A Joseph Sterling Mystery Novel

Those very mirrors that lined the wall opposite the window to make the room look brighter and more open now tended to have the opposite effect, creating a harsh back glare that cast the shadows in the room into even sharper contrast, with its uneven lighting. The windows, that had at one time been open and airy were now covered with thick venetian blinds, kept, for the most part, closed. Almost everyone who spent any time in the room during the afternoon and early evening, when the sun tried, with limited success, to make its way into the room through the thick metal blinds, felt uncomfortable and, ultimately, sank into a general, undefined depression.

The man who sat slumped on the couch matched the room in almost every particular. In many ways he seemed almost to have sprouted naturally from the faded, threadbare rug like a toadstool rather than being the renter of the apartment that he actually was. Shorter than average, balding, and on the stout side, well into middle age and looking every one of his years, his round, baby face features were half-hidden behind thick glasses that gave him a vague, somewhat inept look. Those passing him on the street seldom gave him more than a second glance, and though he had many female friends, the only close relationship he had ever had with a woman had been long ago and short lived.

He had, many years back, given up trying to be fashionable. Choosing his clothes now strictly for their comfort and inexpensive price. Most often he wore an old knit shirt that emphasized his soft contours and his small potbelly which bulged slightly out over the belt of his worn corduroy pants. Pants which were shiny at the knees and thin at the seat. His feet were stuffed into cheap, athletic shoes with the laces untied, due more to laziness than from any attempt to follow a style that was, by that time, already outdated.

The late afternoon sunlight shone through the slats of the venetian blinds and struck him where he was seated on the couch so that his face and body were streaked by parallel stripes of light and darkness. He was slumped forward in a manner that emphasized his natural plumpness and his eyes, already vague enough behind his glasses, were out of focus, apparently either deep in thought, or light slumber

The man wasn't asleep, however, for after a time he sighed and reached out to the coffee table in front of him to pick up a single sheet of paper with a few brief lines written on it in pale blue ink. His eyes behind his thick glasses sharpened to a surprising degree as he once more read what was written there, in a handwriting he had good reason to recognize by sight, even without the sprawled, almost unreadable signature.

Dear Joseph,

I know it seems like I only contact you when I need something from you, and here I am again, pestering you with my problems because I don't know where else to turn.

I'm so sorry for everything that's come between us over the years, Joseph. I never meant to hurt you, but things happen and people change - well, we won't go into that right now.

I just want to say, I'm sorry. And I need your help, though I know I have no right to ask for it. If you still care for me at all, if our past relationship means anything to you, PLEASE call me right away at the number I've written below. I'd tell you all about it now, but I'm not sure who might read this and, anyway, some things are better said person to person! PLEASE PLEASE Joseph! This is very important.

Love,
Jessy

As the man to whom the letter had been addressed finished reading the note, not for the first time since its arrival, and started to fold it up to put it back in its envelope, a faint scent drifted up from the paper. A scent that reminded him with a painful stab of the woman who had written it. With a sigh he tossed the letter on the coffee table.

He had been arguing with himself all afternoon, ever since the letter had arrived, as to what course of action he should take. Common sense and a personal pride, wounded almost beyond belief by Jessy's former treatment of him, argued that he should just toss the letter into the garbage and forget all about it. But even aside from the long, and admittedly painful, history that existed between himself and Jessica Olvand, Joseph Sterling was, by nature, a kind man with a strong sense of curiosity.

Even if he set aside Jessica's typical, empty apologies and her attempt to make peace, the fact that she was in some sort of trouble and had a secret she wanted to discuss was a powerful motivation for him to forget their past differences and call her. The question was whether one more potential, or, to be honest, inescapable, humiliation at the woman's hands was worth scratching this particular itch of curiosity.

Though Joseph's appearance was that of a somewhat insipid child suffering from a perpetual pout, he was, in fact, a very clever individual who had managed to make a fair living off of his wit. That his outward appearance gave others another impression had never bothered him, except where women were concerned. He had never been what one would call a ladies man. He had, in fact, had only one love in his life. The brief, but fervent, relationship he had had with Jessica had proven a disaster. Like oil and water they had never mixed well together. Jessica had easily moved on and up, leaving the young, disillusioned rookie police detective behind to lick his wounds and get over her as best he could. The trouble was, every time he thought he had succeed in getting the woman out of his system she seemed to pop back into his life. Well, perhaps it was to the woman's credit, that she was honest enough to admit that she only got in touch with him when she wanted something.

