A Girl Named Charlotte

A
Girl Named Charlotte

An
Enigmatic Detective Mystery Thriller

By

Donald
Harry Roberts

1

Sammy, at Sammy’s Back Street Bistro and Café poured
me a coffee, black, strong and a couple of hours old. He grinned and said, “I
read about you in the papers, just about all of them. Seems you stirred up a
hornets nest when you plugged Jimmy The Snitch.”

I said back, “Jimmy the snitch was trying to get me
toe tagged. He didn’t give me a choice. Apparently he changed professions and
came to hunt me down. Too bad he didn’t figure me for a quick draw and fast
shooter.”

Sammy asked, “ Who do you figured put up the reward?”

I laughed mirthlessly and answered, “That my old
friend could be any one of dozens. There’s a lot of creeps out there in B-Town
who figure they owe me one. I guess someday one of’ em’ ll get paid off, but
only one. They can’t kill me more’ n once.”

Sammy was about to say something more but just then
the street door opened.

She had black hair that looked like a hurricane had
tried to rip it out by the roots. Her eyes were ice blue and her skin was pale,
ghostly pale. She was dressed up for a party, the kind that hired girls like
her to keep it hopping, the colour scheme was red with black trim. She had that
kind of look about her that if you see it once you never forget it. It was the
kind of look girls get when the dream flops and the reality creeps in to steal
the soul.

“Wow. You look like someone dragged you through a car
wash Char.” Sammy said sympathetically. Whatcha doin comin in so early?”

The girl dragged herself to a counter stool five down
from mine. She tried to smile at Sammy but it clouded out. You could imagine
the cloud forming over her head. “The party got raided. Give me a coffee.”

I pulled my eyes away and fixed my stare into the
blackness of my coffee. It isn’t polite, even in these times to stare at
people. Maybe its even gotten worse, one of those socially incorrect things.

But I couldn’t help seeing that under the veil of
hardness there was a sad and beautiful girl, probably in from the suburbs or some
rural town looking for her personal pot of success. It was a guess but an
educated one.

I slipped in a quick glance when she went looking
through her purse. “Damn. Sammy. Hold the coffee. I don’t have any money.”

“Jeez Char. This is three times. I…” Sammy was saying.

“I’ll get it Sammy.” I cut in, “and add in the special.
She looks like she needs it.”

“Ok. One special for the young lady comin up.” Sammy
shot back cheerfully.

“It won’t get you nothing Mr.” the girl said
miserably.

“Sure it will. It’ll get me a nice warm feeling that I
helped out another human being who might pass the kindness on some day…or
night.” I answered.

“You a preacher or something.?!” She shot back
moodily.

Or something will fit nicely.” I replied.

“Charlotte. You’re getting bought a supper by the city’s
best of the best shamuses.” Sammy called from the kitchen.

“You’re a cop?!” Charlotte snapped.

“Private cop, more precisely I replied.

“Where I sit a cop is a cop. Private cops are just a
little less heartless.”

I grinned and was about to respond when Sammy piped up
against. “This copper’s got a heart dolly but he has a cold streak in him too.
Didn’t you read the papers. He’s the one who put Jimmy The Snitch in the morgue
the other night.”

“Jeez. A killer cop on the loose.” Charlotte replied
sarcastically, “but I guess that creep deserved it. He had a habit of thinking
he was owed a free ride and took what he wanted. Any one else and it would have
been rape, but…” she was saying miserably when the street door opening interrupted
her.

Something that looked like a neanderthal in a tux
walked up behind Charlotte and grabbed a fist full of hair. “Whadaya doin here?
Yer supposed to be partying with those business fellas.”

“Jeez Duff. Let go. You’re hurting me. Didn’t you here.
The party got raided. I got away before the cops nabbed everyone.”

“I s’ posse that means you didn’t get paid.” Duff
snarled.

“You s’ posse right Duff. None of the girls got paid.”

“Well. You’ll have to make it up to me. That’s a lot
of lost revenue.” Duff groaned and pushed a little as he let go of her hair.

“How can I do that. You take almost all the money. I
barely have enough to keep my flop and eat.” Charlotte snapped.

Duff the neanderthal was about to cuff her up side the
head. I jumped up with a tight fist and slammed into his temple. He dropped
like a rock and laid on the floor twitching for a few seconds then passed out.
I bent down, grabbed an arm, and dragged the creep out into the street across
the road and into an alley. I figured he was going to be real mean when he woke
up, but he was down for the count for now. I heard later that Duffy the Mauler
was never quite right after that. It was something about walking around all the
time like he was drunk. So I figured he wouldn’t be pushing around the dames anymore.
Too bad there are a dozen or so just like him to take over. But one less can’t
be bad.

