The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XIV

I reached Middle River around six o’clock. During the drive I had looked out for the black Pontiac, but I hadn’t seen it. On getting to my apartment complex, I left the Mercedes in the parking lot. I then walked up the private stairway that led directly to my apartment.

I unlocked the front door and carried my suitcase into my bedroom. I felt the urge to drink, so I returned to the lounge, mixed myself a Hennessey and sweet red wine and then sat down by the telephone. While seeping my drink, I put a call through to Lieutenant Ludlum.

He came on the line, after a little delay.

“This is Harry,”  I said. “I just got back from Atlantic City.”

“Oh, okay. I assume Reverend Waters has gone to Trenton?”

“Yeah. The medical examiner seems satisfied Brittany’s death was an accident.”

“I can see,” Lieutenant Ludlum said. “But it is too early to conclude. The inquest will be on Monday.”

“Well, Reverend Waters has talked to him. The Reverend also talked to your boss too,” I said, staring at the opposite wall.

“Well, I will say we still have to wait until Monday,” said Lieutenant Ludlum

There was a pause, but since he seemed  determined not to tell me what’s on his mind about this case, I went on, “I want you to help me with something, if you don’t mind. Could you get  me some information about the registration number of a car?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Give me the number and I will call you right back.”

I gave him the number of the black Pontiac.

“I will get back to you in a minute,” he said.

I hung up and continued to stare at the opposite wall. Ten minutes later, the telephone bell rang.

“I think you made a mistake about that car number,” Lieutenant Ludlum said.

“No, I did not,” I replied.

“Are you sure?”

That was one thing I was sure of.

“Yeah…why?”

“There’s no such number registered.”

I was both surprised and confused, and I ran my fingers through my hair.

Since I didn’t want to raise his curiosity, I simply said, “Well, I’m sorry about that Lieutenant. You may be right – I could have made a mistake.”

“Any particular reason for asking about this car? I mean, does it has something to do with Brittany’s death?”

I smiled.

“Not really Lieutenant,” I said. “The car belonged to a guy who ran me pretty close. I was thinking of reporting him to the police.”

“I see,” he said after a short pause. “We are here to help, especially on this case. So feel free to ask for my help whenever you need it. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said, and then I hung up.

I lit a cigarette and did some hard thinking. This Brittany’s business was becoming complicated. I told myself that Susan Waters argument that her husband could turn against me if I showed him the kind of daughter he had been doting on made sense. However, I still doubt that she was thinking of my wellbeing when she asked me to lay off an investigation. I was sure that she was scared that something that would affect her will come to light through my investigation. I knew too that, somehow, Reverend Waters would know if I did lie down on the investigation. And if that happens, he would definitely get rid of me and hire somebody else for the Trenton job. Another problem I pondered on is this: If Lieutenant Ludlum ever suspected that Brittany was murdered, no one, including Reverend Waters, would stop him from hunting for her killer.

I got up from my chair and went over to the telephone. I put a call to Phorbus Taylor. I could only get the operator, who told me there was no response from Phorbus Taylor’s office. So I told her to put me through his hotel. The clerk there told me that Phorbus was out. I told her I would call again and hung up.

I poured myself another drink and wondered what my next move was to be. By now I have decided to go ahead with the investigation regardless of what Susan Waters had told me. The first thing to do, I told myself, is to go to Reverend Waters house in Victory Villa, the place Brittany was staying while she was in Middle River. Perhaps there might be something there that would give me a lead on this investigation.

I put Brittany’s camera in a drawer in my desk and locked it. I then went down to where I had left the Mercedes convertible. I entered the car and drove to the house in Victory Villa. It took me only about twenty minutes to get there. I carried her suitcases and entered the house using the key that Reverend Waters gave me. From my watch I could see that the time was twenty minutes to eight o’clock. I opened the front door and walked into the hall. As I crossed the hall and walked into the sitting room, I could smell Brittany’s perfume. It gave me a bad feeling. I still find it hard to believe that only a few days ago she and I were here planning for our vacation in Atlantic City. Only a few days ago I had made love to her in this house.

Standing in the doorway, I looked across the room to the desk where her cartons of films had stood. I suddenly noticed that they are no longer there. Is it possible that she had forgotten to take them to Atlantic City? I became confused. That they were not on the desk means that someone had stolen them from the vacation house in Atlantic City.

The only option for me was to move into the room and look around. And that was what I did exactly. On entering the room, I went over to the desk and sat on it. After a moment’s hesitation, I opened one drawer after the other. What I found was the usual things one would expect to find in drawers of a desk. They include rubber bands, note paper, ink, blotting paper, and so on. Well, I found all these items. But to my greatest surprise, I didn’t find even one bill, diary, personal paper or letter anywhere. The only way I can explain this is that someone must have been here before me. And that person must had indeed made a clean sweep of every scrap of paper in the desk. Who might that person be? The police? Or perhaps the same person who stole the films?

