The Albemarle Affair, C. M. Albrecht [reader novel .txt] 📗

The Albemarle Affair

by
C. M. Albrecht

United States of America
© 2008 – Carl M. Albrecht
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 1-61658-273-1 ASIN: B001EW51MA

No part of this book may be copied, printed,
sold, or distributed in any manner whatsoever,
including, but not limited to, compct disk
copies, without express written permission
from the publisher. This book is produced in
electronic format, and the laws covering
copyrights applies to this document in whole.

First Publication.
Published in the United States of America
eTreasures Publishing
P.O. Box 71813
Newnan, GA 30271

This book is entirely fictional and bears no
resemblence to any actual person or place, in
content and cover art, therefore, is based solely
on the author’s vivid imagination.

Chapter One

Melodie Stark fidgeted her bare toes together
beside her canopied bed. She should have been
asleep two hours ago but…the voices. She knew,
well, that’s what the doctor told her, they were just
imaginary, but now. She felt sure they were real
this time.
One finger continued to nervously and
unconsciously twist and tug at a coil of auburn hair
as she moved ever so slowly across the rich
Oriental carpet to the heavy oak door. She pressed
her ear to the door, strived to hear. Voices. Yes!
Finally she took a breath and dared open the door
the faintest crack.
From somewhere below, angry voices rose up to
her. Melodie listened, but still could not make out
individual words. But she knew they were talking
about her. She just knew. Deciding her fate.
Tony! She clearly heard him yell ‘Tony.’ And
then her voice. Not so loud, but sharper. Oh God,
how had she ever got herself into this mess? Why
had she ever trusted this man? Rich. So smart; so
educated. He always looked perfect in his fine
suits, but -– well, if she couldn’t even trust her own
father, a man of God! Maybe all old men were like
that. And her foster mother…oh, those cold wet
eyes had hated her from the moment she crossed
the threshold.
Melodie caught a sudden glimpse of herself in
the cheval mirror by her dressing table. A slight girl
of eighteen. Fat. She was so fat. Every time she
saw herself in the glass, she seemed fatter. She
had never thought of herself as being pretty, but
Tony thought she was beautiful. Her hands moved
unconsciously over her cotton pajamas to the
swelling in her stomach. Oh, Tony…why couldn’t
Tony just come and get her, take her away from
this house? Why hadn’t she listened to him in the
first place?
She shrank back against the door. It closed
quietly as she slipped slowly to the floor. Her legs
splayed ungraciously out before her as she sat with
her back against the door, lost in her reverie.
Was it her fault? All of it, or part of it? Maybe.
Tony insisted it was not. And she wanted to
believe him, but…
Abruptly a dull and distant thump and scream
interrupted her musing.
What?
Silence. Had she really heard something?
After what seemed an eternity of utter silence,
she thought she heard sounds again, but now they
came from beyond the open window of her
bedroom. She forced herself to her feet and moved
as if hypnotized to the window where she knelt and
peered out.
There in the bright moonlight they were dragging
a body along over the lawn. They were dragging it
by the legs.
Tony! My God, it’s Tony! She sank back and
tried to think clearly. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
Her eyes must be playing tricks on her again.
Finally, Melodie raised her head and looked out.
Although hours might have passed, there they
were, still dragging the body, but it had changed. It
wasn’t Tony after all. She giggled and twisted at
strands of hair. It was Toby! She almost laughed
aloud, but put one hand to her mouth. She didn’t
want them to know she was still awake. She
breathed a long sigh of relief. Toby. Just poor
Toby. But why would they drag poor Toby around
in the middle of the night? Well, at least it wasn’t
Tony after all. They certainly sent Tony away and
told him never to come back, but tomorrow he
would come. He loved her. Surely he’d come.
Tomorrow.
She moved back to her bedside. Tony,
Toby…it’s so confusing sometimes. She pulled
back the bedclothes and snickered as she crawled
into her bed. Some people already thought she
was crazy. She knew that. She heard them
whispering. Wow, if I ever told anyone about
tonight, they’d really think I’m crazy. She giggled
and rolled over onto her side, still twisting at the
lock of hair. Her mind began to slip into a dream
state. She caught hazy glimpses of the storefront
church, her mother clutching her Bible, her Rock -
the TV people, and then a more pleasant vision:
She began to dream of her and Tony under the
mimosa tree, and as she slipped more deeply into
the dream she found solace at last.
The faint last sound she heard came from the
corridor beyond her door as the tall clock struck
midnight.

