The Missing

“You look fresh”, said Arden to Leigh who was waiting at a corner table in Fely’s Corner as Arden had asked her to. He was a couple of minutes late to his own appointment.

“For half past six in the morning?”, said DI Leigh Herstinn. 

Arden gave a sly grin to her remark as he took a seat in front of her. Despite the time, people were presently seated at the motel. Water and beverages were available to them. Breakfast would start soon as the customers, many of whom were travellers, started filling in. This was one of the few places Arden knew would be open at the hour.

“Sorry, Leigh. I’m packed for the rest of the day. It was the only time I could arrange”, he said. 

“Don’t start being formal”, she waved him off, “These are the details of the case in Pereigns you asked for.”

She put a file on the table and started,

“On Thursday, the missing of Mr. Oaken Richwood was reported. He was a retired bank manager in his sixties, widowed. Lived alone at 51/C, Austen Street. A housemaid, Rita Ferrel, was employed. She came to work on Thursday at her usual time, between nine to nine-thirty and found the house locked…”

“From the outside?”, he interrupted.

“Yeah. The maid said in her account that she found it very ‘odd’. She had known very few of him leaving the house and on the rare occasions that he did, he informed her beforehand so she need not come. The only time he left his house was for his walk in the evening. Never in the morning, she stated. The neighbours agree to this claim.”

Arden listened carefully, invested in the details that he had asked for after reading about the incident in the papers. Leigh and he had been in a surveillance course together. Leigh chose the executive force later while Arden stayed independent with his own practice. Their different streams have helped them both on occasions in the past collectively. 

“Now the interesting part. A man, an old friend of Mr Richwood, Duane Mural, had come to visit Richwood a week ago and was staying at the house. This fellow was a trouble. The maid said that Richwood was happy to see his friend upon his arrival but things turned for worse after that. Richwood was in a bad temper often and seemed distressed. According to the maid, some days after his arrival, the men had a severe row amongst themselves.”

“So the police suspect this friend, Mural, to do something with the disappearance?”, asked Arden.

Leigh nodded.

“Not the housemaid?”

“Initially, we did. But”, Leigh replied, "we made inquiries about this man and found out he was staying at a local inn, Third Deer. When we went there, the owner said that he left on Wednesday evening. Now, he’s nowhere to be found.”

Arden did not say anything for some time after Leigh had finished. Then, his expression changed from attentive to cheerful one. 

“Thank you. Do you want breakfast?”, he said leaning back.

Leigh, who was familiar with his ways, paid no heed to this change of tone. She simply said,

“No. I’ll go now, I think”

With that, she got up, taking the file and moved to the door which led her out of the motel. Arden remained in his seat, thinking about and around the case facts which he had just absorbed. After thinking for a stretch, he ordered breakfast and started with his busy schedule for the day. The reason for his meeting so early was that he had to go to the bank in the morning half and then tail a person requested by his client. He did not get off his schedule for until after eight in the evening when he could turn his thoughts back to the missing person in Pereigns.

Once seated in an armchair in his room, he called Leigh. 

“I’m thinking of interviewing the maid, Rita Ferrel. Can you give me the address and number?”

“I’ll text them to you”, she said and hung up the phone. 

Arden sat in a comfortable chair with his notebook turned to a fresh page and recalled the case narrated to him in the morning. He made certain notes while sunken in his trail of thoughts. His phone gave a beep which turned his attention to the number and address sent by Leigh. Rita Ferrel lived in Cadleworth Lane, a few minutes from Austen Street. He called her number. She didn’t pick up on the first ring but answered the second. 

“This is private detective, Arden Hull, speaking. I would like to meet you tomorrow to ask a few questions regarding the missing Mr. Oaken Richwood.”

“Who hired you?”, she asked firmly.

“I am in liaison with DI Leigh Herstinn who is investigating the case. I gather you were employed by him.”

“I was.”

“I have a few questions I wish to ask you. What time tomorrow will suit you?”

She hesitated for some time. Finally said,

“Okay. Eleven thirty, morning.”

“Thank you, Miss Ferrel.”

Cadleworth Lane was a crowded place. Arden did not have difficulty finding Rita Ferrel’s house. Upon knocking on the door, a short, upright woman opened it. She led him to a table and sat down in one of the chairs. Arden took the one in front of her.

“Thank you, Miss Ferrel for agreeing to this interview”, said he, taking out his notebook. 

“See, I have said everything I had to the police. I have nothing more to add.”

“It would be a great help if you only answer my questions”, he added, “Do you mind if I take notes?”

She gave a look of acquiescence. 

“How long have you been employed at Mr. Richwood’s?”

“About seven years.”

“What did you think of him?”

“He was a respected man. Dignified and polite. Mostly quiet, busy in himself like most old folk. Paid me regularly. He was commendable as an employer, not the type that keeps nagging for every dirt particle that you left. Granted me a day off when I asked. He was fine in health, as far as I know.”