I was feeling so uneasy on my mind. In any case, I went into the bedroom. I looked into  the closets and various drawers of the bureau.  What I discovered immediately was that Brittany had a large stock of expensive clothes and shoes. Reverend Waters had told me to get rid of all her things. I soon realized that the job was too big for me to handle alone. I mean, she had three drawers full of underwear and a drawer crammed with costume jewelry, in addition to  dozens of dresses, coats, and shoes. I concluded that it would be best to get Candace to help me.

So I went back to the sitting room. Picking up the phone, I called her office number. Luckily for me she was still at the office. I almost missed – she told me she was just about to go out to supper.

“I need you over here,” I said. “Can you make it?”

“Sure,” she replied.

I gave her the address and said, “I have a man-sized work for you to handle. So come with a cab. I will take you out to supper when we are through.”

“That will be nice” she replied. “I will be right over.”

As I was about to hang the phone on the wall, I noticed that a number was scribbled in pen near the telephone. I leaned forward and stared at it. The number was scarcely visible. As a matter of fact wouldn’t have seen it if hadn’t witched on the table lamp. It was a Middle River number.

One voice in my mind told me that Brittany wrote that number on the wall for only one reason: it was important to her. It occurred to me that it could be a number she had called frequently. When I searched her desk, I didn’t find any number at all. So since there was no other numbers written on the wall except this one, I believed I found something significant.

After a moment’s hesitation, I picked up the receiver and called the number. I regretted my decision as soon as I heard the ringing sound on the other end. For all I knew this might be Mr. A’s number. And it wouldn’t be smart to make him suspect I was onto him so early in the game. Before I could replace the receiver I heard a click on the line. A voice that almost shattered my eardrum bawled: “WHO IS THIS?”

The voice was so loud and coarse that I held the receiver away from my ear and listened. I could hear a faint sound of music on the background. Some throaty tenor was singing Dolly Parton’s Love’s Like A Butterfly,  probably over the radio.

“HELLO? HELLO? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” shouted the man who had answered the telephone. “Look, if you don’t wanna talk, don’t waste my time!”

It was one of the most shattering voice I had ever heard or ever want to hear over a telephone line, and it was more than life-size.

To hold his attention, I flicked my fingernail  against the mouthpiece of the receiver.

Then I heard a woman say, “Who is it Mac? Is it really necessary to shout like that on the phone?”

“No one answered, honey,” he said gently, in a lower tone. Then he slammed down the receiver.

I hung up and stared out of the window. Mac… and that woman’s voice. This could mean something, or even nothing. It is very possible that Brittany made a lot of friends during her stay in Middle River. Mac could have been just a friend of her. However, the telephone number on the wall made me confused. I mean, if he really were just a friend, why write his  telephone number on the wall? Of course he might have given it to her, probably over the telephone. If that was the case, it will only make sense that she scribbled it on the wall if, and only if, she hadn’t had any scratch pad near her at the time. That could be the only credible explanation. But then, I still doubt that. I said it because if that had happened, why still leave the number on the wall? I guess what I’m trying to say here is that she would surely have rubbed it out by now, after entering it in her telephone book.

While I was pondering this, I carefully jotted down the number on the back of an envelope.  As I was about to put the envelope into my wallet, the front-door bell rang.

I let Candace into the house.

“Please come in here and look at this stuff,” I said. “Reverend Waters wants me to get rid of it. He told me to sell it and give the money to some charity. I’m thinking of the Red Cross. It’s a huge job for me to handle alone. What she has here is large enough to stock a shop. “

I took her to Brittany’s bedroom and watched while she looked into her closets and drawers.

“I can handle it Harry,” she said.

“You can?” I said, surprised.

“Yeah,” she replied. “There’s a woman in my neighborhood who specializes in second-hand clothes. I’m sure she will buy most, if not all of these stuffs.”

I sighed with relief.

“You are a life saver Candace,” I said. “I knew you will have a solution, but I didn’t know it will be that quick. Whatever price she offers, as long as she takes everything, please accept it. “

“Brittany must have spent a great deal of money  on these things,” she said. “Some of these have never been worn. The labels on most of them showed they were all bought at Nordstrom.”

“Well, she certainly didn’t get the money from her father,” I said. “I guess some guy must be crazy about her and had bought them for her.”

Candace shrugged, and shut the closet door.

“Well, whoever gave these to her didn’t do it for nothing,” she said. “So, I don’t envy her.”

“Would you mind coming into the other room? I want to talk to you.”

“Sure”

She followed me into the lounge and sat down on a chair.

“Harry, why did she call herself Mrs. Graham Reed?” she asked.

I wished the walls of the room should fall and swallow me.

“What? What did you say?” I asked, staring at her.

She looked at me.

“I’m sorry I said that” she said.

“How did you know she called herself that anyway?” I asked again.

“Remember a woman  called before you lefty for your vacation. I recognized her voice.”

I should have known that Candace would have recognized Brittany’s voice. She had spoken to Brittany twice on the phone when Brittany had first come to Middle River. And one rare skill that Candace had was a sharp  memory of for people’s voices.

