.” The woman thawed a fraction. She had delicate features and would best be described as being of a certain age. Her reddish hair was elegantly coiffed, and she was tastefully dressed and made up, though to my former beautician’s critical eye the application of her cosmetics was a touch heavy for that hour of the day.

“Please call me Jennifer, or if you prefer, Jenny” I smiled, trying to melt the ice some more, but unsuccessfully.

“Thank-you for coming, Miss Cartwright.” The woman’s tone remained formal. She spoke deliberately and in a rich contralto voice which I reckoned had benefitted from elocution coaching at some time in her life. “This is not a social call. Let me get right to the point. I trust that your Mr Martinez has briefed you fully?”

“Of course” I lied. “However, it would be useful to start over. I wouldn’t want to miss the smallest detail which could assist this investigation.”

My prospective client looked pleased at this evidence of thoroughness. “I agree. Well, I will begin at the beginning, in that case. It started two weeks ago. I was returning home from out of state after visiting some friends. I had just turned off the freeway when I noticed a dark blue sedan two or three cars behind me. It seemed to have been there for some time.”

“Did you notice the make of car?”

“Please do not interrupt. I was coming to that. I believe it to have been a Ford, though I’m unsure of the particular model. Anyway, a few blocks away from home it turned off and I dismissed the matter from my mind. Since then, however, I have seen what I believe to have been the same automobile behind me four or five times. Sometimes when I have been returning here and other times when leaving. On one occasion I pulled over to let it pass, hoping to see who was driving, but to no avail. The vehicle shot past me so quickly that I had no chance to get a look at the driver or take the licence plate. A few blocks further on, however, there it was behind me once again.”

The woman paused and, hesitant to stem the flow of her narrative, I nodded significantly.

“I am not a nervous person, Miss Cartwright, nor given to flights of fancy, but I dislike the feeling of being watched.”

I nodded again.

“I would like to know who this person is and what has prompted such intrusive behaviour. So… how do you intend to proceed?”

I gave a start at being put on the spot, then attempted to cover it by clearing my throat. Thinking rapidly, I could see only one suitable course of action. “To begin with, when you next leave the house, I will follow behind you, but at a distance. You must let me know where you will be headed so I don’t lose you. If this person tries to tail you, I should be able to see where they come from. I will take note of their licence plate. We are able to trace those numbers.”

“Is that all?”

“To begin with. Once we know who this is, then it will be clearer what course of action is appropriate. Can you think of anyone who might bear a grudge against you? Anyone at all?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“I’m guessing that Mr Simpson is not around.”

“He died two years ago, shortly after we moved here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The words came mechanically and sounded hollow in my ears, barren of comfort.

“I miss him dreadfully. He would have known exactly what to do.” I was aware that I was being regarded as a doubtful substitute.

“Where did you live before?”

The woman’s face lit up at the question. “Before that we lived out in the country, up in the hills. I was happy there.”

I paused before moving on. It felt right to let her dwell in the moment. “When will you next be taking the car out somewhere?”

Her next excursion was apparently fixed for the following afternoon. “I usually go to a tea dance at the Grand on a Wednesday” stated the woman. “It’s a nice way to make new friends.”

“Perfect!” I agreed, reflecting that if Gloria adhered to a regular schedule the stalker was more likely to show, if stalker there was.

I drove back to the office warily, wondering whether I too would be tailed by some mysterious car. I failed to notice anything behind me despite frequent checks in the rear-view mirror. I had only been back a few minutes when Guy telephoned.

“Jennifer. How are you getting on?”

“Oh, I’ve finished all the filing” I assured him. “The office is in tip-top shape, you will find.”

“That’s good. Sorry to leave you to your own devices on your first day, but this case I’m pursuing is turning out to be more intricate than I thought. I will be travelling west tomorrow and will be away a day or two longer. I can’t offer you anything very interesting to do in the meantime. You will just be answering the telephone, should anyone ring.”

“That’s okay.” Here was an opportunity to give my boss an update. “That lady who thinks she is being followed called again, wanting me to visit her, so I did. Is that okay?”

“Gloria Simpson? A time-waster, and really not worth bothering with, but go right ahead. It will keep you occupied, I guess,” he laughed ruefully “and will give you a taste of how boring the job can be at times. Make sure you check the answer phone for messages, though. Be seeing you.” With those encouraging words, he rang off.