Chapter Two

The Jesperson Building had seen better days.
Keely Foster wrinkled her nose at the lobby smell.
“Well, maybe it gets better up higher,” she
commented.
“You look nice,” Parker told her, smiling at the
smart white blouse and full blue skirt Keely wore. “I
like dresses better than slacks.”
“Jeans and stuff are comfortable, but I don’t look
good in slacks,” she told him. “And thanks for the
compliment. Sometimes I think you never notice.”
“Oh, I notice. I notice,” he said with a leer.
The elevator growled, but it took them to the fifth
floor where they found a pebbled glass door that
read: A & E Investments.
Parker Hall opened the door and they entered a
large office space with only privacy panels
separating the different desks. A middle-aged
matron at the desk facing the door mildly looked up
at the pair.
“Eh, Foster and Hall,” Parker told her. “We’re
here to see Edie.”
“Edie? Haw!” The woman jabbed a thumb at the
space next to her. Right over there.”
Parker and Keely looked at each other, and
moved to the indicated space.
Sitting behind a cluttered desk sat a sour-faced
middle-aged hairless man with a paunch and a big
cigar. His tired face wore a harassed expression
as he looked up at them. His white shirt was
wrinkled and open at the throat and a tightly
knotted tie had been pulled away to let the second
chin have breathing room. His eyes softened
briefly as he looked approvingly over Keely’s
slender well-shaped body. “Nice outfit,” he said in
a gravelly voice. “I hate that women don’t wear
skirts anymore.” He obviously liked her auburn hair
and pert nose, but then his gaze shifted to Parker’s
six-foot-two hundred-fifty pound frame, his innocent
face behind glasses, and his ill-fitting suit. The
man’s expression turned doubtful.
“Mr. Edie?” Parker said in an uncertain voice.
“Edie? Haw! My name’s Ayoobi,” the man
growled. “What do you want?”
“Eh…” Parker began but Keely got the words out
first. “We’re Foster and Hall, private investigators,”
she explained. “You left a message on our
answering machine?”
Ayoobi leaned back and blew out a thick cloud
of dark blue smoke that made both Parker and
Keely hold their breaths.
“Oh…that.” His eyes expressed doubt. “You’re
not exactly what I expected.” He leaned forward
again and studied the pair more closely. “You sure
you got any experience?”
“Oh, we’re professionals,” Parker assured him.
Parker held out the card he had been holding.
Ayoobi took it, looked at it and laid it on his desk
amid the clutter of papers that already covered it.
“Okay, sit down.”
They drew up a pair of green plastic lawn chairs
and sat down facing Mr. Ayoobi.
“I own, or at least manage, several restaurants
in the area,” he told them. “The Edie you were
looking for died a spinster at the age of eighty-nine,
so you can forget about talking to her.” Lidded eyes
measured the pair and after a moment, he
continued, “Put simply, what I want is an
undercover detective to go into Edie's and find out
who’s ripping me off.”
“Somebody’s ripping you off?” Parker said.
“Boy, you really are a detective,” Ayoobi said.
He puffed and blew out another blue cloud.
Parker took a breath and tried again: “Luckily,”
he said with new enthusiasm, “I’ve worked as a fry
cook in the past, before…I became a private
investigator.”
“A fry cook? Good. That’s good. You can
blend right in then.”
“What exactly did you want us to do?” Keely
asked.
“Not us -– him. I can’t afford to pay two people,”
Ayoobi said.
“We could do a lot better job with two of us on
the job,” she told him. “I’ve had waitress
experience. Between the two of us, we should be
able to wind your case up in less than a week, Mr.
Ayoobi.” She raised her bare arms prettily. “So in
the long run, you’d be saving money.”
Ayoobi looked at her. “Yeah, well maybe. See,
somebody’s ripping me off to the tune of at least a
hundred dollars a day. You know how it goes.
After a while a restaurant averages a certain
income, good days, bad days, it all evens out, and
the same with the food cost and labor and all like
that.”
“Suddenly at Edie’s, I’m running about a
hundred dollars a day low. Expenses still the
same. Wages still the same. But suddenly I’m
down about a hundred bucks a day -– maybe more.
Maybe it takes me a little time to wise up, but I’m
wised up -– and I want it stopped. You wouldn’t
believe the narrow margin of profit we have here -–
and I have people to answer to.” He leaned back,
grunting. “Besides, it just ain’t right. It ain’t right,
and I want it stopped. Can do?”
“Absolutely,” Parker said with what he hoped
sounded like lots of assurance. “Keely’s right, sir.
With us working together undercover, we’ll wind the
case up fast for you -- and we can give you a
special rate, too, for an endorsement…after we
successfully close your case for you.”
“Yeah? What kind of rate are we talking about
here then?”
Keely told him.
Ayoobi actually jerked to his feet. “Two hundred
dollars each a day plus expenses!” he cried. “What
expenses? I’m the guy got expenses. Look, while
you’re working there you’ll be eating my food,
wearing my uniforms. Two hun…” He sat back
down and took a puff on his cigar.
“Look, if I was rich I’d have called a big agency
from the Yellow Pages. Why do you think I picked
your name out of the Penny Saver? I’m on a tight
budget here, that’s why. You’re going to get your
meals. Two good meals a day for each of you.
You can have anything on the menu -– well except
the steaks. If I let you eat steaks, I have to let all
the help eat steaks. But hey, two solid meals a
day. That’s worth something. I’m going to put you
on the payroll as regular employees, so you’ll get
regular wages, too, and…”
As Keely held up her hand to protest, he raised
his voice and went on. “Okay, wait. Plus. Plus, I’ll
tell you what I’ll do. You work for wages and
meals, and when you wind the case up for me, I’ll
give you a bonus. What do you say to that?”
“What kind of