I went over to Brittany’s liquor cabinet.

“Have a drink, Candace?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I won’t mind a Scotch, if you don’t mind.”

I took out  a bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Scotch. I fixed myself a strong drink, and a Scotch and Pepsi for Candace and brought the drinks over.

I had known Candace for four years. Some people say that you can’t create love, that falling in love just happen to you. But I don’t believe that. I believe that we actually allow ourselves to fall in love with someone. In other words, we are in charge of our emotions. That said, there had been a time when I had imagined that I had been in love with Candace. All these years I had been working with her day after day. Spending time with her at the office had offered temptations to get intimate with her. But I managed to control my emotions, and as a result I had been careful to keep our relations more or less on a professional level.

I had seen a number of newsmen, working in Middle River and in Baltimore City, who had got too friendly with their secretaries. The outcome was not always rosy: Sooner or later the girls lose control and start to misbehave or a visiting big shot had spotted what was going on, and there had been trouble. So when it come to my relationship with Candace, I had been very careful. I had been strict with myself about her. I had never made a pass at her. Yet there was a bond between us, a bond that was unspoken and unadvertised. That convinced me that I could completely rely on her, no matter what the emergency might be.

As I fixed the drink, I decided that it would be wise to tell her the hold story, without holding back a thing. She was a good girl, a reliable confidant, and I had a lot of faith in her opinions. So I felt that it was time to get an unbiased, outside opinion, given the mess I was in at that time.

“Can you keep a secret Candace? Would you mind if I confide in you?” I asked, sitting down opposite her. “I had a lot on my mind and it’s driving me crazy. I will like to share it with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” she replied. “If there’s anything I …”

Before she could finish the front-door bell rang. We stared at each other for a long moment.

“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.

“No” I replied, getting to my feet, surprised.

“Perhaps it’s a neighbor wanting to find out who is in here,” Candace said.

“You may be right.”

I crossed the room, going towards the door. I reached for the door knob and was about to open the door when the bell rang again.

I opened the door.

It was Lieutenant Jim Ludlum, and behind him was another detective.

“Good evening Harry,” Lieutenant Ludlum said. “May we come in?”

END OF EPISODE XIV

P.S. Episode Fifteen  will be published here next Monday.

The Pastor's Daughter: Episode XIII

In every profession there are people who fail to practice what they preach. Good examples include doctors who smoke a pack of cigarette a day, accountants who forget to file tax returns, and dentists with mouthfuls of rotten teeth. I feel like one of these people. As a newspaper man, a journalist, I has sworn to be honest and courageous in gathering and reporting news. But now, what am I doing? I’m exactly doing the opposite: trying to cover and hide the truth about my relationship with Brittany. One voice inside me told me to confess the truth both to the police and to Reverend Waters. Perhaps he may be ….

“You are Harry, right?”

I immediately snapped out of my nightmare. I almost dropped the video camera in the process. And who did I saw when I looked up? Mrs. Susan Waters! She was standing before me. She was wearing a knee-length green dress, ornamented with golden buttons, and black high-heeled shoes.

I got to my feet.

“That’s right, Mrs. Waters”

“You are looking for my husband, I believe?”

“I thought that I may, perhaps, speak to him before he left”

“He will be here soon”, she said.

She then sat down on the lounging chair near to the one I was sitting and crossed her legs. She made sure I saw her beautiful laps. Then she said to me, “Please sit down Harry. There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“I’m fine,” she said. “But, thanks for asking. I’ve only just finished lunch. Reginald and I are hoping to leave by three-forty. He’s taking care of the packing right now. He enjoys doing stuffs like that.”

I sat down and looked at her.

“Look Harry, I don’t have much time,” she began. “Please don’t get me wrong if I sound too harsh about Brittany. However, I must speak to you about her. I’m sure you see my husband Reginald as gentle clergyman. There’s a lot about him that you don’t know. He is also ruthless and hard. I’m sorry to say it that way, but that’s the truth. In any case, like so many hard men, he has a soft spot: his daughter Brittany. He lavished her with all his affection and love. You may not believe this, but Reginald basically worshipped his daughter.”

I moved restlessly. Why is she telling me all these? I was mentally trying to figure out where this was leading to, with great difficulty. Brittany told me a lot about her father, you know, about how bitter she had been. As a matter of fact, she had said that he had no interest in her. She even said that her father only thought of himself and of how to find a new woman to spend his time with. What Susan Waters  was telling me didn’t add up.

“As far as I know he didn’t give that impression,” I said cautiously. “Many people I know think he had no time for her.”

“What people?”

“Common Mrs. Susan Waters” I said, “The Waters are basically celebrities. People in the newspaper world always talk about them.”

She remained silence for a while, and then said, “Sure, you are right. That was the impression he did give. But I’m telling you the real truth now. In actual fact Reginald is crazy about his daughter. His world revolves around her. But as a clergyman he was anxious not to be thought an indulgent father. That’s why he stupidly kept her short of money. He thought too much money will spoil her. I had always believed that giving Brittany only one  hundred dollars every two weeks was ridiculous.”

