I'm happy to help

A womans husband goes missing.

I'm happy to help

Margaret dusted off her jacket and adjusted her hair in the window. It was important, at least to her, that she appeared calm, composed and confident. To appear less shaken than she really was, as she had every right to be. She read the plaque for the third time:

 

 "SAM NEALY, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR"

 

 ..just to triple-check that she was definitely at the right place, nothing else would reassure her. Steeling herself against her own hesitation, she forced herself to knock. Three times.

"Come in." a baritone replied "Who knocks these days?"

Margaret patted her hair down one last time and opened the door, stepping in from the corridor and into Mr Nealys' office. It was a large square of a room, though somewhat sparce and indecorous. Papers and a laptop were scattered across the desk, which was illuminated only by the grey daylight shining through the blinds. Another closed door at the far end led to a store-room. Three black suitcases were propped against the wall.

"Hello." the baritone responded. It's owner, a man in a dark suit with a plain haircut, lifted his head as he greeted Margaret. His dark eyes and strong jawline were not unhandsome.

"Um, hello." Margarets voice, like a little bird, quivered in contrast. "Mr Neale?"

"Yes, that's me, P.I for hire. Please take a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"No thankyou" Margaret stammered out, shaking Sams hand and passing him her coat as he rose.

She'd worn her best flowery dress in misplaced hopes that she'd see him again...find him here.

 

"So, how can I help; you, miss..."

"Mrs Perryman. Mrs Margaret Perryman."

A small noise, like a banging, came from the back room. Neither seemed to think much of it.

"Please ignore the boiler, and excuse the mess. I've not long moved to this office, or even had the chance to unpack my things, I'm afraid. Apologies, Mrs Perryman. How may I help you today?"

"I'll be brief. My husband, Christian Perryman, has been reported missing. So far the police have been less than useless." She fidgeted, and her voice still quivered. Her big blue eyes had a hard time leaving the dusty pine-paneled floor. Sam clenched his jaw, already deep in concentration.

"I'm very sorry to hear that. Is there anything more that you can tell me? Where he worked, where he was last seen or known to be, any hobbies or personal interests? Friends or family he may have spent time with recently?"

"He's...just a simple man. We’ve not been married for too long, only a few months, and my sister was due to visit this week or next, to check up on us. He’s an office worker, his job would have him working long hours sometimes but he’d never have to spend the night.  Then one day…he didn’t come home. I’ve called all of his friends…”

She reached into her brown leather handbag, retrieved a small white business card with a simple black and white design, a skyscraper. Christian Perryman " Senior Accounts Consultant.

“Here is his card. It has our home number too…” she passed it to Sam with a trembling hand.

 

“Well thankyou, Mrs Perryman. So he was last seen at the office?”

“Well, his car went somewhere...but the police never saw it leave the city."

The corner of Sams mouth crept upwards:

"Then I'm sure he's to be found, Ma'am. I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Mr Nealy. Sorry to be abrupt..." she glanced around herself awkwardly "...but I should go. I'm expecting a house call from the police soon, an update. I must go." she chirped nervously, retrieving her coat.

"Please.." she continued "..do let me know if you hear anything."

"I'll get to work right away, m'am."

With that, Margaret Perryman shut the door gently behind her, and walked with a brisk anxiety away down the corridor, glancing over her shoulder only twice or thrice. 

Sam sat still, for a second. A few minutes passed, as he shuffled papers, waiting. Then:

"Chris! She's gone, buddy."

Tentatively, as if pushed by a small animal, the back door opened. An unshaven man, uncleanly dressed with a toothbrush in his mouth and scruffy black hair, emerged from the storage room.

"Great, thanks Sam."

"No problem. This still seems a bit much, how long you gonna keep this up for?"

"I told you. Two weeks. No more."

Sam took a short breath: "Two weeks back there though? You could have taken your suitcases to the back with you, by the way."

"Just until the sister has come and gone. She's from far away. No-one would expect to find me here in plain sight like this, it's the best place." Chris nodded confidently.

"Still.." Sam shook his head somberly, disapproving.

"You haven't MET her sister man. I loathe that woman." Chris groaned.

"Well, suit yourself Chris. It's your marriage, I'm happy to help."

 

 

Reviews

[Maya]

Aww, poor lady! Great little story though. And I could see romance blossom between Sam and the Mrs, in fact. To be continued? :)

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

God, the ending! This is officially my favourite story. Your writing, as always, was awesome. Keep it upand keep it coming!