Misery Bay: A Mystery (11 page)

“Sorry, I’m not interested in a promotion. Fact is, I’ll be retiring after this case, so you see you’re not offering me anything except another person’s safety I’d have to worry about if I got into a tight situation. Not good for you or me.”

She nodded and immediately went to her second plan of attack. She stretched and took off her jacket, placing it, somewhat reluctantly, on the tired sofa. Underneath she wore a skintight sort of leotard. Though she was not well endowed, what she had was displayed to maximum effect. The outfit was sheer and tight. It showed every curve and outline of her body. Her nipples stuck out quite proudly and she proudly noted that he was looking at them.

“I really wouldn’t get in your way, Garrett.” She said his name in a sort of breathy whisper, and he could almost hear her pheromones kick in. “Maybe I could stay here. You have an extra room don’t you? Would we have to share a bathroom?” Titillating a man was Kitty Wells’s most highly developed skill.

He gave his sophisticated, man-of-the-world smile. “Well … yes. It’s an outhouse. Only about thirty yards away, though, at the edge of the meadow. It’s a two-seater,” he added helpfully. “The floor was partially busted a while back by a neighbor who fell through, but I’ve put some plywood down and it’s good as new. Very little possibility of falling through again … I think.”

Her face registered something between dismay and disgust. “Well … uh … well, maybe there’s a hotel I could stay in?”

“Yes, there’s a good hotel down the coast a ways, called Liscomb Lodge. Maybe that would be best. Honestly, I’d be glad to tell you what I can. It might be helpful to have some of the information out there.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she said, immediately standing. “You won’t be disappointed.” She put one hand on his arm. “I just
know
we’re going to work well together on this.”

She slipped her tiny jacket back onto her tiny body. He couldn’t believe how much wriggling was involved to achieve this.

“I’ll just get settled and then report in to you,” she said, making a beeline to get out of the pesthole Garrett lived in.

He stared after her, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.

16

T
HE DEPARTMENT OF PROTECTIVE SERVICES
was on the fourth floor of the provincial government building in downtown Halifax. Garrett knew it well. His grandmother had been a do-gooder of the old school. She’d taken him along with her many times on one errand of mercy or another. “Take care of others and they will take care of you,” she’d say, in her own personal version of the Golden Rule.

Of course, the first thing he learned was that the building contained a host of strange people. He could barely distinguish between those giving the services and those receiving them. But his grandmother had been one of the good people. She’d sung
Rock of Ages
, totally out of key, at the funerals of scores if not hundreds of people at Anglican church services. You hadn’t been properly buried on the Eastern shore if you weren’t laid down with an inspiring, if glass-shattering, rendition by Grandma Barkhouse.

Sheila Vogler had run the bureau for thirty years. Garrett had done business with her many times during his work against prostitution. She was no-nonsense but had a soft spot for children of any stripe or condition. No one was beyond saving in Sheila’s book, except possibly the politicians who regularly tried to cut her budget. She was often willing to stretch the rules if it meant helping a child.

He found her in her usual spot, sitting at a desk piled high with folders, each one representing some painful story. When she saw him, she sat back.

“As I live and breathe. Garrett Barkhouse. Thought I’d seen the last of you. Heard you were retiring at the grand old age of—what?—forty-two? Waste of good manpower, if you ask me.”

“Well, then, remind me not to,” he said, placing himself firmly in the wooden chair facing her. “You sound like Deputy Commissioner Tuttle. You two been dating? Believe it or not, Sheila, there’s more to life than saving mankind.”

“Like what?”

“Like sex, making money, travel, good food, bungee jumping …”

“My bungee jumping days are over.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder if anyone’s ever had sex
while
bungee jumping. Now that might get you in the Guinness Book of Records.”

“More likely get you a hernia … or a Darwin Award,” Garrett replied caustically.

“What’s that?”

“Special recognition for people who kill themselves via some utterly inane and stupid activity. Ergo the name, Darwin Award, for improving the human gene pool by eliminating oneself from it.”

She smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

“Girl named Lila Weaver. Must have come across your desk. Used to work for Sweet Angels Escort Service.”

