Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things Read online

  Squirrel & Swan

  - Stolen Things -

  M. D. ARCHER

  First published in July 2020 by SWARM Publishing

  Auckland, New Zealand

  Copyright © M. D. Archer 2020 All Rights Reserved.

  Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things is a work of fiction. Names, places and incidents, except those clearly in the public domain, are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, names, places or incidents is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The S & S Investigations Series

  #1 Squirrel & Swan Precious Things

  #2 Squirrel & Swan Devious Things

  #3 Squirrel & Swan Hidden Things

  #4 Squirrel & Swan Stolen Things

  #5 Squirrel & Swan Wicked Things (upcoming)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgements & Other Titles

  1

  Cecilia Jenkins, known to her fans only as W. I. Sandstorm, hoisted the cardboard box onto her right hip and trudged up the stairs.

  At the top of the landing she paused, listening for sounds of activity in the neighbouring offices. There would be no one in 2A for a while because the building owner used that space herself and she wouldn’t be back until February, still a couple of weeks away. But it was the occupants of 2C that held Cecilia’s interest, anyway. She’d met them last month, and as soon as she’d learned they ran an investigations agency she’d blurted out that she might need some help. This was rather out of character for her, but it had been only a few hours earlier that she’d first discovered her rather baffling problem.

  But in the following weeks she’d got caught up with getting the short story collection ready for the holiday rush. And then of course the mayhem of Christmas itself. Now, with some space to think, her mind had returned to her mysterious situation. She angled her head in the direction of their office and listened more intently. Nothing. No matter, she had to finish unpacking anyway. She’d follow up with them tomorrow or the next day.

  She carried on to 2B and adjusted the box on her hip as she retrieved the keys from her pocket. The lighting in this building wasn’t so great, she thought as the door swung open. But that was one of the reasons she’d leased this space. She had a perfectly good writing room at home, but the novel she’d just started working on was a Noir thriller, written from the point of view of a hot mess of a female detective, and she wanted to be ensconced in an environment that set the right mental scene. She’d done this before, travelling to different locations to be closer to her book’s setting—she’d even gone as far as Copenhagen for one of them—but being here was nice because she was still relatively close to her home in Orakei and she didn’t have to upend her and her husband’s lives in the process. Martin, able to do his “work” from anywhere, would often join Cecilia on her writing trips. She assumed he was okay with this—he certainly hadn’t said otherwise.

  She stepped a little farther inside her new office and was greeted with an unpleasant, almost rancid smell. Had that been here last month? Surely not. She went over and opened the window that backed out onto the alley running parallel to Symonds Street. From below, several other aromas immediately wafted up. While some of them weren’t entirely palatable, they at least had the effect of diluting the existing smell.

  She set the box down on the desk and looked around the space. There was one desk, two chairs and a bookcase—these had come with the lease—as well as the leather armchair from her own collection of furniture. The chair had been extracted from her living room and awkwardly carried up the stairs, and it now sat in the far corner, waiting to be her thinking, editing, and staring-into-space place. She cast her eyes around again. A plant or two, perhaps. She didn’t need to succumb entirely to a grimy, gritty existence in order to get into the mind of her troubled detective. Maybe hang a few pictures, she continued to muse. She’d leased the office for six months, so it was worth making it habitable. And she needed to do something about whatever was happily rotting away in here. She walked into the second, smaller office, which she didn’t think she’d end up using. It was here she found the offending item. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the windowsill. Was she herself responsible for it? No one else had keys so she must be. Yes, Cecilia nodded to herself, she could vaguely remember buying it from a place down the road. Gosh, that was unlike her, she thought. And further testament to how distracted she’d been at the time. She was still rather stunned by the whole situation and was hoping that it would turn out to be some sort of silly mistake.

  But even as she clutched at this optimistic straw, Cecilia couldn’t help but be aware that she wasn’t the type to make mistakes. Silly or otherwise.

  PAIGE TURNED TO SOPHIE, huddled next to her at the door to S & S Investigations. “Do we go say something?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Sophie whispered back.

  When they’d heard the downstairs door bang open and the subsequent footsteps pause at the top of the stairs, they’d both immediately stopped what they were doing. Had Hazel returned early from her cruise? Was it a potential new client? Or was it someone who’d wandered upstairs looking for “Keith, the guy who does face tattoos?” as had happened a couple of weeks ago.

  When the footsteps had carried on to 2B, they’d realised it must be their new neighbour and quickly assembled into their current position—crouched down and peeking through the lower part of the window in the door.

  “She’s obviously still settling in,” Sophie continued. “She said she’d be in touch, remember?”

  “But that was ages ago.” Paige straightened abruptly and reached for the doorknob.

  Sophie quickly put out a hand to stop her. “We don’t want to rush her. She’ll think we’re hassling her.”

  Paige made a face. “Hardly.”

  Sophie tried another approach. “What if she thinks we’re desperate?”