I went back into Sammy’s and dropped on to my stool.
Charlotte was shoveling down the shepherd’s pie special and pointing at her
coffee cup. Sammy said, “Like I said Char. He’s got a mean streak in him.

“Thanks copper, but it ain’t gonna do much good. Maybe
it’ll make things worse.” Charlotte said between spoons full of the pie.

“Not for you if you get out and get out fast.” I
advised without too much conviction, knowing she probably wouldn’t listen.

Funny though. She said, “Maybe I would if I could, but
it costs money and I don’t have any and if I don’t pay my rent I’ll be on the
streets. The landlord told me not to come back if I didn’t have his money. I don’t.”

I am not a good Samaritan. I don’t believe you can
help most people because they are not usually willing to help themselves. But
sometimes even the hard and tough bend a little and get a blast of warm in the
veins. It hardly ever pays off but maybe it’ll make for some marker points on
the other side, where ever that is.

I said, “Finish your food and we’ll drink a couple
more cups of Sammy’s Tar. Then I’ll fly you home.”

Charlotte got one of those skeptical frowns on her
face. I said, “Don’t fret. I have only temporary philanthropic intentions. Lets
call it a moment of weakness.”

“Charity some call it.” Charlotte snapped back. “Normally
I’d send you packing, or pay you back in kind, but I need help and you are offering.
I’ll take  your charity but I’m not
feeling too kind.”

Her voice was trapped between loath and thankful mixed
with a little fear. I could almost hear her wheels grinding out something
about, No one does nothing for nothing.”

I settled up with Sammy then we went out into the
street. The sun was just starting to rise. I took Charlotte by the elbow and
guided her to my car. She looked at it and grinned. “You run a limo business
too?”

“Nope. I call it home.” I answered.

“You live in a limo?!”

“I camp out in it when I can’t get home.” I answered,
amused at her appalled mood.

“Where is your flop?”

Charlette grimaced, “McHardy Court.”

“You’re a long way from home.” I said.

“I went to the party in a limo. I figured I’d have some
cash to get home, but, well, you heard my story.”

I started the car and looked over at the alley where I
had dumped Duffy. He was gone. I was pretty sure he would off telling his boss
a story, but.

It was still quiet on the streets as we drove across
the city. The only thing slowing me down was the traffic lights, but only a
couple. I drove to suit the timing and before long I was turning into the court
and escorting Charlotte to the super’s office.

She owe two months back rent. I paid that off and
added enough to cover the next month. The land lord shook his head. I could here
what he was thinking, “Hope you get yer money’s worth chump.”

What he actually said was, “Yer lucky this time but
don’t be late again.”

I let my coat fall open. My  pistol peaked out. I said nonchalantly. “I am
putting it on you to help this girl out. If you don’t maybe you’ll get in an
accident…or something.”

The super snarled, “What’s a private cop doin with a
gun?”

“Ever law has its loopholes Pal.” I shot back.

“Maybe you ain’t as big as you think you are. Chump.”

I grabbed his shirt collar and said in one of those
low, soft dangerous voices, Jimmy the Snitch said the same thing just before I
plugged him up.”

I like it when I see fear grow hot in a bully’s eyes.

I pushed him back into his flop and pulled the door
closed.

We went to Charlotte’s unit.  She opened the door. The place looked out of
place. It was nice, neat, and tidy and the furniture was only a little warn
out. It even smelled ok.

“Looks like you did ok for a while.” I said.

“I got this stuff when I first got here. I had money
to get started. I had a big dream.” Charlotte explained.

I said, kind of a quote thing, “She went off to find
the foot lights.”

Charlotte got it and laughed. She said, “Nah. That
never works. I came to be a journalist. I even had a few leads and got a few
jobs, but things didn’t happen fast enough. I  ran out of funds and couldn’t make enough to
pay the rent. I guess that never works either.”

“They’re neck and neck in a race to failure.” I
replied. “Maybe you should go back to where ever you came from.” I said. Then I
gave her some cash thinking reality. I was probably wasting my money. Then I
gave her my calling card and went away figuring I’d never see her again.

Sometimes you get it all wrong. Charlotte hadn’t given
up on the journalist thing. She was just making ends meet until she scored a headline.
She was doing the dance with the devil armed with a pen and a dream, but still,
sometimes you get it all wrong. And there was more, a lot more.