I sank a little lower in my chair. I was not really interested in all these information.

“I know you are anxious to take up your new appointment in Trenton: you are going to be in charge of the Trenton Office, right?” She said abruptly.

That stiffened my attention.

“Yes” I replied. “That’s what your husband said.”

“And I know the job means a lot to you?”

“Sure, why…?”

“Reginald do indeed have a very high opinion of you,” She went on. “He loves you like a son, and he told me what he wants you to do about this Brittany’s issue. He believes that Brittany was murdered. I know my husband very well. He always get these fixed ideas and theories from time to time. And whenever he’s like that nothing anyone can say will make him think otherwise. He doesn’t care if you or the police or even the medical examiner are satisfied that her death was an accident. See what I mean?

I grunted.

She looked inquiringly at me, smiling.

Sitting down talking about this made me uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because I believed that her smiling calmness was fake. I must confess, there is something about her I could sense rather than see.

“So, do you really believe what my husband is saying?”

“I can’t say,” I said. “But then, that’s something I’m going to investigate.”

“I know” she said. “That’s why I want to talk to you, Harry. My advise is, be careful how you probe into this business. Reginald, my husband, was crazy about Brittany. And nobody can blame him for that: it is very natural. And I don’t like speaking bad things about anyone who can’t defend themselves either, simply because they are dead and gone. But in this case I have no choice. Reginald see Brittany as a good, decent and virtuous daughter, but she wasn’t. The truth is, Brittany loves money a lot. In fact, the best way to describe her relationship with money is that it is true love. I mean, she can do anything for money: anything. Like I told you earlier, Reginald gave her an allowance of one  hundred dollars every two weeks. I know for a fact that she spends as much as three hundred dollars a week when she was living in Trenton. She doesn’t care how she got the money so long as she got it. I can tell you this: Brittany is one of the most undisciplined, immoral, worldly, licentious and nasty girl I have ever met.”

The rasp in her voice as she said this stunned me.

“I know it is not a good thing to say,” she went on, “but I’m sorry to say that it is the truth. You will find this out for yourself when you probe her past. She was utterly rotten, and that’s not an understatement. You will be surprised to know that this wasn’t the first time she was pregnant. Such things doesn’t bother her. She knew exactly how to handle it. She dated only lowlifes and degenerate criminals. If anyone deserved to be killed in that fashion, she did.”

Wow! This is getting more scary. I drew in a long, slow breath.

“You know all these, and yet you don’t think she was murdered?” I said.

“I have no idea.” She stared at me. “All I can tell you is that the police and the medical examiner are satisfied her death was an accident. So my question to you is this: why do you doubt their verdict?”

“I’m just doing what your husband told me to do. Just look at it this way: he is my boss and he wants me to investigate. So, it’s an order.”

“Look Harry, I’m telling you know that you are certain to uncover a whole series of unpleasant things about her if you investigate her death as a murder. I am sure she behaved in Middle River as she had behaved in Trenton. It will be impossible for you to hide these facts from Reginald. The problem is that he is very fragile and sensitive when it comes to Brittany. He is completely convinced that Brittany is a descent girl. He will be in a state of shock if you reveal her dark side to him. And believe him, he will hate you forever for shattering his illusions about Brittany. Not only that, I doubt if he will hire a man who has shown him how completely fooled he has been about such a worthless daughter in the most important position on his newspaper company. See what I mean? Between me and you, you can see why I am asking you not to probe deeply into this business?”

Again, this was a huge surprise, coming from somebody like Susan Waters. I reached out, picked up my glass and finished my drink.

“So, how come you know so much about Brittany Waters?” I asked.

“Because, unlike my husband, I’m not blind. She was my step-daughter, and I’ve known her for years. I had seen the men in her life. You can say I told you this: Brittany’s behavior was notorious.”

I thought then there was more to it than that. I was so sure of it that I could bet on it, but I didn’t say so.

“What you are telling me now puts me on a spot,” I said. “Your husband has told me that I won’t get the Trenton job if I don’t uncover the facts about Brittany’s death. Now you are telling me I still won’t get it if I do. So, what do you want from me?”

“Don’t uncover anything about Brittany’s death,” she said. “Go slow and delay things. I can assure you my husband will eventually get over the shock of her death. I do understand that he is furious and revengeful at the moment. But as soon as he gets back to Trenton or Middle River, or wherever he decides to stay, he will be caught up once more in his work, and he will calm down. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do nothing to convince him that you are really busy working on the assignment, you know. You can report progress to him in a couple of weeks. Believe me he will soon  let the matter drop. If you don’t start a formal investigation, you will still get the Trenton job. I can assure you of that. But if you do, you will be surprised of the outcome. I know my husband very well. He will never forgive you when he learns the truth about Brittany.”

“So you suggest I sit back and do nothing, while at the same time acting like I am working of the assignment?”

I was looking at her face when I said this. And I noticed that, for a brief moment, her fixed smile slipped. A starring fear jumped into her eyes and that startled me. It was there for a split second, then the smile came back. But I’m sure I had seen her fear all right.

