by Aimee Sharp
waterfalls. Palmer took the corridor to the end and found the door half open. Inside was Jacques Arenke, looking every bit the million-dollar business man with his fine tailoring and expensive office. “Detective Palmer, come in, make yourself comfortable.”
Palmer scanned the room. The desk at the centre was an antique; dark, polished wood. He’d seen one before, they had secret compartments. The perfect place to hide a gun. He couldn’t see anything relating to a family on the walls, no photographs or mementos. This workspace was purely for doing business.
“So, Detective. I understand you have some questions for me. I’m very busy but I’m always happy to help the police. What would you like to talk about?” Arenke took a seat behind the desk. Palmer noticed that his voice shook slightly.
“It’s just a routine check so it shouldn’t take too long. I just need to know some things about the work you were doing with Edward Sparks.”
Arenke shook his head. “I haven’t been doing any work with Edward Sparks.”
Palmer pulled out his notebook and started flipping pages back and forth. “That’s strange, I heard you were both working on a City waste contract.”
“Yes, but not together,” Arenke blurted. “We’re competitors.”
Palmer read from his notebook. “Oh yeah, that’s right… I was told your dealings had gone to a dark place.”
Arenke sighed. "I wouldn’t call it dark… We both put forward tenders on collecting and disposing of the city waste. It’s a five-year deal. It’s worth millions. I have disposal machines and incinerators whilst Sparks only has the trucks to collect it... I told him, that if I got it, I would buy the trucks from him so he got something out of it… He couldn’t handle that contract anyway, it’s too big for him, but it has been costing me money in lobbying. I’m burning through cash because he’s trying to play against me… It’s not a dark place… It’s just business; and that guy was costing me a fortune.”
“Did you hear what happened last night?”
“Only what’s in the morning paper.”
Palmer stood up and put his notepad away. “You have a gun permit, right?”
Arenke answered slowly. “Yes.”
“I’m going to need to see that gun. Is it in your desk?”
“Erm… that’s some remarkable police insight, Sir. Yes, it is.” He opens the drawer and passes a semi-automatic pistol. Witnesses had already said the gunman fired a revolver but he could check it anyway. Palmer raised it to his nose. Not a whiff of gunpowder or the tang of cleaning spray. This gun hadn’t been fired in a while.
----- X -----
Kane Armours, Jacques Arenke’s lawyer, sat in his office with Councillor Brookes across from him.
“So, how else can Arenke Industries help you see that we are the best option?” Kane asked the councilman. Brookes, when judged from his suit and polished watch, was a man who liked expensive things. Kane could get expensive things if it smoothed the wheels.
“Even if you could get my vote, it wouldn’t matter,” Brookes said.
“Why is that? We have the best plan, we have the equipment, the manpower and the expertise and nobody can match us in those fields.”
“It’s not a question of competence, it’s one of politics. Everyone is convinced your boss tried to kill Eddie Sparks. Any votes you had are gone. No one wants to be associated with a potential murderer.”
“But he didn’t do it,” Kane insisted. He gripped the edge of his desk. “It’s not true.”
The councilman stood up. “True? That doesn’t matter, you especially should know that. When the police start asking questions about an attempted murder, I can guarantee that any political support he had went right out of the window. His reputation is toxic, that is all that matters at City Hall.”
Kane pulled out his cheque-book. “Is there anything that can restore his good name?” He casually flipped through the pages. but the councillor shook his head.
“Not unless he’s proved innocent… and even then it’s a hard sell. It’s reputation. Nobody would want to tie their reputation to his.” The councilman left the office.
Kane groaned. He buried his face in his hands. The phone rang. Arenke. “Jacques, what is it?”
“The police were just here, in the office. Detective Palmer was asking about my dealings with Edward Sparks.” Jacques breathed heavily and Kane could hear him pacing around the office.
“The police were here this morning too. They were asking about you. I’ve just been talking with some of your backers and even your friends are turning tail. You have to prepare yourself that this might ruin the whole job.” Kane rubbed his forehead. “Most of the councillors don’t think it wise to support you. This shooting business needs to be over.”