2

My office is a store front thing in B-Town’s oldest
shopping mall, but no one ever comes in off the street. I hand out calling
cards, Private Cop For Hire with a cell number. I get 25 cards made at a time.
When they are gone I get a new phone and new cards with a new number. Call me
paranoid but keeping forever cards and phone numbers can be dangerous. I usually
get enough work out of 25 to keep me in that place I like to call elegantly
sufficient, with a little left over for the golden years and rainy days. I
hardly ever rains on my parade. Insurance is a great business especially fraudulent
claims. 10 percent of 250 grand, sometimes a little more a couple of times a year
makes for a nice bonus. I never go for less.

***

Jammet Cryms looked like exactly what he was. An over
worked homicide detective whose badge was heavy and his gun even heavier. As
cops go he’s pretty good and as straight as a cop can be without putting
himself in the line of fire. “The way I figure it is, you can’t do no good if
you fight the stick on both ends. Sometimes a blind eye gets you a better look
at the big picture and some how you manage to keep some kind of balance between
the good and bad and ugly.” he would say when it looked like he was going a
little past the grey zone. I guess that’s why we get along, but sometimes the thread
that keeps us connected gets stretched pretty thin.

I was just wrapping up my affidavit concerning the
shooting of Jimmy the Snitch. Getting ready for my hearing to decide what the
city was going to do with me. It was pretty much in the bag, according to my
lawyer that the judge was going to spend an hour reaming me out then rule self-
defense. He had to. I had half a dozen witnesses to back me up, mostly on the
level. Parks dug up a couple of extras just to make sure. I did a lot of
snooping for him gratis. It was a nice barter.

It was Detective Sergeant Cryms who barged into my
office all bloated with official business and in a mood that would have scared
a mad bull off. He stepped up to my desk and tossed a calling card at me. “You
better have an answer bub.” Then he handed me a picture of a  trashed apartment with a dead girl in it.

“Her name is…” he started

“Charlotte.” I cut him off bitterly. “How’d she get
this way?”

“Someone wrapped her throat up in wire neck tie.”
Cryms described. “It wasn’t a random act. This was pro.” He continued.

“I guess I have to say it wasn’t me.” I shot out coldly.

“Nah. I know it you wouldn’t do a dame. Not like that,
but I think you probably know someone who would.” Cryms accused.

“Pimps beat their girls. They don’t kill them.” I
said. “What did you find in her flop.”

“Not much that would help but she had a laptop
computer and a box full of flash drives we haven’t been able to get into yet.”
Cryms told me.

“So why are you pissed at me?”

“Because every time I turn around you are ass deep in
a case you shouldn’t be anywhere near.” Cryms snarled.

I chuckled and said, “But you want my help.”

Cryms nodded. “I figure your computer mutt might have
better luck getting in.” He handed me a fist full of flash drives. “Find out
what’s on these.”

“Jammet. You’re playing me. What’s up with Charlotte?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know but someone
up the ladder wants this shut down…fast and quiet like.”

“Did you know she came here to be a journalist?” I
asked.

Cryms gave me a dumb look which yelled, “No.” but it
was backed up with the truth.

I said, “Go home before you piss me off.”

Cryms went out a lot quieter than he came in but
before the door was completely closed I heard him grumble something about throwing
me to the wolves if I let him down.

In pulp fiction the writers make it out that private
cops do it all, but the truth is we don’t get far without some serious back up,
like computer people who have a knack and know how in the art of hacking. I
always found it interesting that in a world with special names for ordinary
jobs no one has come up with a better, nicer moniker than hacker. Then again, maybe
they have and I’m still stuck in the dark ages. Either way my boy was the best
in the business and the only name I knew him by was Ferret, a hacker handle I guess.
It fit.

I went to his hole in the wall and dumped off the
flash drives in an envelope with the usual fee. He told me to come back
tomorrow. In the mean time I returned to Charlotte’s flop, dropping in to visit
the super first. I needed his key to get in and to make sure it wasn’t his
fault the girl was dead. It wasn’t. He gave up the key without an argument. I
went to the unit and went in without breaking the police barrier tape,
wondering why people did if they didn’t want it know they had been there.

The place looked like a tornado picked everything in
the place up, slung it around and scattered it around the rooms in a helluva
mess. There was the usual body chalk mark. She went down curled up in the fetus
position. The cold hearted part of me melted fast but it opened the rage door
too. Someone was going to understand the language of my gun. It only has one word
in its vocabulary. Death.

