Chapter 7 – Under the radar

When I spoke into the telephone, my lackadaisical “Abacus Investigations. How can I help?” provoked a rebuke.

“Will you even want to? I can tell your heart isn’t in it. Try again!”

I was too dispirited to think of a riposte. “It hasn’t been a good day” I complained.

“I disagree.” Guy sounded jubilant. “My investigation here is all wrapped up except for one or two loose ends. I ought to be back by tomorrow evening.”

That at least was welcome news. “Oh, thank goodness. I think I’m out of my depth here.”

I recounted the steps I’d taken to unravel the mystery surrounding my own case and my findings so far. They made a pitifully small list. I had hoped to be able to demonstrate that, left to my own devices, I was a capable investigator, but to no avail. I couldn’t help sounding as downcast as I felt.

Guy, on the other hand, was ebullient. “Buck up, Jennifer. From where I am sitting, you have made solid progress. You’ve established that the threat to the client is not imaginary as I had reckoned it to be and you have got to first base with the woman and her servant. Instead of a penniless widow, she appears to be something of a wealthy socialite, which is all to the good. Interestingly her maid seems to have some kind of axe to grind with her mistress. Now! What are your next steps?”

His summary of my results sounded to have much more substance than my own assessment and I was encouraged enough to take a stab at improvising a suitable response to his question.

“I was thinking of checking out that side street from where the sedan emerged. Gloria is due to go out again tomorrow morning. If I drive past the place a little earlier, I ought to notice anything there is to see.”

“It’s Gloria now, is it?” he laughed. “That’s okay, but haven’t you wondered how that car so often happens to be in the right place at the right time? It can’t be coincidence. Don’t you see the significance of that?”

Under my mentor’s questioning, the answer seemed obvious. “They must know when she’s going out in advance. Someone must be tipping them off.”

“Smart cookie! And who is favourite for that little piece of skulduggery? That’s right. Your friend, Millie. Food for thought.”

It sounded so simple when he provided the explanation.

“Your plan has merit, however. If you do find the car waiting there, don’t get too close. And I have a little piece of kit you might find useful in that regard. In the lower left drawer of my desk, you will find a hard-back book and what looks like an ordinary black purse. Neither of those are ordinary items. Each contain a hidden camera. I suggest you carry the purse with you tomorrow. If you can do so surreptitiously, see if you can’t grab a snapshot. Then your friend, Gloria might be able to identify her stalker.”

“Got it!”

“Good. Take care you don’t attract any attention. If there is an inside informant, the driver might have got to know that you’re on the case so don’t let the Simpson woman know in advance what you are intending to do. Careless talk…”

I saw the danger but before I could query how best to handle it, he rang off with his customary abrupt “Be seeing you!”

I next spent some time examining the purse with its concealed camera. It looked simple to use but no amount of scrutiny was able to solve the problem facing me, and it was a biggie. I was unsure whether I had a pair of shoes that would go sufficiently well with the purse. Ridiculous though it was to be worrying over such a trifle, my years of modelling work had taken their toll. To my fashion-conscious mind, if I were to pass as a modern girl about town, avoidance of such a basic style blooper would be vital!

What else to wear? A robust get-up would be advisable for this expedition, something which had stamina, but here my choice was limited. Most of my clothing was more suited to my previous job as a hostess and tended to be very feminine in style, often fabricated with flimsy impractical fabrics. I recalled, however, that I’d bought a black leather skirt some time back and had never worn it. That ought to serve my purpose… if it fit me, that is. Accordingly, when I got back to my apartment, I drug out the said article of apparel from the back of my closet and tried it on.

The little thing was shorter than I remembered, a good deal shorter. It was tight over my thighs and butt and proved a struggle to squeeze into. No longer girlishly slender, my figure had grown with my increasing maturity. Furthermore, since my enforced exit from witness protection, I’d resumed the regimen of hormones and waist-training to which my body had been subjected in my formative years. The overall result was that I had as ample curves below the waist as those above it. It was with relief that there was just sufficient stretch in the leather to accommodate my more ‘womanly’ roundness. To complete the outfit, I chose a long-sleeve sweater, fairly inconspicuous, or so I thought..

There! I was ready but there remained a difficulty. My automobile was an open-top sports car of uncertain vintage. It had been Jennifer’s very first vehicle and my pride and joy. She had even come with a name, ‘Athena’. After my daughter had been born, she no longer met our needs but rather than sell my cherished set of wheels I had surrendered her to a friend for safe keeping. This was my erstwhile agent from whom I’d originally bought the car in the first place. I knew she valued the little gem as much as I did.

After my unceremonious exit from witness protection, I ridden north with the objective of retrieving my little two-seater from storage. My expectation had been that she would have been stowed away with meticulous care and in this I’d found that my confidence in my friend had not been misplaced. The engine started on the button with no fuss at all. I had driven away feeling that a welcome ray of sunshine had penetrated what otherwise appeared to be a dark and dangerous world. I’d felt like singing. I was mobile again!

For my immediate purpose of tailing the suspect sedan, however, it was obvious that Athena would be much too conspicuous. I was reluctant to take another taxicab as doing so would impair my flexibility of movement, therefore needed a more discreet means of transport. When I had mentioned this little problem in the course of my phone call with Guy he had come up with a simple solution.

“Take my truck” he’d advised. “It’s parked up behind the office, and you will find the keys in my desk. It may not boast much in the way of style but will be exactly what you need to stay hidden below the radar.”

My heart had sunk on hearing these words. Even while thanking my boss for his help, I recalled the occasion when I’d borrowed one of Guy’s vehicles before. The experience had been less than inspiring and when I viewed his pick-up the following day its appearance confirmed my fears. It was an ancient model whose paintwork was faded and pitted in many places. Grudgingly, however, I had to admit that in essentials it seemed in good shape and once behind the wheel I found the vehicle to have a powerful engine. The motor purred quietly and the truck proved capable of a startling turn of speed.

In Guy’s estimation, that his old crate was not in the least eye-catching had been an advantage, and as I drove downtown I was forced to agree. It blended well into the background, so I could expect to remain unnoticed. I drove to the side street from which I’d seen the sedan emerge the previous day and turned into it. The blind alley along which I found myself progressing was entirely empty of blue sedans. I parked up at the farthest end and awaited events, positioning the vehicle so that I had a good view of the whole street in the rear-view mirror.

At least half an hour remained before the appointed time for Gloria’s planned trip out. There was little traffic and the minutes passed slowly, but gradually they ticked away, and my patience was at last rewarded by the appearance of a long dark blue shape. The suspect sedan! It turned at the other end of the cul-de-sac and came to a halt facing the exit. Now we were both playing the waiting game. Here at last was the opportunity I’d been hoping for.