“Do you know anything about his relations?”

“He’s a widower. His wife died eight or nine years ago. Very young,” she said, ”He has a son in Port Coral.”

“Has he been around?”

“I don’t think so. I have seen him only a few times, some years ago.”

“Do they get along?”

“I can’t say anything about that.”, she answered with firmness, “I know they spoke on the phone often because he would tell me. But other than that, I can’t say anything.”

“What can you tell me about the friend of his that came to visit some days ago?”

“Well, I never liked him. He would come and sit where I was and ask me what I thought about Mr Richwood or ask me about my life. I never saw why should I discuss that with him”, she paused for a while, ”He would make certain remarks, after two-three days of his arrival, which would make Mr. Richwood twitch. I think I heard them argue more than once. Mr Richwood was growing more impatient with him day by day. I don’t really understand why he would not just ask him to leave.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“No,” she said. Her expression of dislike to being asked such a question conveyed that she had never thought about the matter. 

“He was an old friend of Mr. Richwood. Had you seen him before?

“No. I only know him for some weeks now, did when he came to stay with him. Mr. Richwood told me they were friends before work and started together but Mr. Mural left to join another company. They had lost contact for many years. Until, of course, he decides to show up at his house.”

“Did any of his other friends or colleagues come to visit him often?”

“Yes. Philip Jones came around very often. Some others also visited once or twice.”

“Thank you, Miss Ferrel. I won’t take more of your time but one last question. What do you know of his professional life?”

“Just that he worked in a bank. In a good position, I take from his living.”

“That was all. Thank you very much.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Arden found himself at the end of Austen Street. It was quite the opposite of the place he had just visited, it was quiet and elderly-furnished. He walked up the street until 51/C came into view. Arden stopped at a house three blocks away and rang the bell. An elderly man opened the door. 

“Is that 51/C there?”, he asked pointing to the house. 

“Yes”, replied the man, slightly confused at the question.

“That is where Mr. Richwood lived, right? Is it open?”

“I would not think that. Why, what work do you have there?”, he scoffed. 

“Uncle Oaken was a friend of the family”, he lied. 

The man’s expression changed, the guard on his face that was relaxed. He believed him. 

“Eh, it’s a grave business. He was a good fellow.”

“You knew him well?”, said Arden. 

“I wouldn’t say I knew him but we talked. I knew him as a neighbour would. He was respectable and well-off. We talked upon running into each other, upon the little walks we took.”

“Did you see him on the day he disappeared?”

“No. I didn’t meet him upon my walk that day. I dare say if he made it.”

 Arden nodded, said,

“He had asked to meet me this week but…”

The old man sympathised with him, but he was definitely not interested in lengthening the conversation. 

“Thank you, Sir. Good day to you”, Arden said and retreated his steps. 

Soon he was out of Austen Street and heading towards the end of it. Just around the corner where it ended, stood the Third Deer. A three-storied old building, poorly maintained as perceived from the darkening paint outside was where Duane Mural had stayed. Arden observed it from the ground. A small variety shop was to its right, behind it was a mass of open land covered in trees. It was barred from the street but there was a gate Arden located nearby. Opening the latch, he went in. He walked very carefully, looking at the ground. It was covered with grass in places, somewhere covered in vines and fallen leaves. He came upon a spot where the soil was upturned. He viewed the place for some time, then came out, heading home. 

“This is not the first time I am hearing of Philip Jones”, Leigh told Arden, when they discussed his interviews the following day. 

“That’s what I thought. The name was familiar, so I started looking and found that Philips Jones was the Head of Security at The Capital Bank until 2018 when he retired. His name came up with the bank robbery of 2005.”

“That’s when Richwood became the manager. The former manager was convicted. Strong evidence was not in his against—“

“But there was no other way security could have been breached. That’s what the court said. I read all through it yesterday. Casper, the manager was convicted. I read about this Jones too. Interestingly, something that I dug up was that Jones was the manager the bank expected to see after the trial. He was the first person to want Casper removed. There are employees who said in their statements that they thought it was all Jones trying to pin it down on Casper.”

“We suppose that he did. But that never happened,” Leigh knew that Arden was onto something, “And the two remained in close contact after that?”

“Does that not strike you as completely unacceptable? And is it not odd that even after such constant irritation from Mural, Richwood allowed him to stay in his house?”

“What are you getting on, Arden?”

“What are you doing after this?”

Leigh was taken out of her inquisitive thought trail for a moment by the question. Then contemplating, she answered,

“Off duty, no family plans. What are you suggesting?”

Arden shifted in his seat. 

“This will sound crazy to you, but I need to dig up a place. And I need your help.”

Leigh’s eyes widened at his words, the confusion visible on her face. 