It was unlikely that any further contact between the two of them would lead to anything that would further Joseph's happiness, but true as that unfortunate fact may have been, Joseph, being as clever as he was, also recognized that he was only putting off the inevitable. He may not have been infatuated with Jessica any longer, though he was honest enough with himself to admit that he couldn't be sure of that one way or the other, but he knew full well that he was going to call her, just as she almost certainly knew he would.

Heaving another sigh, he pulled the phone to his side and, peering at the letter, quickly punched out the numbers, then he sat back and stared sightlessly at the glaring venetian blinds, frustrated and angry at himself for his own weakness but also restless to know what sort of a mess Jessica had gotten herself into this time.

The phone on the other end buzzed twice, then a crisp woman's voice he didn't recognize said, "Green Speculum Photography, may I help you?"

Joseph's eyebrows rose slightly behind his glasses and he paused only slightly. "Yes. Is Jessica there, please?" he asked, wondering if it were possible that he had gotten the wrong number.

"Are you possibly referring to Mrs. Jessica Olvand?" the voice asked in a tone of cold offense.

"Undoubtedly," Joseph said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He had learned to live with having strangers treat him like a child, but he had quite a good phone voice and was accustomed to having people respond, if not in a friendly manner, then at least with some degree of respect. "May I speak with her, please?"

"And whom shall I say is calling?"

"Joseph Sterling," he replied. "Jessica's asked me to call..."

"Mrs. Olvand is in conference right now," the voice interrupted his explanation. "If you wish to make an appointment to speak with her..."

"Oh forget it," Joseph said wearily. He was curious, true, but not curious enough to fight his way past a pompous secretary, or receptionist, or whatever sort of titled the person he was dealing with carried.

He hung up the phone with disgust at himself for even making the call in the first place, and with Jessy for giving him her business number rather than a personal one. Though that was typical of the way the woman had always treated him, and he was hardly surprised at it. He felt more depressed by the whole thing than he had expected, and he wondered if he were once again on the way to make a fool of himself.

With a frustrated grunt he rose from the sagging couch and went to his small, worn bathroom to splash water on his face, then he grabbed up a jacket and left the apartment to get a bite of lunch, determined that this time round things were going to be different. He had let Jessica get away with her casual cruelties for far too long. It was time he took a stand! Forget her altogether, and get on with his life. A life that had gone basically nowhere since the woman's departure.

The apartment had good reason for looking like a former motel room. That was, in fact, just what it had, in its better days, been. The small place Joseph rented was on the second floor and had a balcony running along the front of the building with stairs at either end and the renter's cars parked in a row on the cracking pavement below.

Determined to put Jessica and her mysterious letter out of his mind, the middle-aged man made his way down to his own rusty but functional station wagon and drove the few blocks to a small shopping mall. He bought himself a few inconsequential items and enjoyed a chat with the clerks, who were among his many casual friends. Then he made his way to a nearby fast-food franchise that provided edible food at a reasonable price. He ordered his usual full meal deal, and, acting on a whim, decided to take the simple meal back home and watch the afternoon news rather than fight the evening crowd for one of the restaurant's numerous plastic-covered booths.

The street in front of the apartment house was four lanes wide. Joseph, who avoided confrontation, disliked fighting the evening rush hour traffic and hated making the difficult left hand turn into the communal driveway. After some delay and finally taking his life in his hands, he managed to zip between two irate motorists and maneuver his car into the spot reserved for him.

He noticing with mild interest that one of the three spaces marked 'visitors' had an expensive-looking car parked in it. Not that the neighborhood was anywhere near a slum, nor that the various people renting apartments there didn't have their share of well-to-do visitors. Joseph, who was a gregarious and outgoing man by nature, had his fair share of guests as well. But guests usually dropped by on week ends, and normally came in middle to lower class transportation. Joseph had trained himself to spot anything out of the norm, and, for that reason, the car caught his attention and held it for a moment as he struggled out from behind the steering wheel with his greasy sack of food stuff.