I looked around. At first I didn’t pick out anything
useful. Not until I saw something that looked out of place and in place at the
same time. It was a note book being used as a level for a chest of drawers in
the bedroom that somehow didn’t get knocked over. I was a little surprized that
Cryms didn’t see it.

I picked it up and opened the cover. It was a diary.
She started everything with Dear Me. The first bunch of pages were all about
coming to the city, excited, positive stuff, just like she had told me. Between
the twelfth and thirteenth pages I found an envelope with a return address on it.
M. Sheers from a place called Speersville.

I read the letter. It didn’t offer much except M.
Sheers was Momma and Mr. Sheers had died, daddy had died. It was dated a year
ago. I decided that I’d go pay Mom a visit as soon as I had something to tell
her besides, Your daughter is dead. I decided to that Cryms didn’t need to know
about the letter yet. Then I read a little scrawling blurb that put the apple
cart up on a curb. It didn’t make much sense if I tried to figure it out from
the context. “I can’t believe it. Why would he do that? I guess that is why
they came to me.”

I went back to my office and settled down with an
Irish coffee, a smoke and the diary, the part that went from yippidy do da,
what a wonderful life to dancing with the devil. Unfortunately I didn’t get
much except one paragraph, “I have taken up with a creep named Pauly. It’s a horrible
place to be but it’ll pay my rent until I can get a story to sell. Duffy is
stupid but he’s mean when he wants. I am sure I have stumbled on to a good one.
It seems its not just gangsters that act like gangsters making vice money here.
Its not a new story. Corruption has always been a part of a city growing up,
but I wonder if people know how high it goes. Maybe being a hooker will put me
in places I can get some good script.”

It fit in with the, I can’t believe it part and it cleared
the rose out of my glasses a little but not enough, about the poor little girl
from the suburbs.

She was a smart girl but too damned naïve to figure
out the city isn’t fair, forgiving or kind. It rarely forgives and never forgets.
It’ll strip the strongest of everything they have right down to their dignity,
then it spits the remains out to crawl in the gutters or, like Charlotte, die.

They, whoever the hell they are, say that the city is
getting cleaned up and polished, that crime is down by percentage and corruption
is minimal. Those who are they live in a dream world with the proverbial rose
coloured glasses hanging on their noses and don’t get it that crime is still
nearly rampant. They don’t realize that when the numbers, the population is up the
percentages drop, at least for a while. Charlotte was digging up dirt for her
break through headline by line, but she dug too deep. Deep enough to get
noticed. Deep enough to get dead. I thought.

I took the diary to DS Cryms, officially. I did it
because the cops needed to know. The good ones that is. I knew he wouldn’t blow
the lid off until he could sweep up the garbage that falls out of the trash
can, before it had a chance to sweep him under the pollical carpet or the dump
him in some old quarry  with a lot of
others who tried to vacuum out the cobwebs.

Cryms gave me the look. “What the hell aren’t you
telling me?”

I didn’t make like I understood his meaning. I just played
dumb and left him to his business hoping he would stray from his usual cautions
of approach and procedure. “You don’t kick a bull in the balls. You can’t run
fast enough to avoid the knee jerk reaction.”

The next day I drove up to Speersville. Sometimes you
do things you regret. Sometimes you regret the things you do. Maybe its all the
same but which ever way you look at it sometimes you have no choice and what
you find at in the end leaves you a dozen more degrees in the frozen, burning
heart zone.

Mrs. Sheers was your typical, plain looking kind of
gramma who might have been the bell of the ball once upon a time, but time,
heart ache and just plain old life crushed it all into wrinkles and dull eyes.

She already knew about Charlotte when I arrived. She
said she had a visit from a Constable Moore who was informed by a Sergeant
Cryms that Charlotte was dead, “Murdered.”

 

 

 

 

3

In one way I had wasted my time but in another I
figured a personal visit from someone who had at least met Charlotte eased
Momma’s pain a little. All she wanted now was her daughters remains brought
home. I promised I’d make sure Charlotte got home asap.

It was late when we finished talking. Mrs. Sheers
invited me to dinner and to bunk in her spare room. I took the dinner but
decided to get a room at the local motel. I don’t know why. It just didn’t seem
right.

I slept erratically until 3 am then packed up and was
going to headed home. I got out the door but before I could get to the car two
men approached me, both in uniforms. One introduced himself as Constable Moore.
I didn’t get the name of the other one.

“We don’t like you city folk coming up messing in our
business.” Moore said with a mean growl.

“This isn’t your business. This is a murder being
investigated by a B-Town detective.” I argued.

