Silver Threads Among the Gold
a short story
It’s a tough life here in Rusty Springs Retirement Home. Being ninety-three is bad enough, but when you’ve been cracked on the skull as many times as I have, things tend to get a little muzzy. I’d thought my days as a P.I. were over, but I was wrong. It started with a soft knock on my door one afternoon.
“Come in,” I croaked. I remember when my voice made strong men and beautiful women weak at the knees for different reasons.
A woman came in and gave me the once-over. “So you are still alive,” she said. “Question is, do you still have all your marbles?”
“Who wants to know?” Her wisecrack hurt, but I couldn’t help admiring her sass. And her ass, still cute in elastic waist capris. Beautiful silvery hair, own teeth.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“I haven’t been a gumshoe for years. These days I’m all gums and no shoes.” I pointed to my socks.
“You were the best,” she purred.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Name’s Alice McGee. My husband Jock died two weeks ago in suspicious circumstances.”
“How suspicious?”
“He drowned in our swimming pool. I found him in his swimsuit, face down in the water.”
“Sounds like an accident,” I shrugged.
“My husband never went in the pool. He was a sea captain. Like a lot of sailors, he believed that if you were shipwrecked it was better to die quick. He never learned to swim.”
“What did the cops think?”
“No evidence of foul play. But they didn’t know it all. There was other evidence I couldn’t tell them about.”
“Tell me all the details, including the bits you didn’t tell the cops.” I’d made a snap decision to take the case. I could use the money. Despite its crappy facilities, Rusty Springs was expensive.
“My husband had his own ship, the Harpy Eagle.”
“Harpy Eagle? Reminds me of my late wife.”
“The ship was named after his first big success. We were poor when he was a young merchant seaman. Then one year he came home from South America with a pair of golden statuettes of this harpy eagle. He was evasive about how he came to own them, but said our luck was about to change, and it did.
“He did some dealing down the dockside bars. You can shift anything there. He sold one of the eagles to a collector, and put a down payment on his own ship. The other eagle he kept. Called it his Luck. He was real superstitious about it. He used to say if he ever lost that eagle, that would be it for our luck.”
“Don’t tell me. The eagle, his luck and his life ran out at about the same time?”
“I didn’t know it was gone at first. I only discovered it was missing when I went to get it from the trunk he kept it in. I was going to bury the damn thing with him. The strange thing is, the trunk was locked and nobody but he and I knew where the key was kept. But the eagle was gone.”
“Maybe he took it out to clean it?”
“He would never have left it out.”
I made notes: where Jock hung out and who with, who might have grudges against him. A possible lead presented itself in the person of one Al Dante, owner of a waterfront nightclub called Disco Inferno that has an illegal gambling den upstairs that Jock used to frequent. Jock had been anxious lately, Alice said. Maybe he’d gotten too deep into debt. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to start .I asked for a retainer to cover my expenses and said I’d do what I could.
After she’d gone I fished around in the closet and found them – my old crepe soled shoes. They had gone mouldy. “Don’t you…step on my green suede shoes,” I sang as I cleaned them. It felt good to be back in business. I heard a noise outside the window. The old instincts kicked in, but when I peeked it was just Ray from the gardening service. He must have heard me wheezing because he looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said.
“Doing a great job there.” He was dark skinned – somebody told me he was an Indian.
I went out to get my car. Rusty Springs’ administrator was just getting out of hers, and gave me a dirty look.
“What?” I said. “Doc says I’m still good to drive.”
She scowled. “Just watch where you’re reversing.”
Down in the waterfront area I found Disco Inferno, and parked right outside. The only perk of being ninety-three is having a handicapped permit. The door was unlocked so I went in. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I made out a guy polishing glasses at the bar.
“I’d like to speak to Mr Dante,” I said.
He spoke into a phone. “Al? There’s an – elderly gentleman to see you.” He turned back to me. “Please take a seat, he’ll be out shortly,” he said as he went back to his work.
Dante came out and sat down opposite me. “What can I do for you?”
I introduced myself and got straight to the point. “Jock McGee.”
“Poor Jock,” he said. “What about him?”
“He owed you money, yes?’
“In fact, no. He paid me everything he owed not long before he died. In one payment, too. Usually it was instalments if he owed me in the past.”
“Any idea where he got the money?”
He shrugged. “I don’t ask. Anything else?”
