by Trevor Hopkins

I stamped up the stairs to the fourth floor and along the corridor to my office, uncharacteristically oblivious to the world around me. Something tugged at my subconscious - perhaps it was just looking after me in my mental absence - and I stopped dead and looked around.

The office door was ajar - I never lock it anyway, since this just saves on repair bills - and through the grubby frosted glass upon which the words "Findo Gask - Private Detective" could still just be made out, I could see shadows that suggested that somebody was waiting for me. Now what?

I swung back the door cautiously, my coat flapping wide just in case I needed to grab something from inside it in a hurry. Something to my surprise, there were two Goblins sitting at their evident ease in the guest chairs, surprised in the act of holding hands and looking into each others' eyes. Both pairs of eyes swung around as I entered. One pair belonging to a well-dressed businessman who was, strictly speaking, still a client of mine since he had paid in advance and not yet received a report. The other eyes, beautiful eyes that seemed to look into the depth of your soul, were firmly attached to a certain slender person who had stomped around this very office in high-heeled shoes and glared at me only a few days previously. Although it felt like half a lifetime ago just at the moment.

"Mister Gask," the businessman said, standing up to shake hands firmly, "I'm here to enquire into the progress you've made on that problem I brought to you last week."

I decided that discretion was, under these circumstances, the better part of valour. Besides, the look I was getting from those beautiful eyes from behind him was enough to make me choose to be economical with the truth. I dropped my hat on the desk, just missing the ink-stained blotter, and threw myself into the swivel chair on the business side of the desk. The chair squeaked distressingly.

"Well," I started, leaning forward and looking just a little shame-faced, "I've been tied up with another case, one involving a theft from a famous actress. So I'm afraid I've barely been able to start on your commission."

"Right. Well, don't bother," he responded with robust bloke-ish bonhomie and just a little carefully-hidden nervousness. It seemed that both parties had their reasons for not wanting me to disclose whatever I might have discovered.

I adjusted my demeanour to give the impression of brightening up at this unexpected news.

"Keep the fee," he added generously. Very generously. Definitely somebody who didn't want too many questions asked just at the moment.

"Thanks you," I replied politely, formally, keeping up appearances, "That's very kind of you."

He was a rich person, and the few bills he had dropped into my lap earlier would not make any difference to him at all. Though they'd make quite a difference to me. Two weeks rent on this place, for starters. I thought it was a small price to pay, even as a bribe for my silence, to ensure that the two of them had a future together. One where there had been no investigation as to the true identity of either party. A new beginning for both of them.

The businessman turned to his seated companion and looked her in the eye.

"We're getting married. Very soon," he announced proudly.

His companion displayed for my benefit a winsome smile, very nearly disguising the lines of worry on her features.

"Congratulations," I enthused warmly, "I'm sure you'll both be very happy together."

The businessman too smiled broadly at me and nodded his acknowledgement. Then he reached out for the hand of his loved one, drew her to her feet and to his side, then arm-in-arm they left the office.

I made a mental note to retrieve the report I had written and its addressed envelope from the depths of my desk drawer, and add it instead to one of the many copiously-filled files I keep with notes on closed cases. I had no doubt that this one was closed. I could see the look in their eyes only too clearly. And I very rarely had cause to re-open a closed case, except when writing these memoirs, of course.

Part 107 Part 109