“You are not that detective. You’re a private cop who
doesn’t have any business messing in police business.”

“Call Detective Sergeant Cryms. He reported the girls
death to you. He will tell you that I am assisting him in the investigation.” I
suggested, more to buy a minute than to convince Moore I was there to help.

“Why don’t you just let me get in my car and go home.
I’m finished here anyway.” I suggested.

“I don’t think the guy was crooked. He was just a
copper in a small town defending his territory, but he was feeling a little
bullied so his answer was, “Maybe I should run you in and check you out. We’ve
had some burglaries lately and you fit the description.”

I smiled and said, “Go ahead, Do what you think is
best if you think I’ll go without a fight. How do I know you are really a cop.
You can buy uniforms and badges anywhere.”

“What seems to be the trouble here?” A voice came out
of nowhere.

“Oh. Ah, we were just checking this fellow out Sergeant
Merrad. What are you doing here?” Constable Moore responded a little nervously.

“You the private cop from B-Town?” Merrad asked,
ignoring the sheriff.

“I am. What’s up?”

“I got a call from a detective Cryms. He said you were
here on police business and figured Constable Moore might not understand. He
asked me to look into it.”

I said, “You were coming to visit me at 3 in the
morning?!” I said doubtfully.

“No. I was watching for burglars. I am on the night
shift. I was just rolling by when I saw you and the constable having a
discussion. Now I want you to go back to your room. I have a message from your
sergeant.”

“I wonder how he knew I came here. I didn’t tell him…
unless he’s having me tailed.” I thought out loud.

Merrad grinned. “Come back to your room. I’ll tell
you. And Constable, I suggest you go check out the rear of the hardware store.
I saw a couple of fellows there who might be doing some off hours shopping.”

Moore and his partner turned and ran off like a couple
of kids on a treasure hunt.

Sergeant Merrad snickered.

I said, “No shoppers.”

“A pair of feral dogs.”

We laughed and went to my room.

Back in the room I said, “So what’s going on.  Why does he want me here?”

“He doesn’t?”

“You’re not OPP.”

“You got it.”

“What gives.”

“Some friendly advice.”

“Shoot.”

“Drop it. Forget you ever heard the name Charlotte Sheers.
It’ll only get you killed if you keep going.”

“Why is she dead?”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

“That’s getting old. Just tell me so I can tell the
mother something.”

“You don’t want to do that. The mother doesn’t need to
know.”

“Since you haven’t killed me you are not exactly the
bad guy.”

“Maybe. Go home. Forget about this. Detective Cryms
has been taken off the case.”

“RCMP.”

“Bigger. Go home.”

The guy dressed up like an OPP officer went to the
door. Before he went out he said, “If you are not gone in the morning or you don’t
drop it when you get back to the city something bad, an accident will happen.” Without
looking back.

“I got it. Drop out or drop dead.”

He was gone in a second. I decided to get some sleep.
In the morning I went to see Constable Moore. He was looking worn out.

“Whadaya doin here?” he demanded angrily.

I answered, “To make up. That wasn’t an OPP last
night.”

“Oh. Who was it?”

I filled Moore in, as much as he needed to know.

He said, “Jode Sheers was murdered. I can’t prove it
but I know it.”

“This all sounds a little to coincidental.” I replied.

“Not if you know what the connection is.” Moore shot
back.

“You do?”?!”

“I think I know.”

“Are you going to share your thoughts?”

Constable Moore leaned back in his chair. He said coldly,
“Only if you can prove you aren’t one of them.”

“One of who?”

“A small group of people who call themselves land
developers but they are not. We have kept them out for a long time but we are
losing ground. They know there is more than coal in these hills. They know
because about ten years ago a prospector found a few diamonds. His name was
Jode Sheers. He owned the placer stakes for this whole area and promised never
to sell us out. We take a little every year. Just enough to keep us going. But
this group has learned that there is a fortune under us. Jode submitted a claim
three year ago. It was approved. Then he died. Fortunately he left the diamond
claim to his daughter and wife in a will. When Jode was murdered Charlotte went
to the city to track down the people who killed her dad.”

“A diamond mine?! That’s rich for this neck of the
country.” I mused.

Moore said back, “Maybe, but coal and diamonds dance
Eh.”

“So she wasn’t who she said she was and they killed
her.” I said then asked, “Why are the Feds interested?”

“Is that who that Officer was?” Moore asked.

“That’s what he wanted me to think.” I replied.

