WSOTB…part tre

He grudgingly released Cochran, who saw the dark blue vein throbbing that gorilla’s temple.
“That will be all Terrence,” the man said, the dismissal clear. “Please,” he said to Cochran with a motion guiding Cochran through a pair of carved dark oak doors. The man matched the soft spoken voice; thin, slightly stooped with gray hair and gold rim glasses. He wore tan slacks, neatly pressed and a bright red cardigan buttoned halfway over a white polo short.
“My apologies for Terrence. He oversteps his bounds from time to time.” he spoke in slow, precise tones as if measuring each word before saying it. The two men stood in a dimly lit mahogany paneled study. The twelve foot ceilings gave an enormity to the darkness of the room with it’s floor to ceiling inlaid bookshelves filled with books, framed awards gold and silver trophies and assorted mementos to a life well lived.
“Are you Mr. St. Croix?”
“Hmm? Oh. No. No. My name is Jacob Pfife. I run the house for Mr. St. Croix. And you are…?”
“Detective Cochran.  I need to speak with Brenden St. Croix.  Is he here?”
“Hmm? Oh. No. No he is not.”  Cochran had the feeling his voice was on some sort of delay before it reached Pfife’s brain.  “May I ask as to what this is reference to?”
Cochran told him about the whereabouts of Brenden’s car and it’s contents the previous evening.
“Oh,” the man said with a jerk of his head, something Cochran noticed he did everytime he said “oh” as if he’d been grazed by left-cross to the chin. “Hmm. Mr. St Croix, uh Brenden, has left on a business trip and won’t be back for two weeks, I’m afraid.”
“Is he reachable?”
“No, I’m afraid not, no.”
“That’s convenient. How about Mr. St. Croix, Senior. Can I speak with him?”
“No I’m afraid Mr. St. Croix is overseas on business.”
“And phones haven’t been invented where the father and son congregate?”
Pfife cross his arms over his chest. “Mr. St. Croix, um Senior, has left specific instructions not to be interrupted unless it is of an emergency nature.”
“I would think a dead body in sonny’s car would qualify, wouldn’t you?”
“You’d be surprised what Mr. St. Croix considers an emergency,” he said with a weak smile.
“You’re right,” Cochran sighed, “I probably would.  For example if I had all of Jerry’s riches an emergency to me might be having my entire staff locked up in custody, having the premises searched from phony steeple to basement and having all my assets frozen an emergency of world class proportions, but then who am I to say.”
Pfife’s thin lips tightened slightly but broke into a small smile. “You know I just remembered that Mr. St. Croix did say that his contact information was available through his business office if I needed it.”
“Hey, that’s swell. Why don’t I wait right here while you fetch that for me.”
“Hmm? Oh I’m afraid his staff is gone for the day, but I can get it for you first thing tomorrow.”
“It’s only 1PM.”
“And the staff is gone for the day?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yes. They leave early when Mr. St. Croix is out of town.”
“Nice work if you can get it. Where is Mr. St. Croix’s office? I could save you the time and just stop there tomorrow.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. His office is in San Francisco.”
“Which really makes it 10 AM and is pretty ‘first thing’ in my book.”
Pfife folded his hands in front of him. “When Mr St. Croix travels, his staff works on whatever time he is on. For them, 10 AM west coast time is the end of Mr. St. Croix’s day.”
“Which put’s him where?”
“I didn’t say.”
“No I didn’t think you did. He’s my card. Call me in the morning, if you can fit it in. And I suggest you try.”
Cochran headed for the door. “Give Terry a hug and kiss for me will you?”



Filed under writing

5 responses to “WSOTB…part tre

  1. keep em coming 😉

  2. Terrence the pit bull – every thug needs one…


  3. mssolitaire

    hmmmm I’m loving it!

  4. Pingback: wsotb…next installment « Security is For Cadavers

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