Old Age Private Oh My!

by A. W. Blakely

  Excited Teenagers

  "Uncle Stan, Uncle Stan." Stanley came out of his dreams to find Spider pushing at his shoulder as though he was trying to topple him from his comfortable chair.

  "What? Why are you shoving me?"

  Spider stepped back and smiled at Stanley, a look so unfamiliar it took Stanley a moment to figure out what the boy was attempting to do. He was happy, and excited, and such a different lad to the one Stanley was used to it really was like another person.

  "Come on, we have a case to solve. Lunch is ready. We need to eat up then get going. And the tin, can we open it? Can we? You old dudes are so lazy."

  "You cheeky little sod. I've had a busy day so far and I just closed my eyes for a second. I wasn't even asleep, not really."

  "Why were you snoring, then?" Spider did his smile thing again as Stanley stifled laughter. Eyes beginning to focus, he realized Spider held a tray with a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and everyone else was already sat down, looking at him like he was some kind of specimen in a jar.

  "Just give me my lunch," said Stanley with a sigh. "My thanks to whoever made the sandwiches."

  "It was me," said Pam with a smile too—he was beginning to get freaked out all over again. Who were these people?

  "Come on, love, eat up. Pam made us some lovely lunch."

  Stanley took his tray and peered at the brown bread suspiciously. Why he couldn't have white like they used to he still didn't understand. Yes, he was on a diet, but bread is bread, and just because there are nuts and seeds in it doesn't make it healthy, does it? "What's in it? It's not some weird vegetarian thing is it?"

  "No, Stanley. It's cheese. With a little mayo and some mustard."

  "And the green bit sticking out?" he asked, lifting the top slice and inspecting his lunch.

  "It's lettuce!"

  "Thank you, Pam, I appreciate it." Everyone stared at him as if he was the one who had gone mad, not them. "What?"

  "Just eat your sandwich, you daft old man. And what's all this about someone messing with things at Pam's? And Spider says you have treasure," said Babs.

  "I'll tell you after lunch, and then we have to go. Spider's right, we have people to see, things to do. We'll get out of your hair and continue our investigation."

  Stanley took a bite. It was nice, even with the bits in the bread.

  ***

  Stanley and Kate, with Spider chiming in so often Pam began to look concerned about her son's well-being, told what they had done that morning, and what Stanley had discovered. The poor boy was itching to open the tin, but Stanley had more pressing things on his mind. Anyway, they would have to do it outside, just in case. In case of what, he wasn't sure, but it felt safer.

  He went into a little detail about the carbon monoxide and how it would explain why they were depressed, listless and unwell, and that they should never live somewhere with gas without having a carbon monoxide detector. For the sake of a few pounds they could save their own lives.

  Pam said that it all made sense, that she had become increasingly desperate and close to the edge when things kept going wrong even though she'd paid for them to be fixed then tried to fix them herself. She'd thought she was losing the plot, but had said nothing to her sister because she felt silly and it made it look like she couldn't cope.

  When asked why she hadn't asked if Stanley could take a look at the problems that kept arising, her reply was simple: she knew Stanley got annoyed with her and wouldn't want to keep coming over to fix things. She would be imposing.

  It was the truth, he couldn't argue with that. He would have moaned and grumbled and got increasingly annoyed with her. It made him feel bad. Yes, she wound him up something terrible, but she was family. Maybe the fact she had been slowly going batty in that house had caused him to forget about the good times and that she was actually a nice person, just different.

  They talked about the house and its issues, and the landlord for a while over a cup of tea after lunch. It became increasingly obvious that the landlord was either inept, wanted them gone, or was just a real cheapskate. But the sabotage meant he must be involved with wanting them out, surely? Pam had asked.

  Stanley had answered vaguely, saying that his new career had taught him to be wary of accusations until he had all the facts. Meaning, he needed to look into it further. But, for now, he had to focus on the murder case—they needed the money, after all. They'd spent everything on getting set up, and Stanley knew that Kate was finding things a struggle and he wanted to make sure she got paid, him too.

