Chapter Three: "Back Home Again"
I didn't come to this part of the city often, especially after my foster parents had died. They were already old when they took me in and cancer took them both soon after that. Other than Iris's mom and dad, I didn't think there was anyone left in our old neighborhood I even knew.
As I turned left onto the street where I had spent my teen years, I took note of the declining quality of the homes. They seemed smaller than I recalled as well. Funny how time changes your view of things.
According to the case file, Emily Skye lived in the house numbered 247. My old home was three doors down from that. House 247 had stood empty for as long as I could remember, but now there was a light blue Pontiac sitting in the driveway. I pulled in behind it and walked straight up to the door.
After several attempts of knocking and ringing the doorbell, there was no answer. I tried peering through the slim window next to the door, but the orange pattern of it distorted my view. I couldn't see anything but odd shapes and shadows.
"Is there something I can help you with fella?"
I spun around to see a kindly looking older gentleman on the sidewalk that ran parallel to the street.
"Hi. I'm Ben Noble. I used to live here."
The older gentleman concentrated, his thick silver brows lowering. "I don't recall a family by the name of Noble living round here. You sure you're on the right street?"
"It's been a while since I've been here," I admitted, "but this is East Sycamore, isn't it?"
"As certain as a brook has a bank, it is."
I studied the man's face. There were a few more wrinkles than I remembered and his red hair had turned white, but I was absolutely certain who this man was. He was the only person I'd ever known to use that phrase.
"Mr. Conner? It's me, Benjamin Noble. My foster parents' name was Lawrence."
The elderly man took a few steps forward to get a better look at me. "Little Benjamin who used to ride his bicycle across my back yard?"
It was the quickest way to get to the malt shop!
"Yes, I'm the trespasser," I admitted before holding out my hand.
Mr. Conner shook it readily and smiled. "I was sorry to hear about Oscar and Beatrice's passing. They were good and decent people."
"Thank you. That means a lot."
"So what are you doing these days, kid?"
I recalled Mr. Conner being widowed not long before I moved out. I also recalled him being a bit of a gossip. Whatever I told him was going to be an abridged version for sure.
"I'm a private detective and I was looking for a family by the name of Skye. Do you know them?"
"A private detective! Who would've thunk it? Why you were just a skinny whippersnapper back in those days. I used to tell my beloved Martha that Beatrice needed to feed you a little more. Not that it mattered. You were always running around the streets or riding that damn bicycle. You never seemed to slow down."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Conner, but as much as I'd enjoy reliving my childhood, I'm pressed for time."
"Working on a tough case, eh? Very well, but you have to promise to come back for a visit after you're not so busy."
"I promise I'll do that," I said and I meant it.
"You seem to be a pretty good detective. I can already tell."
Oh my. How could I get the answer I needed from him without being rude?
"How's that?"
"Because you're at the right house. This is where Emily and her son Karl live. There was another son by the name of Gareth who used to live here as well, but I hear he got mixed up with some bad people and got himself killed. Must've broken Emily's heart."
Interesting version, although I wasn't sure how much of anything that came out of Mr. Conner's mouth was actually true.
"Do you know Emily personally?"
"Why no, but I hear things, you see."
That's what I thought.
"It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Conner," I told him as kindly as I could before hurrying back to the car. Perhaps Quinn's contact at City Hall could help me track this lady down. There had to be some record there of where she worked.
"Of course, if it's Emily you want to talk to, she's more than likely working at her beauty shop. It's just a few blocks over. Beautiful Do, I believe it's called."
He had yelled the information right before I got into the car.
"Thanks, Mr. Conner!"
"You be careful!"
I hopped in and drove in the direction where I remembered there being a variety of small stores. I found Beautiful Do right away. It was a brightly painted building on the corner that had red balloons floating by the door. It was hard to miss. The inside was just as tacky. As soon as I had stepped inside, my senses were attacked by shades of yellow, green, red, and blue as well as the strong smell of peroxide.
The young woman who approached me was wearing bright red lipstick and I could swear her short hair was pink. Maybe it was the lighting.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"Uhm, no. I need to speak with Mrs. Emily Skye. I was told she works here."
The lady's smile quickly disappeared.
"Stay here. I'll go get her."
I looked around some more as I waited. The clientele appeared to be mostly children, so the atmosphere was starting to make more sense. I was almost disappointed the hairdressers weren't in clown costumes. The kids would enjoy that.
"I know who you are."
The woman who approached me was in her late forties, early fifties, maybe, although she could pass for much older. She was one of those women who seemed to age early as the result of living a hard life. She was dressed plainly in a dark brown house dress with a matching apron. Her attire didn't seem to match her surroundings, which was possibly the point.
"Ben Noble," I announced.
"And I know what you're here for. I told Karl to return that merchandise and apologize so nothing like this would happen. That boy's going to be the death of me."
So, young Karl was a criminal as well? Perhaps Iris's opinion about this woman wasn't as biased as I'd initially believed.
"That's not why I'm here. I'm investigating the murder of your oldest son, Gareth."
"Oh. I see. Follow me."
I had little choice but to do as she said. I passed two rows of dryers, a washing station, and then through a divided yellow curtain. The space beyond it was apparently an employee break room. There was a refrigerator, a small white table and chair set, as well as a restroom. The walls back here were painted a neutral gray color, which was a relief to my eyes.
"Now, what is it you wanted to know?
Good. I appreciated someone who got right to the point.
"What took you so long to file a complaint with the police?"
"Sit down, young man and let me explain."
I was eager to hear what she had to say, but no sooner had she begun speaking, a back door flung open and a tall man with a thin mustache stepped into the room.
"Emily, are you ready? Why hello, who do we have here?"
I accepted the handshake although I immediately regretted it. There wasn't anything much worse than shaking a moist hand, except for maybe a cheap suit. This guy apparently got his from the local thrift shop and it didn't even match. His pants were dark green, his shirt a nauseating gold color, and his sport jacket was burgundy.
"This is Ben Noble. Mr. Noble, this is Mr. Nathan Gunter."
"Nice to meet you."
The unexpected visitor stretched his back and popped his neck. He was at least three inches taller than I was.
"Noble…Noble," he repeated. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
"He's here to look into the death of Gareth."
"Aha!" the man said loudly while snapping his fingers. "I knew I recognized the name. You're a private detective! I've seen your advertisements on billboards and bus station benches."
Quinn would've cringed had he heard that.
"You're correct."
"So," he continued while I was trying to decide whether his eyes were set too close together. He had a strange look and that might be the reason.
"That means, you're not here looking into Gareth's death. My dollar says you're here to help your client, Iris Archer. I hope you haven't told him anything, my dear, or he may use it against us."
Us? Who was this 'us?'
"I had no idea that's why you were here!" Mrs. Skye was immediately on her feet. She appeared to be furious with me and I had only asked her one question!
"You get out of here right now! I'm not helping that creature! She killed my son! She deserves to go to prison! She deserves to die!"
The woman's mood rapidly deteriorated. She was sobbing on the man's chest by the time I headed for the back door.
"Sorry I wasted your time," I told them before leaving.
I had a hunch about this man, but I'd need to return to the office to make sure I was right.