  Paige nodded thoughtfully. “Right, yeah, we should give the impression we’re busy with other cases and we’ll squeeze her in if she’s lucky.”

  “Let’s give her another day then go over with a welcome gift. A plant or something.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  In matters of human behaviour, Paige often submitted to Sophie’s wisdom, because she was the expert. Literally. Her PhD had been in behaviour analysis. Paige had spent most of her PhD looking at digital images of the brain and interpreting the various metrics scientists and researchers used to quantify brain function. Brains were attached to humans, sure, but interpreting the output of neural activity—behaviour—was a different matter.

  Instead of returning to her desk, Paige moved through to the second conference room. Intended to be used for client meetings, it was mostly where they ate, chatted, talked about whatever TV show they were currently watching, and—at least in Paige’s case—gazed dr
eamily at the whiteboard. She’d only just wiped off the notes from their two most recent cases: The Murder at The Reunion and The Hidden Inheritance. Paige was now itching for a new client so she could use the whiteboard again.

  And to help pay the rent and their wages, of course.

  “More coffee?” Paige called from beside their beloved coffee machine.

  “Thanks,” Sophie replied, taking a seat at her desk. It faced the door to S & S investigations, effectively making her the receptionist—something she only agreed to because the trade-off was Paige having the landline on her desk.

  Sophie opened her S & S investigations email address and sighed. The three new messages were all spam. They’d solved six mysteries, and, thanks to their most recent two, actually had some money in their bank account. But once again they were in the position of having only the barest whiff of a potential new client.

  “What’s on the docket for today,” Paige said merrily, returning to the office with two cups of coffee.

  “Nothing.” Sophie took the mug from Paige. “Should we do the scouring-the-news-for-possible cases thing?”

  Their very first case—the Disappearance of Polly Dixon—had been found in such a way. After a couple of rejections, Mrs Dixon had secured, and even paid for, their services.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Paige said. “And then we’ll follow up with... what’s our new neighbour’s name?”

  “Cecilia.”

  “Yeah, her. But I guess look online. Hey, have you been tweeting?”

  “Uh.” Sophie’s cheeks coloured. It was her job to tweet from the S & S Agency twitter handle, but every time she tried, she felt ridiculous.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Paige said. “Soph, we’ve got to keep our online profile up. It’s potentially a way to get more business.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said, opening Twitter. “Hey, have you heard from Leo?” she added. “We talked about getting dinner last night or even breakfast this morning, but he hasn’t returned my call.”

  “Without me?” Paige said arching her eyebrow.

  “You had dinner with Tim and his parents.”

  “So?”

  Sophie spread her hands. “Leo and I are both single, Paige, we don’t get to have cosy meals with our partners.” She chewed her lip. “I think something’s up with Leo. He’s been so secretive recently.” She glanced at Paige, uncertain about whether to offer her theory. The topic of Leo, their 25-year-old friend and sometimes colleague, could be a little thorny because Leo had recently and rather unexpectedly become romantically entwined with Paige’s mother, Alice Garnet.

  Paige had been horrified.

  But she’d only had to endure the situation for a few weeks until Alice learned of Leo’s role in the kidnapping of her cat, TomTom. And so, the relationship had ended in heartbreak—for Leo at least; Sophie was not sure how Mrs. Garnet landed in the fallout. Leo had moped around for a while before suddenly becoming rather busy doing something he didn’t appear to want either Sophie or Paige to know about. He denied it, but Sophie was starting to wonder whether he had managed to convince Alice to take him back and they were seeing each other in secret.

  Paige narrowed her eyes. “What?” she said. “Why have you gone all quiet?”

  “Nothing,” Sophie said quickly. “Let’s look at the news.”

  She would find out what was happening with Leo later.

  LEO COULDN’T HELP BUT stare.

  The woman’s dark hair was messy—matted even, at least on one side—and she had a couple of leaves stuck to the strands at the back. She looked, to Leo at least, as if she was in her twenties. She was wearing a light coat even though it was a hot day, and there appeared to be a dark stain on the top she had on underneath. Was she okay? Was this just a normal day for her or was she in trouble? Even with her state of dishevelment she didn’t look homeless. It was quite possible she needed help. Leo continued to watch as she stood on Mt Albert Road, gazing around at her surroundings as if they weren’t quite what she was expecting.

  There was something captivating about her, Leo thought. Was it the wistful-slash-vulnerable look on her face? Or was it that she’d just emerged from behind a bush?

  “Hello? Are you... hey, are you alright?’ Leo broke into a jog as the woman suddenly staggered forward. He reached out and she grabbed at his hand to steady herself.

  She looked at him gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “Are you okay?” Leo repeated.

  The woman frowned. “Where am I?”

  Leo now saw that the matted hair on one side was appeared to be congealed blood and she had a cut on her temple. Underneath was a lump that didn’t look as if it was done swelling.

