10 a.m. arrived and the renewed search did not yield anything at all. There were no new clues to work with. Jones began to fear that his own investigative abilities were deficient. The paranoia was rearing its ugly head once more. He was no longer certain that he could call it paranoia. The intrusion of the negative was something that he could not tolerate.
Whether one wants to call it adrenaline or a fear of failure, the world certainly became once more alive. The coffee they were about to enjoy at a local diner for once would have no effect on Jones. One cannot truly wake up twice. The true aim was to bring Luca to a state of alert in the hope he could return to work. Jones had by now divulged the nature of his undercover work to Lovemarine. The detective was eager for Jones to get back to The Lake House despite the wall that was hit yesterday.
Luca could aid in maintaining the cover for awhile longer. Lovemarine forced him to drink two whole cups and a glass of water, but all of this effort was to no avail.
Lovemarine and Jones were meanwhile plotting their next move. A thin trust was beginning to develop between the two. Mutual ambition necessitated, at the very least, willing cooperation. Only through viewing Lovermarine''s orders as beneficial suggestions was Jones able to stomach command.
Jones still questioned the reason behind Lovemarine''s departure from particle. Police travelled in pairs of two, if not more. Accordingly, Jones wanted to know more about the police''s actions. "Why did they stop their investigation so quickly? The statewide report transmitted to Crystal City said that only three hours had passed since they declared this to be an accident."
Lovemarine replied in an ashamed voice, "Someone on the force had made the tourism board aware of the death within an hour. A call was then made to the chief of police about how a prolonged investigation might affect our overall economy. The case was over before all of the wonderful holidayers were even awake to scoff at a death in their proximity."
Jones inquired further, "who is on the tourism board?"
"The owner of The Lake House, and, by proxy, her son, among some other people from the area. Most of them are irrelevant in the greater scheme of things, mere pawns to the de More family. It is nominally just an arm of The Lake House used to keep competition down." Lovemarine let loose a devious smirk in the direction of Mr. Hartmann. Jones could only assume that the detective felt great ire towards the establishment long predating the case. The assumption was more accurate than Jones could have guessed. Lovemarine had been holding back his ill feelings toward the country club for a long time. No situation had yet presented itself to be couth to bash the establishment. Lovemarine had long held the country club as a homogenizing agent of the area. To others, the Lake House was viewed as the culmination of the history of the lake regions in its entirety. All else that had transpired was a mere footnote to the resort. He would have been more vocal about the decline of the region''s manifold sources of outside interest, but as long as he had a police man professionalism was demanded from him.
Luca was defenseless to the attacks upon the establishment . His mind was clearly entering a brutal hangover. All the energy he could muster went to an interjection of disapproval. Not towards The Lake House itself, but he wished for no one to speak ill of Vincent de More.
Jones replied to the demand asking him what the hang up was on critiquing him. The Lake House was just a place of employment. Vincent de More was merely his boss.
Luca told him the circumstance of his hiring and his loyalty to the man. Mr. Hartmann came from a poor family located in some nameless town in the midwest. Vince, as he was now being referred to as, had given him a chance in life. Vince, being the son of the matriarch of the de More family, wanted to form his own regime. When Vince offered him the job, Luca dropped out of university immediately. "If the tourism board is what is necessary to protect the establishment, then so be it. I shall defend the honor of The Lake House with my life." Luca pointed his finger upwards as if a supporting crowd was in attendance. The call to cheer was met with silence.
The waitress interrupted Luca''s speech to ask if the gentleman wanted any more coffee. The incoherent ranting Luca''s position was devolving to had led Lovemarine to realize that it was time to call it quits on trying on sobering him up. The detective told her no more and that their time here was near completion. Lovemarine requested the check to come at once.
Before leaving the establishment, the detective told Jones of the plan he had concocted while listening to Luca''s rambling. Lovemarine was to sit on Luca while investigating what antique stores might have sold the picture frame. Jones on the other hand was to go to work again as Brian Wells. Brian Wells was then to strike up conversation with Vincent de More somehow. Lovemarine would leave the details on how to accomplish the mission up to Jones as truthfully he had little idea how it all could possibly be accomplished. Vincent de More''s coincidental return to the lake regions with the reappearance of the killer was very noteworthy indeed. Further, Vincent de More being the person who more than certainly pressured the police to close the initial case was a detail that now required investigating.
Jones pulled into The Lake House employee lot at a quarter before 11:00. Lovemarine had made the executive decision that Luca would be unable to go to work today. He knew too much about the investigation and was not fully capable of understanding the gravitas of the secret identity of Brian Wells. Jones knew that the Lovemarine''s command was the right course of action once more.
