Through Wild Wind and Weather

We were stuck in the traffic of Northwood with the rain pouring down like a waterfall. Holly edged her Mercedes forward to the cross-roads, signalled left and turned right. No longer surprised by her driving, I followed. There was little choice. Holly Milne was the only client I had.

We shot up a road called Park Hill and, at its summit, turned into Beechcroft Avenue. This was a broad street, lined both sides by large gardens and detached houses which, in sunshine, would have looked inviting. Today they were grim.

Holly halted outside number nineteen. I parked my Escort neatly behind her, leapt into the rain and ran forward to hammer on the Mercedes’ passenger window. Holly released the door-lock and I slid into the seat beside her.

‘Is this where he lives?’ I asked.

The thin girl shook her head.

‘No.’ She pressed a switch to operate the wipers. ‘You see that purple door? That’s Richard’s house – number twenty-seven – but I thought it might be wiser to stay here, out of sight.’

‘Yes, of course. Good idea.’ I grabbed the door handle and steeled myself to venture forth. ‘Well, let’s see if he’s in.’

Holly sighed deeply and twiddled her engagement ring.

‘You go alone, Matt. I think I’ll just wait here.’

‘Not coming? I thought that you would want to.’

‘What’s the point? I already know Richard’s not in. The only person you’re likely to see is his landlord, Gary Jewell, and at the moment I’d rather he didn’t know that I’m involved with this.’ She raised her baby-blue eyes to gaze upon me coolly. ‘You can talk to him, though. Get all the information you can from Gary, but, whatever you do, don’t mention my name to him – or to anybody else you need to interview. Understand?’

‘No, not really. Why all the secrecy? What’s so strange about a woman wanting to find her missing fiancé? It’s unfortunate that you have to, but nobody could deny that it’s the natural thing to do.’

Holly tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear and thought carefully before she answered.

‘It is natural – you’re right – but there are certain circumstances surrounding this business which prevent me, at the moment, from bringing my connection with them out into the open. Don’t ask me what they are, because I can’t tell you. Other people are involved in this and it wouldn’t be fair on them. All I can say at the moment is that this investigation needs to be kept absolutely confidential. Hopefully, the situation will change and, when it does, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, all I can do is ask you to be patient and understanding. Okay?’

I nodded.

‘It’s your father, isn’t it? I suppose he doesn’t approve of your engagement.’

Holly scowled ferociously.

‘Certainly not. Daddy’s more than happy with it.’

‘Your mother, then. Perhaps she doesn’t think that Richard’s good enough for her little girl.’

‘Actually, Mummy thinks he’s marvellous. So, if you don’t mind, can you stop this speculation and get on with your job? Get out there, see Gary, find out where Richard’s gone, then come back here and tell me.’

‘Okay.’ I leapt out into a puddle, ducked my head against the rain, and ran to the hideous door.

Here, beneath the shelter of a flat-roofed porch, I took out a handkerchief and wiped my face dry. From somewhere within the house came the murmur of voices. I pressed an ear to the door and heard two people were speaking, though I couldn’t distinguish their words. So, Gary Jewell had company! The elusive Richard Fisher, perhaps? Somebody else? Or was I completely wrong and Jewell was merely watching television? I pressed the bell to find out.

The voices ceased abruptly. A long period of silence followed, during which nothing happened and I began to grow concerned. Then came the sound of approaching footsteps. The door swung open and a man stared down at me. He was tall, in his late twenties, and wore a mauve T-shirt over black jeans. His hair was short and dark, but – incongruously – a bright ginger moustache dangled beneath his nose. I treated him to my most disarming smile.

‘Good evening. May I speak to Richard, please?’

He shook his head.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he isn’t in.’

‘That’s a pity. Do you know when he’ll be back?’

‘No.’

Suddenly it occurred to me that this might be Holly’s fiancé engaging in a spot of deception. Why he should want to I didn’t know, but I decided to put him to the test.

