The Gumshoe Takes The Case

David Nolan pushed his hat a little further down on his head and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the warehouse located at the east end of the harbor in Storybrooke, Maine. He hated the cold, and he hated small towns even more. He was only here as a favor to an old colleague, Robin Locksley, from his days working the beat with the Boston PD. A few years ago he left the force and branched out as a private detective. He didn't usually get calls for help from the local police, as it wasn't good for their egos to have him solving their cases, but Robin was pretty desperate for help. He had learned early on in his career that breakthroughs in his own cases often came through favors owed, as much as through legwork. He didn't like to burn bridges, so here he was in small town, Maine.

The door to the warehouse opened just as he got to it. Robin reached out to shake his hand, "David, thanks for coming. Hope the trip wasn't too bad."

"No problem, anything for an old friend," David quickly shook his hand, then shoved his own back into his pocket. "The train was pretty empty so I was able to catch some ZZZ's. I'm guessing it's too darn cold for tourists here this time of year."

"Yeah, most people are heading south for the winter, in search of warmer weather." Robin cocked his head towards the 1930 Packard sitting in the middle of the room. "Let me show you what we got." They moved to the car while Robin started going over the case details. "So the headlight of this thing got pulled up by a shrimping net a few days ago just a little ways up the shoreline from here. We investigated, and low and behold the whole car was found, sunk in about fifteen feet of water, complete with a dead body in the driver's seat."

"That's a pretty snazzy tin can to end up in the bottom of the ocean."

"That was my first thought when we pulled her up from the depths. We've traced the car back to Carlyle Gold. He owns a local nightclub here in town called The Pawnshop."

"And the body in the car?"

"Is not Gold. No clear identification yet, but we've interviewed Gold and it appears it may be a local fellow by the name of Daniel Colter. He was a young kid, fresh out of school. Gold claims that he was an employee of his, whom he often let borrow the car for personal use."

"It's an awfully nice ride to be loaning out to young boys."

"My thoughts exactly. I'm thinking they were really using the car to make runs for illegal booze from moonshiners. Of course Gold denies any such thing. He claims the boy was like a son to him, and he let him borrow the car strictly to impress the girls. There are police reports for both the missing gent, and the car, dated from just over a year ago. Daniel was reported missing by his brother, and just a few days later Gold reported the car stolen saying Daniel failed to return it after borrowing it."

"I'm guessing since I'm here, that you don't believe the kid drove himself into the water?"

"I'm thinking something smells fishy, and it's not just because it's been sitting in the bottom of the Atlantic for twelve months. We've been after Gold for suspected criminal activities related to the mafia and bootlegging for years, but he's managed to elude us at every turn. At the time of his disappearance, my former partner was talking to Daniel about turning informant on his boss if we would help him relocate far away from here. I never met with him myself, but shortly after he disappeared my partner was killed suspiciously in the line of duty. Try as I might, I was never able to pin down the killer."

"So what is it you want from me exactly?"

"I want you to help me nail Gold. His club started out as a speakeasy that he ran in the back of an actual pawnshop. I know that he was using rumrunners to bring in illegal alcohol to his establishment. He's got half the town on his payroll, including the former mayor, the bank president, and key members of the police force, so we were never able to pin anything on him. The repeal of prohibition has allowed him to go legit with his establishment, and open it as a full blown nightclub."

"And that just sits in your gut doesn't it?" David knew how it felt to always be one step behind the bad guys. They played by different rules and as such had the advantage against those following the law. That's part of what he liked about being in business for himself. Not that he was looking for ways to break the law, he just tried to even the odds a little.

"Darn straight it does. I want you to investigate because I'm afraid I can't trust anyone in our department. I told you that most of our people are on Gold's payroll so I'm suspecting that any actual evidence will be suppressed or destroyed anyway. That's why I brought you in here secretly. I made excuses with my colleagues about not removing the body until morning due to the lateness of the hour and lack of light. There's not too much to see, but maybe we could find something before the coroner gets to it."

David walked around the car, inspecting it. There were plenty of dents and dings, a flat tire, cracked windshield, and a broken headlamp. All of it could have come from the trip over the cliff and into the water.

"So you turned up nothing in your initial search?"

"Nope. I was hoping to find it full of illegal alcohol that I could tie back to Gold, but it was clean. The only thing in the car at all was a cane that was broken in half, but since it was Gold's car, and he is known to walk with a cane that tells us nothing."