  “Mt Albert.”

  Leo had been on his way to do his weekly shop at the Mt Albert Pak N Save and had only stopped to pick up a coffee.

  “Hey, um, I think you maybe need to go to the hospital.”

  She looked around again. “I don’t...” She blinked, seeming to lose focus. She frowned and touched her hand to her head then winced as her fingers made contact with the bruise. “I can’t remember,” she said, looking up and fixing her eyes on Leo’s. “I think... I-I have this horrible feeling...” She swayed, unsteady on her feet, and Leo lurched forward once again to grab her elbow. She had an angry red scar on the inside of her arm.

  “City hospital isn’t far, and my car is just there. I really think I should drive you there. I’m Leo, by the way. What’s your name?”

  She clutched at him, her stricken expression suddenly turning into one of full-blown fear. “Oh my god.” Her face went white. “I can’t remember anything. I can’t even remember my name... my... nothing. What happened to me?”

  2

  Paige strained across her desk to hear the murmurings coming from beyond the office.

  Sophie was out there talking on the phone but speaking so quietly that Paige couldn’t hear the conversation. It was all rather mysterious. Was it about her, Paige wondered? But what on earth could she be talking about? Or maybe she was talking to that guy Wade she’d just started seeing. Paige hadn’t met him yet, but the way Sophie described him, he might, finally, be someone capable of getting her head and heart away from Detective Roman Leconte.

  A brisk knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. A young man in a courier outfit popped his head into the office. He looked around the room once then retracted his head. Paige heard him say, “In there?” to Sophie, and rolled her eyes. That she seemed to be able to blend into her surroundings could be incredibly useful for their investigative work, but also a little annoying in day to day life. Still, it was part of what made her and Sophie—Squirrel and Swan as they were called during their doctoral studies—a good detective duo: Sophie’s attention-grabbing looks and Paige’s cloak of invisibility. Until she wanted to be seen, that is. Paige was certainly capable of making her presence known when the situation required it.

  The courier reappeared.

  “Hi,” Paige said loudly.

  He started, finally noticing Paige, sitting at her desk against the far wall.

  She waved sarcastically. “Yes. I am here.”

  “Dr Paige Garnet?” he asked.

  “That’s me.”

  He handed her a package. “Thanks.” She signed for it and then retrieved the scissors from the desk drawer. “Oooh,” she breathed once she’d wrestled it open.

  Just as she was lifting out her exciting new detective toy to inspect more closely, there was noise out on the landing. Paige quickly stuffed the package in the drawer. She waited, watching the door, but Sophie didn’t come through. She let out a sigh of relief. Now that it had arrived, she wasn’t sure Sophie would approve of this rather expensive purchase. But once Paige had a chance to show Sophie the equipment in action, she wouldn’t be angry. She was almost sure of it.

  The landline rang. Paige eyed it warily. It was probably her mother calling. She let it ring again. But what if it wasn’t? What if it was a new case? Paige sighed. How di
d people used to live like this? Blindly picking up calls with no clue who was on the other end. How could one screen calls from their mother?

  She scooped up the receiver. “S & S Investigations.”

  “Goodness, Paige, what took so long? What if potential clients get tired of waiting for someone to answer the phone? It doesn’t look very good,” Paige’s mother said.

  “Maybe it does look good. Maybe it makes it seem as if we’re too busy to answer the phone.”

  “Well, perhaps, but—”

  “Mum. Why’d you call?”

  “Wasn’t your last case involving Scott Radsworth?”

  Paige frowned. “Yes, it was. Why?”

  “Well, it’s rather peculiar. I’m reading an article in the Herald about the case, but they don’t mention you at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alice Garnet sighed. “I’m not sure how clearer I could be, dear, the murder of Scott Radsworth, there’s a write-up in the paper and you’re not mentioned.”

  The line between Paige’s brows deepened. Cradling the receiver between her shoulder and her ear, she opened the online version of NZ’s only national newspaper. A minute later, with her mother still listening on the other end of the phone, Paige let out a string of curse words that would have made a sailor blush.

  “Goodness, Paige, where did you learn language like that? Not from me.”

  “I’ve got to go, Mum. Bye.” Paige dropped the phone with a clatter. “Sophie!” she roared. “You’ll never believe what’s happened.”

  THEY’D EACH READ THE article three times now and neither of them could fathom what had gone wrong. “That’s it,” Paige declared. “We have to set everyone right.”

  Sophie shared Paige’s outrage, albeit not quite as loudly or with as many profanities, but still felt shocked at Roman’s involvement in the fiasco.

  DS Roman Leconte of the Auckland Central Police Department had been interviewed about the Radsworth murder. Both she and Paige considered him to be an ally of S & S Investigations, but according to this article, not only was he the one who said it was SOS Agency, a new Auckland-based private investigations agency who played a crucial role in the arrest, but there was a reference to both investigators being male.