Moore shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t have that
answer nor can I even guess. But what I can tell you is that six months ago
there were a bunch of surveyors here. Least wise that’s what they said they
were, but they wouldn’t tell us what they were surveying.”

My Cell phone vibrated. I answered. “We got in Boss.
You’re not going to believe what’s on these flash drives.”

“Hide yourself. No body gets in. Don’t open up to
anyone but me and switch all those fancy alarms on that you’ve got hooked up.”
I answered.

When I rang off I said to Moore. “I hope you are
straight Constable. I have a feeling this little burg is going to get real
important real soon and you might have to put up a fight. Hopefully in a court
of law and not in the streets.”

“I love my town.”

“How many cops do you have.”

“Eight. We’re small and the budget is the same.”

“I suggest you blow the budget. Talk to the town
council. Dig up an extra batch of diamonds and take on as many auxiliaries as
you can. Just in case someone decides this is worth a small war. I am going
back to the city. I might have more information for you.”

I didn’t wait for a response. What more was there to
say?

 I drove back to
the city in record time to have a talk with Ferret. Things didn’t quite work
out that way. Half way home I picked up a tail. ‘So you jerks don’t actually
all drive black SUVs.” I said. The creep in my rear view mirror was driving a plain
blue something or other. It was pacing me. I just kept going, until I found
another plain blue car ahead of me. They were boxing me in.

The next side road I came to I turned and floored the
pedal, damned if I knew what I was doing or going to do, but I knew I wasn’t
getting snagged without a fight.

It wasn’t much of a fight. They brought in a
helicopter. It laid down a line of fire just ahead of me. I stopped. Capture
was better than dead.

The guy who had posed as an OPP sergeant jumped out of
the chopper. He was dressed in a plain gray suit.

“I warned you. Now get out of the car. You are coming
with us.”

I said something nasty made up of mostly colourful
adjectives. The pain of taser charges was something I never want to experience
again. Then buddy shoved a needle in my arm and that was that.

I woke up in a hotel room. Even if I couldn’t see
outside I knew where I was. You can’t mistake the sound and smell of that part
of the city.

My head hurt. I sat up and it hurt even more. On the
night stand was a glass of water and two pills. A note read, “For Pain.” I took
the pills.

I went to the window. The city stretched out toward the
airport as if I was looking at it on google maps.

I went to the door. I tried the handle. It was locked.
A second later I heard the key go in the door. I backed away. Another jerk in a
gray suit came in with a gun levelled on my gut. Another one came in behind
him. Behind that one a waiter pushed in a trolley with half a dozen trays on
it. Then they all left.”

It was food, too much food to describe but think of
everything you might consider having for breakfast. It was all there, and
coffee and tea, orange juice and a jug of water.

There was a note. “Enjoy breakfast. Then we talk.

I enjoyed breakfast until my gut screamed for mercy.
Then I sat in a chair smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. There was a liquor
bar, but I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I just smoked, drank coffee, and waited. Breakfast was
digesting nicely before anyone came. When someone did it wasn’t the jerk who
faked being a provincial cop. It was some other jerk who looked more official
but was a lot more business like and had a nice friendly smile and voice. I
knew I was in deep, too deep to get out without agreeing to something. All I
had to do was wait and find out what that something was. It was pretty simple
in the end, but I didn’t like it.

“We know you have six flash drives that belonged to
Charlotte Sheers. We want them.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You could
have just asked politely. I’d a handed them over without a fuss. What ever you
jerks are up to I could care less. All I wanted to do was come up with something
to tell Charlotte’s mother so she could understand.”

They couldn’t help me with Charlotte’s mother, but
they did let me call Ferret. I said, “Its over kid. I am sending a guy in a
gray suit to my office to pick up the flash drives. Give them up and the
copies. These guys don’t play for fun. They have real guns.” I made sure Mr. Wardeck
the leader of my captors heard me.

He said, “Once we have the drives we’ll cut you lose.
Then you can go home and play peeping tom for some distraught house wife.”

“I don’t do divorce. I’m into insurance fraud.” I shot
back.

“Whatever. Just stay clear of Charlotte Sheers and
anything to do with her.” Wardeck insisted.

I nodded and went to have a second sitting at
breakfast. This time I washed it down with a couple stiff bourbons. My mind was
working on hoping Ferret had enough savvy to make an extra set of copies. I wasn’t
about to give up.

