Mustang Case File #1

Chapter Three

AT HARRIET MUSTANGS, Harriet sat snoozing on the couch, her arms folded, her face pushing down on her neck which locked her double chins in place.

Meanwhile, Emma cross examined Dermot with hostility. "Look you little weed, explain exactly why you're here? Apart from that greedy mother of yours trying to get her grubby hands on our corporation."

Dermot tried to look affronted at the accusation but was well aware of the reddening flush creeping up his face. He was pleased he had family photos Natasha had stashed in his pocket at the last minute. He took them out, removed his glasses and pointed to his family, "This is my father and mother and me," he said in an attempt to change the subject and Emma's accusation.

But Emma's fury increased. She raged and grabbed Dermot's glasses from his hands. "I know what your game is sonny. Trying to evoke memories of your grandfather so your grandmother will favor you. Faking his and her trademark glasses. Well it won't work."

And Dermot's scarlet face deepened further when he took in the seriousness of the photo he was showing Emma. It had been taken when he was about five years old and all three of them were wearing large black rimmed square glasses. Over the years Dermot had asked his parents why they were all wearing the strange glasses and he was told, "Just a dress up evening." But now he knew the truth. They were making fun of his grandparents.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said and snatched the glasses back, put them on, blinked a couple of times just as Harriet woke up and looked over Emma's shoulders.

"Which one are you supposed to be?" Harriet's quivery voice asked as she stared at the dress up evening photo.

Dermot flicked her a puzzled glance and swapped the photo for one of her, his grandfather and his own father and asked her, "And which one are you supposed to be?"

Harriet puzzled as she looked at Dermot with unease. He returned the expression.

He recalled his P.I. training—first level intimidation—and he wondered if it would work on this old woman. He stood up, towered over her and fixed his dark eyes on her faded watery blue eyes. "So, you reckon you're Harriet Mustang? The master of the desert trade? The head of a big conglomerate all set to increase the populations blood pressure and cholesterol with your sugary treats? So, start talking. Who are you?"

Harriet blinked and then turned to Emma and asked, "Who did you say I was dear?"

Dermot rolled his eyes heavenward, walked toward the back door and outside into the back yard to update his mother on events. Just as Natasha, in Auckland, answered her phone, Dermot heard Emma yell at Harriet, "For God's sake pull yourself together or Leo will out vote you, and you and your precious corporation will be finished!" 

As Dermot talked to Natasha, the goose had followed him outside and taken a liking to his shiny black shoes. It spread its wings, lowered its long neck angling to peck at his shoelaces and Dermot had to keep moving away from its snapping beak and jigged from the back yard around to the front lawn, kicking his foot out to deter the goose. Amid his to-ing and fro-ing, he discovered a dilapidated old bike amongst the ivy.

"She's either an imposter or she's as daft as a brush, a feathery brush," he told his mother.

In Auckland, Natasha sat on her white sheepskin rug. "Get to the bottom of it Dermot...hic-cup...I want...hic-cup, get to the bottom of it," she ordered, "I WANT THE CORPORATION."

Bordering Harriet's property on the other side of the shrubbery, Rene was walking home and stopped when she saw the stranger racing around the shrubbery, his head bobbing erratically and nattering to himself.