Chapter 8 – Walk on by

Taking the camera purse in hand, I slid cautiously out of the truck’s cab and closing the door gently behind me I began to walk slowly towards the dark blue automobile. My heels seemed to clatter inordinately loudly in the still morning air. Soft soles would have been better suited to this sort of enterprise. I passed a hardware store, ignoring but very conscious of the protracted stares of the shopkeeper who was standing in its doorway. Seconds later I was disconcerted to hear a low wolf-whistle behind me. It seemed that as a means of avoiding undue notice, my choice of clothing had failed at the first hurdle and the deliberate grin across the face of a delivery boy who passed me on his bicycle confirmed that conclusion. I began to rue the unfortunate choice of such a tight little skirt. The old saying came to mind that the only thing worse than being looked at was not being looked at, but that didn’t apply in my situation!

However, there was no other option for me but to carry on regardless, unless I was to give up the attempt entirely, and I might not get a better opportunity. I walked on. When I got level with the waiting sedan I sauntered past it as casually as I could, trying to pretend it wasn’t there. I even turned my head away when I reckoned I was level with the front passenger door so when I clicked the camera’s shutter release, it was more in hope than in confidence.

With my head averted, a quick sideways glance was all I could manage. What I was able to observe was that the front seat of the car held a single occupant, but unfortunately, he was seated on the opposite side. The opposite side! In a flash I recognised my blunder and mentally berated myself for acting like a complete beginner! The photograph would show nothing useful. I ought to have walked past on the driver’s side!

All might not be lost, however, provided I could find a pretext for making another attempt and if there was time. There was a drug store at the street corner where it intersected the main drag. I went inside and selecting a copy of Vogue from the magazine rack and trotted across to the desk to pay. To test my patience, the old woman behind the counter was heavily engaged in a heart-to-heart with an elderly couple who were ahead of me. I stood behind them in ill-concealed agitation, trying to remain calm but aware that with every passing second my quarry might take flight. The minutes ticked by relentlessly. In the end I gave it up and returning my magazine to its place in the rack, I ran out of the door. A rapid glance told me that my anxiety had not been justified. The sedan was still in its place. I resumed my leisurely pace, crossed the street and, with head in air, strolled towards the suspect vehicle once again.

My heart was pounding as I neared my target. When I passed it on this occasion, I was able to gain a better impression of the guy behind the wheel. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed an overweight balding individual, as, at what I judged to be the correct moment, I pressed the shutter release. Praying I’d got it right this time, I strolled casually on. It was hard not to quicken my pace. When I reached my waiting truck, I allowed myself to turn and look back, only to discover how fortunate I had been, for of the dark blue sedan there was now no sign. That was okay. When I saw Gloria next, she would no doubt report that she had been followed again but I could hope that I was now in possession of an all-important clue which would reveal the identity of her tail. With that information I ought to be able to make some real progress.

I drove to the restaurant where she had told me she planned to meet a society friend and settled down to wait for her to emerge. To occupy the hour or so of expected inactivity I sat in the cab and munched on a sandwich I’d bought at a stall nearby. It didn’t taste great, but I was ravenous. I had only just finished my impromptu lunch and had begun to wonder how long a vigil I was in for when my client’s car made its appearance. The red Buick disappeared at a rate of knots before I even had time to start my engine. Worse, in my excitement I had carelessly parked my truck facing the wrong way for me to follow her!

There was no help for it. Thankful for the substantial build of my borrowed pickup I dragged it around in an impromptu U-turn, the tyres screeching in protest. My manoeuvre drew forth an angry blaring of horns from drivers who had been compelled to take avoiding action, but I ignored their protest and started off in pursuit of my chase. Though the Riviera was out of sight, I could hazard a guess at its likely route and if I threw caution to the winds, I’d likely catch it up before long. My reckless driving eventually paid off. I didn’t get pulled over by a cop, happily, and before long was rewarded by the sight of a familiar dark blue shape two cars ahead. Craning my neck, I could see the Buick beyond it. I moderated my pace and followed, making sure that there was always one vehicle in between the sedan and my truck. A grey station wagon obligingly seemed to be going the same way as our procession so thankfully I tucked in behind that.

On reaching the Simpson residence, Gloria turned into her driveway, but her tail continued past and I followed. After a mile or so the sedan took a sudden left at a stoplight followed by the grey vehicle. By the time I reached the turn the light had changed to red. I tapped the steering wheel impatiently until the green showed again when I made to follow. Now the sedan was out of sight so from now on all that remained was guesswork. I had entered the older part of town where tired shop fronts crowded the overgrown sidewalks. I drove around the area aimlessly for some time and was about to give up the hunt altogether when I spotted the sedan. It was parked up outside a three-storey building. Judging from the stack of nameplates I could see by the entrance door the edifice was home to the offices of an extensive range of enterprises.

I pulled over beyond the building and walked back, pausing as I passed the place and with as casual an air as I could assume ran my eye over the names. None meant much to me though a few of the plates bore some kind of qualifying sub-title. A dental surgeon, a clairvoyant and a loans-company apparently operated within those walls, among many others. The phrasing of the last plate caught my eye as being rather humorous, ‘Price Inquiries’. The price of what, I wondered! I was reluctant to linger, so feeling somewhat discouraged, I walked back to the truck.

I really needed to find out what my suspect looked like before I could make any real progress. As Guy was due to return today, I could count on his expertise to make prints from the photos I had taken. Some solid results might then fall within our reach.

To my relief, my employer was already there when I entered the office. I was delighted to see him and tried to believe he was pleased to see me. He greeted me in his usual laconic way. “You’re dressed to the nines. Going somewhere special, were we?”

I assumed he was referring to my tight little leather skirt. “No, just my working clothes” I corrected him stiffly, head in air.

His eyes twinkled as he shook his head sadly. “I guess.”

More out of politeness than curiosity I asked him about his own investigation. As he had indicated, it was essentially complete, but the few loose ends that remained to be tidied up seemed to have grown in magnitude, and he would be engaged thus for another day. When, eventually, he asked about my case, I was almost bursting to tell him everything. Without ceremony I blurted “I managed to get a couple of shots of the stalker. Can you show me how to develop them please?”

The next half an hour we spent so occupied. With the windows blacked out and the room illuminated by a single red bulb, my boss processed the film while I watched. It was spooky to see the prints emerge as the developing solution washed over them. Finally!

After washing them in the fixing solution, Guy picked one up and hung it to dry, then the other. “Open the blinds” he instructed me.

Once my eyes were accustomed to the light I scanned the prints anxiously. The results were mixed. The first one I’d taken was hopeless. Not only was the subject obscured by being seated on the far side of the car but the camera had been pointed into strong sunlight. Another basic mistake! Nothing could be made out at all. The second snapshot was better. Though the driver’s head had been turned away, the profile of his face could clearly be made out.

“So that’s the stalker! Will Gloria recognise him?” I wondered aloud.

“It’s possible but I’d be very surprised” Guy’s answer deflated my recently awakened hopes. “But no matter. I actually know the man myself. He used to work in the agency too although in a different team. Some years before I did, he left to set up as a private investigator. I’ve come across him now and then since. He takes the sort of work I don’t touch, divorces and that kind of thing.”

“Well, what’s his name?” I asked breathlessly.

“It’s Ray. Raymond Price.”

The penny dropped. “Price Inquiries!” I cried triumphantly. “I know where his office is.”