He’d been following him all day and it felt like all he had to show for it was a sore knee from all his skulking around, and the fact that he’d learned the guy was staying in town at a B&B.
That must mean he was from out of town, right? A tourist, maybe?
He wished he’d been smart enough to go into the bookstore after him. But he figured nothing of great importance would have happened inside the bookstore and the guy would be back out in fifteen minutes or less. That should have been long enough to grab a book, right? How long did one really need to pick out a book?
But nooo, the guy had to hang around in there for God knows how long, and then that girl showed up and he knew he was in for it. He should have gone in right then and there, but the manager or whoever he was, had turned the CLOSED sign over on the door, and locked up shop before he even had a chance to ask him anything about it.
While he had waited for them to finish whatever it was they were doing inside, he bided his time with a pint across the street at The Seraph Inn. He watched from the window until they came back out and then it was back to walking: Regent to Johnson Street, then Johnson to Simcoe. Once they rounded the corner onto Simcoe, he knew where they were headed.
He had to admit, he was rather proud of himself about what he’d done back at The Gleaner building. Lucky for him, the girl had been busy telling her life story, giving the guy some kind of history lesson about the town and the two old farts at The Gleaner, that it gave him plenty of time to do something marvelous. Something that would have made the pros proud. He couldn’t believe how easy it was; slipping in through the back door unnoticed, opening the fuse box, and playing a game of Operation with the fuses.
Those old buildings—it doesn’t take much to throw them for a loop and send them topsy-turvy.
Before they even knew what hit them, those two old farts were plunged into darkness. They grumbled and knocked into things in the dark while he slinked away and found the perfect hiding spot in another room, lying in wait for the girl and the guy to come inside and ask their questions.
From what he heard inside, the guy sounded like a hot-head. Determined, yet, desperate in a way like he was searching for more than just answers. His yelling and carrying on grated on his nerves. Somewhere along the way, through all that shouting, he got what he wanted. He got the guy’s name and he learned the real reason why they were asking so many questions about Wagner. They were investigating his murder. His murder!
And as chance would have it, “Sully” was kind of a cop. He wasn’t anymore, but it didn’t matter. A cop was a cop in his mind. It complicated things. The last thing he wanted was more people asking questions about Wagner. He couldn’t let them find out what he’d been up to. No sir, things were all going according to plan until Wagner wound up dead and now this?
Now he was right back to where they had started this whole charade and game of cat and mouse.
He let his arm sag off the top of the black bench outside The Seraph Inn and swiveled around to check on Sully and Millie Swanson through the window. They were still talking at the bar. He hoped they wouldn’t be much longer. It had been a long day following this Patrick Sullivan around. He’d already played hooky with work but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to last.
His eyes burned.
His stomach growled.
More than anything, he was downright frustrated.
He checked on them again in time to see Millie Swanson get up and make for the door. Finally! Millie came out of the main entrance and stepped down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. He pulled out a pack of ciggies and lit one.
It was time. Time to find out what was what. He checked one last time at the guy to make sure that he was still at the bar, nursing his beer. Perfect.
He casually walked up to Millie and acted as if he were headed inside the inn and only happened to notice Millie at the last second. “Hey, Millie. What’s the word?”
Millie lifted his face from the lighter’s flame and blew smoke. “Not much, friend. What’s new with you?”
He smiled. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Hey, I heard they found Marc Wagner’s body today. You guys live in the same apartment building, right? I bet it must be a madhouse over there right now.”
Millie grunted. “Eh, I wouldn’t know. I came straight here from work. Had to work late on the account of our fine Lord Mayor Davidson blowing his tranny on his Chevy Silverado. I told him to avoid the ’03 model a few years back, but did he listen? Nah, who’d wanna listen to a grease monkey like me, right?”
He shook his head. “Jeez. What a jerk.”
Millie averted his eyes and took a drag on his cigarette. “That’s not the word I’d use, but whatever floats your boat.”
You’re blowing it. Keep him talking.
“Hey listen, do you think you could put in a good word for me with your landlord? I figure with Wagner’s spot opening up again soon I could—”
“No can do, Chief. I hear it’s already spoken for.”
“What? By who?” he asked, playing dumb.
“Some guy. I just met him actually. He’s inside,” Millie said, turning and thumbing back at the inn. “I think he might be a cop or somethin’.”
“A cop? What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. He was asking lots of questions about Wagner. Who he hung out with and such.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What’d you tell him?”
“Just that he usually hung around with other artists. You know, Jean Claude and that other girl.”
“Sophia.”
Millie took another drag, speaking through the smoke, “Sounds about right.”
“Huh. Anything else?”
“There was one other thing,” Millie told him. “He asked me about some guy named Trevor Hurst? Ever heard of him?”
“Hurst? No, I don’t think so.”
“Apparently, he works at the bank but, it didn’t ring any bells.”
“You think he might be looking at Hurst for the murder?”
Millie chuckled. “I dunno, man. I guess? Look, I’m dog-tired. I better be going. Take care of yourself.”
“Sure, Millie. Sorry if I was a bother with the twenty questions, it’s just this thing with Wagner has got me all riled up. Hard to believe, right? Never thought I’d see the day that we’d have a murder here.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Be seeing you.”
Millie left and he walked up the steps leading to the inn. At the last second, he decided to wait on the landing. Once he thought enough time had safely passed, he crept back down the steps, checked for Millie, and began his walk home.
As he walked, a single name echoed in his mind. Trevor Hurst.
Well now, Mr. Hurst. I think it’s time I got to know you a little bit better, don’t you?
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