Jones'' shift was to begin with lunch, but his shift manager intervened. Apparently Luca had not completed the proper paperwork to officially hire the private eye. With him now forced to call in sick by Lovemarine, he needed to meet with a clerk. Jones gave a phony social security number to the clerk and knew that by the time it was processed the next day the ruse would be over. The clock was now officially on until his identity was revealed.
Stepping out of the office brought about a sense of dread. The relative anonymity that Jones had been so far enjoying was coming to an end. Rather than report to his shift manager once more, he decided to speak Vincent de More with all do haste.
Getting from the clerk''s office to de More''s office was quite the journey. Any man attempting to not remain covert would have been foolish to not request a map. Only through the loud conversation of a co-worker the night before did Jones know that the office was nestled in the residential wing of the complex.
While the hotel section only carried passing through members, there too was the option of an extended stay. Each apartment in the residential section was beyond luxury. Only the princes of the world and the tycoons of tycoons were permitted to stay at the country club''s most exclusive offering.
Adding to the difficulty of getting to Vincent without the use of a police badge was the attendant that Jones had spotted. The man was blocking off the residential wing from all those who were not supposed to be there.
Jones had almost gotten caught when approaching the entrance to the wing. At first he did not notice the responsibility of the guard. A few steps before him a guest had gotten lost and was quickly turned away from the section he had no business in. Jones thought to himself that there was very little chance the attendant would leave his post for any trivial matter. Too large of a distraction would cause more harm than gain. He needed to find an enviable balance and quick.
Either Jones would have to find Vincent de More somewhere else on the campus or he would have to get rid of this guard somehow. Luckily for Gary Wells, justice, and for gambling halls, Jones was adept at diverting people''s attention.
Luckily for Jones he was in full uniform. Initial suspicion was the most difficult to overcome. The attendant ought trust that his purpose was true when he laid down the details to his story.
"Hey there, I am just bringing word that one of our new hires is bringing a room service order to the residential wing and needs help finding the right place. Can you help him with that?"
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"No problem, when he gets here I can direct him to the right place."
Jones did not say another word. It was not yet necessary. A full two awkward minutes passed before Jones asked aloud, "where is this guy? This was a rush order."
The attendant seemed to understand well enough that Jones was implying that he got lost with the cart full of food. "Shall we go find him?"
Jones let out a begrudging sigh, "alright." Eagerness was the wrong emotion to display here. Internally, the private eye was ecstatic at how lucky he was. If the attendant did not suggest himself to leave his post, there could have been great trouble in the suggestion that the man abandon his duty.
The two split up to cover more ground at the behest of Jones. Jones doubled back as soon as he was certain that the attendant had turned the corner towards the kitchen. He entered the residential wing with no more issue. All that was left was to find de More''s office. Jones knew he needed to find it quickly. There was no time to appreciate the ornate wallpaper. By now the attendant had probably discovered the ruse and was alerting security.
Despite no time to thoroughly gawk, Jones still caught the wallpaper in his periphery. The design and quality looked like it would cost more than Jones'' Junkyard mobile home by a few degrees. A disparity in value ever increasing with the longer the wing ran on. Even at a blur, there was something dreadfully reminiscent of the design.
Any fear of not being able to locate the office quickly dissipated with Jones spotting the prominently labeled door. On top of a handcrafted panel door was a brass sign reading "de More." "Bingo," said Jones aloud for no one to hear. All other apartments that he passed by had such regular doors in comparison. There was no intricate carving on them and the residents were only deemed worthy of a number.
Jones knocked twice, but no one came to the door. It was a risky move to announce his presence, but de More opening the door was advantageous to the P.I. Breaking the lock with de More in the room would assuredly clam him up immediately.
There was no answer to Jones'' non-verbal request for someone to open the door. Picking the lock was extremely easy once more. Jones knew the lock model. The security here had not been updated in maybe 30 years. It was a brand that concentrated on a pleasing aesthetic over sincere attempt to stop a criminal. With full time security on the premise, the decision made sense. The company who made these locks has long since gone out of business. There just are not so many places in the world that were so upscale to demand designer locks.
The office itself was lit well through natural light, but Jones quickly had to forgo the sun''s illumination. He closed the curtains to prevent any prying eyes from the lawn just outside the office. He began to search the office-apartment mix as thoroughly as he had Claudia''s apartment only a few hours prior.
It was clear that the primary function of this residence was work. The bed in the side room did not even have the sheets on. Artwork adorned the walls thoroughly. The names on the paintings were common sights in the wealthiest of museums. Their reputation was thoroughly earned. The impressionism, that Vincent de More was clearly a fan of given its prevalence, provided quite an exhilarating sense to Jones even if only being viewed with a flashlight.
Not much else of note was found around the office. All that was left to look through was the bureau. The solid wood desk must have weighed a ton if a pound. There were too many drawers and too many papers to look through, but Jones owed it to Claudia to at least begin.
