“Lady detective I remember it like it was this mornin’.”
I wait for him to tell me about the day ten years ago when Joshua McElroy walked down the street towards the library and went missing.
“It was about nine-thirty in the mornin’ and I was putting the trash on the curb. I had a real heavy load. Was cleanin’ out the basement, you know all the shit you accumulate over the years. Sorry miss, should watch my mouth.”
I shake my head and say “I've heard a lot worse.”
“I bet you have in your line of work! Anyway, I see young Josh comin’ out of his house with a couple of books. Kid was always reading, not like nowadays, nobody reads except old folks. Had a gym bag too, probably filled with sandwiches and snacks his mother made him. I called out to him to come help me and he looks at his watch and hesitates. Maybe had to meet a friend or somethin’, I don't know.
“Take you only a few minutes, son, I yell over to him. I see him look at the back yard where his mother is hangin’ laundry. She waves at me and blows a kiss to Josh. I swear I saw his shoulders slump when Mrs. Mac did that. But it passes and in the next minute he’s walkin’ over to me. Puts his books ‘n’ stuff down on my steps and helps me haul all the barrels to the curb. I ask if he's goin’ to the library and he doesn't really answer, just asks real polite as usual, if I need more of his help and then says he’s got to run.”
“And after the library he never came home,” I say.
Mr. O’Leary seems to be thinking about that, begins to say something and stops.
“That’s what the police report says, Mr. O’Leary. He left around ten o’clock on his way to the library and no one saw him after that.” Then I add, “Right? He didn’t come back home.”
He looks at me for a few minutes, gauging to see my reaction and says, “I'm not so sure about that, miss. I could swear… well, I didn’t say anything about it to the police.”
“Mr. O’Leary, I’m here to help Marie find closure about her brother. If there's something you know, I’m asking you to please tell me. For Marie’s sake at least.”
“I didn’t tell the police this ‘cause I thought maybe I was wrong. I been wearin’ glasses most of my life and my sight wasn't so hot ten years ago, I can tell you. But remember what I said about not bein’ deaf? Little girl, my hearin’ is damn good. Had a hearin’ test a few months ago and the doctor said he was impressed by how acute my hearin’ is. Told you this morning that my hearin’ is damn near perfect.”
“Yes, I remember… Go on.”
“The day that boy went missin’ I was in the kitchen. Got a good view from my kitchen into my backyard. Now it had to be about four-thirty or so. I know because I was thinkin’ about what I wanted for dinner that night and I looked at the kitchen clock to see if it was too late to go to that mom-and-pop store I told you about to get some ham. But I knew I wouldn’t make it to the store before they closed at five. Well, I looked out my window and I thought I saw Joshua walkin’ past by the gate goin’ back towards town. Now that means he must’ve come home and went out again. I can’t be sure, near-sighted as I am, could’ve been someone else walkin’ by. So it isn't what I saw, miss.”
“What is it then?”
“It’s what I heard. Joshua McElroy said it clear and I know damn well that I heard his voice. He looks towards my house and he says, Goodbye Mr. O’Leary, thank you.”
Some people might be inclined to disregard what a man in his nineties tells you that he heard a decade ago, but I’m not one of those people. I believe Mr. O’Leary. Elderly people are old in years, but many of them like O’Leary can be credible witnesses, sometimes better than younger ones. They’re more observant because they don’t have all of the distractions younger people have. Not everyone feels the way I do. Even though I think he should have told the police back then, I can understand why he didn’t. He was eighty-four years old, his eyesight wasn’t good, and the police would have felt that someone else walking by had said something and O’Leary had imagined it was Josh.
Still, what he’s told me gives me a new timeline. Josh didn’t disappear around ten o’clock as everyone assumed. If he passed by Mr. O’Leary’s back gate six hours later, then that means he was still in the vicinity. He had come home, but why? It wasn’t to say goodbye. Marie was at camp, his father was working, and his mother, off from her job as a lunch matron during the Easter break, was food shopping. Did he come back for something? If he had something hidden then he would have ample time to get it without anyone being around to see him.
