The Case of the Carroltons’ Cartier - Part 3

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I’m doing something a tad different for this one. I’m going to do a serialized noir story. If you read my stuff on the regular, you may recognize Jack Lumley from an earlier tale. I hope this turns out to be worthwhile for all concerned.

I parked across from the high school’s student parking lot shortly before school ended for the day. I had the list of Cynthia Carrolton’s chums that her mother had given me, but of course I had no idea what the kids looked like. I also had their phone numbers, but I thought it would be more effective to talk to them in person, even if it did make me look kind of like a creep.

The school doors busted open and the kids started trickling out. It didn’t take long for me to spot Cynthia walking towards the parking lot with another girl, a tall brunette. There were also two boys, one tall athletic looking kid with short blonde hair and a letter jacket. The other was a guy with a brown or red buzz cut. He had glasses and wore a brown sweater, and he looked like a brain more than a bruiser. The two tall kids were clearly an item. I couldn’t tell if there was anything between Cynthia and sweater boy at first glance.

They talked in the lot for a few minutes before dispersing. The tall kids got in his car, and the other two got in their own cars and started to drive off.

I decided to tail the kid with glasses, which wasn’t difficult. Fortunately for me, he pulled into the driveway of a nice house, but not one with walls and a gate. I pulled up in front of the house as he got out.

I slammed my door to get his attention, and used my authority voice. It can be convincing enough.

“Excuse me, son, hold up,” I said.

The kid looked at me and asked if I was talking to him.

I assured him I was and I beckoned him to meet me at the foot of the driveway. I had stepped away from my car so he wouldn’t get the impression that I was out to kidnap him.

Hesitantly, he walked down to meet me.

“Can I see your driver’s license?” I asked.

Without batting an eye, he pulled out his wallet and showed it to me. His name was Edward Lymon, which matched up with Mrs. Carrolton’s list. His address matched the house we were in front of.

“Was I speeding officer? I didn’t mean to,” he said.

“Relax. I’m not a cop. I’m a private investigator and just need to ask you some questions.”

“What about? Am I in some kind of trouble?”

“Not that I know of. But let’s keep it that way, okay?” I said. “You friends with Cynthia Carrolton?”

“Yes….why?”

“Oh, don’t worry, she’s not in trouble either. I’m just helping the family out with something.”

The young man nodded.

“Was she with you Saturday night?” I asked.

“Umm, yeah. Sure. She, Danny, Vickie and I went to the movies.”

The names were off the list.

“What did you see?”

“That science fiction picture with the robot. What’s it called? Forbidden Planet.”

“And what about after that?”

“We went to the Snow Shack for malts and to goof around with the other kids.”

“So, if I went to the Snow Shack, I could find some witnesses?”

“I guess so,” Danny said, staring off suddenly seeming to have great interest in the green hedge between his house and the neighbor’s.

“And Danny and Vickie could tell me the same story?”

“Yeah, but don’t ask them too much about the movie. They weren’t paying a lot of attention, if you get my drift.”

I smiled. Ah, to be young again.

“Anywhere after that?”

“No,” he said.

“You two an item?”

“What? No. No. We are just friends.”

There was something about the way Ed made that comment that led me to believe he wasn’t thrilled with that arrangement.

“So who dropped her off at the house? Was it you?”

Ed looked down. After a pause, he muttered, “Yes, sir.”

“You sure about that?” I asked.

He nodded his head, examining his shoe laces. They were nice enough laces, but probably not worth this level of scrutiny.

“Son, I’m just trying to help Cynthia out. If she’s in some kind of trouble…”

“She is. I want to help her, honest. But I promised.”

“Don’t let a promise put your friend in danger, Ed.”

Ed nodded.

“Most nights when she goes out with us these days she stays with us for a while, but then she gets picked up by some other guy,” he said with a trace of angry jealousy seasoning his words.

“Is that what happened Saturday?”

“Yes, sir. He picked her up at the Snow Shack.”

“Classmate?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, sir. It’s an older guy, probably in his late thirties.”

“Do you know his name?”

“All I know is his first name, Richard. I’ve met him once. He says he’s in the pictures, you know?”

“What else do you know about him?”

“Not much. I only talked to him once for a couple of minutes. But he seems like trouble to me. What would a man that age want with a high school girl.”

I didn’t answer. There wasn’t much point.

“What did this guy look like?” I asked, assuming I knew that answer as well.

“I don’t know. He’s a little taller than me with that kind of brownish blonde hair.”

“Is his hair long?”

“No, sir.”

“Does he have a beard?”

“No, sir. Nothing like that.”

“How does he dress?”

“Neat, I guess. Just regular.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No, sir.”

“Any idea about what he does in the movies?”

“Yes, sir. He’s a writer.”

I nodded. “Anything else that can help me?”

“Not that I know of. Please don’t let Cynthia get in trouble. Her parents would be sore. But, I just want her to be okay. This guy can’t be on the level with her, and I don’t want her to be, well, used or hurt.”

Ed seemed like a good kid and friend. I told him so and thanked him for his time. Cynthia was up to her neck in trouble, but I wasn’t sure exactly which kind just yet.

I headed back to my office and called the Carrolton house. Jeeves answered and I told him I needed to speak with Mr. or Mrs. Carrolton. He informed me that Mr. Carrolton was not available, but that Mrs. Carrolton may be. I asked him to get her.

“Mr. Lumley, what a pleasure,” Mary Carrolton said. Her emphasis on the last word was not unpleasant.

“Mrs. Carrolton, I think I may have a lead on the necklace. One of the diamonds showed up at a pawn shop, and I have a description of the man who may be the thief.”

She paused. “Oh? That sounds promising.”

“I’d like to come talk to you and Mr. Carrolton about it. Is this evening good?”

“Oh, I’m afraid that would be impossible. Social responsibilities call. But, I could be free tomorrow morning. Would you like to come by at, say, 9:00 a.m.? I’ll make sure we have fresh coffee available.”

“That will be fine. Enjoy your evening.”

“Oh, I won’t. But thank you for your kindness. I will see you in the morning, Mr. Lumley,” she said before hanging up.

The wall clock’s plain black hands were showing it was closing in on 4:00. Too late to start on anything new, but just the right time to get a drink. A couple of hours at my favorite watering hole might help me clear up my head and start piecing together the clues. It had never actually worked before, but hope springs eternal.

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