Private Dick: Chapter Seven-Snooky?
When I got back to my office the place had been raided.
Obviously somebody was not happy with the way this case was going. I’d hit a
nerve somewhere, but where? All the papers that had been neatly disheveled on my
desk were now spread all over the floor like carpeting. And I thought I was a
sloppy housekeeper. Brushing a few of the papers off my seat I picked up the
phone and dialed the number on the card Caroline had given me. No answer, what a
surprise. An address was listed at the bottom of the card. I decided to check it
out. This place wasn’t exactly in the same vicinity as the Parisian; this was
a high-class neighborhood. I parked behind some trees at the bottom of the
driveway. It was gonna be a hike up, but I didn’t want to attract any
attention. After a while, I was really starting to regret not wanting to draw
attention with my car. The driveway must have been five miles long. I decided
the first thing I would do when I got to the top would be to ask for a ride back
down. I saw the tops of a roof, finally, the top. This was no ordinary house,
this could definitely fall into the category of mansion. Caroline might have
been unhappily married, but what a prison. The architect had modeled it after
the White House in D.C. I stooped behind a tall hedge to peek thru some windows,
when I realized I wasn’t alone. I slowly turned to be met by a dog. Not just
any dog a Doberman pincher, fangs bared and growling. I tried to swallow the
lump in my throat. Then I remembered something I’d seen on tv about music
soothing the savage beast. I began to hum a couple bars of “Melancholy
Baby”; it wasn’t working. I tried “Lullaby Baby”: this was not going
well. I turned to run back down the driveway, but it was to late. I felt the
fangs rip into the back of my pants and right into my butt. Suddenly; the dog
released his grip on me. When I turned around Caroline was standing there with
the dog sitting obediently next to her. It looked like a painting.
“Riddick?” Caroline was now starring at me wide eyed. “Oh my God, did
Snooky hurt you?” I wanted to belt her one for that. Snooky? I was seriously
beginning to worry about her metal health.
“We need to talk, is there someplace we can go and chat; in private?” She
nodded. I was led into the back entrance of the house and into the pool room.
The reflection of blue ripples from the water danced on the wood beams of the
ceiling as the smell of chlorine slowly infected my pores.
“Would you like to sit?” If she was going to ask me anything, why did it
have to be that?
“No, but you might want to.” Caroline seated herself on one of the Oak
benches, a look of worry spread across her face.
“I found Johns” A glimmer of hope in her eyes, that faded when she saw the
dismal look on my face. “He was found in an ally about a mile from the
Parisian; cut up pretty bad. He’s down at the morgue Caroline.” Breaking it
gently, I saw, was not going to be easy.
“But he’s ok, right?” This was painful.
“He didn’t make it.”, I tried to put some emphasis on the point.
“Didn’t make it?” Was this broad for real? That did it, I didn’t have
time to figure out fifty different ways of breaking it gently.
“He’s dead! D-E-A-D. Dead.” Her face began to contort into a mask of pain,
and then the tears began to fall. This part of the job was never easy, nor my
favorite. I decided that maybe she and Snooky needed sometime time alone, and
gracefully exited. Whe I finally got back outside I realized I’d forgotten to
ask for a ride back down. Damn, and there was no way I was going back in there
to be a shoulder to cry on. Well looks like I was getting my exercise today. As
I made my decent down the never-ending drive, one question gnawed at my brain;
Who had killed Johns, and why? It didn’t add up. Paris was off my list, he
didn’t have the guts. Caroline seemed to fragile, but on the other hand she
was a little loopy. I finally decided I needed to find Johns sister.