‘You know what?’ he said. ‘I’m going to start with this mountain of data. It’ll probably take me days to sift through it all and organize my notes, but I’ll get back to you when I’m done.’
‘Enjoy.’
‘If you happen to get any more letters, or worse yet, physically threatened, let me know. Or Frank can let me know, since you could be either in the hospital or the morgue.’
He gave her a cynical little smile and a nod before he headed out the door, letting it slam a little harder than necessary.
Charlie sighed. She had been a bit of an ass. Her hard, Irish head tended to make her a little impulsive and obstinate, but at least she could recognize those characteristics in herself. That was always a good start.
Chapter 6:
Simm was pissed. Why did some people have to be such hard-asses? They hire him to do a job, and then throw marbles in front of him, just so they can watch him slip and slide. He didn’t enjoy being a source of amusement for people.
Simm went through some files and made a few follow-up calls. He worked from a rented, two-room office on Murray Street in a not very classy building. In one room, he had a small filing cabinet and his desk, bare of papers but home to a laptop computer. The other room housed a combination photocopy machine and scanner. A neat stack of paper and office supplies occupied a small corner. It was large enough for another desk if he ever needed an assistant/receptionist, but he didn’t expect to need one at any point in the foreseeable future. As it was, he barely made enough to pay the bills.
Recently, people hadn’t been knocking down his door trying to get him to take their case. Unfortunately, the Butler case was the biggest he had to work on at this time, and it was typical of his usual work load. People often had problems they felt weren’t being taken seriously by the authorities, and, in most cases, they were right. The police didn’t have time for all the little things. Random, unthreatening letters were considered very small stuff by law enforcement when there were so many more demanding and urgent cases to worry about.
For Simm, the case was frustrating on a couple of fronts. First of all, he had very little to go on to move it ahead. This was mostly because of the lack of cooperation on the part of Ms. Butler, leading him neatly into the second cause of his frustration, Charlie. Simply put, she bothered him.
Staring out the window, he admitted her appearance disturbed him, and it may even be the major source of his irritation. When he first saw her in the bar, a jolt coursed through him like someone had stuck a pin in his back. Her brown hair pulled back into a silky ponytail brought back so many memories he was momentarily rendered speechless.
He thought he handled himself professionally when ‘Charlie the man’ turned out to be ‘Charlie the woman’, but facing her full-on was almost too much for him. She had the same girl-next-door look as Helen, fresh-faced with wide blue eyes, and an engaging smile. She was slim and pretty, but not in a delicate, don’t-ask-me-to-take-out-the-garbage kind of way. Helen had been the same.
Of course, the engaging smile disappeared when she realized he was a private investigator and not a customer. That’s when the wall of China landed in a downtown Montreal pub.
He knew he would have to start off cold on this one.
Simm wouldn’t be put off by the attitude of his newest client. He’d experienced similar problems with others. Obviously, Charlie Butler didn’t want him on the case. Her friend Frank had made the arrangements, and for some reason, she wasn’t open to the idea. Maybe discovering that reason would bring him closer to finding out who had sent her the letters.
He wondered about the relationship between her and the bartender. The vibes they gave off implied they were close, but how close? Could Frank be a suspect, even though he was the one to contact a private detective? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried that trick to throw off an investigation.
A loud buzz shook him out of his reverie. He glanced at the door with a frown, as if it was the door’s fault for sending an unexpected visitor to his office.
Out of habit, he analysed the sound of the footsteps climbing the stairs. It was a woman in a tight-fitting dress and high heels. She was around his age of thirty-five, blond, well-built, and broken-hearted after the recent death of her husband. She wanted answers, and of course, the comfort of another man, perhaps a currently-single private investigator.
When she walked into his office, his fantasy dissipated like a drop of water on a hot stove. The woman filled the physical attributes he had imagined, right down to the sequined, high-heeled sandals, but he knew her heart was whole, and she wasn’t coming to him looking for comfort.
‘Susan? What are you doing here?’
‘What a greeting. You really need to practice your social skills, Simm,’ the woman said, approaching him and giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He returned the gesture with little enthusiasm.
‘Okay, I will. Why are you here?’ he said.
‘I expected at least a, ‘how have you been?’, or maybe a question about Jim and the kids.’
‘How have you been? How are Jim and the kids? And to what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘He’s dying,’ the woman said, her smile disappearing.
Simm felt a small twinge and promptly dismissed it. He didn’t care, and he refused to be affected by it.
‘Thanks for letting me know. I’m busy now, but I’ll be in touch someday.’ After he’s dead, he thought, shuffling aimlessly through some papers on his desk.
‘Don’t be like this. Why do you have to be such a tough guy?’
‘I have my reasons and you know it.’
‘A lot of time has passed, and a lot of water has flowed under the bridge.’