“Why do you need to dig up a place?”

“I’ll explain everything later. Will you come?”

“Yes”, she said, unable to think of any other response that might fit. 

The night was clear, thankfully. Leigh was already present at the end of Austen Street when Arden arrived. Along with her was a sturdy-looking man. Arden addressed him, 

“Didn’t know you were coming, Jack. Thanks for tailing around.”

Jack was a junior officer under Leigh. Arden had met him on a past occasion and liked him. 

“Let’s get started”, Leigh said. 

Arden led them to the place. Leigh noticed the soil had been upturned recently. They started digging, lit by the light of two torches. Arden patiently waited for the shovels to touch a surface. Whoever buried something down there, if there was anything there, had not done it at once. It was planned long before. They dug up to several feet when Jack’s shovel was obstructed by something buried underneath. He started removing the soil with his hands. Something grey was visible to them. It was an overcoat wrapped around the body. Leigh flinched as she and Arden brought it up. She could not imagine Richwood meeting his end this way. Arden reached to uncover the face. Under it was not the face of Oaken Richwood. 

“My God, Arden. It’s Mural.”

His face was disfigured from a hit in the jaw. An evil expression on his face, one bloodshot eye open. Dried blood patches were all over his shirt. Leigh looked at Arden, he was surprised but not shocked. 

“You expected this?”

“We need to call in your team," he said, dismissing her question. 

Arden put the coat back on the dead man’s face. Leaving the body as it was, Leigh called her team who arrived ten minutes later along with the police and emergency quads. The body was pulled up. Leigh explained the situation to the officers, knowing it was not a proper move to take without planning it out with them. She slightly altered the story as to Arden's involvement, Jack followed. Arden was a familiar face to the Cheif Inspector nonetheless. An hour later, the body was sent to the forensics and the area was cleared when Arden and Leigh found themselves standing in front of their own cars. She put her hand on the bonnet of her car, and asked him--

“Did you make us dig an unauthorised grave without being sure that something was really buried there?”

Arden chuckled. 

“Yeah. But it was worth it. I was not sure if anything was there, but if it was, it had to be him.”

“How long have you known this?”

“From yesterday. Remember what I asked you, about why would Richwood let him stay in the house?”

“Yes, and I thought about it. There had to be some reason for him to not throw Mural out of his house. Almost like it would harm him to do that.” She concluded, “I think it was blackmail.”

“Exactly. Mural was blackmailing Richwood to let him stay in the house. This was clear to me from the day you discussed the case with me. I went home and thought about it. What was he blackmailing Richwood with? I had to know, or else, my theory can not be proved. So I looked for answers and it came to me when I heard of Jones.”

“The bank Robbery, 2005.”

“Why did he not become the manager? And why did he not try to remove Richwood? There was only one explanation. They arranged the robbery together. Jones is a clever man. He knew he would be a suspect if he was to become the manager, so he offered that post to Richwood. By doing so, he was out of the mud and yet, he enjoyed the power through Richwood. It was their ploy."

"But recently, by some means, Mural got to know about it. He was having trouble of his own and thought it a perfect opportunity to grab hold of. He came and told Richwood what he knew and threatened to leak the word if he would not let him stay in the house. Helpless, Richwood acquiesced to his demands. But he was growing relentless as Mural enjoyed more and more liberty at his house. Mind you, he was adamant about his money and comfort. I told myself, a blackmailer would not kill the person he is blackmailing. Why would Mural let go of his shelter like that? It is too absurd. That is when I arrived at the conclusion that it was the other way around. Richwood killed Mural and ran off.”

A Week Later

Leigh watched Arden sitting at a table through the window, she opened the door and walked into Fely’s Corner. The sun was setting outside, the inside was crowded. She took the seat affront Arden. 

“We owe you this one”, she started. 

“Good to hear that from you.”

“We have him in our custody now. The Shelton police caught him yesterday while attempting to flee the country. The ticket was booked in Mural’s name, from his bank account. We checked the records out and sent notices around for him. Appears Richwood was more dangerous than we realised. He had a fake passport and visa printed, with help from Jones, of course. Thought he would get away with Mural’s identity and start a new life there.”

Arden gave a nod that he was all ears. Leigh continued,

“They might also be tried for the robbery again, you know. Richwood and Jones, that is. I’m trying on it.”

“That looks like a highly successful case for you, Leigh.”

“You know, the DSU did not want us to forward on this case. That’s why I told you about it. So, that’s a thank you from the entire department.”

“No, that’s just from you. But I’ll take it anyway.”

He looked at his wristwatch. Then, in a manner antagonistic to his critical one, he asked, “Should we get something? You spent the entire day at work, don’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

“I am hungry”, she said most assertively. “But alternatively, you can come to the house. Sam’ll be there. You will do the case narration for him.”

“Okay, at your house. I’ll be there.”