  Pam understood, seemed relieved to finally have an explanation, and besides, there was no way they would ever move back there, no matter what repairs the landlord did. Stanley said he would arrange for things to be collected in a day or two, but he would keep Spider with him and Kate as long as he behaved.

  The relief was palpable on Pam's face. She needed time with her sister, time to unwind, get her health back and de-stress. It was clear to everyone that it was doing Spider the world of good having something to do, and was thoroughly enjoying spending time with his uncle and cousin.

  The plan was set. The coats were on, shoes too. Roobarb was whining at the door and the two sisters were already deep in conversation as they left.

  Time to go interview... Who? Who should they start with? Who could offer an insight? May as well start with the person who found the van: the dog walker.

  "Wait," said Spider. "The tin. Come on," he whined, "we have to look."

  "Fine," said Stanley, sure it would be something stupid inside. "Go get me a hammer and an old chisel from the shed."

  "I thought the shed was the office now?" asked Spider.

  "Not the office shed," said Stanley as if it was obvious. "The proper shed. The small one over in the top corner."

  "Oh, right, how silly of me. The shed shed."

  "Why, you cheeky little..."

  "Mum, Auntie Pam, are you coming to see what our treasure is?"

  "Sure, love, if you want us to?" said Babs. Spider dashed away, smiling.

  Stanley never ceased to be amazed by his wife. Okay, it wasn't a chest of treasure, but surely she was curious?

  ***

  Stanley positioned the petty cash tin on a low wall that edged their little patio area and held the old, blunt chisel just to the side of the lock. He whacked the end with the hammer hard, just once, and the metal tin sprang open.

  Everyone crowded around to witness the big reveal, and it came as a total surprise to them all.

  "Letters. It's just letters," said Stanley, picking up the bundle of paper tied together with an elastic band that crumbled to dust. "Must have been here ages. Years and years maybe." He opened one up and passed the bundle to Kate.

  "Aw, letters. That's so not cool," said Spider, losing interest immediately.

  Stanley glanced through one, but it was nothing of interest to them. This was personal stuff, proper love letters from many years ago. Conversations between a couple, he assumed, guessing by the different paper and styles of handwriting.

  "Wow, this is some intense stuff. Steamy too," said Kate, eyes scanning the pages quickly.

  "Yeah, well, none of our business. We should put them back. They aren't ours. There are no envelopes, and addresses, so we should bury them again and leave it at that. Here, love, can you tidy them up and we'll return them some time soon?" Stanley handed the letter he held to Babs, and Kate did the same.

  "That's a shame. Sorry it wasn't treasure, Spider," said Pam.

  "No problem, Stanley. Have a good afternoon detectiving," said Babs, already waving them off and going back inside.

  Pam gave Spider a kiss that saw him squirm, and then he went to put the tools away, head down, kicking at the grass like it was all his fault.

  "Back to being grumpy now," said Stanley, not in the mood for it.

  "He'll get over it. He is still a kid, after all."

  "Yeah, you're right. And it was a disappointment. Wonder when they were put there? And w
ho has letters that you sent and received. Weird."

  "Who knows? Come on, let's go crack the case." Kate twirled her keys around her finger.

  Stanley gulped.

  First Suspect

  Spider fidgeted in the back of the Mini, his knees digging into the seat and annoying the hell out of Stanley. He turned and gave the boy the evil eye, but Spider just mouthed a silent "What?" and chuckled to himself while he checked his phone.

  "Dad, you know we can't just go turning up at people's houses and expect them to want to talk to you, right?" Kate turned her attention back to her phone and tapped away then looked up when Stanley didn't answer. Stanley wondered what on earth everyone found so fascinating about the things. Did anyone actually take any notice of the real world now?

  "Oh, sorry, love, I thought you were going to say you've found where he lives."

  "I have. It wasn't hard. But he might not be in."

  "So let's go see, shall we?" Stanley didn't know where else to begin, so he figured it was worth a try.