“They’ve made me a suspect,” Arenke added. “Losing this deal is expensive, but if this sticks I could be losing more than just the job. What do you suggest?”
Kane lifted his head. “We need to get to the bottom of this and fast. There’s a private investigator I know, ex-police, she’s good. I say we engage her to dig around and find out what really happened. Her name is Harriet Smotes.”
Arenke sighed, “Do it. Get her involved.”
----- X -----
Harriet Smotes laid out four photographs of crashed and smashed cars. “These are four of the vehicles that you received claims for.” She was showing the pictures to Martin Appleby of Great Eastern Insurance Corporation.
Appleby flicked through the pictures. “I think these are the same photos,” he said. “When people make the claims, these are the pictures they sent.”
Smotes nodded in agreement. “They are. Except I can tell you these same photographs were used in another insurance claim before yours. In fact, the vehicles were damaged and scrapped long before your accidents ever supposedly took place.”
“How?”
“It’s a scrapyard in Providence. They’re taking pictures of wrecked cars, then finding similar cars to stage in accidents to try and pass off as genuine. They pay people to stage the accident, have it recorded by police, then document the vehicle as a write-off. They send you these photos as proof.”
Appleby whistled whilst shaking his head. “And here I was thinking we had a few fishy sounding claims.”
“It’s big and it’s organised. This is a deliberate insurance fraud and you have a serious criminal complaint. I’ll give you what I have today but you need to ask your counsel to speak with the police.”
Appleby was impressed. He thanked Smotes. He shook her hand for too long on leaving.
She made herself coffee and went back to her desk allowing herself a moment to enjoy the work. The satisfaction of something accomplished.
The phone rang before she ever got to taste the coffee.
“Is that Harriet? It’s Kane Amours.”
“Kane. Now there’s a name from the past. Long-time no hear. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Are you free for work? I’ve got an urgent job that needs somebody capable.”
“I could be free. Is this at City Hall?”
“Not quite. I work for a man called Jacques Arenke exclusively now, he’s involved in bidding for a city job but we’re having some problems. The police think that he arranged a shooting on his rival and our backers are turning against us. He didn’t do it but the negative publicity is hurting.”
Harriet sat up straighter and listened intently. “Wow. That’s a little out of my league. Is this an active police investigation?”
“Yes,” Kane said. “Under some guy called Palmer.”
Harriet grimaced. “Geoffrey Palmer? I’m not so sure. I used to work with Palmer and I’d rather not do it again.”
“This job pays well. I mean, really well. Plus, I think you’d be perfect for it.”
“I’m really not sure, Kane.”
“Before you turn it down, why don’t you come to Arenke’s office later and hear what the issue is before you reject it? Meet him and let him fill you in. Then, you can decide if
you want to turn it down or not.”
----- X -----
It was early evening when Harriet found herself at the Arenke building. The receptionist pointed her to the elevator. In the mirror-like doors, Harriet straightened her jacket and tied her hair back. She walked out the elevator and found a small waiting area outside a single door.
“You must be Harriet Smotes.” Arenke greeted her politely. “I believe Kane explained some of what’s happening on the phone.”
“He did, but it would be better if you could tell me?”
Arenke motioned her to a chair. “I have a lot of enemies, and sometimes dealings turn sour. But this? I have been accused of attempted murder. I think I’m being framed and I want to know who, and how so that I can prevent it ever happening again.”
“Mister Amours said you were involved in some kind of city bid?”
“I’m involved in a bid for a waste management contract that is slipping through my fingers. The man who was shot at is a rival bidder and he has been forcing me to waste a lot of money on lobbying. The police think this gives me a motive and automatically assume I’m the culprit. It’s ridiculous!”
“What do you need me for?” Harriet asked.
“I need you to find out the truth of what happened. If I’m being set up I want to know why and by who. I would also like to know about the police investigation. I’m worried this might be an attempt to discredit me so I want to know what the police are looking at; what leads are they following; what evidence do they have. Are there other suspects? If so, who?” He