‘Not enough, as far as I’m concerned.’
Chapter 7:
Charlie’s apartment was on Bishop Street, within walking distance of the pub. It was one of six apartments in a red brick, three-storied building, circa 1920. Charlie had lived on the middle floor for the past six years. The location was perfect, being close to work and having everything else she needed within walking distance. The inside had been renovated to include a bright open-concept living area, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. Her furniture was contemporary and basic, keeping the space uncluttered, in sharp contrast to the crowded atmosphere of the pub.
Most of the time, woman and dog walked between work and home. Now, Frank wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted on walking her home and looking around her apartment before he left her for the night. Charlie made a token protest, but deep down she was glad to have his company. It was nice to have someone to chat with on the way home, and the safe feeling she had with him by her side was a bonus.
Charlie and Harley had their nightly ritual. First, she made a snack for them both. Then, she showered and slipped into her pyjamas. When they were both settled into bed, her under the covers and Harley on top of the bedspread beside her, she caught up on the news using her tablet, checked her social media sites, read a few pages of a novel, and switched off the light. No matter how late she got home from the bar, it was the only way for her to relax before falling asleep.
Charlie knew some people thought she led a lonely life because it was years since she’d had a romantic relationship. Her last one hadn’t ended well, but she didn’t blame her ex for leaving. Having to compete with Butler’s Pub for her attention would discourage the most devoted of lovers. After all, she spent most of her time at her place of business, and she didn’t plan to change that for anyone.
The fact that her parents divorced when she was fifteen may have something to do with her distaste for a relationship. Her mother had been so bitter and disillusioned about her father Charlie thought she was probably better off rem
aining single. The pub was a much more loyal and solid companion.
However, at a time like this, she would like to have a guy in her life, someone she could curl up next to and with whom she could feel secure. Just the presence of another living, breathing person would go a long way to making her feel at ease in her own home.
She fell asleep as usual, with Harley’s warmth radiating through the blankets to her legs. It seemed like mere minutes later she was startled awake by his bark near her ear. He stood next to her head, his eyes trained on the bedroom door, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
Every once in a while, the pug was spooked by a noise. She could always soothe him with a pat and a few soft words, but this time Charlie was also on full alert. She lay for a few moments with the blankets clutched to her throat before glancing at her night table.
‘Damn,’ she whispered. Harley focused his big eyes on her as if to say, ‘What now?’
‘I left the phone in the other room.’
Charlie wanted to kick herself for being so irresponsible. She had no means of communication.
The good news was Harley was no longer reacting to any perceived intruder. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have forgotten the incident altogether, concentrating on scratching an itch rather than protecting his mistress.
Charlie, however, wasn’t so relaxed. She soundlessly slid out of bed and inched toward the door in the darkness. She winced when the door squeaked as she gingerly pulled it open. She stopped, waiting and listening for any sign of another human being in her apartment. All she heard were Harley’s paws hitting the floor. She realized his intent a moment too late. He squeezed through the open space before she could stop him. The last thing she wanted was for him to come face-to-face with a dangerous felon.
‘Harley!’ she said in a loud whisper. ‘Come back here!’
The little dog ignored her and continued to the kitchen. Charlie had no choice but to follow him. His calmness was reassuring, but she didn’t know if they would both find a surprise when they entered the room.
Luckily, the hallway and the kitchen were clear. Charlie fumbled in a drawer to find a large carving knife. Armed, she snagged a portable phone, punched in 9-1-1, and held her finger over the ‘dial’ button, as she cautiously made her way through the rest of the apartment. There was nothing unusual. No one was there, and no doors or windows showed signs of tampering. Her heart rate returned to normal.
‘Really, Harley? Did you just want to scare me?’
The dog looked suitably chastised for a split second and trotted back to the bedroom, his head held high.
Charlie decided to add another aspect to her nightly ritual, sliding the knife under her pillow.
Chapter 8:
Simm’s cell phone rang, and he frowned at the screen when he spotted the name on the call display. He didn’t feel up to this right now. He sighed as he hit the answer button.
‘Hey, Walt. How’s it going?’
‘I’m surprised you answered.’
Simm was relieved his grimace wasn’t visible to the caller. Walt didn’t have to know how close to the mark he was.
‘I always answer when I can. You know that.’
‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Simm said.
‘Oh yeah, how’s this private investigator stuff going?’
Simm’s hackles rose.
‘It’s a great hobby,’ he responded, not bothering to mask his sarcasm.
‘There’s no need to get angry. I was just asking. It interests me.’
‘I’m sure it does.’
‘I was hoping we could get together sometime soon.’
‘Really? A reunion? Just you and me, or were you planning to invite others.’
‘Just you and me. We should talk.’
Simm sighed again and ran his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath before filling the silence between them. He was sure Walt had heard it.
