The Lofty Perch: Poached Parody, page 1
THE LOFTY PERCH
Lucius Anoraq is hired by a wealthy Pasadena widowed emu with a mean streak to find a missing daughter-in-law who stole a gold coin worth a small fortune. Only things don’t quite add up until Anoraq discovers evidence of murder, rape, blackmail, and exploitation.
The Lofty Perch
A Poached Parody
P.C. HATTER
Also known as Stacy Bender
Byrnas Books
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
The Lofty Perch
Copyright © 2021 by Stacy Bender
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Cover Design by Elizabeth Mackey
Art by Sara “Caribou” Miles
CHAPTER 1
The only thing I knew about Lidia Hopkins-Sayers was that the emu lived in Pasadena and was the widow of one Gilbert Sayers. He was a rich flightless bird who gave a lot of money to the community and got his name in the papers on the anniversary of his death.
Why the widow needed a private detective was a mystery not divulged over the phone, but that wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t the first time clients wanted me to make a house call.
I parked my car on the street and made my way up the walk to ring the bell. Whoever was in the house wasn’t in a hurry, and I was reaching for the doorbell for a second ring when a beady eyed crane cracked the door open. The bird didn’t bother asking why I rang the bell in the first place and left that up to me.
“The name’s Lucius Anoraq, I have an appointment with Mrs. Sayers.”
“Which Mrs. Sayers?” snapped the crane.
“A Mrs. Lidia Hopkins-Sayers.”
“Card.” The crane glared at me and stuck her feathery hand through the opening, palm up. When I pulled a card from my wallet and gave it to her, she slammed the door in my face.
I spent my time looking around the well-tended landscape of the front yard and cleaning my nails. Not something a Siberian Husky wants to do on a warm California day.
When the crane did come back, her attitude hadn’t changed, but she did let me into the coolness and led me through a house time forgot. While clean, the place looked thirty years out of date with more tapestry and marble than a castle. We ended up in a tacky looking office area that opened out into the back garden where the crane announced my presence before stomping off.
CHAPTER 2
A black swan in big wire-rimmed glasses sat behind the desk. Her feathery hands hovered over the keys of the typewriter, but her wide eyes were on me. I smiled, and she got flustered and picked up a pen and steno pad.
“I’m Mrs. Fellows, Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers’ secretary. Did you bring a list of references?”
The question was a new one on me. Normally people get my name from a friend or pick it out of the phonebook. The secretary didn’t appear happy when I mentioned this, but I was quickly getting the impression the house wasn’t a thrill ride.
Once I rattled off the name of a bank VP, a state senator, an attorney, an oil tycoon, and two detectives, one of which was on the D.A.’s staff, I asked her if that was enough. She seemed to think so and set about phoning everyone I listed while I was left to gaze out at the garden.
Unlike most secretaries I’ve met, the black swan looked more the stereotypical librarian, efficient yet void of all ornamentation and makeup. Even the suit she wore appeared standard issue.
When she was finished making her calls, the swan excused herself and disappeared behind a door, but not before turning back and pushing the top drawer of her desk closed. Curiosity got the best of me and, while the bird was absent, I stepped over and checked out the drawer. A small Colt automatic sat nestled among the extra pencils and paperclips.
The bird was gone for less than five minutes when she came back to escort me in to see Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers. After a short walk down a hallway, I was shown into what I thought was a heavily draped and dark room. As it turned out, it was a sunroom so heavily overgrown with plants the sun couldn’t get through.
Mrs. Lidia Hopkins-Sayers sat on one of the reed chaise longue by the windows surrounded by pillows. I didn’t need to see the wine glass in her hand to realize she’d been drinking. The stale air inside the room could get a body drunk.
Either the bird’s feathers were turning an interesting shade of whitish silver, or she had frequent trips to the stylists. Perhaps the groomer made house calls. Anything was possible when enough money was involved. The only thing the bird didn’t seem to worry about was her weight. I’d never seen a double chin on an emu.
“Sit, Mr. Anoraq, and don’t smoke. I’m asthmatic.”
Hard eyes glared at me and watched as I took a seat and put the unlit cigarette I’d been holding into my breast pocket.
“I’ve never needed a private detective before, but your references seem adequate. This is a very confidential matter that is of no concern to police, or I would have called them instead. What do you charge?”
“Twenty-five dollars a day plus expenses.”
“That seems rather expensive.” She took a gulp of her port wine but didn’t offer me any.
“I can assure you it’s not. I’m not part of a big outfit, but work on my own and only one case at a time. If your worried about what the expenses will be, you’ll get a documented list with the option to dispute any item. If you’re still interested, it’ll be a hundred-dollar retainer.”
The bird took another slug of her wine, belched and said, “The wine is medicinal, for my asthma. Otherwise, I would offer you some.”
“So what’s the job?” I asked, ignoring her ridiculous excuse about the wine.
