Peter Robinson - Not Safe After Dark

‘No. Just a couple of things.’

‘Do you think he could have been meeting someone?’

‘I suppose so… I…’ She looked me in the eye. ‘Why?’

‘Just curious. How did he seem?’

‘He was very drunk.’ She frowned, then went on. ‘You know, I’ve thought time and time again that we should have done something, that I should have said something.’

‘Like what?’

‘Oh, made him come with us, something like that. Somehow I feel responsible.’

‘Don’t be silly. There’s no way you could have known.’

‘Even so… I can’t help feeling guilty.’ She held her hands up. ‘Look, I don’t know how we got into this, but it’s a beautiful day out there and I don’t want to get even more depressed.’

Interview over. ‘You’re right,’ I said, getting up. ‘I’d better be going myself.’

She walked me to the door. ‘Thanks for the help. It was nice talking to you.’

‘You too.’ Before she could close the door on me, I turned. ‘Don’t think this too presumptuous of me,’ I began, ‘but how would you like to come out for dinner or a drink tonight?’

‘Tonight?’ Her face dropped. ‘Oh, I can’t. I’m busy.’

I started to turn away. ‘It’s OK. I understand. Believe me. My mistake, especially after what you said about the divorce and all. I’m sorry.’

But she rested her warm hand on my arm. ‘It’s nothing like that,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m making an excuse. I’m not. I really do have something on tonight. The three of us are having a sort of wake. I couldn’t miss it.’

Maybe this wasn’t the brush off, then. Heart thumping, fear of rejection bringing me out in a sweat, I persevered. ‘How about tomorrow night then?’

She smiled. ‘I’d love to. Really, I would.’

‘Great. Do you like seafood?’

‘Sure.’

‘How about the Big Fin?’

‘Fine. Look, I’ll meet you at the bar there at seven. I’ve got some running around to do first, and I’m not sure if I’ll have time to get back here. OK?’

‘Fine. Big Fin. Bar. Seven.’ I walked off, grinning like an idiot.

The phone started ringing, the way they do, the minute I stuck my key in the door that afternoon. I put the groceries I’d bought at Publix on the kitchen counter and picked up the extension.

‘Jack, it’s Mike.’

My partner. ‘You were quick.’

‘Well, partly it’s a slow week.’

‘And…?’

‘And partly there’s not a hell of a lot to report.’

‘Go ahead anyway.’

‘Nothing on any of the people on the list. Squeaky clean, every one of them.’

‘What about Schiller?’

‘That’s the only interesting part. As far as I can make out, nobody knows him. I checked out the Kingston address you gave me. It’s owned by a couple called Renard. They confirmed that a man called Bud Schiller rents it from them and the cheques come in regularly.’

‘Where from?’

‘That they wouldn’t tell me. Anyway, I got the name of the guy next door to the Schiller place, and he said the house is empty most of the time.’

Now what the hell did that mean? ‘Anything else?’

‘That doctor in Waterloo, Joseph Brady, he checks out. He’s Edward Brennan’s family doctor, has been for years, and he rented the condo to Ed for the first time a few years back. Apparently the poor guy needed to recuperate from some illness – nothing specific, you know doctors – but I got the impression this Ed character had suffered various health problems on and off over-’

‘Mental or physical?’

‘Can’t say. But Brady’s a family doctor, Jack, not a shrink.’

‘OK. Go on.’

‘So it was a kind of convalescent holiday. He liked it and kept coming back.’

‘How about EscapeItAll ?’

‘Perfectly legit. They own a few condos down the Gulf Coast and rent them through local agencies. Quite a lot of the Toronto travel agents do business with them, and the ones I talked to said they never had any problems.’

‘And the timeshare?’

‘Also legit. There is one thing, though. Virginia Fraser, one of the names you gave me?’

‘Right.’ Ginny Fraser.

‘I talked to the woman she rented from, and it turns out that the dates Fraser got weren’t available originally.’

‘So?’

‘So she paid over the odds.’

‘Ah-ha. On welfare, too. Is that all?’

‘Just about. Gardiner Holdings, that company in the Caymans? Looks like it’s the front of a front of a front. I couldn’t get even get a whiff of the real movers and shakers behind it.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Thanks a lot Mike. You did good work.’ Then I hung up and mulled over what I’d learned.

‘Gee, I dunno, Mr Erwin. I really shouldn’t be doing this,’ Mary said when she found the right key.

‘It’ll have to be cleaned out, anyway,’ I said.

‘Yeah, I know. It’s just… Still, you are a licensed private investigator, right?’

‘Right. And maybe we can check on next of kin, make sure no one’s gonna come down and file a lawsuit against you.’ I hated pressuring her that way, but I had to get inside Schiller’s condo if I was to get any further. I was now more or less convinced that someone – either one of his three pals or someone he had arranged to meet – had gone to the pool and murdered him. It would help if I could find out whether he had anything to hide.

Still biting her lip, Mary turned the key in the lock.

Schiller certainly travelled light. A quick search of the master bedroom revealed only warm-climate clothes and a tattered Tom Clancy paperback on the bedside table. No papers in the drawers, no photographs, nothing. The cops must have taken his passport. The bathroom held only what a single man’s bathroom would, and the guest bedroom was empty except for the bed, stripped down to its mattress. Kitchen and fridge contained the usual – milk, bread, condiments, a couple of TV dinners, cutlery, booze. By the looks of it, Schiller ate out a lot.

In the living room, the stereo, TV and VCR took up one corner. A cabinet under the VCR held a stock of tapes. One of the movies was from a local rental store, and it was overdue by two days. The tape was still in the machine.

‘I’ll take this back tomorrow,’ I said to Mary, casually slipping the tape back in the box.

Mary just nodded and glanced nervously at the door. ‘I think that’s about all,’ I said, ‘if you want to go now.’ Mary was out the front door like a shot. ‘You didn’t find anything about next of kin?’

‘Nothing. No news is good news. Don’t worry.’ She flashed an anxious smile. ‘I’ll try not to.’ And I hurried back to call the courier company. It was late, but with luck, they could get a package to Mike overnight.

‘Jack?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Mike.’

‘Hang on… Just a minute…’ I sat up quickly. It felt like I had to drag myself a long way back from God knew where. I rubbed my eyes and checked my watch. Three-thirty in the afternoon. I must have dozed off after lunch. I opened the fridge and popped the tab on a can of Michelob, then picked up the phone again. ‘Yeah, go ahead, Mike. Sorry about that.’

‘No problem. I took the video down to Ident first thing this morning. It was a bit of a mess – must have been a popular movie down there – but Harry found a match you might be interested in.’

‘Schiller’s got a record?’

‘Not Schiller. The only prints we could find on file belong to a Sherman Smith.’

‘That rings a bell.’

‘It should do,’ he went on. ‘Remember that land scam twenty years ago? Smith defrauded hundreds of people out of their life savings.’