‘Listen, if I thought you wanted to get together just to talk and catch up on old times, I’d be there like a dog at dinnertime. But I know that’s not the case. I’m not getting drawn back into all of it. I think I’ve made it clear to everyone. I already had a visit from Susan.’
‘She told me, and yes, you were very clear. But people change. I’m sure you’ve changed. We all have. Sooner or later, it’ll be time to bury the hatchet.’
‘Walt, you know my hatchet isn’t aimed at you. If you ever need me to help you out of a jam, I’m there. But as for all the rest…I can’t.’
‘Some day, you’ll have no choice.’
‘I doubt it, but if the day ever comes, I’ll make my decision then. Right now, my life is good, and I plan to keep it that way.’
The call ended, and Simm stood for several moments clutching the cell phone in his hand, tempted to throw it across the room. Instead, he took a deep breath and tossed it as gently as possible onto the couch.
Chapter 9:
‘He probably won’t come back.’
Charlie laughed at the sulkiness on Frank’s face. She had never seen him pout.
‘Are you serious? You sound like you’ve got a crush on him.’
He threw his precious rag onto the bar.
‘I went to the trouble of finding him for you, and you hardly gave him two minutes of your time. Do you want to find this guy or not?’
‘I’m sorry. I know you meant well, and I appreciate what you did. To be honest, I was prepared to cooperate, but that devil we know so well hopped onto my shoulder and there was nothing I could do.’
‘Why don’t you call him and see if he’s discovered anything?’
‘I doubt he’s even working on it.’
‘I repeat, why don’t you call?’
‘I will. When I’m ready.’
She ignored the rolling of Frank’s eyes and got back to work. She told herself she would call Mr. Simm Simmons when she had two minutes. She knew very well finding two available minutes could take days.
At two o’clock that afternoon, she and Harley took their afternoon walk, starting with the park. Afterward, Harley led the way to meet and greet his faithful fans, knowing there would be at least a few tasty handouts on such a beautiful sunny day.
They had turned the corner on to a quieter street and walked a few steps when Charlie’s arms were forcibly grabbed from behind. Her shriek of surprise was swiftly muffled as a hand covered her mouth, and the assailant’s other arm circled her waist and arms, pulling her back against a big, hard body.
‘You’re coming with me,’ a voice growled in her ear.
Charlie saw Harley ahead of her, yipping and whimpering. Her first thought was to protect him. She let go of the leash and hoped he would run to safety. Her next thought was to find a way to break the man’s hold. As she lifted her leg to give him a backward kick to the shin, her suddenly-free body staggered forward. She would have fallen face-first on the sidewalk if someone hadn’t latched on to her shirt from behind.
‘Come here, Harley. There’s nothing to worry about.’
Stunned, she watched her dog wag his curly, little tail energetically and scamper over to the tall man leaning over to pet him. She was about to slam her arm down on the back of his neck when she recognized the Expos logo on the back of his cap and the slightly long, dark hair sticking out from underneath.
‘What the hell! What are you doing?’
Simm straightened up and regarded her sternly.
‘Proving a point.’
‘What point would that be? That you can scare the wits out of people? That
you’re crazy?’
‘That you’re vulnerable even in broad daylight. That you have a dyed-in-the-wool routine, one that everyone is aware of and can be used to their advantage.’
‘I do not!’
‘Every day at two o’clock you take Harley for a walk. You go to the park first, then you walk around the block in the same direction every time, you visit the same people, and you arrive back at the pub at two thirty. Harley naps while you do other things until the after-work crowd shows up.’
‘Who told you that? Were you talking to Frank?’
‘I watched you, and I did a bit of detective work because, believe it or not, that’s what I do.’
‘You’re a pain in the ass.’
‘You’re just mad because I’m right. You’re also the perfect victim. Whoever wants to get at you can do so just by following your clockwork schedule.’
Charlie grumbled. She wanted to argue with him, but she knew he had a point. She was a creature of habit. Everyone in the neighborhood knew so. That’s why the shopkeepers and restaurant workers always kept an eye out for Harley at the same time every day. With no rebuttal to offer, she snatched Harley’s leash, turned on her heel, and headed back to the pub. She came to an abrupt stop when Harley dug in his paws.
‘Come on, boy. We’re going back,’ she said.
The little dog refused to budge, and Charlie knew why. They weren’t going in the right direction. He had people who were waiting for him, and he knew it. Charlie’s cheeks flushed pink when she heard a snicker beside her.
‘I guess that kinda confirms it, doesn’t it?’
Charlie marched over, picked up Harley, and despite the wriggling and whimpers, carried him back to Butler’s. She knew Simm was behind her, but she stared silently ahead. She hated to be proven wrong, and she was more than a little annoyed that her pet had corroborated Simm’s point.
Sins of the Fathers Page 3