“Not right now. Thanks for your help, Mr Dante.” The barman came to help with the chair and accompanied me to the door.
“Try Flossie,” he suggested. “Bag lady, hangs out round the docks. Knows everybody and everybody’s business.”
“Thanks, I will.” I walked around the docks till I saw a figure in an old coat, head-down in a garbage can pulling out cans.
“Flossie?’
The head came up. “That’s me, toots”, she said, treating me to a broad smile that proved you don’t need toothpaste to have that Ring of Confidence. “Whoa, ain’t you the old one, though?”
“I’m told you know everybody’s comings and goings.”
“I make it my business to know,” she said, with an emphasis on “business”.
I tucked a banknote into her pocket. “Jock McGee. Anything on him?”
“Sure. He come to me for information, just like you’re doing now.”
“What information?” I asked eagerly. Too eagerly. There was no response. I handed over another note.
“Was looking for this guy Papillon. Collects stuff. Whaddya call em? Arty Facts. From the halls of Montezuma, whatever. I got the guy’s address for him.” She paused to let me get excited again. I did my best to look as though I might die any second. “Number 13, Lucre Avenue.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.” I turned to go.
“Hey toots – how about a drink sometime?”
“Sure. Soon. Seeya.”
Back at the car I checked street directory. The address was in a fancy part of town. I decided to head home, though. It was past my nap time. Papillon could wait till tomorrow.
When I opened my door I got the old sixth-sense feeling. Nobody in my room or bathroom, so I stuck my head out of the door and caught a flash of chrome as a walking frame swung towards my skull. I came to with a egg on my head. Who would want to slug me? The oldies wouldn’t, and most of them couldn’t. A warning to butt out of the case? They could have just left a note.
The next day I headed down to Lucre Avenue. Elegant houses were half-hidden by well-tended shrubbery. I parked a few houses away and walked to number 13. An “Inca Gardening Service” truck was parked outside. Same company that did Rusty Springs. Staying hidden, I snuck through the garden and worked my way around the outside of the house, checking out the windows.
Round the side was a book-lined study with leather chairs and a big antique desk. Nice. On the opposite side a pair of French doors opened onto the back garden. But what interested me was the golden eagle statuette on the desk. Near the bookcase stood a glass case with an identical eagle in it.
I heard raised voices coming in through the doors and crept to the corner of the house to see. It was Ray the gardener, and a guy who had to be Papillon. They were arguing about something, but I couldn’t hear what it was. Sneaking back to the window, I climbed in and crossed the room as fast as I could. I stuck the eagle in my jacket and made my escape. It was fun. I was doing things I didn’t think I could do any more. I drove away, making sure I wasn’t being followed.
That had been almost too easy. I had the evidence, I had the stolen eagle, and it would be up to Alice to decide what happened next. I took out the eagle. It was heavy and beautifully made, but hell, it was just a statue. Not worth murdering for.
Then I noticed something that made me realise that I’d been lied to. I rang Disco Inferno and asked if Jock had paid his debt in person, and got the reply that it had come by courier. Then I rang Alice and asked her to meet me at Rusty Springs.
When Alice arrived I had the eagle sitting on the table. Her eyes lit up. “I knew you were the best,” she exclaimed, picking it up.
“That’s definitely it?”
“Of course.”
“I just thought you might not remember what it looked like after thirty years.” Alice looked up at me sharply.
“You saw it only recently, didn’t you, when you sold it to Papillon?”
“What?”
“Whose is the beautiful silvery hair caught in the eagle’s talons, Alice? You and Jock weren’t happy, were you? Jock’s gambling was getting worse, he risked losing everything you owned. You tried to get him to sell the eagle, but he refused. So you sold it yourself. Maybe you should tell me the rest. Why did you kill him?”
“I didn’t kill him,” she whispered brokenly. Still holding the eagle, she sank into the chair and fumbled in her bag for her hanky. At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. In fact, she was taking out a handgun and pointing it at me.
“He’d been checking on the eagle regularly since I’d pressured him to sell it. When he saw it was gone he came down to the pool, where I was lying on a lounge. We fought. He was angry – and scared. Remember that thing about it being his Luck? I stood up and called him a loser and said his luck had run out years ago. He slapped me and I slipped on the wet tiles. My leg collided with his and he overbalanced. My head hit the ground and I blacked out. When I came to he was floating face down in the pool. I hauled him out but it was too late. So I changed him into his swimsuit, put his clothes in the dryer, and called the cops.”