She sighed and spun her chair so she could access a file cabinet. “I’ll never understand where they come up with those names. Sarcasm is a skill beyond most of the dirtbags in the profession.”

In a moment she came up with the file. Rather than hand it to him, which would have been illegal without a formal hearing, she paged through it.

“Yes, I remember her now. Two years plus with Sweet Angels. Began when she was just thirteen. Most girls who go through at such a young age are messed up for life.” She looked up at Garrett. “What’s she done now?”

“Actually, she’s going through Lloyd’s Haven for Troubled Youth down in Ecum Secum. You know anything about his operation?”

She sniffed. “I know he’s close to being a pervert himself. Never been charged for anything, but I hear things. He bought the place and converted it about five years ago. Spent a lot of money. Who knows where he got it, but the provincial government wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, budgetary concerns what they are. He doesn’t have a record, though. I can assure you of that, or he wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“So you’re saying he’s not making a fortune running the place?”

“Not from the government, he’s not.”

“Well, that’s one interesting bit of information. How have the kids going through been doing, by and large?”

She shrugged. “Some have stayed out of trouble. Some have gone back to the business soon as they were able. Like I said, it’s hard to break the pattern. They’re just kids, virtually all of them without resources, skills, or a family that gives a shit about them. Once Lloyd—or we, to be honest—spit them out of the system, they’ve got nowhere to go except back to their pimps.”

Garrett stared at the wall. “I know you don’t approve of personal tinkering with the system, Sheila. But I’m trying to help another girl and just maybe it will do Lila some good, too.”

She said nothing. She’d known Garrett a long time and generally considered him competent. But he had also proven his ability, on occasion, to come up with incredibly stupid ideas. This just might be one of those times.

“There’s a girl in Misery Bay named Ayesha. Fifteen. Iranian family, probably clinically depressed. Works in her father’s grocery store a whole lot of hours every day.”

“That may be illegal right there,” Sheila said.

“Sure, but it’s a family business and you and I both know it would be impossible to prove anything at all in that area.”

She nodded silently.

“Anyway, there may be the possibility that she’s depressed for another reason, beyond the endless days making hoagies in that hot, windowless box of a store.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. Here he knew he was on shaky ground, for there really was nothing but speculation. “Abuse maybe. Hell, near as I can see, she’s practically a slave. She’s almost never allowed out unless it’s to work at some other job. She has no friends or social life …”

Sheila interrupted. “That’s the norm for most Muslim girls, Garrett. We’ve got plenty of them in Halifax. Their lives are pure exploitation. They work, marry who they’re told to, have lots of kids, work some more, and grow old. That’s it. The divine teachings of Mohammed. Most don’t even go to regular schools. Many courts have allowed them to attend religious schools instead.”

“I know all that. All I want is to see if we might help one girl with one problem. I’m not asking to change the divine plan of the universe.”

“Changing the divine plan is what I do every day in here, Garrett. Besides having sex, making money, jet-setting around the world, and bungee jumping, that is. What do you want?”

“I want you to spring Lila from Lloyd’s clutches for a few days and remand her to my custody. I think the two girls might be good for each other. If they can develop a friendship, something neither one of them has ever had, as near as I can tell, it just might make a difference in both their lives.”

Her brow furrowed. “Lila, I can do. No problem. But I can’t take Ayesha away from her family and hand her over to you. How are you going to get them together?”

“A friend of mine, woman named Sarah Pye, knows the family. She’ll ask the father if she can hire Ayesha to clean house. If we make the offer attractive enough, I have no doubt he’ll agree. Then we’ll simply put them together and see what happens.”

Sheila sighed and picked up the phone. “You really need to get a life, Garrett. Most of these girls are beyond saving, you know.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I’m a lousy bungee jumper.”

17

L
ILA HADN’T BEEN THIS RELAXED
in weeks. She sat back in Garrett’s car, talking a blue streak. She wore cut-off jeans and a tank top and had shucked her sandals to put her feet up on the dash.