  "Okay. But what will he tell us? He just found the van."

  "I don't know, but private eyes leave no stone unturned. And besides, who else is there to talk to?"

  "The police? The people that found the bodies."

  "They aren't too happy with us, if you remember."

  Kate frowned but said nothing. After the turmoil and uproar caused by their first job as a private eye firm, there had been chaos in the ranks of the Mackle police, and Kate, and Stanley in particular, were still not the most popular of people.

  Nobody had said anything, but they had been given the cold shoulder a few times since. From what Stanley heard, it was more that they were just wary of him now. He had, after all, uncovered if not corruption then things that had been hushed up so the higher-ups could save face and protect their own.

  They could talk to officers, he was sure, but getting access to things like the morgue, pathologists, and detectives would not be easy. Basically, because they saw him as an old man playing private eye, not somebody to take seriously even after his "lucky break," as they called it.

  Stanley believed they resented him for doing what they had failed to do—solve a murder that turned out to be something else entirely.

  It didn't matter. If he had to, he could talk to certain people he knew appreciated what he and Kate had done, cleaning up the place a little along the way, but he felt in his bones that the cracking of the mystery lay elsewhere.

  There was something he wasn't seeing, something that would be blindingly obvious once uncovered. Only problem being, he had no clue where to search for this elusive answer.

  Kate started up the car. Stanley clenched his jaw and promised himself he would make no comment about his daughter's driving the whole way.

  He lasted about thirty seconds before shouting at her as she headed straight at one of the bin men in a high visibility green jacket she had somehow missed, plus the massive lorry that the wheelie bins were being emptied into.

  He shut his eyes instead, only opening them again when they got back to Mackle.

  ***

  Kate bounced over speed bumps in a quiet residential treat, Stanley happier than he'd ever been about his new hip as he banged his head on the roof and Spider moaned from the back seat about spinal injuries.

  Finally, she came to a stop outside a normal looking semi from the nineteen-thirties. Outside was a slim man with balding gray hair in what to Stanley looked like fancy dress. His outfit was skintight, shining in the sunshine, green stripes running up the legs and down the arms, the rest of the costume a dark red, logos plastered all over it—what was with the free advertising on every garment apart from the ones he owned?

  "This is the address," said Kate. "I guess that's him."

  They got out of the car, Spider practically climbing over the back seat, dragging Roobarb behind him. "You need lessons," he said accusingly to Kate.

  "Shut up. At least I'm old enough to drive."

  "Going to a party, are we?" said Stanley to the man, a Mr. Michael Benson according to Kate. If this was him.

  "Excuse me?" Michael asked, running on the spot, his knees almost hitting his chest as he began to do something weird with his arms.

  "I said, got somewhere nice to go, have you? You know, the fancy dress?"

  "Dad!" Kate elbowed Stanley in the ribs.

  "What? I'm just being polite. Making chit-chat."

  "Look, who are you people? Why are you parked outside my house? I think you must have the wrong address." Michael stopped his running on the spot and began bending forward repeatedly, head touching the knees of his straight, stork-like legs. Stanley, Kate, and Spider turned away as the man's backside was repeatedly thrust in their direction.

  "Ugh, gross." Spider pointed at the man's behind, the bony bum making Roobarb whine and pull at the lead.

  "Spider, you're as bad as Dad." Kate moved around to face Michael. "Um, excuse me, do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

  "Questions? About what? Who are you people and why are you pestering me? I'm going for a jog. Gotta keep fit, you know."

  "Oh, jogging is it? I thought you were in fancy dress."

  "Dad! Sorry, um, we're here investigating the murder of two men in the woods. I believe you found the van that was involved?"

  Michael stopped his stretching and stared at them. Stanley knew they weren't making the best of impressions, so decided to go into private eye mode. "Do excuse us. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the lead detective with OAPI, and this is my assistant, Kate. And this is, er, her assistant, Spider. I mean George," he added hurriedly.

  "You aren't police," said Michael.