“So why hire me to find out who killed him?”
“When he died there was an obituary in the paper. I got a call from a collector. He’d tried to buy the eagle from Jock years before, and wanted to know if it was for sale. Made me an offer that made me realise Papillon had ripped me off. If I sold it to this new guy I could leave this crappy town and retire somewhere swell. I told him I’d think about it and get back to him, then I hired you to steal it back for me. Which you have, thank you.”
She rose and backed away, still pointing the gun at me. “Sadly you now, as they say, know too much. At your age I’m doing you a favour. Let’s take a walk to the railway bridge. When the trains go over you can’t hear a thing.”
At that moment a gloved hand grabbed her, covering her mouth and nose. There was a pungent smell. Alice gasped, began to cough and choke, and sank to the floor, dropping the eagle and the gun. I picked up the gun and pointed it at her, while my rescuer picked up the eagle and grinned at me.
“Ray,” I said, “what was in that glove?”
“Pelletised chicken manure. Great for the lawn.”
“I guess you’ll be taking the eagle back to Peru?”
“What?”
“Isn’t that what you want? To get back the eagles that were stolen from your people by Jock?”
Ray laughed. “I just happened to be outside. I’m not that kind of Indian. Ray is a nickname for Rajiv. My folks come from Mumbai. After we deal with this crook shall I drive you over to Mr Papillon’s place? You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“But I saw you arguing with Papillon earlier.”
“He wanted me to put in the sweet peas already. It’s too early.”
“I guess we should call the cops then.”
“Actually, I just saw two police cars pull into the drive.”
I waved the gun at Alice. “Let’s go, sugar.” She got sullenly to her feet and we went down to Reception. All the oldies were milling about excitedly. I looked over at the police cars in time to see Rusty Spring’s administrator being put in the back seat. She was yelling “I hate old people! I’m gonna kill you all!”
One of the oldies explained. “She’s lost it completely. Whacking people with a walking frame.”
Well, that was the last mystery solved. We handed Alice over and took the eagle back to Papillon. Luckily for me he was so happy to get it back that he didn’t want to press charges. I thanked Ray and he offered to take me home.
“Could you drop me off at the docks instead?” I asked. “I have to buy a real lady a drink.”
“Come in,” I croaked. I remember when my voice made strong men and beautiful women weak at the knees for different reasons.
A woman came in and gave me the once-over. “So you are still alive,” she said. “Question is, do you still have all your marbles?”
“Who wants to know?” Her wisecrack hurt, but I couldn’t help admiring her sass. And her ass, still cute in elastic waist capris. Beautiful silvery hair, own teeth.
“I’ve got a job for you.”
“I haven’t been a gumshoe for years. These days I’m all gums and no shoes.” I pointed to my socks.
“You were the best,” she purred.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Name’s Alice McGee. My husband Jock died two weeks ago in suspicious circumstances.”
“How suspicious?”
“He drowned in our swimming pool. I found him in his swimsuit, face down in the water.”
“Sounds like an accident,” I shrugged.
“My husband never went in the pool. He was a sea captain. Like a lot of sailors, he believed that if you were shipwrecked it was better to die quick. He never learned to swim.”
“What did the cops think?”
“No evidence of foul play. But they didn’t know it all. There was other evidence I couldn’t tell them about.”
“Tell me all the details, including the bits you didn’t tell the cops.” I’d made a snap decision to take the case. I could use the money. Despite its crappy facilities, Rusty Springs was expensive.
“My husband had his own ship, the Harpy Eagle.”
“Harpy Eagle? Reminds me of my late wife.”
“The ship was named after his first big success. We were poor when he was a young merchant seaman. Then one year he came home from South America with a pair of golden statuettes of this harpy eagle. He was evasive about how he came to own them, but said our luck was about to change, and it did.
“He did some dealing down the dockside bars. You can shift anything there. He sold one of the eagles to a collector, and put a down payment on his own ship. The other eagle he kept. Called it his Luck. He was real superstitious about it. He used to say if he ever lost that eagle, that would be it for our luck.”
“Don’t tell me. The eagle, his luck and his life ran out at about the same time?”
“I didn’t know it was gone at first. I only discovered it was missing when I went to get it from the trunk he kept it in. I was going to bury the damn thing with him. The strange thing is, the trunk was locked and nobody but he and I knew where the key was kept. But the eagle was gone.”
