I went on a writing kick. Serious brainstorm, couldn't get the words on paper fast enough. I've even been writing on the train ride to and from school. All previous disclaimers apply to this chapter, which is 12, by the way. Wow. A dozen chapters! I never would have thought myself capable. (Pats self appreciatively on back)
Chapter 12.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As she approached the stationary shop, Detective Pezzini grimaced slightly. She had a nasty line of inquiry to follow up on. Jake gave her an understanding smile when he caught up to her after parking the car. "I hope it isn't busy this time of day."
"Yeah," Sara agreed, "I don't want to scare off customers. Not liking to be the bane of small businesses." Jake smirked.
"Why do I get the feeling that Dante would love nothing better than to charge in there and make a big scene, ruining any chance of further business for the owners?"
"Because, Jake, that is exactly the kind of thing he would do." The bells on the opposite side of the door jangled when the two detectives entered the store. Sara was relieved to see only one customer, and he was well out of earshot when they went over to the middle aged woman beaming at them from behind the counter.
"How can I help you?" They displayed their badges, and the smile left the woman's face, replaced by worry and confusion.
"I'm Detective Sara Pezzini, and this is my partner, Detective Jake McCarty. I'm afraid we're here to follow a lead in a murder investigation."
"What? What, I mean how am I..." Jake took the woman's hand gently, to calm her down.
"Don't worry Ma'am, you're not involved. But if you could answer a few questions for us, it would be a great help. Is there someplace private where we can talk?" The woman nodded and lead the two detectives into a tiny office.
"Now, Ms. ?" Sara began.
"Clark. Miss Anne Marie Clark."
"Miss Clark. At one of our recent crime scenes, we found a partial imprint from what we believe was a letter opener. We were able to identify the mark of your shop, and to lift a partial mark of the main inscription. Your store offers custom engravings, yes?"
"Yes, that's right, we do."
"And do you keep records specifically on those engravings?"
"Oh yes, and they're quite thorough. It's because that's the kind of thing we get repeat business on; people wanting a replica of one that was lost, or what have you. Why?"
"We're going to need to take a look at those records, Miss Clark."
"Of course. They're just in here." She reached into the file cabinet that blocked one side of the desk and began to pull out log books. "Almost all of them are here, except for the most recent. Those are in a binder behind the counter. How many do you need?"
Jake started to answer but Sara cut him off.
"All of them," she said decisively. Miss Clark looked somewhat surprised, but she took out all the books and piled them on the desk.
"Now, we have some pictures of the mark from the engraving, maybe you could-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Miss Clark said apologetically, interrupting Sara," I don't handle the engravings. That's my brother. You'll have to come by on a Tuesday when he's here. That's the only day he keeps regular hours." Sara and Jake exchanged a look, and then Jake spoke up.
"Could you arrange to have him meet us tomorrow? Either here, or at the station?"
"Oh, yes, how silly of me. Certainly. I always close the shop from a quarter to one until a quarter to two. Would that be all right?" She looked at the two detectives expectantly.
"That will be fine. At a quarter to one tomorrow then." Sara scooped up the record books off the desk. "I'll just take these to the car. If you could give that binder to Detective McCarty on the way out, we'll be leaving. Thank you for your help Miss Clark."
"Oh, you're most welcome."
In an out-of-the-way corner of a small park, there was a man sitting alone on a bench. His shoulders were hunched over, his head hung low, and in his dark clothing he seemed almost to be part of the shadows around him. It was Ian Nottingham. He knew where he was; he had often cut through this park on his way to or from Sara Pezzini's apartment. The trouble was, today he could not remember how he came there.
Evidently, stumbling upon Adrienne as he had, had made such an impact that it had taken all this time for anything else to register in his mind. Ian was debating what he would tell Irons. His orders had been to search through Adrienne's things, and to take anything interesting or unusual back to Irons. Well, that plan had been a total washout, because he couldn't rifle through her belongings if she was present.
As for what had transpired, Ian wasn't sure exactly what it was he had witnessed. Certainly he had no precedence to compare it to. How could he tell Irons, when he couldn't put words to it himself? Ian supposed he could just leave the second part out; no he couldn't. Irons would be able to tell right away that something had disturbed Ian and would demand to know of it. There was no help for it. Besides, Ian couldn't remain any longer, or he would have his tardiness to answer for as well.
So, a short while later, Ian Nottingham was once again occupy Kenneth irons' Vorschlag offices, in his usual subservient pose.
"Well," Irons inquired impatiently, "What did you find?"
"I was unable to conduct the search, sir."
"And why, may I ask, is that?"
"The girl, Adrienne, was there sir, in the apartment. For some time, I waited for her to leave, but to no avail." Ian couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Irons noticed the younger man's surprise.
"What is it Ian?"
Loath though he was to betray Adrienne, it was Ian's intention to tell of everything he had seen. However, he found that he was physically unable to form the words. He began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Ian's obvious discomfort was not lost on Irons.
"Ian, you seem unwell." Ian merely shook his head in response, swaying on his feet. His skin had taken on an unpleasant gray-green hue. "I'll have a car take you straight home. The doctor will be there to examine you when you arrive at the house." Ian gave a shaky nod. Normally he would have protested, but at that moment he didn't even feel well enough to speak.
