His Twisted Smile

by Chris Thompson

  Gordon wasn’t offended she’d looked into him; after all, he considered, he was doing the same to her. While the circumstances around his wife and daughter were different, it was still a similar loss and, after everything she’d been through, he figured it was natural to want someone who would both understand her grief and believe in her need to know why Millie was snatched from her and who did it. He nodded slowly and then shrugged.

  “Fair enough. But let me ask you this: if, after my investigation, it turns out she did die in an accident and everything in the police report is accurate, will you be able to accept it?”

  Isabelle swallowed hard and took deep breath. Her misty eyes drilled into his and all he could do was hold her gaze until she was ready to speak.

  “If you can tell me why she changed so suddenly and what drove her to do those things, then yes, I’ll accept it. I just want the truth.”

  “Then the truth you will have.”

  “Do you promise?” She asked quickly. Making promises to the family of the deceased was the dumbest thing an investigator, police or private, could do. There is no way to foretell what will happen during an inquiry, and to promise results could raise expectations unrealistically. That was what the professional Gordon Crane knew. He also knew he should promise to do his best and that was all. But looking at the woman before him - at her pain filled eyes - his heart ached for her and Gordon found he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He regretted them the moment he said them aloud, but there it was: the promise of justice.

  “I promise I’ll find out what happened to Millie.”

  She smiled for the first time since Gordon met her, and he had to admit, it looked good on her. It reached her eyes and those perfect, foggy grey eyes shone with something more than grief, unshed tears and the haze of booze. Gordon found himself returning the smile for a brief second, and then he stood up, the moment over and the urge to return to work on him.

  “I’ll call you when I find something, Ms Reese-Smyth.”

  “Izzy.” She invited, standing from her stool a little unsteadily. “Call me Izzy.”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  Gordon left her in the kitchen, walking at a surprisingly calm gait to the door, which he opened before heading down the path to his car. If he were to tell the truth, he was angry with himself for two reasons: first, for making the promise in the first place. He had no idea whether he’d be able to fulfil it and that woman had suffered enough without being lied to. Second, for the way he felt when he looked at her. They’d only met twice, yet being around her reminded him of feelings he’d long forgotten about, feelings he had locked away after his wife’s death. There had been two other women in his life since his wife was taken from him; two women who had been fun and right for the moment, but he hadn’t loved either of them. The feeling that sparked in his heart when he looked at Izzy reminded him of the first meetings with his wife, and he felt as though he were betraying Jade’s memory. More than that, he felt like a damned cliché: the private investigator falling for the beautiful client. If he hadn’t had more work to do he would’ve stopped by a bar and started drinking early. Now, however, he had a big promise to keep, so instead of heading to the bar he decided to head to the address where Millie had been found. He didn’t believe for a second that there would be any clues left to find, but he wanted to try and get a feel for what was in the area. Gordon turned the engine over on his car and glanced at the window of Isabelle’s house. He saw she was standing in the window watching him leave. For a moment their eyes locked, and then Gordon started to drive away.

  Chapter Four

  Gordon drove back into Carlson Flats and made his way towards the area where Millie’s body had been discovered. He’d taken a mental note of the address when he’d been examining the police file and it was an area he knew, but hadn’t been to since he retired. He casually listened to the radio while he drove, hearing that there might be more rain coming in the next couple of days. He wasn’t surprised, it was the season for it after all, but he still wasn’t happy about it. Gordon tried to make a mental checklist of what he wanted to do after he’d seen the scene of the crime; talking to her friends seemed like a good idea, especially Derek if he was the only man in her life.

  Tamsin seemed like the best place to start, however, so he planned to call her and try to arrange a meeting after he’d checked out where Millie’s body was found. He knew if he wanted to talk to Derek he’d either need to be introduced by a third party, hopefully this Tamsin, or meet with him under a different pretence. If he made waves by making enquiries that might be discovered by his father then it could cause complications; rich, powerful people seldom liked having their children talk to private investigators or the police. Not that anyone liked having their children interacting with law enforcement, but with the rich it was much more likely to end up with an injunction and a restraining order in Gordon’s experience. It did strike him as odd, however, that as they were friends in university, Millie didn’t have Derek’s name in her address book. It was one he would’ve recognized immediately, so it either meant Millie wanted to keep her relationship with Derek off the books as it were, which was an intriguing thought, or they’d fallen out of contact. Gordon thought back to the police file and realized he hadn’t seen Derek’s name on the list of people interviewed; hell, he couldn’t remember seeing many names on the interview list. Did Jenkins really do such a poor job, or was keeping Derek out of the investigation a favour that Jenkins had done for Harold? He couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, he wasn’t the best cop but it seemed shitty even by his standards.