4

I got back to my office just before five. If anyone had
been there I couldn’t tell. Wardeck had come himself to tell me they got the
flash drives and a copy. He mentioned something about turning me into a eunuch if
he found out there was another copy. I promised I didn’t think there was. It
wasn’t a lie then, but I hoped it would turn out to be one, and it did. Ferret
didn’t miss a beat. He showed up around seven with a pizza, delivered it and
another copy under the pie. After he left I put the copy in a safe place and waited.
Sure enough a couple of gray suits popped in for a visit and check me out.
After a thorough search they left me to my pizza, that was a little messy now.

I waited. Then around midnight I shut down, grabbed my
lap top and the flash drive, and stowed myself in a closet.

Anticipation is a nasty trait among humans, but we run
with it every time it rears its ugly head and never seem to learn that things
hardly ever works out the way you see them in your mind.

I was in the closet for about five minutes, just long
enough to warm things up when the door opened and someone pepper sprayed me and
grabbed my lap top with the flash drive stuck in the port. I cursed but that
was about all I could do, blinded. But there was one thing I got when the
outside air rushed into the closet. Perfume, lilac. To bad it was a popular
scent. Walk down any street in the city and you can pick it up and not just on
women.

Eyes watering, sneezing, coughing, and cursing a blue
streak I managed to find my way to the bathroom and start washing my face
clean. I used an eye cup to wash out my eyes but the burn marks made me look
like a red masked racoon. “Why this and not a bullet?” flashed through my
thoughts. Whoever was watching me real close wasn’t interested in getting rid
of me permanently. They just wanted me off the case.

When I pulled myself together I called Ferret. “Someone
mugged me for the copy. How much can you remember about what was on it?”

Ferret replied nervously. “Enough to know that you should
back off.”

“Give me something I can work with.” I pushed.

“Its old hat buddy. Its sorta environmental, but its
bigger.” Ferret said.

“Does it mention a place called Speersville?” I asked.

“Yup, and boss the dame that wrote it, the one who got
killed. Well, she knew something and someone was crowding her.”

“Thanks Ferret now lock yourself down or move. This is
getting bigger by the second and I think the wrong people know you’re there.”

“Already on it Boss. I’ll let you know where my new hideaway
is when I’m settled.” Ferret announced then the line went dead.

An hour later I caught up with Sergeant Cryms. He took
one look at me and frowned.

I said, “I heard you’ve been told to drop it.”

Cryms said back in a real killer mood, “The case has been
turned over to someone else. I don’t know who. My badge and pension are on the
line if I poke my nose in places nobody wants it poked.”

“I got the same message only it isn’t my badge or
pension that’d suffer. My heart beat is the victim.” I said.

“So Whadaya going to do?” Cryms asked quietly.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Just be ready when
this all comes crashing down. I don’t like being bullied and some creep
murdered  a real nice girl and probably
her father. That’s why Charlotte was here. She was investigating the murder of
he Dad. I plan to bring whoever to justice one way or my way.” If it turns out
to be an OK Corral thing so be it.”

Cryms grinned maniacally, “You’re insane Pal.”

“I like Mad better.” I said over a snicker then
cleared out.

Two word came to mine, Clandestine and underground. I
was going to employ both. And someone I had nearly forgotten about came back
into my mind. It took me back to the night this mess all began.

Dufferin Cole looked at me at first with hate burning
in his eyes, but it passed and he said, “I don’t know what you hit me with but
you rattled my brain real good. It’s still rattled but its kinda nice. It’s
like the whack you gave me shook something outa my head. The Doc said its some
kind of amnesia. All I know is, I ain’t Duffy the Mauler anymore and I got a real
job, there at Sammy’s Bistro. He hired me to wash dishes and’ s teaching me to
do prep-work too.”

I said, “That’s Duff. I am glad you got out of the gutter,
but I need you to go back there just for a minute. I need you to tell me why
you were going to kill Charlotte.”

Duffy got a scared look in his eyes. “If I talk about
it, they’ll kill me. That’s what they said.”

“Ok Duff. I get it. “You don’t have to tell me why you
were going to kill her. But maybe you can tell me who ‘They’ are.”

“I don’t know no names, but I know this. They got a
survey business. The office is tucked away in an industrial mall over on
Bramsteel. The only person I ever saw was the secretary and that was only once.”

“Ok Duff. That’ll do. Thanks.”

Duff got a real dark look in his eyes as he said, “You
mess with them copper and they’ll kill you quick.”

I believed him, at least I believed they would try.

I headed over to Bramsteel and checked out all the
industrial malls until I found Bell & Cranst Surveyors. Then I drove away
and went to visit Ferret.

