Dark grey sky. Repeated groans of thunder interspersed with brief flashes of lightning rumbled from within its underbelly. A spatter of rain fell upon the world. Constance Loftus stood five feet away in solemn silence staring at the open grave that was her husband’s final resting place. She was dressed in black with a shawl over her face; her earnest driver stood behind her holding an umbrella to her head. Rain drops splattered all around them. The wind kicked up and ruffled their clothes.
The ceremony had come to a quick end. Most of the invitees had their umbrellas open and sauntering steadily towards their parked vehicles. Not Constance though. She remained where she stood staring at the grave site. Her eyes gave off no tears but in her heart, she cried. In her heart, she mourned and cried. There lay her husband Emmett G. Loftus in his coffin. Sixty-one years old, dead of a cardiac arrest. City magnate and industrialist; vain workaholic; imperious to his staff; proud and aloof husband and father. There was a smaller hole dug out for where his gravestone would stand. Constance took a couple steps backwards and watched as they lowered his coffin into the grave. The rain splattered on its pristine smooth surface. Never would it see the dawn of light anymore. And wasn’t that just sad?
A gravely hand touched her shoulder just as an old man’s voice spoke to her—the Reverend.
“Mrs. Loftus, please, the rain’s getting heavier by the minute.”
She switched her gaze from her husband’s grave to the sombre grey sky. “Yes, yes, it is so. Thank you, reverend. It was a most brilliant sermon.”
“Your husband will be missed, Mrs. Loftus. I will continue to pray for you both.”
“Yes, thank you.” She said despondently and seemed lost for what next to say, with whatever measured words that best qualified her thought. Everything about herself seemed dour resigned to the weather and the moment she was in. She knew he meant well, and she too had meant well about his sermon. Beyond that, she couldn't care less. Ashes to ashes, as they say, yes, there is where her husband lay rested. Never ever more to return from the grave.
She shook the Reverend’s hand one last time before turning around to take her leave.
Her limousine was one of few remaining vehicles around; everyone else had toddled off, as the saying goes. The driver came forward and opened the car door for her and she held onto her hat as she slipped into the comfort of the vehicle while he closed the umbrella and went around and got into his seat. He started the car and drove out of the cemetery driveway. Constance’s eyes followed the train of headstones on the rolling fields of the cemetery with the various trees that dotted the scenery acting like watchful sentries over the dead. The headstones looked to her like sentinel soldiers anxiously awaiting a regimental call of activeness. She raised the shawl off her face, opened her handbag and rummaged for a handkerchief which he used to wipe her eyes clean.
Goodbye, Emmett. See you in the next life. Johnny would have loved to see you.
She must have dozed off because when next she opened her eyes the limousine had come to a stop in front of her home. Someone tapped on the window glass from the other side. The driver’s voice came through on the intercom. “We’re here at Loftus Garden, ma’am.”
“Oh, of course, Bill. Thank you.” She replaced the shawl over her face then opened the door.
Her top servant Nigel was there to welcome her as well expressed his condolences for the hundredth time. He had an umbrella ready and walked alongside her up the lengthy wide steps that led into the huge Victorian-style mansion that was formerly her husband’s abode. Loftus Garden. The mansion no longer felt loathsome and depressing to her when he’d first brought her here thirteen years ago. Her feelings for it had changed and yet not everything about the place had changed at all. The house looked more like a relic, a throwback to an age that’s long faded from human existence. It was a symbol of man’s zenith over others, if one could see it that way. No one had been expressive at such forms of extension than her just departed husband.
The house servants lined opposite sides of the steps leading into the house, all donned in black attire from the chief housemaid to the lowly caretaker of the stables. Their feature was expectedly solemn and some even teary-eyed as Constance shook hands and exchanged hugs and kisses with each of them, accepting their condolences and consoling wishes at the departure of their employer. Her senses noted a slight bit of hesitancy in several of them, the way their body gave off some imperceptible discomfiture. Perhaps they wondered what would become of them now she was lord and mistress of the manor, or maybe she was just reading into things out of spite.
She entered the foyer and someone came to help her out of her jacket and her hat. She went up the stairs while Nigel dismissed everyone back to their duties. She went in the direction of Johnny’s bedroom, wondering how well he was resting with his fever. She thought later she would call for a doctor to come by and check on him again.
Constance opened the double doors that led into his room and brought a smile on her face as she went past his toy room toward his bedroom. The smile went away when she went inside and saw his bed empty. She called out his name and went looking in his bathroom but he wasn’t there either. Constance returned to the room and saw a white envelope lying on his reading table. It bore the word ‘Mum’ on it. She picked it up and took out the single sheet of paper inside. She sat on the bed, crestfallen. The sheet of paper fell from her hand to the carpeted floor. The tears that earlier filled her eyes, the same ones that never seemed to pour forth the whole time she was at her husband’s funeral, suddenly poured forth like a river down her cheeks.
“Johnny . . . Oh Johnny,” she muttered as she cried.
Outside the bedroom window, the rain continued its relentless downpour.