“Maybe he took it out to clean it?”
“He would never have left it out.”
I made notes: where Jock hung out and who with, who might have grudges against him. A possible lead presented itself in the person of one Al Dante, owner of a waterfront nightclub called Disco Inferno that has an illegal gambling den upstairs that Jock used to frequent. Jock had been anxious lately, Alice said. Maybe he’d gotten too deep into debt. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to start .I asked for a retainer to cover my expenses and said I’d do what I could.
After she’d gone I fished around in the closet and found them – my old crepe soled shoes. They had gone mouldy. “Don’t you…step on my green suede shoes,” I sang as I cleaned them. It felt good to be back in business. I heard a noise outside the window. The old instincts kicked in, but when I peeked it was just Ray from the gardening service. He must have heard me wheezing because he looked up and smiled. “Hi,” he said.
“Doing a great job there.” He was dark skinned – somebody told me he was an Indian.
I went out to get my car. Rusty Springs’ administrator was just getting out of hers, and gave me a dirty look.
“What?” I said. “Doc says I’m still good to drive.”
She scowled. “Just watch where you’re reversing.”
Down in the waterfront area I found Disco Inferno, and parked right outside. The only perk of being ninety-three is having a handicapped permit. The door was unlocked so I went in. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light I made out a guy polishing glasses at the bar.
“I’d like to speak to Mr Dante,” I said.
He spoke into a phone. “Al? There’s an – elderly gentleman to see you.” He turned back to me. “Please take a seat, he’ll be out shortly,” he said as he went back to his work.
Dante came out and sat down opposite me. “What can I do for you?”
I introduced myself and got straight to the point. “Jock McGee.”
“Poor Jock,” he said. “What about him?”
“He owed you money, yes?’
“In fact, no. He paid me everything he owed not long before he died. In one payment, too. Usually it was instalments if he owed me in the past.”
“Any idea where he got the money?”
He shrugged. “I don’t ask. Anything else?”
“Not right now. Thanks for your help, Mr Dante.” The barman came to help with the chair and accompanied me to the door.
“Try Flossie,” he suggested. “Bag lady, hangs out round the docks. Knows everybody and everybody’s business.”
“Thanks, I will.” I walked around the docks till I saw a figure in an old coat, head-down in a garbage can pulling out cans.
“Flossie?’
The head came up. “That’s me, toots”, she said, treating me to a broad smile that proved you don’t need toothpaste to have that Ring of Confidence. “Whoa, ain’t you the old one, though?”
“I’m told you know everybody’s comings and goings.”
“I make it my business to know,” she said, with an emphasis on “business”.
I tucked a banknote into her pocket. “Jock McGee. Anything on him?”
“Sure. He come to me for information, just like you’re doing now.”
“What information?” I asked eagerly. Too eagerly. There was no response. I handed over another note.
“Was looking for this guy Papillon. Collects stuff. Whaddya call em? Arty Facts. From the halls of Montezuma, whatever. I got the guy’s address for him.” She paused to let me get excited again. I did my best to look as though I might die any second. “Number 13, Lucre Avenue.”
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.” I turned to go.
“Hey toots – how about a drink sometime?”
“Sure. Soon. Seeya.”
Back at the car I checked street directory. The address was in a fancy part of town. I decided to head home, though. It was past my nap time. Papillon could wait till tomorrow.
When I opened my door I got the old sixth-sense feeling. Nobody in my room or bathroom, so I stuck my head out of the door and caught a flash of chrome as a walking frame swung towards my skull. I came to with a egg on my head. Who would want to slug me? The oldies wouldn’t, and most of them couldn’t. A warning to butt out of the case? They could have just left a note.
The next day I headed down to Lucre Avenue. Elegant houses were half-hidden by well-tended shrubbery. I parked a few houses away and walked to number 13. An “Inca Gardening Service” truck was parked outside. Same company that did Rusty Springs. Staying hidden, I snuck through the garden and worked my way around the outside of the house, checking out the windows.
Round the side was a book-lined study with leather chairs and a big antique desk. Nice. On the opposite side a pair of French doors opened onto the back garden. But what interested me was the golden eagle statuette on the desk. Near the bookcase stood a glass case with an identical eagle in it.