Shrugging off his observation, Joseph made his way by mindless habit back up the stairs to his apartment, inserting the key in the lock, just as he had thousands of time before and giving it a sharp turn. Twisting the knob and pushing inward with the single, smooth movement of long familiarity, he stepped over the threshold.

"Hello, Joe," a woman's voice said and he froze with surprise and an overwhelming, uncharacteristic apprehension. Jessica Olvand was seated demurely on his couch, smoking a cigarette. "It took you long enough to get here."

The man recovered himself sufficiently to grunt a reply. Pulling his key back out of the lock he jerked the door shut behind him and walked into the room. He didn't look at Jessica as he sat his sack of fast food on the counter that divided the living room from the small cubicle of his kitchen. When he turned to stand in front of the woman, his hands propped firmly on his bulging hips no one would have guessed that he was anything but slightly surprised and annoyed.

"How did you get in here, Jessica?" he asked in the severest tone he could manage. "And don't tell me the door wasn't locked, because I know it was."

The woman laughed and tapped her cigarette with one long, bright red fingernail, letting the ashes drop onto the rug. "Of course it wasn't, Joseph," she purred. "You and I both know that someone as prudent as you are isn't going to forget to lock his own front door."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't drop your ashes on my rug," Joseph commented coolly, trying to gain some measure of control over the situation in face of the woman's cool insolence. "In fact, this is a smoke-free apartment. You shouldn't be smoking at all."

"Really, darling?" The woman drawled, pulling her feet up under herself to look up at Joseph in what she probably thought was a seductive manner. He had to admit that Jessica was still a remarkably attractive woman, with expertly colored blonde hair styled to have just a hint of fullness and tapered to frame her beautiful face with its high cheekbones, large blue eyes, and thick, almost impossibly mobile lips. She was, as was her habit, overdressed, in a flowing red dress that seemed to be half silk nightgown and half evening dress. If her face had been lifted, Joseph had to remind himself that she had to be near his own age, it had been so skillfully done that he could see no signs of it.

"I suppose that silly no smoking rule explains the lack of ashtrays," the woman said, clearly aware of Joseph's scrutiny.

She took a last drag at the stub of her cigarette and then rose in one smooth movement from the couch to glide on high-heeled, red sandals over to the bathroom. Through the open door, Joseph could see her toss the butt into the toilet and then flush it.

"There! Is that better, darling?" she asked, flowing back into the room to return to her seat on the couch. "Though I must say, Joseph, I'd hardly believe that you could survive long in a place that doesn't allow smokers. You always had so many friends dropping by and I'm sure at least some of them must be just as addicted to the filthy weed as I am. As I recall, you smoke - or did at one time..."

"I gave that up years ago," Joseph said curtly, sinking into the small easychair next to the door. "And you still haven't told me how you managed to get into my apartment," he persisted.

"Oh, that!" Jessica laughed. "It wasn't very difficult! If you're going to live in such a rough neighborhood, Joseph, you really should get more secure locks. Why, I managed to get it open so fast I didn't even have to worry about your nosy neighbors calling 911."

"I'll have to tell them about the neighborhood watch program," he commented dryly. "But you haven't explained how you managed to pick my lock, which is a rather exemplary one by the way." He looked at her expensive clothing meaningfully. "It's a rather questionable skill for one of your class to have picked up." Jessica threw back her head and laughed in the horsy, deep manner Joseph remembered with a pang from the old days of their shared youth.

"And how would you know how I've been living, Joseph?" she asked. "It hasn't been all smooth sailing for me over the years, you know."

"No, I don't know," Joseph said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. "How could I? You said yourself, the only time you have anything to do with me is when you need something. It would seem like you haven't been needing much of anybody for quite some time, now."

Jessica paused for a moment and looked at him through veiled eyes. "I see you got my letter, Joseph," she said, waving her thin, elegant hand toward the note the man saw, with some embarrassment, was still resting on the coffee table in front of her. "You might remember that I've apologized."