“Let me make it perfectly clear, I don’t want anyone arrested. A valuable item was taken. A coin, to be exact. My daughter-in-law took it, and I wish its return. She is a very unsuitable female, and my son should never have married her. Had I known; I would have taken measures to stop the fiasco he created. My son does not work, he has no income other than the allowance he receives from me.”
The bird topped off her wine glass before continuing.
“The female was nothing more than an entertainer in a nightclub. Her name is Victoria Lane. Once they were married, they lived under my roof. She’s a bossy female, and I do not allow quarrels in my home. Hence, we do not get on. I’ve paid for them both, clothes, cars, and such. Nothing extravagant but sufficient to their station. She did not care to live here, so a little over a week ago she left without a word.”
Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers pulled out a large handkerchief, coughed, and blew her nose.
“The coin she took is very rare. A Brasher Doubloon. The prize of my husband’s collection. I don’t understand or care about the things, but the collection remains locked away in this house upstairs in a fireproof room. Though it is insured, I have yet to inform the insurance company. The coin is a mint specimen worth ten-thousand dollars, and I’m certain she took it.”
“A coin like that would be awful hard to sell,” I said.
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t even realize the coin was missing until I received a call from a male by the name of Josef Gatwick. He said he was a dealer based in Los Angeles and asked if the coin was for sale. My son took the call and informed Mrs. Fellows, who then informed me. The whole affair made me curious.”
“Curious?”
“Yes. You see, if this Mr. Gatwick was a reputable coin dealer, he would know that the coin was not for sale. My husband put a stipulation in his will that the collection was to remain in this house unsold while I remained alive.”
The question of would port wine infused emu be on the next holiday menu flitted through my mind, and I thanked my lucky stars I wouldn’t be invited to the party.
“Mr. Gatwick’s offices are in the Belfont Building on Ninth Street, downtown Los Angeles. When I called and confronted him about his inquiry, he waffled but asked if he could view the coin. I declined his request. That’s when I did something I hadn’t done for a year. I went upstairs to look at the coin and found it missing from its locked case.”
“This Mr. Gatwick, he could have easily had someone come to him and offer or ask about the coin. With something that rare, he would naturally be suspicious.”
She took another swallow of wine and nodded.
“Do you know how the coin was stolen?”
“It would have to be someone in the house. The key to the cabinet is in my bag. Only those in this house could access the keys and return them unnoticed. The three female servants I have worked here before I married Mr. Sayers seven years ago. The gardener stays outside, and I have no chauffeur. That leaves my son, who would not steal from his mother. Mrs. Fellows who is not the type, and my daughter-in-law who is.”
“Perhaps I should take a peek at the cabinet to make sure. Burglary of a rare coin isn’t easy.”
She didn’t like that. I got the feeling she didn’t like anything that contradicted any of her views. “I’ve already told you who took the coin.”
“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”
“What I want is the coin back, and an uncontested divorce for my son. I’ve no intention of paying for either and assume you know how to deal with these things.”
“Well, if as you say your daughter-in-law left without leaving a forwarding address, and you don’t have any idea where she is, then this is technically a disappearance. Mind if I talk to your son, so I can get a few ideas from him?”
“Certainly not. You are to leave Edmond out of this. Under no circumstance are you to talk to him. He doesn’t know the coin is gone, and if there is an issue, I’ll deal with him. My chick will do as I say.”
“He defied you by marrying.”
“A momentary impulse.”
“That type of impulse takes three days to get into.”
The glare she gave me could have cooked a goose. I kept my face blank as I laid down the rules. “If you want me to take your case, Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers, I’ll need all the facts and be allowed to deal with things as I see fit. What I don’t need is a bunch of rules tying my hands, preventing me from doing anything. If you’re worried about everybody knowing your business, don’t be. I’ll do my best and handle everything as discreetly as possible. Now if you want someone so discreet as to frame your daughter-in-law, I’m not that good.”
Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers was one tough bird, but she nodded and mumbled, “I could have used you two years ago,” before fumbling with the buttons on the house phone. The black swan rushed into the room, all flustered and wide-eyed. The elder female didn’t seem to notice and barked orders. “Make out a check to this dog for two-hundred-fifty dollars and keep quiet.”
“Of course, Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers. I wouldn’t dream of—”
A hiss from the old emu cut her off, and the black swan flew out of the room. When the door shut, I said, “Do you have a photo? I’ll need to know what she looks like, aside from questioning people about her.”
“Drawer.” She fluttered a feathered hand at a reed desk, and I caught a nice glimpse of the rings encrusting each finger. The drawer held only the picture of another flightless bird, this one was an ostrich with long eyelashes and pouty beak. The photo said a lot about the female, and all contradictory.
As I slipped the photo into my pocket, the black swan came back with the checkbook and gave Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers a fountain pen for her to sign. The emu acted like royalty, and the swan, oddly enough, treated her like the queen of hearts, both hating and fearing the old bird.
The swan left the room again, and I fanned the ink dry before putting the check in my pocket. “What can you tell me about Victoria?”