  "Well, no, I'm a private detective, employed by a relative of the two men found murdered. May we please have a moment of your time?" Stanley smiled. He'd done very well, so he thought. Kate was even smiling at him approvingly.

  "I've already spoken to the police, and what a waste of time that was. Don't know why they took so long to find the men, but I can't tell you anything. I just found the van."

  "Please, just a few minutes. Then you can be about your jogging business." Stanley tried to look official, but wasn't sure how, so settled for wiggling his eyebrows.

  "Are you all right?" asked Michael.

  "Fine, fine. So, a minute of your time?"

  "Okay, but it will have to be here, I'm busy."

  "Great. Kate, do you have your notebook?" Kate nodded. "Okay, so, about this van?"

  Nothing Learned

  "Can you walk us through what you found?" asked Stanley, figuring that was the best place to start.

  Michael sighed but said, "As I told the police, and I really don't see what use it will be now, but I was walking my dog and saw the white van. Didn't think anything of it, apart from that maybe somebody was doing same illegal fly tipping. You should see the state of the place sometimes, costs the council a small fortune to clear it up."

  "Yes, but about the van?"

  "Those fly tippers can get nasty, so I didn't stop, just carried on with the walk. But the next morning it was still there. I take Rupert my dog every morning, and we go early, but the van was still there. When I got home, I called the police and they sent someone around to see me. The next day, I think. Sorry, it was ages ago. I don't really remember the days."

  "That's fine, you are being very helpful." Stanley felt like he was getting into the swing of things now, like a proper detective. "What about anything else? Did you see anyone? Anything out of the ordinary?"

  "No, nothing like that. Just the van. Oh, I did tell the police that the day before I first saw the van that my dog went off barking like mad near where they found those poor men. I don't know if that means anything though?"

  Stanley thought for a moment. "Did your dog bark in the same place on the days that you saw the van?"

  Michael thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. He likes to run all through the woods but he didn't bark then. He's usually very quiet, that's why I though
t it worth mentioning. Now, if there is nothing else?"

  "No, that's fine. Thank you." And with that the man jogged off.

  Michael paused just a few yards away. He turned and with a frown said, "Actually, come to think of it, the first morning we saw the van, Rupert was acting funny. He ran into the woods and came back whimpering. I assumed he'd just found a hedgehog, or something like that. Thought nothing of it." With that, he was gone again.

  Kate finished scribbling in her notebook and as Stanley turned from the retreating figure of a scarecrow dressed in Lycra advertising companies he'd never heard of, he said, "What? Why are you both looking at me funny?"

  "Uncle Stan, that was very cool."

  "Way to go, Dad."

  "What? What did I do?"

  "You sounded like a proper detective," said Spider.

  "Honest, you really did. Shame you had to start with jokes about his outfit," said Kate, giving Stanley a kiss on the cheek.

  "Who was joking? And what do you mean I sounded like a proper detective? I am one. Come on, places to go, things to do, people to see."

  Kate and Spider, along with a rather confused Roobarb, got back in the car.

  "What did you two think about the guy in fancy dress, then?" asked Stanley, mulling over what he'd learned.

  "Dad!"

  "What, he looked like a beanstalk with added logos."

  "Maybe a little," said Kate, smiling. "He didn't offer up anything really, did he? Waste of time."

  "Spider, what about you? You should be good at this, you've got a young brain."

  "The dog, right? Something fishy there."

  "Exactly!"

  "Yes! I knew you did the right thing bringing me along."

  "What are you two talking about?" said Kate, looking miffed she hadn't picked up on it.

  "That hole was dug before the men were buried. My guess is that the grave was dug the day before the van arrived, or at least the hole was there on the morning and the van probably didn't get there until the evening or in the night at some point." Stanley thought for a moment. "That sounds right. It was all planned in advance. We just need to know why the dead men had their fingerprints all over the van. I think the only explanation is they drove it there themselves, and for whatever reason the killers left it behind, not caring. So it comes down to that. Why?"