"Yeah," he said curtly. He leaned back in the chair, which rocked easily on its pivots beneath his weight. "In fact, to be honest, I even gave you a call. Idiot that I am. A word of advice, Jessy, next time you ask for somebody's help, give them a phone number where you can be reached. A person whose willing to do you a favor, might not be quite as willing to fight his way past some harpy to get to you."

"Oh, that!" the woman exclaimed with a slight laugh, though Joseph thought he detected a glimpse of embarrassment in her eyes. "That was just Fiona, my business partner. She thinks the more disagreeable she can be, the better it is for business. Adds to the tone, don't you know. I've been trying to break her of it, but..." She shrugged and pulled a cigarette case out of her purse. She had it already to her mouth before she caught herself and looked over at Joseph questioningly.

The man shrugged indifferently and rose to his feet, bringing her an ashtray from a drawer in the kitchen as she held a lighter to the tip of her cigarette. She took a deep pull and then gave him a beaming smile of gratitude as she exhaled the smoke.

"Just as chivalrous as ever, Joseph," she purred.

"Yeah, well, don't count on that," the man said. Then, as if to prove his point, he crossed to the counter where he had placed his bag of food upon entering.

"Now what do you want from me that makes it worth committing breaking and entering, Jessica?" he demanded as he dug into the sack to pull forth a paper-wrapped hamburger.

"My, you are blunt these days, aren't you?" the woman asked. She looked at the sandwich in his hand in a disapproving manner. "Are you really going to eat that?" she asked.

"The evidence points in that direction, yes," he said as he took a large bite of the now lukewarm burger and chewed defiantly.

"But it can't possibly taste very good, and you know all the grease is bad for your health," Jessica protested.

"On the contrary, I find it delicious, and these days I take my pleasure where I can find it," Joseph said with what indifference he could muster. "Food may be bad for your health, but at least eating is a pleasure one can enjoy by oneself." He dropped back into his chair and leaned forward to frown at her. "Speaking of which, I don't mean to be rude, but if you don't have anything important to say, maybe you should just... leave." He made a vague gesture toward the door.

"I never expected you to show such bitterness toward me, Joseph." Jessica said, showing no signs of rising from the couch.

The man shrugged and dug a handful of fries from the bag. "As I said, I didn't want to be rude, but this is my home." he replied, before stuffing the cold potatoes into his mouth and beginning to chew.

"Hardly a home," Jessica disagreed. Then she gave a twisted half-smile and sighed as she tapped her cigarette into the ashtray. "The fact is, Joseph, I'm in one hell of a spot, and I really do need your help."

"You have enough money and status to take care of yourself now, Jessica." Joseph said. gesturing toward her appearance. "You've moved way out of my league, Jessy. But then, you always were out of my class, weren't you? I was never able to keep up with you before, so why should I be able to do it now?"

"Would you be happier if I were as poor as you seem to enjoy being, Joseph?" the woman asked softly. "What's happened to the man I used to know who thought showing some ambition was a good thing? If I've moved up, Joseph, you seem to have moved down. You've become one of those low key individuals who thinks having a some aspiration is a waste of effort, but believe me, having money is hardly a sin."

"I imagine you've violated a commandment or two on your way to getting where you are, Jessica," Joseph said as he finished his first hamburger and started the second. Not that he was really hungry. In fact, the cold, hastily eaten food was sitting rather heavy on his stomach. But it showed Jessica that he wasn't interested in her or what she had to say.

"You're not telling me you've gone and turned all moral on me, are you, Joseph?" the woman laughed.

The man raised his hand and ran his fingers through his thinning black hair and sighed.

"I don't want to have this argument with you, Jessy," he said. "I thought we got this all hashed out the last time we saw each other. You can live any way you want, and more power to you." He shifted on his chair to face her more squarely. "I don't think I can help you with whatever problem you may have or think you have. Perhaps it would be better if you'd just leave."

"My daughter has been kidnapped, Joseph," Jessica said suddenly. "If you don't help me get her back I don't know..." The woman swallowed hard and leaned forward to tap her cigarette into the ashtray, hiding her face from Joseph's surprised stare.