‘Who,’ I asked, ‘are you?’

A look of animal cunning crept over the man’s face.

‘First of all, tell me who you are.’

‘I’m Matt Allen from Clapham Common Insurance Services,’ I said, using stratagem number five, my favourite amongst those listed in the Private Investigator’s Handbook.

‘Never heard of them!’

‘We’re very well-known in South London.’

‘Maybe you are, but what are you doing in Northwood?’

‘I’m here to see Mr Fisher about life assurance – or any other kind of insurance he might be interested in.’

The man sniffed dubiously.

‘Was Richard expecting you? Have you got an appointment?’

I shook my head.

‘No, this is a courtesy call.’

The man gave a scornful laugh.

‘You’ve come all this way without giving him a ring him first? That doesn’t sound very professional to me.’

In the face of provocation, I remained remarkably cool.

‘Oh, I was visiting a client here anyway, but I must try to see Mr Fisher again. When do you think would be the best time?’

The man glared at me angrily.

‘Weren’t you listening, Allen? I just told you – I have no idea when Richard will be back.’

‘I understand that, but, unfortunately, my boss is the sort of person who doesn’t take no for an answer. You’d better give me a clue.’

The man took hold of the door as if to shut it.

‘Go away, Allen! Richard’s an accountant – he doesn’t need insurance.’

I feigned shock and horror.

‘You mustn’t say that! Everyone needs insurance – even accountants!’

The man gave a deep sigh and wiped his forehead.

‘Richard has contacts in the trade. If he wanted insurance, he’d organise it for himself, wouldn’t he?’

‘There is that’s a possibility, of course, but we mustn’t assume it without checking with him first. When did you last see Mr Fisher?’

He shrugged, whilst keeping a tight grip on the door.

‘Three … maybe four weeks ago.’

‘Did you actually see him leave the house?’

‘Yes. I assumed he was going to work as usual, but it seems that he never arrived.’

‘Did he give you any hint that he wasn’t going to work?’

He shook his head.

‘No.’

‘Heard from him since?’

‘No.’

‘Not even a postcard, perhaps? If he did send you one, I’d very much like to know where it came from.’

The man gritted his teeth.

‘Listen, Allen, I’m not answering any more of your questions. It was a hard day at the office and I’m tired now. Goodbye.’

He started to close the door, but I stopped it with my foot.

‘Just a minute, you haven’t told me who you are yet.’

‘Jewell – Gary Jewell. Get your foot out of my door.’

This confirmed what Holly had said, but I still needed to search his house. Even if Fisher wasn’t hiding in a back room, he might have left clues to his whereabouts.

‘Mr Jewell,’ I said, ‘I wonder – do you have adequate insurance?’

‘Yes. Clear off!’

‘Are you quite sure? Don’t make the mistake of assuming that you’re automatically covered for everything. A lot of people do, then, when it comes to making a claim, they discover that they’re not.’ I waved a hand around. ‘Take this place, for instance. What would you do if there was a fire?’

‘Call the fire brigade.’

‘Yes, but what about afterwards? How much would it cost you to rebuild it?’

‘I have no idea!’

‘Ah – well – that’s where I can help you. It’s rather a complicated calculation, but I’m perfectly happy to go through it with you. Let’s go inside and sort the figures out together.’

Jewell was having great difficulty in remaining calm.

‘Listen very carefully, Allen – I don’t want you in my house and I don’t want to talk to you any more. Your stupid, blasted chattering has given me a headache.’

‘A headache, Mr Jewell? What you need is health insurance and, fortunately, my company is the one to provide it. Allow me to come indoors and show you what’s on offer. I’ll just-’

‘Get off my property, Allen! I’ve got a black belt in karate and, if you’re not gone in three seconds, I’ll tear you apart and throw you into the road piece by piece. One …, two ….’

Discretion being the better part of valour, I turned and fled into the rain.

~ by Christopher Jealous on August 25, 2008.