I heard raised voices coming in through the doors and crept to the corner of the house to see. It was Ray the gardener, and a guy who had to be Papillon. They were arguing about something, but I couldn’t hear what it was. Sneaking back to the window, I climbed in and crossed the room as fast as I could. I stuck the eagle in my jacket and made my escape. It was fun. I was doing things I didn’t think I could do any more. I drove away, making sure I wasn’t being followed.
That had been almost too easy. I had the evidence, I had the stolen eagle, and it would be up to Alice to decide what happened next. I took out the eagle. It was heavy and beautifully made, but hell, it was just a statue. Not worth murdering for.
Then I noticed something that made me realise that I’d been lied to. I rang Disco Inferno and asked if Jock had paid his debt in person, and got the reply that it had come by courier. Then I rang Alice and asked her to meet me at Rusty Springs.
When Alice arrived I had the eagle sitting on the table. Her eyes lit up. “I knew you were the best,” she exclaimed, picking it up.
“That’s definitely it?”
“Of course.”
“I just thought you might not remember what it looked like after thirty years.” Alice looked up at me sharply.
“You saw it only recently, didn’t you, when you sold it to Papillon?”
“What?”
“Whose is the beautiful silvery hair caught in the eagle’s talons, Alice? You and Jock weren’t happy, were you? Jock’s gambling was getting worse, he risked losing everything you owned. You tried to get him to sell the eagle, but he refused. So you sold it yourself. Maybe you should tell me the rest. Why did you kill him?”
“I didn’t kill him,” she whispered brokenly. Still holding the eagle, she sank into the chair and fumbled in her bag for her hanky. At least, that’s what I thought she was doing. In fact, she was taking out a handgun and pointing it at me.
“He’d been checking on the eagle regularly since I’d pressured him to sell it. When he saw it was gone he came down to the pool, where I was lying on a lounge. We fought. He was angry – and scared. Remember that thing about it being his Luck? I stood up and called him a loser and said his luck had run out years ago. He slapped me and I slipped on the wet tiles. My leg collided with his and he overbalanced. My head hit the ground and I blacked out. When I came to he was floating face down in the pool. I hauled him out but it was too late. So I changed him into his swimsuit, put his clothes in the dryer, and called the cops.”
“So why hire me to find out who killed him?”
“When he died there was an obituary in the paper. I got a call from a collector. He’d tried to buy the eagle from Jock years before, and wanted to know if it was for sale. Made me an offer that made me realise Papillon had ripped me off. If I sold it to this new guy I could leave this crappy town and retire somewhere swell. I told him I’d think about it and get back to him, then I hired you to steal it back for me. Which you have, thank you.”
She rose and backed away, still pointing the gun at me. “Sadly you now, as they say, know too much. At your age I’m doing you a favour. Let’s take a walk to the railway bridge. When the trains go over you can’t hear a thing.”
At that moment a gloved hand grabbed her, covering her mouth and nose. There was a pungent smell. Alice gasped, began to cough and choke, and sank to the floor, dropping the eagle and the gun. I picked up the gun and pointed it at her, while my rescuer picked up the eagle and grinned at me.
“Ray,” I said, “what was in that glove?”
“Pelletised chicken manure. Great for the lawn.”
“I guess you’ll be taking the eagle back to Peru?”
“What?”
“Isn’t that what you want? To get back the eagles that were stolen from your people by Jock?”
Ray laughed. “I just happened to be outside. I’m not that kind of Indian. Ray is a nickname for Rajiv. My folks come from Mumbai. After we deal with this crook shall I drive you over to Mr Papillon’s place? You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“But I saw you arguing with Papillon earlier.”
“He wanted me to put in the sweet peas already. It’s too early.”
“I guess we should call the cops then.”
“Actually, I just saw two police cars pull into the drive.”
I waved the gun at Alice. “Let’s go, sugar.” She got sullenly to her feet and we went down to Reception. All the oldies were milling about excitedly. I looked over at the police cars in time to see Rusty Spring’s administrator being put in the back seat. She was yelling “I hate old people! I’m gonna kill you all!”
One of the oldies explained. “She’s lost it completely. Whacking people with a walking frame.”
Well, that was the last mystery solved. We handed Alice over and took the eagle back to Papillon. Luckily for me he was so happy to get it back that he didn’t want to press charges. I thanked Ray and he offered to take me home.
“Could you drop me off at the docks instead?” I asked. “I have to buy a real lady a drink.”