“I can’t believe you actually got me out of there,” she said. “That’s so cool! Did you see the look on Lloyd’s face when you told him? I thought he was gonna have a stroke.”

“Well, it’s only temporary, and I had to pull a few strings to make Lloyd agree. But I really think you can help me out on this.”

She grew serious, like a child being told there was work to do. “I understand. You want me to try to find out if this kid is in trouble—maybe with her dad, who might be one sick son of a bitch. Look, I’ll be able to tell, okay? I’ve dealt with enough of these perverts to spot one a mile away.”

“You’re not going to meet the father, Lila. You’re going to have to figure out what’s going on strictly by talking to Ayesha. My friend Sarah agreed to put you up at her house for a few days. It’s nice, on the ocean, you can relax, go for hikes, whatever you want. And Sarah will get Ayesha to come over as much as possible, on the guise of hiring her to do some cleaning.”

She made a face. “Cleaning sucks. I made more money in a weekend than my mom could in a month.” She rolled down the window and spat out her gum. “Don’t worry. I’ll find out what’s going on, no problem. You can shitcan the hikes, though. I’ve had enough galloping around the woods following Lloyd’s tight little ass to last me till I’m a zillion years old.” She brightened. “Maybe your friend will take us shopping in the city. Nothing helps a bunch of gals get to know each other better than that.”

Sarah and Ayesha were planting flowers when they arrived. After introductions, the girls seemed to be getting along, so Sarah invited Garrett inside for tea, leaving them alone.

“I’m a little nervous about this,” Garrett said, as they sat at the kitchen table. “It’s kind of like a clash of cultures, you know. Lila’s about as experienced as they come in the carnal ways of the world, while Ayesha, from what you’ve told me, is a pretty typical Muslim girl, which is to say, virtually no contact at all with men outside the family.”

“That may be the reason it works, Garrett. Opposites attract. Anyway, if Ayesha’s being abused, she’s got more experience than you may think. It could give them some common ground. We’ll just have to see what develops.” She got up and poured herself another cup of tea. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for getting on Roland about the compressor. You were right, he backed down as soon as you confronted him. Didn’t even wait the week to turn it off. Grace said she saw him removing the bait and driving away with it in his truck. Peace reigneth in the cove and none too soon.”

“How so?”

“It was getting a little out of hand. Ingrid was really toying with him, exposing herself on their deck. Roland was asking for it, of course, by bringing his boat in so close, but … well … I’m just glad it’s done.”

“Well, it’s only one battle. Roland may back off on the direct confrontations, but he’s never going to be a guy they can borrow a cup of sugar from. He’s pretty much all bluster, but he still knows how to hold a grudge. Sounds like Ingrid was just rubbing salt on the wound. I should probably stop by and talk to them, maybe head off anything more serious.”

“Just be prepared to down a pitcher of Manhattans if you go any time after noon.”

They were interrupted by the sounds of the two girls screaming with laughter outside. Garrett went over and looked out the window with Sarah. Lila and Ayesha were rolling on the grass, holding their sides in absolute stitches over something.

“I guess that’s a good sign,” said Sarah.

“You think so?”

“That’s the first smile, much less laugh, I’ve seen out of Ayesha … ever. She enjoyed working at the ladies’ but was always pretty reserved.” She nodded at the girls who had recovered and were now talking intently. “If nothing else, Lila looks like she’s a tonic for Ayesha’s depression.”

Garrett leaned over Sarah and kissed her neck. “Speaking of tonics, we never finished what we started on the island.”

“It wasn’t very romantic, was it, after finding that poor girl?”

“No. Anyway, I’ve got to go to Halifax to take care of some business. Maybe we could plan another outing when I get back?”

She turned and looked in his eyes. “Is it dangerous? Your business?”

He looked away. “Probably not.”

When he turned back, a single tear was running down her cheek.

“What?”

“The way you said that was just how my husband sounded when I asked about something he was working on. He never wanted to worry me either.” She pushed him away and went and stood over the stove. “I’m sorry. It’s just something I have to deal with. Why the hell can’t I fall in love with a man who transports plutonium for a living or something safe like that?”