  The area Millie’s sad remains had been discovered in wasn’t necessarily a bad part of town, but it had some questionable areas. The alleyway where she had been found ran behind a number of commercial buildings that didn’t have surveillance cameras covering more than the doors of their respective buildings - with a slight overlap. The dumpster Millie had apparently cracked her head on was relatively close to the alley’s exit, visible from where Gordon had pulled up. He exited his vehicle and approached it, stopping to briefly look around the surrounding area. Across from the alleyway was a residential area; two story apartment buildings and single floor homes ran up and down the street, with a variety of vehicles parked at the kerbside. Judging by the stickers warning of dogs and metal screen doors over most of the front doors, he didn’t imagine it was the safest of areas; most likely the kind of place where you didn’t go looking for trouble in case it turned around and punched you in the face.

  On the side of the street where the alleyway was, it was mostly commercial units; a few stores and a cheap looking restaurant. The alleyway was gloomy, even in daylight, and ran through to more buildings of an indeterminate nature. As he approached the alleyway and looked down at the place where Millie’s body had been found, Gordon couldn’t help but think it was a far cry from the glitzy lights of downtown Carlson Flats. It caused a clash of imagery in his head; first he saw the smiling, innocent face of a young woman who was a talented artist looking forward to exploring the world and finding true love, and then he saw the pale, lifeless expression on her face after she’d met her end. It wasn’t a dignified place to die, if such a thing existed; he saw accumulated trash and couldn’t help but feel it was a bad place to lose your life, especially when you had grown up surrounded by beauty and love and luxury. Gordon approached the trash can and knelt down, looking right at the space where her body had been. He looked back at his vehicle and tried to imagine a few scenarios.

  First, she could’ve been wandering from somewhere nearby, perhaps trying to find a store to make a purchase for something, slipped as she passed by the alleyway and smacked her head. The immediate counter to this was: how did she know there was a convenience store here, excluding her having already been here before. He looked to his left and saw the solid brick wall of the aforementioned shop. As there were no windows she wouldn’t have seen the lights from inside
and there weren’t any visible signs, the same could be said for the building on his right. A second problem was she was found without money or cards to buy anything, so it seemed unlikely at best.

  The second scenario was that she was with someone, walking side by side perhaps, and a similar accident happened. Her partner, whoever it was, could’ve run off because he or she was also high and didn’t want to get involved. This seemed possible, but didn’t account for her complete change in character before her death. Could she really have fallen so hard for someone she gave up her promise of chastity and turned to drugs? People had made stranger choices, Gordon told himself. He looked back at his car and noticed how close it was to the alleyway, and his mind was drawn to a darker place. He imagined a car pulling up and someone ejecting her from the vehicle after abducting her and abusing her for up to a week. Maybe she stumbled or maybe she was so weak she couldn’t find her feet; she slipped and slammed head first into the dumpster. Or, perhaps her killer had gotten out with her and, as she thought about tasting freedom again, had finished her off in a way that might seem like an accident. The latter thought would mean it was a premeditated and deeply disturbing crime. There was no evidence to suggest anyone had been there and, as Gordon knew, the canvas of the area had turned up no witnesses who had seen anyone. Hell, no one had even seen Millie’s body. If the store clerk hadn’t found her when he had then Millie might not have been found until the next morning. The alleyway was at just the right angle so the floor of it couldn’t be seen from across the street in the dark, and there were no homes straight on to it. The two storey apartments were further up and further down the street with five single floor dwellings between them, so a height advantage wasn’t possible

  Gordon glanced his thumb over his lips and stood up. Despite the plausibility of the accident scenario he didn’t believe it; from what he knew about the victim it seemed impossible. Therefore, that meant someone brought her here and killed her. The actual killing could’ve been accidental he conceded; she could’ve been violently ejected from a vehicle and stumbled, but she was still murdered in his eyes. The difficulty would be proving it. Gordon looked around again, not seeking anything in particular, just giving himself time to ponder what his next course of action should be. He returned to his car and sat heavily behind the driving seat, where he retrieved his notepad and phone from their respective pockets and flicked through the pages until he came across the address book notes he’d made. He tapped Tamsin’s number into his phone and waited. It rang for a few seconds and he began to wonder if the young woman would answer, but then she suddenly did, sounding bright, cheerful and out of breath.

  “Hello?” She questioned.

  “Miss Tamsin Muller?” Gordon asked, confirming who he was speaking to.

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Gordon Crane; I’m a private investigator and I’ve been hired to take a look into Millie Reese-Smyth’s death.”

  “Okay.” Tamsin stated; he wasn’t sure if she was upset by this news or if she was simply wondering what it had to do with her.

  “Well, Miss Muller, I was hoping we could have a word about your friend and see if there’s anything that might shed some light on what happened to her?”

  “I really don’t know, Mister Crane. I spoke to the police when it happened and I’d really--” She was saying, but Gordon cut her off, knowing it was about to end in a statement along the lines of wanting to move on from the event.

  “Listen, it won’t take long and you might be able to help provide closure for a grieving woman. Millie was your friend; wouldn’t you like to know what happened to her that night?”

  “Of course I--”

  “Good. It’s nearly lunchtime, so why don’t you meet me somewhere and I’ll buy. At the very least you’ll get a free lunch and there’s a chance you’ll be able to help, even if it’s just a minor detail that seems irrelevant.”