Chapter 12.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As she approached the stationary shop, Detective Pezzini grimaced slightly. She had a nasty line of inquiry to follow up on. Jake gave her an understanding smile when he caught up to her after parking the car. "I hope it isn't busy this time of day."
"Yeah," Sara agreed, "I don't want to scare off customers. Not liking to be the bane of small businesses." Jake smirked.
"Why do I get the feeling that Dante would love nothing better than to charge in there and make a big scene, ruining any chance of further business for the owners?"
"Because, Jake, that is exactly the kind of thing he would do." The bells on the opposite side of the door jangled when the two detectives entered the store. Sara was relieved to see only one customer, and he was well out of earshot when they went over to the middle aged woman beaming at them from behind the counter.
"How can I help you?" They displayed their badges, and the smile left the woman's face, replaced by worry and confusion.
"I'm Detective Sara Pezzini, and this is my partner, Detective Jake McCarty. I'm afraid we're here to follow a lead in a murder investigation."
"What? What, I mean how am I..." Jake took the woman's hand gently, to calm her down.
"Don't worry Ma'am, you're not involved. But if you could answer a few questions for us, it would be a great help. Is there someplace private where we can talk?" The woman nodded and lead the two detectives into a tiny office.
"Now, Ms. ?" Sara began.
"Clark. Miss Anne Marie Clark."
"Miss Clark. At one of our recent crime scenes, we found a partial imprint from what we believe was a letter opener. We were able to identify the mark of your shop, and to lift a partial mark of the main inscription. Your store offers custom engravings, yes?"
"Yes, that's right, we do."
"And do you keep records specifically on those engravings?"
"Oh yes, and they're quite thorough. It's because that's the kind of thing we get repeat business on; people wanting a replica of one that was lost, or what have you. Why?"
"We're going to need to take a look at those records, Miss Clark."
"Of course. They're just in here." She reached into the file cabinet that blocked one side of the desk and began to pull out log books. "Almost all of them are here, except for the most recent. Those are in a binder behind the counter. How many do you need?"
Jake started to answer but Sara cut him off.
"All of them," she said decisively. Miss Clark looked somewhat surprised, but she took out all the books and piled them on the desk.
"Now, we have some pictures of the mark from the engraving, maybe you could-"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Miss Clark said apologetically, interrupting Sara," I don't handle the engravings. That's my brother. You'll have to come by on a Tuesday when he's here. That's the only day he keeps regular hours." Sara and Jake exchanged a look, and then Jake spoke up.
"Could you arrange to have him meet us tomorrow? Either here, or at the station?"
"Oh, yes, how silly of me. Certainly. I always close the shop from a quarter to one until a quarter to two. Would that be all right?" She looked at the two detectives expectantly.
"That will be fine. At a quarter to one tomorrow then." Sara scooped up the record books off the desk. "I'll just take these to the car. If you could give that binder to Detective McCarty on the way out, we'll be leaving. Thank you for your help Miss Clark."
"Oh, you're most welcome."
In an out-of-the-way corner of a small park, there was a man sitting alone on a bench. His shoulders were hunched over, his head hung low, and in his dark clothing he seemed almost to be part of the shadows around him. It was Ian Nottingham. He knew where he was; he had often cut through this park on his way to or from Sara Pezzini's apartment. The trouble was, today he could not remember how he came there.
Evidently, stumbling upon Adrienne as he had, had made such an impact that it had taken all this time for anything else to register in his mind. Ian was debating what he would tell Irons. His orders had been to search through Adrienne's things, and to take anything interesting or unusual back to Irons. Well, that plan had been a total washout, because he couldn't rifle through her belongings if she was present.
As for what had transpired, Ian wasn't sure exactly what it was he had witnessed. Certainly he had no precedence to compare it to. How could he tell Irons, when he couldn't put words to it himself? Ian supposed he could just leave the second part out; no he couldn't. Irons would be able to tell right away that something had disturbed Ian and would demand to know of it. There was no help for it. Besides, Ian couldn't remain any longer, or he would have his tardiness to answer for as well.
So, a short while later, Ian Nottingham was once again occupy Kenneth irons' Vorschlag offices, in his usual subservient pose.
"Well," Irons inquired impatiently, "What did you find?"
"I was unable to conduct the search, sir."
"And why, may I ask, is that?"
"The girl, Adrienne, was there sir, in the apartment. For some time, I waited for her to leave, but to no avail." Ian couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Irons noticed the younger man's surprise.
"What is it Ian?"
Loath though he was to betray Adrienne, it was Ian's intention to tell of everything he had seen. However, he found that he was physically unable to form the words. He began to feel dizzy and nauseous. Ian's obvious discomfort was not lost on Irons.
"Ian, you seem unwell." Ian merely shook his head in response, swaying on his feet. His skin had taken on an unpleasant gray-green hue. "I'll have a car take you straight home. The doctor will be there to examine you when you arrive at the house." Ian gave a shaky nod. Normally he would have protested, but at that moment he didn't even feel well enough to speak.