Then a thought hits me. What if he wasn’t getting something out of a hidden place? What if he was hiding something, something he didn’t want to take with him but something he hoped others, like his sister, might somehow find. The key had been found in his school backpack. Was that deliberate?
“Mr. O’Leary? Do you remember if Josh was carrying anything with him besides books and a gym bag when you last saw himthat day”
He shakes his head and answers, “Nope, he didn’t have anything that I could see. Why do you ask?”
I decide to be truthful. He might know what the key’s for so I dig it out of my jeans pocket and hand it to him.
“I found a key in Josh’s school backpack. The police in evidence assumed it was for a locker at the high school, but Marie says it isn’t. Any ideas on what this might open?”
Mr. O’Leary moves the key around in his hand, looking at it up close. “Nope, haven't ever seen this before. Looks to me like a treasure key, you know what that is?”
“Not really. I guess it would open a box that held things that had special meaning to someone.”
“Yup, that it would. I got a key like this to my wife’s jewelry box. ‘Course, she never had anything much of value like women nowadays. Just her wedding rings, you know. Small diamond engagement ring, she treasured it.” He turns the key towards the sunlight. “Then again, a key like this could open one of them bigger strongboxes, you know like for important papers and such; birth and marriage certificates, mortgages.”
I think about the empty safety deposit box that Myrtle insisted I get when she came to work for me. I never use it. All my important papers, as well as my passport and a costly bangle bracelet that had belonged to Nonna Rita, are kept in a shoebox in my bedroom closet. I know Myrtle would have a fit if she knew that, so I humor her and let her think that my things are safe and sound in a bank. Someday I’ll get around to putting everything where it should be.
“Well,” I say, “There was no box like that in the house or outside on the grounds. Whatever lock this key opens is either hidden really well or isn’t here at all.”
“Wish I could help you, miss, but I have never seen that key and Joshua never told me anything about hidden treasures. You might want to ask Marie. They were very close.”
“I’ll ask her about that again but when I showed her the key she didn’t seem to know what it was for either.”
I finish eating the raisin bread, which is good and solid, and take one last sip of the Irish coffee. Then I stretch slowly and tell Mr. O’Leary that I’ve got to go.
“Want a coffee kick for the road? My gift.”
I wobble a bit getting up. My tailbone and back hurt and I know I’m going to feel sore later on tonight.
“No thanks, Mr. O’Leary. I do have to drive you know.”
“Take some in a thermos. Not much left. Tastes even better after it sets for a while.”
He gets up and goes into the house. Ten minutes later he comes out with a very old, very small thermos and walks with me down the steps to the sidewalk.
“Listen, miss, come back any time,” he says handing me his little gift. “You’re welcome here. Been a while since I had a nice conversation with an intelligent lady.”
I tell him he’ll more than likely see me around by the McElroy house and I’ll stop by when I come to see Marie and return his thermos.
“Hell, you can keep it! Don’t have any need for it anymore.” He laughs. “Take car
e. Good luck with what you're doin’ for Marie. Life hasn't been fair to her.”
“I know Mr. O’Leary, I know it hasn’t. She needs a break. Oh, and thanks for the coffee with a kick,” I add waving the old thermos in the air.
****
“You haven't changed much at all Joey. You still look like my shy little boy.”
“I don't think you've changed either Father.”
Chapter 12
By the time I make it back to the city it’s past six o’clock, so I decide to skip going to the office and head home. I am hurting more than I want to admit. Landing on my butt from five feet up has taken its toll and all I want to do is take some ibuprofen and soak in a tub of hot water. I take off my hoodie and hit the button for maximum air in my Edge. While I wait for the air to cool the car, I listen to my voice mail.
There are several messages on my phone that Myrtle has forwarded. One is from Marie asking how everything went, another is from Will, who for some reason feels it necessary to tell me he has found a fantastic chili dog place in New Jersey and wants to take me there for lunch sometime, and one is from a man who suspects his wife, a middle school principal, is cheating and wants me to nail her. The last one is from Giles, a sultry, foreplay-like message to let me know he's thinking about me. This is my life; chilidog dates, cheating spouses, and sweet Giles.
