This is the nineteenth part of a fiction serial, in 758 words.
Coastal Investigations was surprisingly located in the quiet seaside town of Frinton. That was over fifty miles away, and I wondered what had made mum choose that place. It was still operating, which was something. The basic website didn’t exactly entice customers, mentioning ‘Matrimonial’, ‘Divorce’, and ‘Fraud’ as it’s main specialites. Under the name, it had “Serving Essex for over forty years” as its tagline.
When I rang the number that morning at nine, I got a taped message. I didn’t leave my details, choosing instead to ring back once I had showered and dressed. A woman answered, her voice rather gruff, but her manner and tone respectful. I mentioned that I was following up on an old case they had handled, and had the name of their operative written down to tell her. His name on the report was Trevor Macmillan.
“That would have been my dad. I took over when he died, fiteen years ago now. If you want me to look into something that old, you had better bring the file to the office. Today at two alright for you? By the way, I charge two hundred a day, and that’s a minimum, but I will see you this afternoon for the consultation fee, seventy-five. In cash please”. Then she let out a series of hacking coughs, loud enough to make me move the phone away from my ear.
I told her I would be there at two.
Stopping at a cashpoint on the way, it took me almost ninety minutes to drive to Frinton. Their office was above a hairdresser’s shop, as the far end of the High Street. I pressed the intercom with the dymo-tape name above it, and was buzzed in with no questions asked. She was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, smoking a cigarette. I took her to be around forty, heavy build, and overdressed for a job like that. She looked more like she was on her way to a party.
“Come straight up. Mr Cook, is it?”
In the front room that served as an office, she pointed at a cheap plastic chair, indicating I should sit in front of her desk. Then she hauled her bulk in opposite me, and held out a hand. “The file, and the seventy five, please. I like to get the money out of the way”. I handed her four twenties on top of the file, and she hesitated over the change, probably hoping I was going to tell her to keep it. Eventually she dug five one-pound coins out from the bottom of her handbag, and slid them across the desk as she opened the file with her other hand.
As she read through the slim file, you would have thought she was reading War and Peace. She finished her cigarette and immediately lit another one, without offering me one. So I lit one of my own, and she moved the overstuffed ashtray into range for me. Still taking her good time over the file, I had almost finished my cigarette when she lit her third, and closed the file with a snap.
“Is this a complaint, Mr Cook? ‘Cause if it is, I should tell you now that will be down to my dad, and he’s long dead”. I assured her it wasn’t. I just wanted to know more about her dad’s investigation, and anything else she could tell me about the policeman and the accident. She gave a satisfied nod. “Okay then, let me go and look in the old files next door”. I thought the offer of a coffee might be nice, even water. But there was no mention of refreshments as she lumbered out the door, her shoes slapping against her feet as she walked, as if they were a size too big.
She came back holding a thick file that left me wondering how come her dad’s report to my mum had been so slim. Then she sat on the desk right in front of me, and seemed to be almost flirting, definitely suggestive in her body language. “I can probably help you, Darren. I still have lots of contacts in the police around here. My dad was a copper before he started this business you know. Leave it with me for now, and I will ring you tomorrow. If I take it further, then we start on the two hundred a day, okay?”
When I was sitting back in my car, I thought I hadn’t had too much for my seventy-five quid.
I have hope. That thick file will surely have something.
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Undoubtedly! π
Thanks, Jenne.
Best wishes
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Yes! π
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Okay, the plot thickens…sheβs an unexpected character, hope sheβs not a shyster! C
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She comes good in the end, I’m sure. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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Interesting, Pete…I hope he gets his monies worth π x
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I think he certainly does, Carol. As you will discover.
Best wishes, Pete. x
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Indeed, he got nothing for his 75 quid except he is in for at least another 200. Bummer. Warmest regards, Theo
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I think we have to wait and see what the lady comes up with, Theo. π
(Published a bit later today.)
Best wishes, Pete.
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Well it seems she may have time on her hands, but what will she find after so many years.
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I’m hoping she finds out quite a lot, Eduardo. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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(1) Coastal Investigations. Established during the Age of Discovery. Included James Cook.
(2) Matrimonial > Serving sex for over forty years > Divorce.
(3) Terrible Twos: Appointments at two. Charge is two hundred a day. If that’s two much, two bad!
(4a) The office, which charged a high consultation fee, was located on High Street, high above a hairdresserβs shop.
(4b) “I took her to be around forty, heavy build, and overdressed for a job like that.” She also had a great hairdo!
(5) Darren stopped at a cashpoint, knowing that when Lady Gruff pointed at the cheap plastic chair, he would owe her cash.
(6) You would have thought Lady Gruff (nΓ©e Macmillan) was reading “War and Peace” even though she wasn’t rushin’ through it.
(7) “Is this a complaint, Mr Cook? βCause if it is, I should tell you now that will be down to my dad, and heβs long dead.” What if Trevor Macmillan had only been dead for a little while? Would Darren have been able to complain then?
(8) Bad citation: “I thought the offer of a coffee might be nice, even water or a pale lager. And what about a pepperoni pizza to go with it?”
(9a) Lady Gruff lumbered out the wooden door.
(9b) Bad citation: “Then she sat on the desk right in front of me, and seemed to be almost flirting. Maybe it was the way she unbuttoned her blouse, pulled up her skirt, and spread her knees far apart.”
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Rushin’/Russian. Nicely done, David.
Best wishes, Pete.
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I suspect that she is going to produce something juicy or intriguing.
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I am definitely hoping for something like that, Pete. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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Well, it’s really coming together now. Yes, they want Darren to put the pieces together of their demise but they are also trying to warn him…but of what? That’s the question. Great stuff, Pete.
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Thanks, Pam. Lots more revealed very soon.
Best wishes, Pete.
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It will be interesting to see where this goes…another good character added to the mix!
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She features again tomorrow, John.
Best wishes, Pete.
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You don’t get much for your money with anything these days…
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True, but you still ‘get what you pay for’, and I have a feeling that Darren’s money will be well spent. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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Let’s hope.
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Really?
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Lets hope, Pete! But you are the creator, you will know it. :-)) Best wishes, Michael
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I have a good feeling about it, Michael.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Great. Maybe a happy ending? π
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Happy for Darren, I hope.
Best wishes, Pete.
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π
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Not a promising start.
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Give her time, Kim. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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Hmm wondering if she’s playing him for money.
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I like it when you wonder. π
Best wishes, Pete.
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