U.V. and the Adventures of Maugham P.I.

It’s 3 in the afternoon. Hot as shit. Passing through Barton Village, I make my way towards airport transit.
It was Henry Garnet’s habit on leaving the city to drop in at his club and play bridge before going home to dinner. He and I stand in the airport terminal, looking around.
“How’s the market today?” I ask.
“Booming. Even the suckers are making money,” he moans.
It was evident that stocks and shares had nothing to do with Henry Garnet’s vexation, but something was the matter. He was a hearty fellow, who enjoyed excellent health. He had plenty of money. He was fond of his wife and devoted to his children.

Henry walks over to the closest wall. It happens to be layers of glass, argon, high-impact plastic. He presses his forehead against it. The air beyond the window touches each source of light with a faint hepatic corona, a tint of jaundice edging imperceptibly into brownish translucence.

I’m thinking hard, let’s go somewhere else.
“I want some snails, and a decent wine,” I complain.
“Which way’s the baggage room?”
“Ha. Good one, Hank.”
As a rule, he had high spirits, and he laughed easily; but today he was glum and silent. I’m closing my eyes, I center myself in the background hiss of climate-control.
“Why don’t we find some place to sit down? Let’s go to my club for a change.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“People who, uh want to hire a private investigator usually feel a little foolish doing it.”
We’ve slipped on to public transit, upper crust. We’re passing through the streets of Hamilton, above sighing trains. Red paper lanterns line a narrow lane. This is our stop. I walk into the crevice between two buildings, beckoning Henry to follow me. Ahh, home again: eight empty bottles, plastic miniatures all carefully aligned. I look at Henry. His brows are crossly puckered and there is a sulkiness to his mouth.
I move sideways, allowing him to pass me. Thin drops of water fall on my neck from an air conditioning unit somewhere above. There’s an old wooden staircase beside us. I dust off one of the steps and signal to Henry.
“Have a seat.”
He looks at me in disbelief.
“This is your club?”
“Very low fees. Plus, I assumed you wanted to go somewhere you wouldn’t be recognized?”
“God, I’m so embarrassed. What you must think...”
“I think you’re a bit nervous about hiring me.”
“Still I may not need you. I may just be paranoid.”
“A lot of people who think they MAY just be paranoid actually aren’t.”
To ease the tension, I deliberately broach a subject upon which I know Henry is normally glad to speak.
“How’s your boy?”
Henry’s frown grows darker.

“He’s done no better than I expected him to.”
“When does he come back from Monte?”
“He just got back last night.”
“Did he enjoy himself?”
“I suppose so; all I know is that he made a damned fool of himself.”
“Oh. How?”
“I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind.”

I look at him in curiosity. He scowls back at me.
“Sorry, old boy. Your call.”
Henry’s irritability was such that he did not immediately reply.
“What the devil’s the matter with you, Henry?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m in a hell of a temper.”
I burst out laughing.
“You don’t have to tell me that, old boy. It’s obvious.”
Henry gives me a rueful smile.
“Well, I bet you’d be in a temper too. As a matter of fact I’m in a damned awkward situation, and if you can give me any advice how to deal with it I’d be grateful.”
“If I can’t tell you how to deal with a situation then nobody can.”
“Well, these things have been happening.”
“What things?”
“Little things. I feel as if I’m being followed, and I hear footsteps. I turn but no one’s there.”
“What else.”
“I think someone shot at me. My family has an estate up above Punchbowl, at the end of Lover’s Lane.”
“The old Hermitage?”
“Yes, you know it?”
“I know of it. Someone shot at you there?”
“I was watching the sunset one evening and a floodlight near me just shattered. The gardener said that happens sometimes when the sprinklers are on. I really feel that I heard a shot. I come from a very wealthy family. We own Decker Intellectual Properties inc.”
“I’ve heard of the company.”
“Then perhaps you’ve heard of my twin sister and I. We were kidnapped when we were five and ransomed for a million dollars.”
“Well, yah I vaguely recall hearing something about that. It was a long time ago. That must have been very traumatic for you.”
“I don’t remember. The doctors tell me I blocked it out. Deirdre remembers. She’s always been much better at coping than I. Four months ago we had a rather nasty auto-accident. It’s a miracle that either of us survived. We were having a row over, well it was all my fault. When I was released from the hospital… I just didn’t want to deal with Deirdre’s accusations… That’s when those things began to happen. I’ve kept a diary. Ever since the kidnapping, I began to write down anything even remotely suspicious… You’ll find everything I’ve done over the past 6 months in here.”
Henry pulls a tiny notebook out of his jacket pocket.
Jack pot. Be careful. Remember your karate. This could be dangerous.