I put business before anything else and call the potential client from my Bluetooth Sync. I leave a message asking him to please make an appointment to see me within the next couple of days. Then I call Marie and tell her that all went well but that I didn't find any lock for the key.
“Mr. O’Leary is something else. He gave me Irish coffee and raisin bread. Oh, and, before O’Leary tells you, I fell out of the tree in your yard, but I’m fine.”
“Oh, Cate, I’m sorry! But what were you doing in the tree?”
“It’s a long story, honey. Private investigators tend to do weird things to get information. Don’t ask.”
“Okay. I’m glad you’re alright. I hope Mr. O’Leary didn’t talk your ear off. My dad used to say he was a pip, whatever that is.”
“No, he was very interesting.” I don’t tell her what he said about the day Josh went missing. I want to see her personally for that.
“I guess I’ll hang up now. I have to clean up and close the shop soon.”
“I’m heading home now so I’ll talk to you another time, Marie. Call me whenever you want, whether it’s business or not.”
“Oh, thanks, I, I will! ‘Bye.”
I debate calling Will then decide that that can wait until tomorrow. Giles I’ll call or text later. I’m beat.
Traffic is a bitch and I don’t make it home until nearly eight. I’m achy and tired. As I’m putting the key into my door, I hear music coming from my living room. There’s a note on the inner door from Giles.
There’s a quiche in the oven and beer in the ‘fridge. I’ll try to come back later. Had to go back to work for an hour or two. Giles
Giles likes what he refers to as Zen music. He says it helps him to relax and I have to say that it does have a soothing effect after several hours spent listening to the city noise. I limp slowly to the bathroom discarding my clothes on a dining room chair. I definitely need that long soak in my big bathtub. I decide to drink the remaining contents of the thermos while I’m soaking.
In the bathroom I twist my neck to look at my rear in the mirror. I’m bruised but not too badly. The back of my left thigh has a hematoma and the flesh above my tailbone looks as if I had a small, lopsided dark blue tattoo placed there. I run a hot bath and throw in a couple of capfuls of lavender scented bath salts. Then I take two over-the-counter pain relievers and slurp cold water from the bathroom sink spigot to swallow them. I smile remembering the paper cup dispenser Marie had in her bathroom. I can never be that organized.
The Zen-inspired music combined with the hot water and soothing bath salts work their magic. I unscrew the cap of the thermos, sip slowly and close my eyes. Once Mr. O’Leary’s concoction kicks in I begin to feel better. Turning the water off, I let my thoughts wander and I think about the day, about Marie, and about old Mr. O’Leary, about the key and potential hiding places for locked up treasures. Then I think about Saturday night and Will; seeing him dressed for dinner in a nice social setting. He is a bastard, but he’s a hot bastard. Will...me...Will....
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, someone is kissing my hair and telling me to be careful when I stand up. I keep my eyes closed. He’s wrapping me in a soft bath towel and gently rubbing me dry. It feels so good to be in his arms and I want to tell Will that he can stay with me tonight, that I want him to stay. I hear, “Alright, now let me get you to bed.”
And I open my eyes to see Giles smiling at me. “Hello Catherine.”
****
The sound of Giles’s cell phone buzzing wakes me I hear him in the kitchen and smell coffee brewing. I’m naked. The Smartphone clock says it’s going on nine. Oh boy, did I sleep!
“Giles, your phone is buzzing,” I shout as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wince when I stand up. “Ow! Damn!”
“You okay?” Giles comes in with a cup of hot coffee. “I checked your bruises and you’ll be fine in a few days. The tailbone is a sensitive area, sort of the funny bone of the butt, and you must have slammed down on it pretty hard. You’re just really sore right now. You said you fell out of a tree.”
“Didn’t I tell you the whole story?” I ask gratefully reaching for the cup.