  Tamsin was silent for a few moments and Gordon held his breath. He didn’t have the power to compel her to talk to him so he had to rely on his charm, or failing that, his bullish determination.

  “Okay. Give me your number and I’ll text you an address. We can meet there for lunch and we can talk a little. But I really don’t know what more I can tell you that I haven’t already told the police.”

  “You never know, Miss Muller, there could be something you remember now that wasn’t apparent before.” Gordon restated before reciting his phone number. She hung up without another word and a few moments later he received a text message. He typed it into the map application on his phone then turned on the ignition. He hoped meeting Tamsin would prove productive, but her reticence made him feel as though there was something she was trying to hide. He could’ve been wrong, but Gordon trusted his gut. He was going into this meeting as though she was a suspect, and he hoped he could get her to reveal whatever it was she was seemingly concerned about letting slip.

  Gordon pulled up about twenty minutes later outside an inviting eatery called Earl’s Diner. He knew from the address and the map on his phone it was about a ten minute walk from where Tamsin lived, so he suspected this was a place she’d visited many times before, making it a place she felt safe. He hoped it would help loosen her lips. He walked up to the glass door and pushed on the handle, while looking left along the length of the diner. The door was pretty close to the right corner of the building, with a couple of tables ahead of him, booths all along the left in front of the window and a bar fronted by a number of stools, some of which even had patrons, across from the booths. The two major seating areas were separated by a narrow aisle, which offered just enough room for people to pass one another. The staff area and kitchen were accessed through a wide archway behind the bar, from where the smell of food cooking drifted in. There weren’t many people in there and this was a good thing, mostly because he had no idea what Tamsin looked like, nor she him. There was only one woman who looked to be of a similar age to Millie, so he approached her, affixing a gentle smile on his face as he did. She was sitting with a glass of lemon water between her hands and glanced in his direction as he neared.

  “Miss Muller?” He asked, looking into her wide, pretty brown eyes. She had a more angular face than Millie, and short, dark hair that didn’t quite suit her - in Gordon’s opinion. A gym bag was on the seat beside her and he surmised, as she had also sounded breathless on the phone, he’d interrupted her workout session.

  “Mister Crane?” She questioned back.

  “Indeed.” He responded as he sat across from her, extending his hand. She shook it with a firm grip and then shrank back, looking just a little nervous. As if she needed something to do, she took a long drink from her glass then settled back, but she still looked wary. A waitress appeared as Gordon took a breath to begin speaking and asked if he wanted anything to drink. He told her coffee, smiled and then refocused on Tamsin.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Muller. I am, of course, assuming it is Miss?”

  “Yes, it is, but you can call me Tamsin.”

  “Well, call me Gordon. Do you mind if I record this conversation? It’s for your safety and security as much as it is mine.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tamsin agreed, though she was clearly uncomfortable. Gordon retrieved his phone, set it to record, and did what he considered to be the necessary preamble: stating his name, the time and date and then getting Tamsin to say her name and confirm she was being recorded willingly.

  “So, from what I understand you and Millie were the best of friends, yes?” Gordon questioned.

  “Oh, totally. We were like sisters.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

  “The day she went missing.” Tamsin responded. Her eyes flickered for a fraction of a second. A show of emotion or anticipation of a lie? Gordon wasn’t sure.

  “What did you talk about?”

  “I am allowed to tell you this right? I mean, it won’t get me in trouble with the police?”

  “It’s absolutely f
ine. The case is closed and, as I’ve said, Ms Reese-Smyth has hired me to give the case a look over to ensure everything was handled correctly.”

  “How is Isabelle?”

  “You haven’t spoken to her recently?”

  “Not in a couple of weeks. The… the last time I did she was more than a little drunk and I felt so bad for her. I figured I’d give her some space.”

  “Well, Ms Reese-Smyth is doing as well as you might expect; I’m hoping I can find out what Millie was doing the night she went missing and that it might bring a little closure for her.”

  “She needs to move on.” Tamsin stated bluntly.

  “It’s not quite as easy as that. The loss she’s endured will last a lifetime; answers will just help her to process what happened and allow her to begin thinking of a life outside of her painful memories.” Gordon explained. “So, you were about to tell me what you talked about with Millie?”

  The waitress returned with Gordon’s coffee and placed a menu down in front of each them, stating she’d return in a few minutes. Gordon didn’t really pay much attention to it, and instead remained focused on Tamsin.

  “Well, she was excited about her trip. She was talking about all the places she wanted to go and things she wanted to see. I loved her but for the life of me I couldn’t see what there was to be so excited about, but,” she shrugged, “it was what she wanted.”

  “Sorry if this sounds rude, but it doesn’t seem like you and she had much in common.” Gordon stated.

  “That’s true up to a point, but it didn’t stop her joining us and having fun. When we were out clubbing, she’d get up on tables and dance with us, the only difference was she could remember it the next day. She’d always get us home safe and make sure we didn’t make any negative choices while we were out of it. In some ways, a lot of ways, she was the leader of our group. She even came with us after we graduated to Cancun for a weekend drinking holiday. She was sober the whole time but yeah, she was in there partying with us.”