David nodded his head, listening as he continued to look carefully over the car and body. There was not as much to see as he would like. Any trace of blood had been washed away by the months in the water. They both agreed that there appeared to be possible stab wounds to the chest in what was left of the body. Robin made a note to have the coroner check for damage to the rib cage that may prove whether or not that could be the cause of death. The only other thing that was suspicious according to Robin, was the fact that the split bench seat on the driver's side was adjusted at least 3 inches closer than the passenger side. Carlyle Gold was a short man and would've likely drove with the seat forward, but Daniel was on the taller side of average. It stood to reason that he would want to make it more comfortable for him, if he was the one driving. Inspecting the driver's side closer David noticed a few wood splinters on the floorboard.

"Where in the vehicle did you find the cane?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't see them pull it out, but I assumed either the trunk or the backseat since, according to Gold, it was just an extra that he kept in the car."

"Can I see the cane?"

"It's not here, they took it back to the station to log it in as evidence."

"Then I would suggest bagging up these splinters and checking to see if they came from that cane. Judging from these and the fact that the seat is moved up as far as it will go, I think it's quite possible that someone jammed that cane between the seat and the gas pedal to accelerate the automobile over the cliff."

Robin moved to more closely inspect what David has observed. "That would mean Daniel Colter was either unconscious, or already dead, when the car went into the water."

David stood up and brushed off his pants, "I would say that's a very good possibility."

Everything that they had been able to come up with in their search of the car was still only circumstantial but it gave David a starting point. He left Robin alone in the warehouse with a promise to check in with him in a day or two and headed into town to find a place to stay.

Downtown had basically one main street lined with various business establishments and a few larger buildings that had been divided into apartments. He found a sign in one for rooms to rent and stopped inside. They had a room that consisted of a small sitting area, a smaller bedroom, and a bathroom across the hall for $4.75 a week. It didn't have a kitchen, but his culinary skills were limited to pancakes anyway, so he decided to take it. Across the street and down a block he saw what appeared to be a local diner. He grabbed the file Robin gave him, with what details he had about the victim and the number one suspect, and headed that way. After ordering a burger, fries, and a shake, he picked up the copy of the local paper that somebody had left on the counter. Small town papers were a great place to look for leads because they were often just gossip disguised as actual news.

When his food arrived, and he put the paper down to notice that a dark haired dame had taken the seat next to him. She smiled briefly at him before turning her attention to the waitress. "Hey Ruby. I'm kind of in a hurry tonight. Can I just get whatever soup you have ready and a hot chocolate?"

"With cinnamon I assume?"

"Of course."

"Sure thing, I'll have it right out," Ruby answered, heading towards the kitchen.

The girl turned to him, "Hi, I'm Mary Margaret. I don't think I've seen you around before." She leaned towards him, putting her hand out to shake his as she flashed a thousand watt smile.

"You're right, we haven't met." He purposely didn't offer up his hand or his name. Instead he looked away and shoved a handful of fries in his mouth, hoping she would take the hint.

She pointed to the paper that he had just put down, "Are you through with that?" Without giving him a chance to answer she reached across him to grab it. As she did her eyes locked with his. She leaned in so far that they actually touched. He was pretty sure from the look she gave him that the touch was intentional.

She sure was laying it on thick. He couldn't deny that she was quite the looker. The dimples in her smile would have made his heart flip, if he was interested, which he was definitely not. His last girlfriend had taught him that love was a waste of time. He had met Kathryn while he was still a rookie and she was a clerk at the courthouse. They were an item for two years, then just weeks before they were set to get hitched she dumped him. The judge she had been working for had taken an interest in her, and Katheryn decided that being a judge's wife was more the lifestyle that she was interested in. He had decided then and there that dames weren't worth the trouble. That lesson had been hammered home for him by the fact that most of the jobs that he'd been hired for since his shift to private detective work often involved a man who got into trouble because he'd lost his head over a girl. David didn't need those types of complications.

Just then the waitress showed up with a brown bag. "Here you go M. Have a good night. Don't let any tanked up sleezebags lay their hands on you tonight, I don't care what Gold says.

"You know I try."

"Honestly Mary Margaret, I don't know why you work for him. You're too good for that dive and the crooks and slugs that hangout there."

David looked up at the mention of Gold's name to see that the petite brunette's whole demeanor had changed from the way she was with him just a second ago. The smile was gone and her features had turned troubled, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. He heard her sigh so deeply that he had to fight against an instinct to reach out and comfort her.

"Mr. Gold's not all that bad, and you know I can take care of myself," She replied before heading out into the night.

David wondered in confusion at the two distinct personas that she seemed to display before shaking his head clear. He reminded himself he didn't have time to reflect on the intricacies of the female personality. He decided to head back to his room. He could look at the files Robin had given him there. He stood and asked for the check, reaching into his pants pocket but coming up empty. Suddenly her behavior became all too clear to him. The little minx had stolen his money clip, proving his theory on women being nothing but trouble. Still, he had to admit he was just a little impressed. She was clearly quite the thief, managing to steal from a former cop turned private investigator, he had to give her that.