“Like I said before, you will have to make my husband to believe you are doing your best, Harry. Believe me, no one can blame you if you don’t discover any worthwhile information, as long as you are sending him reports.” As she said that, she leaned forward and put her hand on mine. “Please I need you to do this for me. Just don’t check up Brittany’s life in Middle River. I want peace of mind in my marriage. I know how my husband would react if he knew the truth about Brittany. I’m the one who persuaded him to let her go to Middle River, and he’s going to blame me too. So I’m not asking you just for your sake. I have my selfish reasons too.”

Since I could see the reception hall from where I was sitting, I saw Reverend Waters came out of the elevator and go over to the reception desk. I quickly pulled my hand from hers and stood up.

“Here’s Reverend Waters now.”

Her mouth tightened. However, she turned to wave to Reverend Waters who came over. On his left arm was a light overcoat and he carried a dispatch case on his other hand.

“Hello Harry,” he said as he put down his case. “Did you want to see me? We really don’t have much time.”

I actually went there to tell him about the missing films and about the black Pontiac that had followed me. But I can’t say that now, after listening to Susan Waters, his wife. Instead I decided that I needed some time to think over what she had said before I committed myself. For a while I couldn’t explain what I was doing there. But Susan already knew what to say to cover me up.

“Mr. Harry brought Brittany’s camera,” she said.

I was surprised how she knew the camera was Brittany’s.  But then I glanced at the case and realized she had spotted Brittany’s initials on it. In any case, this show of ingenuity told me that she is a lot clever than I had imagined.

Reverend Waters scowled at the camera.

“I really don’t want the camera – nor any of her things,” he said. “They bring bad memories. Get rid of it.”

I said I would do that.

“Did you find any new thing at the vacation house?”

I caught Susan’s anxious eyes, and then shook my head.

“Nothing helpful” I said.

“Please try harder. I need to see results as soon as possible. We need to get this asshole and deal with him fast. You are permitted to hire some men and put them to work on this. I want you to have something reasonable for me by the time I get back to Middle River….understand?”

I said I understood.

He took from his pocket a key and gave it to me.

“This is the key to our house in Middle River. I want you to arrange to have her clothes and other things collected and sold or donated to some charity. I leave it to you. I don’t need any of her stuff, except her pictures of course.”

I put the key in my pocket.

“We should be going Reginald,” Susan said suddenly.

He looked at his Rolex watch.

“Sure” he said. “I’ll leave this to you, Harry. Don’t forget to let me know the moment you found this asshole, okay?”

As he  said that, he picked up his dispatch case and began to move out of the bar, heading towards the reception hall. Susan followed him, but that was after she had given me a long, steady stare. 

I saw them into the Cadillac.

“I want to every move you make on this case Harry,” Reverend Waters said through the open car window. “Money will not be a problem. If you need some people to help you, then hire as many as you need. The quicker you get this bastard, the quicker you’ll be working at our Trenton office.”

I told him I will do my best.

As the Cadillac drove away, Susan Waters looked back at me through the rear window. From her eyes, I could see that she is very anxious and worried.

END OF EPISODE XIII

P.S. Episode Fourteen  will be published here next Monday.

The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XII

The first thing I did when I reached the Atlantic  City metro area was to hand the keys of the vacation house to the realtor. I also settled the rent that was owing and gave him my Middle River address in case any mail came for Brittany in the vacation house. I told him to forward her mails to my address.

He was really sorry about what happened to Brittany. He told me it was very sad that such a young and beautiful girl should have such a terrible accident. Since I wasn’t in the mood for his pleasantries, I simply grunted, shook hands with him and went back to  the car.

I drove to the police station where I collected Brittany’s cine camera and its case. When I got there, Lieutenant Reid kept me waiting for almost thirty minutes. Eventually, he sent a sergeant out with the camera. The sergeant made me to sign a receipt for it. After signing, I left the police station, got into my car and drove slowly into the traffic-congested road.

The experience I hard while still at the compound of Brittany’s vacation house made me alert. When I was leaving the police station in my car, I had noticed in the driving mirror, a black Pontiac pull out from behind another parked car and drift after me. I would have been less suspicious of the car if I hadn’t been certain that someone had been watching me when I was at the vacation house. But now I was so sure that this car was following me that I can even bet on it. There was a dark blue sun shield covering the wind screen of the Pontiac. And, for this reason I could not see who was driving. This added to my suspicion.

Pretending to be driving out of the city, I headed for Absecon, driving at a moderate speed. Due to my alertness, I glanced in the driving mirror from time to time. I noticed that the Pontiac had kept a respectful hundred yards behind me. I remained calm and kept driving, maintaining a steady forty miles an hour. Still the Pontiac kept after me.