“Almost nothing. What I do know is she shared an apartment with another entertainer before marrying my son. A Mary Tempest. Ridiculous names these people have. Both of them worked at a place out Ventura Boulevard way. Idle Valley something or other. Edmond goes there all too often. Other than she was born in Sioux Falls, that is all I know. That was all I needed to know.”
“Do you know this Mary Tempest’s address?”
“No, why would I?”
“Would your son or secretary know?” I asked.
“Unlikely, but I’ll ask Edmond when he comes home.”
“What about friends? Did you know any of your daughter-in-law’s friends?”
“Certainly not.”
“Perhaps I should ask your son these questions. Knowing your dislike for his wife, he might still be in touch with her.”
That put the wind up her. She flapped her feathers hard enough to send a few flying. “Leave my son out of this.”
“Fine. Did she take the car?”
“I assume so. It’s a 1940 Mercury coupe, steel gray. Mrs. Fellows can give you the license number. As for money, unless she’s found someone new, she only has a few hundred dollars and a few pieces of jewelry.”
While the bird filled her glass again, I asked, “Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
What I really wanted to do was to tell the bird to stuff it, but in this line of work, difficult customers are a given. “If I find that she didn’t steal the coin that ends our agreement, yes?”
“She stole the coin.”
I got up from where I sat, put my hat on, and headed towards the door. “I’ll see what I can get out of the coin dealer.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you, Mr. Anoraq?”
“Does anybody?” I managed to get out of the room before her reaction set in. Oddly enough, the bird laughed.
Once down the hallway, I stopped in to see the secretary sobbing at her desk. The handkerchief she was using had ES embroidered in the corner.
“Don’t cry.” The rest of what I was going to say was lost because the moment I touched her shoulder, she jumped up and pulled away from me.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t like males touching me.”
“That must make it hard on Mr. Fellows.”
“There is no Mr. Fellows.”
Her reaction and statement had me wondering, and it must have shown on my face because the bird grabbed her glasses off the desk and started babbling. “Mrs. Hopkins-Sayers is a wonderful boss. I realize she humiliates me, but that’s just her way.”
When she calmed down, I asked her about the car and found that both Edmond Sayers and his wife owned identical convertibles, not coupes, and Victoria left her car.
“What do you know about Mrs. Victoria Sayers’ friend Mary Tempest?”
“Not much, she came here with a male friend, a pronghorn named Mr. Monel. Mrs. Tempest is also an ostrich.”
“Do you have her address or know anything about the two?”
Mrs. Fellows dried her tears quickly and straightened her back and neck. “No, and I can’t give you any information without specific instructions.”
I nodded and made my way out of the house. The whole place was screwy.
When I got into my car and pulled away from the curb, I noticed a sand colored coupe do the same and follow me. The mole driving wore a straw porkpie hat with a dark band and a pair of large dark sunglasses.
On my way back to the city, I made a couple of detours, but only when I made a U-turn and parked did the mole stop following me and drove past. All the rest of the way back to Hollywood, I didn’t see the coupe.
CHAPTER 3
My office consisted of a small waiting room and office on the sixth floor of the Cahuenga Building. The waiting room was empty when I walked in and unlocked the door. The smell of dust permeated the room, and I opened the windows to help air it out. I wasn’t into clutter, so the room only had what I needed except for what the previous tenet left behind, which was most everything. I only used one of the five filing cabinets.
After lighting a cigarette, I pulled out the heavy phonebook, sat it on the desk, and searched for Josef Gatwick’s number and street address. The buzzer on the reception room door went off as I wrote down the number. Tucking the pad into the book and closing it, I got up and checked the other room.
An emu dressed in an elegant tropical suit, gloves, and holding a long black cigarette holder stood grimacing at my selection of ancient magazines. His head swiveled toward me when I opened the door. The emu was smaller than his mother, but there was no mistaking the son.
“You’re Mr. Anoraq? I was expecting someone a little more seedy, and unkept.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” I left the door open and walked back to my desk. The bird followed, oblivious to the fact of an ashtray in the room. He sat down, crossed his legs, and took off his gloves. The gloves he dropped on my desk and fitted a new cigarette into his holder.
“Private detective is a shifty business. Keyhole peeping and such?”
“Are you interested in doing business or just slumming, Mr. Sayers? It is Mr. Edmond Sayers, isn’t it?” I glanced at my watch. “You made good time.”
The lemon sucking expression on his face couldn’t beat his mother’s but it was a good attempt. I sat back, lit my own pipe, and waited the bird out.
“I wasn’t too far behind you since a little avian told me you’d called on my mother. She’s rather trodden on, don’t you think? The swan, not my mother.” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Mother wants you to find my wife, doesn’t she?”
I concentrated on my pipe, kept quiet, and let the bird ruffle his own feathers.
“I don’t think I like you, Mr. Anoraq.”
“I’m heartbroken.”
“Why does my mother wish to find Victoria? She hated her. No matter what Victoria did, she never had a kind word to say.”