Only one thing came out of Bell & Cranst.  Names, ones that made me gag,  names I would never have expected to pop up in
a caper of fraud and murder. Yet it all kind of made sense. I couldn’t imagine
what Charlotte must have been thinking.

I called Cryms and filled him in. Find out who is
connected. It’s someone in the Planning department, someone who knew Jode
Sheers. That’s your killer and the connection to the corruption. And Pal, Wardeck
is in on it.”

I went back to Speersville.

I learned a long time ago that nothing ever adds up
until it does. You spend forever picking up little bits and pieces that hardly
ever seem to connect but then one day you’re digging deeper into the bag of
lies and find a tiny we bit of truth that puts it all together and in the end
you kick your own but because it was really a simple thing munged up with to
many things that were put in place to confuse the issue. We knew what and why
almost in the beginning. Charlotte knew to, but she didn’t know who. When she
did find out she never got to sound the alarm. Maybe she never knew that
Wardeck, the very person she had convinced herself to trust was a creep.

There’s laws in this country that make it so PIs can’t
carry a gun, but for every law there’s always loop holes. I run a security
agency as well. The agency is a courier with a license to transport valuables,
in my case I have five clients who deal in diamonds. I get to carry a weapon as
long as I am transporting said jewels, just like those fellas in the armoured
cars.

I was packing my Glock 19 tucked under my arm in a
fast release holster. They killed Charlotte. They wouldn’t bock at gunning me
down too. I didn’t like it but my half joke about a gunfight like the OK corral
seemed more than possible. I was kind of amused when it passed through my head
I was going down in history for A Gunfight In Speersville. ‘I wondered if middle
aged woman would be out there trying to blast me into the morgue, or if I could
blast a middle aged woman into the here ever after. I hoped it was all a real
bad joke and that Cryms would come in with the cavalry before anyone took a
notion to start shooting.

In a small town whose existence is kept by a diamond
mine just about everybody knows about it and they all benefit. Most of them pay
their taxes like good little Canadians. The town reports the income, at least
some version of the income, but not enough to attract attention, which means they
didn’t declare the bulk of the revenue.

When you go into a small town with a big secret trying
to wield justice for a dead girl who only wanted to find out who killed her
father you can figure the resistance is going to be tough.

My arrival in Speersville was not unexpected. I didn’t
figure I’d just wander in. And I expected to be met by certain people, Like
Constable Moore, Wardeck, the surveyors, Bell and Cranst, and Jerry Parkin,
head of the city planning department who also knew about Jode Sheers diamond
mine, who started this whole mess in the first place. I knew Charlotte’s mother
was in on it but didn’t really think she would be party to the gang waiting to
blast me full of holes.

It wasn’t until I was standing beside my car
surrounded by the aforementioned people that another truth came out. How it
came out doesn’t matter. Turns out I had it partly wrong about Wardeck. He was
in on it but not so deep to be going around killing people. That turned out to
be Mrs. Sheers. She murdered her husband then went to the big city and murdered
her own daughter. What drove her to do such a decrepit thing no one will ever
know.

I don’t know who took the first shot, but I took the
second and Wardeck toppled over like a felled tree. Another shot winged my
shoulder and I fired back. Parkin fell. Then everyone was blasting away but
that only lasted a few seconds before the cavalry actually did show up, lights
flashing and sirens wailing.

My last shot found Mrs. Sheers. I aimed for a hip. I
don’t remember how the rest of the battle went. I just remember a sharp pain in
the side of my head followed by silent blackness.

Duffy at Sammy’s Back Street Bistro and Café topped up
my coffee. He took away my empty plate of the midnight special, Shepard’s Pie
with peas and carrots, dinner roll and butter pecan pie for desert.

“You look terrible.” Duffy said amusedly.

I said back, “You would too if you took a bullet in
the side of your head and now you’ve got some steel plating instead of skull.”

“They gonna indite you for that shoot out in
Speersville?” Duffy asked slyly.

“There’ll be a hearing I guess but I doubt it’ll go any
further. I have lots of witnesses that’ll 
back me up, including a nice police sergeant.”

Duffy rubbed the side of his head where I had punched
him. “Guess my skull’s thicker’ n yers.”

We laughed.

A hard rain slashed through B-Town. My office door opened
and Sergeant Cryms blew in with a gust of wet wind. “Start pourin that gut rot
you call booze Pal.” He groaned as he dropped into the lounge chair.

“What gives Sarg.”

“I’ve got a client for you. The jobs gotta be cleared
up before it finds its way to my desk.”

“Who’s the client?”

“My uncle Stanley. I think he killed someone, on
purpose.”