As soon as I reached the highway, I decided to see if the Pontiac was really following me. I told myself I would feel much more better if it was a mere coincidence that the car hung in my rear. So I eased the speed of the Mercedes up to sixty. The Pontiac still remained a hundred yards behind me. By now I had became very alarmed. My life could be in danger, I thought. I was convinced that to be alive in the next one hour, I must lose the Pontiac. The Mercedes surged forward. I was so happy that it had plenty of speed and snap. Soon I was making about eighty miles an hour. I noticed that the Pontiac had fallen back. I also noticed that it had increased speed. I have now confirmed that I was being followed because as I watched in the driving mirror the Pontiac was closing the gap again. I don’t stand the chance of shaking it off on this flat, straight highway. So I decided that the best time to try tricks would be when I reached Absecon.

I slacked the speed to sixty mile an hour, and drove steadily to the end of the highway. The Pontiac hung on, with the driver keeping its hundred yards distance. On getting to the toll gates, I slowed down to pay the tolls. The Pontiac moved up and closed the gap between us. Obviously, the driver had realized that I would be much more difficult to follow once I was in Absecon traffic. Again, following my instinct,  I used the opportunity to memorize the car’s number. There was only about twenty yards between us as I drove into the thick Absecon  traffic.

Now is the time to shake the Pontiac off, I told myself. My first attempt, however, wasn’t successful. The driver appears to be good at maneuvering in congested traffic than I was. So the only thing I achieved when I made my bid was wild hooting from the on-coming traffic and curses from the drivers of cars on either side of me. I made another attempt, and this time I succeeded. Finally I shook him off! I was so excited.  I immediately changed direction and drove back to Atlantic City.

On reaching  Atlantic City, I drove into Marriott Hotel and swung the Mercedes into the only available space before the hotel. Luckily for me, there was a porter around the corner. I told him to keep an eye on the car and then went quickly into the lobby.

I wanted to be sure that I lost the black Pontiac, so I paused to look through the revolving doors to see if I could spot it. I was relieved that there was no sign of it. I went into the bar and ordered a Vodka. I then took Brittany’s camera from its case and opened it. I immediately discovered that both the film spool and the take-up spool were missing. I slid the catch of the film gate release. To my surprise, a strip of torn film about three inches long dropped into my lap.

I started examining the films. They actually confirmed what I had thought had happened. My theory was that someone had opened the camera. Whoever it was that opened it had also taken out the two spools with the film wound on to them. And, maybe out of impatience or anxiety, he or she had yanked the film clear of the gate.

I’m done with the camera for now, I said to myself. I also told myself that the best thing to do at this moment would be to replace the film and lock the gate into position. And I did exactly that. I then put the camera into its case, lit a cigarette and did some thinking.

There is no doubt that Mr. A had ripped out the film. There is only one explanation for that: Brittany may have taken pictures of something he didn’t want anyone to see. Perhaps he had come on her while she was by the window, and as he approached her, she had turned the camera on him. He had realized that it would be too dangerous to leave such a record in the camera. So he had ripped out the film and destroyed it after he got rid of her.

After he got rid of her.

By now I’m sure that Brittany’s death was not an accident.  I was something to I was sad to admit, but the fact that the film was missing from the camera and that they had been taken from the vacation house seems to validate that conclusion. This also means that Reverend Waters’ wild guess had been right. Brittany hadn’t died accidentally. She hadn’t committed suicide either. She was murdered. I was now in a very hot soup – more than I had imagined. She was murdered! I knew then that the finger of guilt  would soon be pointing at me if I wasn’t  careful.

END OF EPISODE XII

P.S. Episode Thirteen  will be published here next Monday.

The Pastor’s Daughter: Episode XI

I found a bottle of vodka in the closet built against one of the walls of the lounge. In the kitchen, I found a glass,  poured myself a drink. I carried the drink out on to the balcony, where I sat down in one of the chairs. I stared at the magnificent view without seeing it, while I drank the vodka slowly. My mind was numbed with panic  because of my new assignment. I suddenly noticed that I was shaking.

My eyes began to register again as soon as I finished my drink. From where I sat, I looked down the road that led down  to Atlantic City Rail Terminal.  I also saw the Rolls that was taking Reverend Waters back to the Marriott hotel. It was moving fast through the road and I thought either the driver or the Reverend was in a hurry.

“This Graham Reed business is all yours, Harry,” he had said as I walked him to the car. “Keep me informed. I don’t care how much it costs. Don’t waste time calling or writing if you come across anything, okay? I will make sure my parish secretary knows where I am all the time.  So I will be waiting for your call. I want to get this Graham Reed business settled fast.”

Why won’t I be worried? He just handed me a razor and he is telling me to hurry up and cut my throat. He had also wanted me to examine the vacation house properly while I was up here. In addition, he also want me to double check the areas around the spot where Brittany felled, even though the cops have already combed the area.

“I am also giving you the authority to use her car for this investigation,” he had said. “Sell it and give the money to some charity when you are through with the investigation. Also, I don’t want her stuff in there. So you can sell them as well. I leave it all to you Harry. I will make arrangements to have her body taken down to Middle River. I really want you to find this guy, Harry.”

