“The economy for one reason.”
"I see." Holden sipped his champagne and when she didn't add anything else, he picked up his fork and went back to eating his fish. “Very well.”
Eileen didn’t know if he’d resigned himself to minding his business or decided she was no longer worth the trouble. Either way, the outcome was the same. She wasn’t sure if she liked that very much.
* * *
WHEN THEY RETURNED TO THE OFFICE, the phone rang non-stop. Four funeral requests came in, and Eileen became engrossed in her work. She feared she would have to work late, but Holden picked up the slack and helped her complete her tasks well before closing time. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally leaned back in her chair. “Thanks. I know you’re paying me to get all of this done, and I appreciate that you took the time to help.”
Holden averted his eyes. “It’s nothing, but I admit that I had an ulterior motive for wanting you to finish early. Do you have plans this evening?”
Eileen’s heart skipped a beat. Holden’s face was eager, his tone earnest when he spoke. Would he ask her out for dinner? The luncheon had been a professional one, but there would be no mistaking his intentions if he asked her out for dinner. The thought made her cheeks warm.
She shook her head. Her mind whirled over the possibilities of how the night would end. She imagined telling her grandchildren about this day, clutching his wrinkled hand in hers as they reminisced about the spark that ignited their love.
He tapped his desk in triumph. “Excellent! I found the guy in the brown uniform. My contact said he’ll be at a rum shop in Lord Town now.”
Eileen’s face fell. She turned away so Holden wouldn’t see how red her cheeks were. She was the one who had dragged him into tracking down the Slasher so why was she disappointed that he had come up with a new lead? As Eileen gathered her belongings she wondered what on earth had compelled her to jump to the conclusion that her boss was asking her out on a date.
Chapter 13
Lord Town
Lord Town was the epicentre of every immoral behaviour known to man. It was a seedy enclave surrounded by a bus station, bank and outdoor produce market that thrummed with illicit activity all year round. Drugs, prostitution, drinking and gambling were always in heavy rotation, making it so that a man could easily hop from vice to vice without ever having to pick a struggle. The area’s ability to thrive among reputable businesses might cause a cynic to question if such disparate lifestyles could only cohabitate because one supported the other.
Eileen never had a reason to frequent Lord Town before, and her first impression was that it smelled of baby powder, fried chicken and gutter water. More of a small district than a town, it was split into four quadrants by two narrow roads. Most of the structures were so tightly packed that you could spit through your window and be certain it would land in the neighbour’s bathroom sink. Shops were constructed in the traditional merchant style: tall and narrow with wide verandahs propped up by long wooden braces, while residences were modest chattel houses topped with gable rooves.
Holden and Eileen walked past a general store, a basket maker, and a flock of yard fowls that pecked around in a small front yard as a woman with a bag balanced on her head talked to the heavyset woman who leaned through her window.
Holden and Eileen soon found the place they were looking for: a large beige building emblazoned with logos for beers and rum at the end of a urine-soaked alley. Its front doors were barred shut, but Holden noticed a man coming out of a side entrance and pointed it out to Eileen.
The smell of baby powder was even stronger in the dimly lit space and Eileen could see why. Women sat on men’s laps and cackled on cue at everything they said. At the end of the bar, one woman, her chest doused with a heavy coat of talcum, sat between two men who ogled her full breasts as they shared a bottle of white rum. A burly fellow with a shiny bald head who looked as though he’d been squeezed into his polo shirt was washing glasses behind the bar. He eyed Holden and Eileen with suspicion, perhaps unaccustomed to seeing a man bring along a woman to an establishment such as this.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for a man who comes in sometimes. He drives an old brown Cortina and wears a brown uniform.”
“You mussy mean Jerry,” said the proprietor as he wiped droplets off the polished bar top. “He’s upstairs with Mary,” he grinned. “He don’t take too long though, so just give him a few minutes.”
Just then, heavy footfall clattered down the stairs as a man’s tan boots came into view. Right down to his unkempt hair and dirty fingernails, he matched Debra’s description to a tee. Jerry's eyes landed on Eileen, and a sly smirk crossed his face as he looked her up and down. Holden stepped in front of her and asked, “You’re Jerry?”
The man straightened his shoulders and said, “Yeah… and you?”
“We want to know why you were outside Anna Brown’s apartment the day she went missing.”
Jerry bristled and his jaw clenched as he glanced over his shoulder. “Two of you don’t look like police.”
“We’re not,” Eileen said. “But you either tell us what you know or we’ll send them to find out.”
“Hmph.” Jerry pointed to the door and led them outside to a corner of the alley. It was littered with empty beer cases and a pile of flattened boxes.
“Look…I work in government so I don’t want no trouble,” he started in a low voice. “Yeah… I went to pick up Anna,
