Easily Spooked

Here I am again, surrounded by chintz, faced with tea and watery eyes, the bloody dog staring at me.

What was it Mickey said? I ask the wrong questions. Could be he's right. Well, it's hard to ask the right ones when your stumbling in the dark.

I'm on surer footing today. Literally. My shoes are new, a little stiff, but comfortable and dry. My mam always said you could tell a man by the shine of his shoes.

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Jeffers," I say, pleased with how gravely professional I sound, despite the absurdity of the situation.

Of course, Gail doesn't find it odd, not in the same way I do. It's got to be strange, being without your spouse after nearly thirty years. Not one half so weird, I'd argue, as knowing the dead man we'll be discussing will be waiting for me outside.

"You said you used to work for the police," she said, "That's right, isn't it?"

"That's right," I say, stirring sugar into my tea, "I left to work as a private detective."

Her mouth is a thin line. She's sitting ramrod straight, and peering at me carefully. I'm not sure what she's looking for, but I try to display it. Between her and that huge hairy dog, I feel like there are eyes drilling into me from all over. Maybe Mickey's as well. I shift in my seat.

"You don't look like a private detective," she says. "But it's good that you don't work for the police anymore. I don't trust them." She sits up even straighter at that, squinting at me as if daring me to react.

"Well," I sip my tea, "Lots of people don't."

There's a pause. Damn. I was too heavy-handed with the sugar.

"Mrs Jeffers..."

Is it Mrs? For a widow? Ah hell, what do I care...

"Are you planning to make use of my services?"

"I'm not sure. Could you help me, d'you think?"

"I may be able to-" especially if your dead husband will be a bit more co-operative. "It would be useful if I could take notes. Is that OK?" She nods. It'd be easier to concentrate if your dog wasn't gawping at me. I turn to a clean page.

"Just tell me about what happened. Take your time."

"Well, I went into Mickey's study last night. I don't know why. It... It feels like he's in there." Her chin juts upward.

"I understand," I try to inject warmth into my voice. I really do understand...better than she realises.

"There was something he was working on... a case he never let go. He was working on it the night he... Anyway. It was gone. Someone had been in the filing cabinet and taken out papers and folders and spread them over the desk."

"How did you spot that?"

"I'm not sure... It just looked off."

Okay.

"If I work for you, Mrs Jeffers, what would l be investigating? Would I be looking into the disappearance of those files, or would I be taking on the case your husband was working on?"

"They're the same thing aren't they?"

"They could be. Wouldn't like to assume, though."

"And what about my Michael?" she says, hardly above a whisper. Here it comes... "Could you confirm that he... I mean, was it really...."

"I have some contacts. I could look into that for you."

Her shoulders sag and wobble.

"Mrs Jeffers, when you say you don't trust police... Who else had access to your husband's office?"

"A lot of folks came by the same day you did. All old friends of my Michael, from his days on the force. Any of them could have gone in his office. I was hosting, you see. Going to the kitchen, you know. For hot drinks and whatnot."

"I see."

So what made me so special? What made you decide to trust me?

She reads the question on my face.

"You're the only one who couldn't have gone in that room," she says.

"Why is that?" I'm genuinely curious how she's reached that conclusion.

"Honestly? You had wet feet, and you left footprints everywhere you went."

Oh, Mickey would have loved that.

I sip on my lukewarm tea.

"I'd be happy to help you Mrs Jeffers. I'll send you a copy of my rates, and a contract. I don't want to be pushy, but the sooner I can act the better."

"I understand. You need payment from me so you can, oh I don't know, bribe people for information."

"That doesn't sound like me, Mrs. Jeffers." I am all innocence.

It sounds exactly like me.

I write down her contact details and she sees me out.

The dog still doesn't take his eyes off me. If I were easily spooked it would give me the heebie jeebies.

"You were the only one who was properly upset, you know," she says when we're almost at the door. "And, of course, the only woman."

"Still a male-dominated field, Mrs Jeffers."

"Yes. I noticed. Do give me a call if there's any other questions."

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Thanks for reading!