At which point he shook my hand.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“I want you to do more than try Harry,” he said, pushing his chin out at me. “Listen Harry: just find him. I’ll tell Shabray to hold the Trenton job open for you until you find him. I want you to put all your energy to this, understand?”

Which was just another way of telling me that I wouldn’t get the Trenton job if I didn’t find Graham Reed.

The vodka did me some good. I was able to shake off my panic and begin to think after my second drink. First, I still find it hard to believe that Brittany is gone. Was she really murdered? Or, did she commit suicide? I don’t believe either of these theories. I was sure her death had been accidental.

I hadn’t been her real lover – at least I knew that. But then, I had no way of proving it, assuming that news about my association with her breaks out. Reverend Waters has told me to find Graham Reed whom he believed was her lover. I am Graham Reed, and I wasn’t her lover. What this implies is that there was another man involved. What I do know was that I can give anything to save what was left of my future. And, it followed that the only way I can do this is to find this mysterious guy and prove he had been Brittany’s lover.

I lit a cigarette. While I was smoking the cigarette, I allowed my mind to work on this thing. I remembered the intruder I had spotted at the vacation house. Was he the man I had to look for? If he wasn’t, then who was the intruder? Certainly this intruder was not looking for Brittany’s box of jewels. Those jewels had been on her dressing table. In other words, if this intruder was looking for them, he couldn’t have failed to have seen it. So, what was he looking for, then?

I continued to think about this for a while but I wasn’t getting anywhere. So, I decided to shelve it for the moment and try another option that might yield the outcome I want. Brittany had been in Middle River for fourteen weeks. During that time, she met Mr. A, whoever he was,  who eventually became her lover. So, where did she met him?

It was then that I realized that I knew nothing about Brittany’s activities in Middle River during those weeks. Of course I had taken her out a few times. I had also been at her apartment. That was after we met at a party. That was it. Other than that, I had no clue how she had spent her time.

She had stayed at their house in Victory Villa – a hamlet in Middle River – after I picked her from BWI Airport. From what I observed during the brief moments I had been with her, she was living a luxurious lifestyle. That kind of lifestyle must have soaked up nearly all of her bi-weekly one hundred dollars allowance. She also liked to go to parties – and I did see her in one of them. So, do this mean that she had met Mr. A at one of these parties? The more I thought about it, the plainer it became that I should have to start this hunt for Mr A in Middle River. I also realized that I will need help to dig into Brittany’s past. As a journalist, I knew of a firm of reputable private investigators. So my first task would be to consult  them.

While all these was going through my mind, I got up and wandered into Brittany’s bedroom. I had only glanced into her room previously without paying much attention to it. But I decided that this might be the right time to examine it in detail.

I looked at the double bed in the room and grimaced. Brittany had really planned this vacation for both of us. Indeed, it is very obvious. The way I see it, her affair with A has petered out. But, because she desperately needed a new lover, she had selected me. But, was she really in love with me? It may also be that she was simply looking for a father for her unborn baby. Was that what she  wanted from me, then? The thought was unsettling. I decided I will not waste my time brooding on these questions at the moment. Only Brittany can answer those questions, and, she was dead.

Before I knew it, another idea dropped into my mind. I remembered what Phorbus had said about Brittany. Brittany will make a play at anything in trousers so long as he has your physique, believe me… Brittany’s mission in life is money, and this makes her a menace to men. Suppose she had grown tired of Mr A even though he had still been in love with her? Suppose Mr A had found out she was planning to spend time with me in this vacation house? If this was true, he might have come down to even the score. This will then make it sound logical that Mr A might have thrown her over the window.

I knew that Reverend Waters will love this theory. To him, Brittany was a thoroughly descent girl. The problem, however, is that I couldn’t lay this theory before him without implicating myself.

This idea continued to nag at the back of my mind. Trying to distract my mind, I spent the next one hour going through Brittany’s three suitcases. I knew that both Lieutenant Ludlum and Reverend Waters had been through them and had found nothing, but I didn’t care – I went through them anyway. Brittany’s clothes carried a faint smell of expensive perfume. That smell really made her memory very alive to me. So naturally, I felt more depressed by the time I had completed repacking the suitcases.

I looked at the whole vacation house, trying to find more information about Brittany’s death. I was particularly interested in figuring out  what she had done from the time the village woman left her arranging the flowers to the time she had died. I did not find out anything. So I decided I should better start getting ready to leave. So I took the suitcases downstairs and loaded them on the back seat of her convertible. Feeling more depressed and thirsty at the same time, I went back into the vacation house and gave myself another drink.

I once again told myself that my search must begin in Middle River. Here I had found nothing. As I was thinking about this a new idea again dropped into my mind. I stood thinking for a moment. Why not? I crossed to the telephone and called the Atlantic City police headquarters. When I got through, I asked for Lieutenant Reid.

“This is Harry”, I said. “I forgot to ask you if you have processed the film? I mean the film in Brittany Waters cine camera?”

“There was no film in the camera,” he replied.

“No film?,” I said, surprised. “Are you sure?”