Thaddeus Black lounged backwards in his chair with his hands wedged behind his head and thought, “Fucking arrogant ass!” at the impetuous-looking man who sat across his desk wearing a pin-striped grey suit that looked like it had been cut from glass. From the moment the man entered his office having shaken hands and offering him a seat to him then opening his mouth and making a remark about the filthiness of his office, Thad had summarised just about everything he could about him, neither of which sounded pleasant. The man rambled on and on while his eyes darted about making surreptitious glances about his small office if he noticed a monster lurking about. At one time he unfurled a handkerchief out of his pocket to shield his nose. Thad knew the bastard couldn't wait to get done with dispatching whatever message had brought him here to deliver so he could flee from this dump. He could almost read the man’s thoughts well
Thaddeus had enough time to tidy up his desk and open back his windows then went into a small room situated down the corridor leading to his office which served as a urinary and a bathroom to clean himself off. Sarah went with him to wash her face and fix her hair as well reapply make-up on her lips. She inquired if this was his typical mode of searching out someone to do secretarial work for him and Thaddeus replied yes, it was. She said she couldn't wait to begin actual work for him.Thaddeus told her he would make requirements to fix her with a separate desk and chair. For the time being, he took a while to explain the nature of his business before then handing her several of his recent files and told her to index and square them away and to report for real work the following morning at seven. He gave her spare keys to the office as well as his cell phone number should she want to reach him anytime. He took down hers as wel
The limousine was idly waiting to drive Thaddeus back to the city though he instructed the driver to take him someplace else instead. His actual destination was Main City precinct situated on Maynard Avenue, the city’s head department which oversaw all felonies, crimes and misdemeanours that poured in from surrounding counties. He would have preferred visiting the Sheriff whom Constance had talked about regarding her son’s disappearance but he surmised that his presence there might set off an alarm by cops wondering what his business there might be. Hundreds of questions would fly once cops got wind of how much he knew about the lonely rich widow in their county and her missing son. Since beginning his foray as a private eye, Thaddeus Black had come to realise that the second thing despised by cops beside criminals was snooping private detectives; sometimes it usually overlapped whom they tend to hate the most. She wanted discr
There wasn’t anyone following him when he arrived at his work building. He had made few stops along the way to carefully look and hadn’t picked out anyone suspicious. For all he knew it was another jolly hot afternoon with people going about their business, cars honking their horns, music blasting out of open doorways . . . almost all the music he heard sounded Caribbean. Brothers owning the street corners glanced his way with bleary eyes, some clutching and sipping malt liquor in brown paper bags while others flung dice on the kerb, nothing to do besides hustle their way through life.Thaddeus listened to the noise coming from his shoes as he walked down the kerb. His clothes felt damp with sweat; he sighed with relief as he took a turn into B Street and saw his building across from him.He went inside and almost immediately the air felt different. He took the elevator instead of the stairs and knocked on his out
Thad laid his hat on the seat next to him, got his notebook and pen out of his jacket and opened to a fresh page. He had his ‘strictly business’ face on to let the woman know he had more important things on his mind than wanting to gloss over her figure. He cleared his throat before he spoke.“When we talked on the phone, you mentioned something about being related to the missing kid’s mother?”Hilda nodded. She sucked on her cigarette and puffed out another cloud of smoke. “I’m surprised Constance never thought to mention it to you. Then again, I guess it’s ‘cos she never figured her boy would scuttle halfway across the city to see his Aunt.” She lifted an ashtray from the coffee table beside her. “You do know of her husband being deceased, right?”“Yes, I do. You’re saying Jonathan, was here with you in this apartmen
How time flies especially when you’re having (fucking) fun.The afternoon was giving way for early evening when Thaddeus left the high-rise building, having stopped to question Josh the doorman but their conversation went nowhere as Thad found out it had been his reliever who had seen the kid leave and not himself. Thaddeus couldn’t spare wanting to return upstairs to wrestle the facts from Hilda again. He pocketed his pen and notebook as he walked out and headed towards the parking garage for his car. His mind wandered back to the sex bout he’d enjoyed and he cursed himself for putting work ahead of pussy for once when he could have been enjoying more right now. Damn this fucking missing kid’s case! Some people ought to just stay missing or don’t even bother. He promised himself that once he got done with this case, providing he found the kid alive and not dead in some
The envelope contained a single sheet of paper inside and the words it carried were high-cased letters and type scripted. Thad held the note by its edge and placed it on a table in front of him to examine it better. Whoever had done it had probably watched plenty of CSI episodes movies to know that the best ransom notes are ones simply stated with no formalities—why put in too many words and risk giving yourself away on a dime when analysed. It could be the work of a pro or even an amateur pretending to be one, Thad surmised as he read the note once again.YOUR BOY IS SAFE AND TAKEN CARE OF.IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN, WAIT BY THE PHONE.—ANONYMOUSSimple and straight to the point. The guy wasn’t into wasting any words, and yet he’d left Constance in pain waiting for his call to come through. Thad turned the note over and saw nothing there indicative of an error on the sender’s pa
Thad’s mind was in a cross-cutting jumble as he drove towards his office. His thoughts were divided three ways. First,there was the kidnapper: whoever he was, where could he possibly be keeping Jonathan—if really he had him—where in the city could they be right now? Then there was Jonathan: who could possibly be aiding him and for whatever reason. To spite his mother perhaps . . . and for money. That can’t be left out of the equation; it all comes down to money in the end. Last was Constance; what a fucking hot number she is. He could still feel the pressure of her body when she had hugged him. The sweet smell of her hair . . . he could just picture her naked right now. Gone was the uppity bitch he’d earlier presumed she was; nothing comparable to her sister too. He couldn’t disavow himself from starting to want her in the worse way.There was a black SUV wit