Page 19 of The Burnt (The Declan Hunt Mysteries #3)

It was just after one when Charlie picked up the phone and called Simon.

“Good afternoon—Griffin residence.”

“Good afternoon. My name is Charlie Watts. I’m calling from Declan Hunt Investigations. May I speak with Mr Griffin, please?”

“One moment please,” the voice said.

After a short pause Simon came on the line. “Charlie. Good to hear from you again. Don’t tell me you’re calling with good news so soon?”

“No, I’m afraid not, Mr Griffin. I’m just calling with a few requests. Would you be able to email me the most recent picture of Milo that you have?”

“I can send you a scan of an old photo if you’d like. I’ll get that to you as soon as I get off the phone. It’s a nice picture. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Great. You can just send it to the email address on the contract. Our office manager will keep her eye open for it and get it to me as soon as it comes in.”

Charlie glanced over toward Mrs B who sat at her desk with an unreadable look on her face.

“Sorry,” he whispered in her direction.

“One other thing, Mr Griffin. When you were in to see me the other day, we had spoken about getting the contact information for your ex-wife. Would you have that handy by any chance?”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Yes,” Simon said, “I have it here, somewhere. Just a minute.”

There was a clunk as Simon put the phone down. Charlie played a game of ‘name that noise’. He definitely heard the sound of a metal filing drawer being opened.

As Charlie stood and stretched, Mrs B called out, “Can I make you a coffee? I’m getting one for myself.”

“Latte, please,” he whispered.

Mrs B got up and headed toward the stairs. “Sounds like a job for Gwen.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Not a problem. I need the exercise,” she said, heading out.

“Found it!” a voice bellowed into his ear. “I’d filed it under ‘D’ for Divorce. We haven’t been in touch for a long time, Charlie. I’m not sure if she’s still there.” He quickly rattled off an address in Laguna Beach, California.

“Thanks, Mr Griffin. I’ll keep you informed on how things are going. Just one last thing. I’ve been thinking a lot about that note, and the part that said ‘I know what you did’—you’re sure you have no idea what that might be referring to?”

There was a pause on the line, then Simon replied, “No. But I’ll give it some thought, Charlie, and let you know if I think of anything.”

“All right, Mr Griffin. I’ll be in touch soon.”

As Charlie disconnected, he scowled. That pause…Simon definitely wasn’t telling him something. He’d have to ponder that later but he had other work to do in the meantime.

Charlie started to search for the software he’d need to take the photo image of Milo and turn it from a mid-teen to someone that might be recognisable today.

His research led him to a highly recommended app called BenButton, obviously named after Benjamin Button, the character from the movie who aged in reverse.

Apparently, the app worked well in both directions. He installed the software.

Next he did a basic search on the words ‘Milo’, ‘Banff’ and ‘Griffin’ and turned up nothing of value.

Surprisingly, there wasn’t anything on Milo going missing ten years ago.

Charlie knew that the police had classified the boy as a runaway, but he still found it strange that there was no mention online.

Then Charlie did an extensive search on ‘Simon Griffin’ to find out if there had been any threats toward him that had hit the media.

Other than Banff locals mouthing off about him being a rich guy occupying a property that should be turned over to the park—there was nothing.

As for what he was worth—one online site estimated his net worth was in the neighbourhood of twenty-five to thirty-five million.

Charlie was surprised that there wasn’t more bad press on him. Rich people always had detractors.

Mrs B reappeared and handed Charlie his latte, and a bag.

“Gwen said you couldn’t survive without these,” she said, pointing to the bag which held two pains au chocolat .

“Here,” he said, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t worry. I have a budget line for Gwen.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t tell me you never discovered that in the budget. We would have gone bankrupt on what Declan pays for americanos alone if I hadn’t been able to write it off as ‘research fees’. Now, do you need anything else, Mr Big-Shot Detective?”

“No, thank you, Mrs B,” Charlie said. The safest thing to do was to stay at his desk and get his research done. He still had to try to locate Michelle Coleman and he wanted to dig deeper into Simon’s past, including his business dealings and his associates.

* * * *

Simon hung up the phone and sat at his desk staring into nothingness. He had been clenching his teeth—hard.

“Jasmine?” he yelled.

The housekeeper sauntered in. “Yes?”

He snapped his neck around. “Is Tom still here?”

“I believe he’s upstairs, reading.”

“Can you ask him to come down? We need to talk.”

She said nothing, but nodded and left. A few moments later Tom entered the office and closed the door behind him.

“Has something happened?” he asked calmly.

“I just had a call from Charlie Watts, who was asking some interesting questions.”

“Did you tell him about last night’s attack?”

“No. Not yet, but his questions got me thinking.”

“About?”

“The notes must be from Milo. He knew what that car meant to me. He knew damaging it would hurt me down to the very core of my being. And if Charlie does manage to locate Milo… I’ve been thinking…

the night I last saw him, he said he knew what I’d done.

Do you think it’s possible he found out about what happened to Harlen Feist’s son Roger all those years ago? ”

Tom shook his head. “If that was true, he would have acted on that information sooner than now.”

Simon walked over to the window and stared out at the mountains.

“Well, if Milo does have any information on that untimely death, and that Watts kid finds him… I’m worried that perhaps I was hasty in hiring Declan Hunt Investigations.

Do you think I should just tell Charlie that his services are no longer needed? ”

Tom said, “No, not yet. No matter what, we have to find who ever sent the notes. We’ll just let Charlie-boy know that he’s only supposed to locate Milo and tell us where he can be found, but no contact with him should be made.

I know one thing for sure—Monarch can’t find out this is going on.

It puts us at risk. We’ll use the resources of the detective agency and once we locate the culprit, we’ll take care of the problem ourselves. Nobody else has to know.”

Simon paced the room, then stared intently at Tom.

“I want you to keep an eye on Charlie Watts. I want to know where he’s going and who he’s talking to before he tells me.

I trust you, Tom. I hope that trust hasn’t been misplaced, but if it has, just remember, you’re the one who suggested Hunt in the first place. ”