“Sure – no film.”

I stared at the opposite wall in disbelief.

“It is strange that there was no film in her camera,” I said. “It means that she wasn’t using the camera when she died.”

“It is not as simple as that,” he said. “She could have forgotten to put a film in. That kind of thing happens all the time.”

I doubt it because I remembered seeing  the indicator on the camera. At that time it had shown that twelve feet film had been run off. I don’t know much about these cameras. But I do know that when you put a film in, there is a catch that opens the film gate through which you thread the film. So, as the gate opens the indicator is automatically set back to  zero.

“You may be right,” I said. “Did Lieutenant Ludlum think anything of it?”

“There’s nothing else to think about this case,” he snapped.

“I have one more question,” I said, ignoring his irritation. “There wasn’t anything taken from the vacation house, was there? I mean, besides her jewels?”

“Nope,” he said. “We didn’t take anything.”

“Well, thanks,” I said. “I am collecting Ms Waters things now. Can I drop by and have the camera?”

“Sure you can,” he replied. “We don’t need the camera anymore.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. So long, Lieutenant,” I said and hung up the phone.

The number showing in the footage indicator of the camera was twelve feet. This obviously meant there had been a film in the camera. There’s no doubt in my mind that this film had been removed by someone who wasn’t familiar in handling this type of camera. Whoever this person was used force to remove the film. And in the process of doing this the person ripped the length of the film out of the gate without releasing the gate lock. I am very sure that the film had been ruined by taking it out this way. It also meant that whoever had taken it out hadn’t wished to keep the film. So it followed that the main reason for removing the film was to destroy it.

Why would somebody do that?

I poured myself another drink. I began to think that I am making some progress. I was suddenly excited. This could be the clue Reverend Waters had said I would find. Having found this one, perhaps I may find another one? That was a tough question to answer.

Brittany wouldn’t have ripped the film out of her camera.  I am so sure that I can bet on that. Then, who did? Then the second clue dropped into my mind: I remembered Brittany showing me ten cartons of the cine film when I was at their house in Middle River. I also remembered I had teased her about buying so many. Her response  was that she will  use it to keep a record of her stay in Atlantic City.

And yet there wasn’t a single carton of film in her luggage or in the vacation house.

There wasn’t even a film in her camera either. Lieutenant Reid had said they had taken nothing from the vacation house. That meant that the police hadn’t taken the films. So, who did? I remembered I saw an intruder creeping around the vacation house. Had he found and taken them?  Was it him that ripped the film from the camera and then tossed it away? Was he the Mr. A, or was he working for him?

I needed to be absolutely sure that the films were missing. So I searched the whole vacation house again, looking for the cartons of films. Like I expected, I didn’t find them. By now I was satisfied that they are missing. I locked up the vacation house and dropped the keys into my pocket. Leaving Brittany’s Mercedes convertible where it was, I walked down the path at the back of the vacation house, trying to take a closer look of the other nearby vacation house  built in the hill face.

By now it was a few minutes past midday. The sun blazed down on me as I got closer to the inaccessible vacation house. I paused to look more closely at the house. I saw a black woman on the house’s terrace. She was lying on a lounging chair that is under the shadow of a table umbrella. She was wearing a white swimsuit and appeared to be reading a newspaper. The edge of the umbrella prevented me from seeing much of her. But one thing I noticed was that she definitely had a good body contour.

I started wondering who she might be. I however, changed my mind since I had too many things to think about. So I turned back and starting from that spot, I methodically started searching the path and the rough grass that leads towards Brittany’s vacation house. Again,  I knew the police had already done this but I thought it might pay dividends to do it. Who knows,  there might be something they overlooked. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for but I kept at it anyway. I continued until I reached the place where Brittany had fallen – that is, at the back of the vacation house. I did found something that I did not consider important at the time. It was a half-smoked Cohiba – a type of Cuban cigar. Cohiba was an expensive cigar in those days because they were made in Cuba and smuggled into America.

I bent down and picked it up. I turned the butt over between my fingers as I stood in the hot sunlight. Suddenly I started having an unmistakable feeling that I was being watched. I was pretty scared! But, I told myself that I will never let whoever is watching me know how rattled I was at that moment. So, even though my heart had begun to thump, I continued to study the butt. Being here in this lonely and dangerous compound, knowing that someone was close by in hiding and watching me gave me an eerie feeling.

I slid the butt into my pocket and straightened. Moving away from the back of the house and going towards the front of the house, the feeling of being watched persisted. I looked around casually. I could only see the dense shrubs in the woods surrounding the house and the neighborhood. I knew then that anyone could be hiding there and watching me without a hope of my spotting them. I continued to the  front of the house, all the time feeling a pair of eyes boring into my back. I refused to look over my shoulder. I had to exert a lot of willpower to be able to do that. It wasn’t until I had got into Brittany’s Mercedes convertible and was driving fast towards the Atlantic City metro area  that I began to relax.

END OF EPISODE XI

P.S. Episode Twelve  will be published here next Monday.