 CHAPTER 10 (section 1) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Mrs. Leadbetter, the neighborhood spinster and gossiper extraordinare was evidently waiting in ambush at the landing to the floor where his apartment was on. “I see your business partner has moved in with you,” she cackled. “It’s just temporary,” Adrian replied coolly, attempting to get past her despite his broad shouldered frame. “Simone’s getting her apartment reinnovated and I suggested she come crash over at my place in the mean time.” “Well, you’d better be careful.” “Careful?” “You’d better not take advantage of her. She’s a nice girl.” “Me?” He replied astonished. “But she’s my partner.” “Yes you. You’re a good looking boy, but make sure you keep your mind in your head and not elsewhere.” “Er...yes ma’am.” Evidently satisfied, the old woman stepped back allowing him to pass. A bit confused, he opened his apartment door to find Simone sitting on the couch, legs and arms crossed. His cat was sitting on the arm of the couch. Both of them were glaring at him. “You won’t believe who I just saw. Mrs. Leadbetter. Just when did you get chummy with her, Simone?” She frowned. “I talked to her when I got back. She’s a nice old lady who’s just a little lonely. But that’s beside the point. Where exactly were you?” “Are you trying to act the suspicious housewife with me?” he asked in an amused tone as he headed toward the kitchen to grab a drink. “So you care if I was having a torrid affair with the secretary?” “You know that’s not what I’m asking about.” She had gotten up and followed him, blocking the exit to the kitchen. “You weren’t supposed to be wandering around in your condition.” “It’s just a scratch.” “Just a scratch?” she said in disbelief. “I saw how much blood was spurting out of the wound. Don’t tell me a stab wound is just a damn scratch.” He grinned and poured the water in a glass and took a gulp. “Didn’t know you cared.” Her brows furrowed. “You’re too stubborn.” “Look, I didn’t get myself killed while you were away,” he said as he trailed her back to the living room. She took back her customary seat and glared up at him. The cat followed suit. “Aw, Simone that should count for something. And Fiz why are you looking at me like that. It wasn’t as if you objected when I left. You just slept.” “Oh, and now you’re talking to a cat?” said Simone amused. “Are you sure you didn’t catch a secondary infection that is just now making it to your brain?” “All right. If you want me to explain myself. I found out where the Rose was being housed. Some museum boutique shop on the other side of town. Called Hermione’s Elanne Antiquities.” “How quaint,” Simone replied. “But I’m afraid it might all be a lost cause. I overheard Professor Olivia Fitzgerald say that it would be impossible to obtain the artifact.” “Not so fast,” he said smugly. “I talked to the proprietess of the museum and it happens that the Rose is on auction. We just tell Thomson about it, he bids on it, and our job is done.” “That sounds so easy. I also took some photographs of some interesting things in Fitzgerald’s office. I dropped them off to be developed on my way back. They should be done tomorrow.” “Well, I guess we could look at the pictures,” he said reluctantly, “although I don’t see how it would affect this any. I also found this.” He held up the golden cuff link he had picked up. Simone squinted. “That looks like what that guy at Caroline’s party had on his sleeve. But then again, the most likely culprit might be the professor herself. Her jacket lost a button.” “Well, I’ll say she might be on our list of ‘suspects’ or rather Thomson’s rival. All of this is history related stuff, she might be trying to obtain the Rose for her own research.” “Sounds reasonable.” Simone finally leaned back. “It’s sort of making sense now, but this doesn’t tell us how the murder fits into this.” “What murder?” Adrian asked sharply. “Johnson’s murder. Danny got a call from Martinez about it.” Martinez downed the rest of the morning coffee before eyeing the two private investigators with a dark gaze. “Figured you two would come prancing in here sooner or later. Well, what do you want?” “Information on Sherman Johnson’s murder,” Simone replied. “I don’t have the specifics on me. And you can’t see the report at the moment, it’s classified for some reason or other.” “Classified as in the government is in this?” asked Adrian surprised. “No, no. Just that the comissioner wants the fewest number of people to know about it. It was a really bizarre case if I ever heard and he’s not going to let anyone, not the media, not the neighbors to question anything until he finds out who’s behind it.” Martinez motioned toward his office. “Let’s talk in here. Less chance of being overheard, eh?” Simone looked around her, noting the absence of other officers. “So where’s everyone?” “Back at the scene of the crime, I’d say,” the detective replied, “Probably scouring the site for clues although any sort of clue should have been picked up by now.” They entered the office with Martinez closing the door behind them. “Well.” The detective took a seat behind his desk and motioned them to sit in the visitor chairs. “I’m afraid I’m not working on the case personally and I haven’t been up there—the commissioner has me working on a different case that for the moment requires me to be a pencil pusher.” He smiled wryly. “In any case, I thought this would be of interest to you since you met the deceased a few days ago. I took the liberty of asking some questions here and there to some of the guys working on it. Seems like Johnson was stabbed. Once in the chest which immediately killed him.” “That seems rather cut and dry,” said Adrian. “Wait. There’s more. Johnson’s body was also carved on the stomach. With the initials I, V, S. We don’t know what it stands for. The murderer’s initials? Some sort of secret organiziation? Something else altogether different?” Simone tapped a finger to her chin. “I don’t know. Those initials sound awfully familiar. But I can’t see how. I don’t know anyone with those initials.” “Me either,” said Adrian. Martinez leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, they didn’t find anything else around except Johnson’s strange blind cousin. At first, they wanted to arrest the man for murder, but it was obvious that he was incapable of doing it. I mean a blind man?” Simone and Adrian glanced at each other. “Sometimes blindness is not a deterrant,” she said. “Well, he seemed mentally not there, you know. Wasn’t very responsive to people around him, even when they questioned him, he didn’t seem to know his cousin was around, thought he was at a grocery store. So they took him to a state institute since obviously he can’t take care of himself now that Johnson’s gone.” “Was there anything odd at the house then?” Adrian asked. “Did it look like it had been searched?” Martinez shook his head. “Nope. Nothing really odd was lying around the victim’s body. No sign of the murder weapon. Nothing really seemed out of place. The victim himself didn’t even appear to have struggled. I’d say that the victim knew his murderer and willingly let him in the house. The murderer then probably took the guy by surprise.” |