The Brief-Case Affair

Chapter Three - Mr John Stone

By the late morning, I found myself standing at the base of a most unsightly building.The walls were lined with that awful type of concrete with small stones jutting out at random intervals. You know the ones I mean - the type of wall that, should you land against it, would almost certainly puncture your skin in anywhere up to fifty separate locations. The doors were wooden and decaying, the windows were old and the paint was flaking off. And to my utter amazement, a small sign attached to the wall declared proudly that this building was:

'Opened on 16th January 2016 by the Mayor...'

2016. That was nearly three years ago.

I would have said many things about this building, but I wouldn't have said it was only three years old. It was as though the architect had searched the internet for the ugliest examples of buildings in British history, found the example ranked Number 1 and decided he would do his best to compete with it.

Evidently, most people agreed. Despite the building proudly proclaiming it had up to twenty-four offices available for rent, it appeared that only six of them were actually occupied.

I allowed by finger to drift down the security buttons until it arrived at the person I was interested in.

John Stone - Private Investigator.

His website had looked very promising on the face of it. Alongside quotes from satisfied clients, Mr Stone had included a very frank and open display of what he charged for his services. The majority of his competitors, on the whole, neglected this piece of vital information - presumably to encourage people to contact them directly and subject themselves to some strong arm sales techniques. Stone's services on the other hand, filled me with hope. He was clearly a man who was upfront about things. A man of integrity. A man of honour.

Cheap.

I pressed the button and, after a brief discussing with the gruff voice on the other end of the intercom, I was buzzed in.

Mr Stone's office was on the third floor, which was lucky because the elevator was broken and I had no desire to climb all the way to the seventh. As I emerged on to the corridor, I observed that Mr Stone's office was the middle door in a row of three; the left belonging to a Mr Macavity, and the right belonging to a Dr Kate Marsh.

As a rapped on the middle door and waited patiently, I was surprised to find the door on my right swing open and a young, pretty face peered out into the corridor. I say she was young, but obviously she couldn't have been that young. Although in the grand scheme of things she probably is quite young if you compared her to something ancient and decrepit - chivalry for example.

She had a long, flowing, blonde hair, and her staring eyes sparkled in a brilliant blue. From the professional nature of her attire and the name badge clipped to her lapel, I had no doubt that the young woman standing in front of me was the aforementioned Dr Kate Marsh. She stared out of me coldly, although behind those eyes, I detected a distinct hint of fear as they scoured the corridor behind me.

I reached up to doff my hat. Unfortunately, I wasn't wearing one, so I had to make do with pinching my right eyebrow in a manner that I hoped wasn't too unsightly to the young doctor.

'Good morning, Doctor,' I said, politely and respectfully.

Dr Marsh blinked twice, a wave of surprise passing over her. In a flash, she stepped back inside her office, disappearing from view, and the door slammed shut behind her.

I might have thought something of this had it not been for the clanking of the chain on the door in front of me, which indicated that Mr Stone was finally ready to let me in.