“Nope, you were zonked out, my darling girl. You were too tired to even eat. Kind of like that time you played three sets of mixed doubles to raise money for that charity event of Myrtle’s.”
“Was I too tired for anything else?”
“I don’t think that’s possible for you. You were a great participant last night.”
“Tell me that I shouldn’t climb trees anymore and maybe I’ll tell you why I was up a tree in the first place.”
He grabs his phone and says, “Don’t climb trees anymore,” kisses me, and calls the morgue.
While he’s on the phone I walk to the bathroom slowly to get my blood moving. I take two more pain pills, slurp from the spigot again, and sit down on the toilet seat. Sitting hurts.
A half hour later, fresh from a shower and shampoo and, dressed in a large towel, I head for the kitchen and more coffee. Giles has heated up a nice wedge of quiche and I breakfast standing up looking out of my window at the traffic. Little Guy and Mouse sit on the sill of the open window, tails flicking slowly, ears and eyes alert for any danger.
Giles is in the bedroom waiting for me with an after-breakfast treat and I am wide-awake.
****
“Let’s walk over to my car Father. I want you to meet my friend. I’ve told him all about you.”
“Alright, Joey, I’d like that. Is that your car? It’s very nice.”
Chapter 13
“Myrtle? Where’s the McElroy file? I put it on my desk the day before yesterday and now I can’t find it.”
“Try looking in the file cabinet under the letter M. That would make sense to me.”
I do and there it is, right after the Marlinski file. “Thanks Myrtle.”
“You leave something on your desk, God knows if it will still be there two days later. That’s why I put it in the filing cabinet.”
“Gotcha,” I say as I settle at my desk. I’m sitting on a throw pillow I brought from home. Myrtle looks at me with a bit of concern.
“That pillow help any? In my opinion you should go see a doctor. The tailbone is part of your spine, after all.”
“I’m fine, seriously, Giles examined me and he is a medical doctor, Myrtle.”
I hear her say, “Well…” and stop. She knows enough not to mother me overly much.
“By the way, that cheating wife client? He called yesterday to make an appointment.”
“Good,” I say absentmindedly.
“Not so go
od. He called earlier this morning to cancel it.”
I look up. “Why?”
“It seems that he accidentally took care of it himself. He went to her school office unannounced late yesterday afternoon to talk and found his wife and the physics teacher naked and playful on her desk. He took a picture with his iPhone and says that’s all he needs. Sorry, cookie.”
I sigh out loud. Cheating-spouse money is easy money to make and my checking account is lower than I like at the moment. Still, maybe I have enough on my plate right now with the McElroy case and my interest in the priest murders. I’m mulling this over when the phone rings.
“Catherine Harlow, Private Investigations. Oh, good morning Detective Benigni. Yes, of course.” I hear Myrtle giggle like a teenager at something Will says. The same as with any other woman who has ever met him, she’s totally susceptible to the Benigni charm. Then her voice becomes professional again. “Certainly, I will. Cate? Detective Benigni on the line.”
I pick up the phone on my desk. “Hi, Will, how was Jersey?”
“Great chili dogs, but no info from the Diocese. Very tight-lipped. How’d your search at that woman's house go?”
“Nada, absolutely nothing. I fell out of a tree; that was the most exciting part of my search.”
“I’m going to assume that you’re okay, otherwise I’m sure Myrtle would have told me what happened when she answered the phone.” Pause. “Do I want to know why you fell out of a tree?”
“Not really, it’s not that interesting.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Listen, Cate, I called to tell you there’s been another body found. The victim is wearing a cleric’s collar and there’s another message.”
“Where?”
“Would you believe Central Park? A woman out jogging with her German shepherd found it. Thank God she’s a Marine home on leave and not freaked out by the discovery. She called 911, pretty much secured the area from gawkers, and calmly waited by the body until we came.”
“Same as the others?”
"Oh yeah, nude, same mutilations as the two others plus a message on the inside of the collar, neatly printed like the last one."
For I Have Sinned a Cate Harlow Private Investigation Page 11
