Clams, Curtains and Clues

Dear story snacker,

Nothing like a murder mystery to wake you up in the morning. It’s like coffee, but better, because there’s the potential for a shootout.

No time to waste, let’s get straight to it!

STORY SNACK

DEATH AND BOTTLE CAPS

part 2

read part 1 here

Sitting with a sigh, Romulus took a ballpoint from a cup of pens and pencils on the desktop.

“I assumed you were here because of someone close to you, given your heightened emotions. It could have been a family member, but your wedding ring hinted at husband. An aimed shot in the dark. As you are here, and not at the police station, nothing too serious can have happened. Infidelity is unlikely, as you appear more worried than hurt or angry, so I assumed missing. And as a first-time disappearance would usually spark a call to the police station, I assume Mr. McVale makes a habit of this.”

Mrs. McVale looked like a spooked doe, except for the expensive cardigan. Twisting her hands in her lap as if trying to invent a new knot, she nodded, eyes flitting to the office window and back to Romulus.

“Wow…I mean, I heard you were—yes, Hank’s gone missing.”

“Hank is your husband?”

The blonde head bobbed. “Yes, Hank—Henry McVale. He stormed out after we had an argument. He’s done this before. He’s a complete—” the blonde bit off the rest of her sentence, chewed her words and reformed them into a kinder configuration. “He’s very passionate. Gets really upset and needs to go off and blow off some steam. But he’s been gone two days and…” She glanced at the window. “I’m just worried.”

“How long does your husband usually take to blow off steam?” asked Romulus, raising his lupine head from his notes.

“Not two days. Usually just a few hours, maybe half a day at most. That’s why—”

“What did you argue about?” interrupted the detective. He disliked being rude, but to him rudeness was like baby powder: useful in specific places.

Mrs. McVale stiffened—a rabbit scenting danger. Brushing an imaginary hair away from her face, she said, “He accused me on cheating on him.”

Romulus waited silently.

“Which I’m not,” emphasized the young woman, her eyes flicking to the window and back. “Didn’t, am not, whatever. He’s paranoid, that’s all.”

Making a small note, the detective rasped, “Do you have a picture of your husband?”

Mrs. McVale slipped a hand into the pocket of her skirt and retrieved a palm-sized Polaroid that looked like the kind of picture kept in a wallet. Accepting it when proffered, Romulus studied the image. It showed a man and woman with their arms around each other, their radiant, laughing faces spelling ‘honeymoon’ as clearly as the Hawaiian beach blazing behind them. One was the blonde sitting across from him, the other was a short, wiry man with small eyes and a weak chin.

Hank McVale would not be a looker in any police lineup, and beside his wife any marine biologist would designate them scientifically as clam and pearl. McVale’s purported paranoia about his wife cheating began to make sense.

Romulus nodded and pocketed the picture. “I’ll be honest with you, Mrs. McVale,” he said, feeling the infinitesimal weight of the bottle cap in his pocket become leaden. “I may not be available to help you after today. A meeting I have tonight could keep me engaged…indefinitely. But…I will do what I can to find your husband in the time I have today.”

Slender shoulders relaxed, and the blonde’s voice was filled with relief as she gushed, “Thank you so much, I’m sure you’ll find him soon. I’ve heard you’re the best, Erik, and—”

“Please,” the detective interposed with a desiccated smile. “Call me Romulus. I have one more question for you, Mrs. McVale.”

“Yes?” the woman asked, sitting up straight, her eyes flicking to the window and back to him.

“Is there anywhere your husband commonly goes when he storms off?”

Her fine features fell. “No, he always goes to different places so he’s sure I can’t find him.” The sculpted visage brightened. “But I found this—” she pulled a scrap of paper with some black scribbles on it from another pocket. “—beside the front door after he left. He must have dropped it when he was running out.”

Taking the slip of paper, Romulus read the words scrawled on it. They had been written in ink and were slightly smeared.

black curtain (Sicily in the sun)

The detective exhaled slowly out of his nose, staring at the words.

“What? Do you know what it means?” Mrs. McVale asked eagerly, looking up at him wide eyed.

“No,” rasped Romulus, giving her back the paper. “But it’s a start. If you could write down your phone number, I can start the investigation immediately. I’ll call your number when I have information concerning your husband.”

“Thank you so much,” murmured Maea McVale, snatching a pen from the cup on the desk and scribbling her number onto the back of the scrap of paper with her left hand.

“I’ll show you out,” offered Romulus, retrieving the woman’s coat and helping her into it. As they left, he noticed she tossed a final glance at the window. He did not.

If he had, he would have seen a man in a baseball cap pulled low over his face slide from a dark doorway across the street from the agency and walk quickly away down the hill before the detective or his new client stepped out the door.

Hope you enjoyed this latest excerpt, let me know what you thought of Romulus’ new case!

If you’d like to influence what happens in the next part of the story, click HERE.

See you next story!

-Zossima