Luckily for the private eye, most of the papers in the desk were bills, as was expected from a man in Vincent de More''s position. Beyond the financial statements and bills, all that Jones could find were a few letters from correspondence with this mother.
The letter on top of the pile was something de More had yet to send:
"Dear Mother,
I have recently come upon some trouble. I know you are going through a difficult time with father. I will not burden you with the details, but rest assured everything will get resolved in due time. Your castle you have left me to care for is the most dear thing in my life. Well the most dear thing besides you. I am certain things with father will work out for the best. Sorry to keep this message short. There is not much to say. Perhaps, it is better for me to visit you. You know I will do just that. You will not read this message ok. I have some final things to take care of and then I will fly to your home.
Best,
You know who"
Jones found the letter to be the most interesting item in the whole of the office. Beyond the penmanship being exquisite, everything else here could be described as tools of the job; a fancy pen, a checking book, and bills all were not out of their expected place. Vincent de More''s love for his mother was.
Generally, there is some shame in breaking into a man''s private life, but Jones felt that he had earned the right. Vincent de More was quickly emerging as a suspect in the case. While all evidence being circumstantial, alignment of many clues towards the scion made Jones eager to interrogate the man.
As confirmed by the hands of priceless grandfather clock near the door, five minutes passed since the conclusion of the search and Vincent de More stepping through the door. He flicked the light switch on while holding a paper bag of food in his hand.
Jones sat there in his desk chair facing towards the door. Vincent''s reaction was of complete shock. His eyes opened as wide as possible, perhaps, to check if he was experiencing delusion somehow. Jones had the sense that Vincent de More''s privacy had never been disturbed so much in his life.
"Who are you?" de More demanded an answer from the intruder. Jones opted to remain undercover.
"My name is Brian Wells. The brother of one of your recently deceased employees Claudia Wells." replied Jones with an equally sharp tone. His transgressions needed to be explained should he hope to get anything out of this conversation. No matter the na?vity of the person rarely was information willingly given to someone viewed as a criminal.
"What brings you here Mr. Wells?"
"Well I have attempted to reach you for a while now. The front desk said you were out of town, but I hardly believed that. Here I am and you show up. Quite the shock, huh?" Jones had managed to get de More on the defensive. "I just returned from a visit to some family."
"No matter. Now I am here and you are too. You have a question for you to answer. Why did you demand the police close the investigation into my sister''s death?"
"The chief notified me that an employee of mine had died. He said he was certain that it was a drug overdose and did not suspect any foul play. I do not like bad press around my establishment so I requested that the case be closed as soon as it was responsible to do."
Jones gave a stare indicative of extreme dissatisfaction. Again this was a guess that de More knew more than he was let on. The guess was well reasoned and not complete chance. Shutting down a murder investigation due to bad publicity might suffice in a courtroom as reasonable doubt, but Jones was unsatisfied. The scion crumbled quickly from the intensity. No business meeting ever carried the threat of physical violence. Jones looked ready to snap.
"Okay look I know it may be hard to believe, but in all earnest I did it for the bad press. I feel bad about your sister. She died of an overdose and if I were not certain of that. I never would have given that input to the police chief. Please understand me." Vincent de More ended with a plea for non-violence. Jones had no reason to hurt the man, but de More did not need to know that.
"How did you know how she died?"
What was more telling than the response was the look that conquered de More''s face. Jones saw an unmistakable look of abject fear. A man who never had his freedom restricted before was facing a realistic possibility of losing the capability of a self-determined life. The luxury of such a life was something Vincent de More appreciated fully.
"I will ask you a better question Brian. How do you know that she did not die from a drug overdose? The police told me that it was drugs that killed her and I believed them. You should believe them to. What you have done so far can be excused as the irrationality of a bereaved brother, but further transgressions against my privacy will not be tolerated." Vincent was trying to establish himself to be in a position of authority. His voice failed to reach the distinction of the British Lord he was dearly trying to replicate. He rather sounded impotent, a shook man was attempting to order a weary soldier. Even in the best of circumstances, authority was never well received by Junkyard Jones. A man suspected of murder had little chance of successfully coercing Jones'' actions to anything besides what the private eye desired.
"She was forced to take the drugs. Do not play coy with me boy. You stopped the investigation before it had played out. For whatever intention you decided to intervene it must be said that you have blood on your hands. I have to question what the real reason is why. I already heard it was for the reputation of the area. I do not believe that." replied Jones.
"Do not break into my office and make demands on how I answer your questions. What exactly are you accusing me?" Jones had gone too far with his admonishment and de More stopped providing information. The only demand he reasonably implied was an honest response. de More slipping in his wordage was enough to confirm Jones'' growing suspicions. Jones now held the ambition of proving Vincent de More murdered Claudia Wells.
de More being unwilling to conversate more was bound to happen eventually, but Jones was certain that he went too hard too quick.
Jones stood up from the desk chair with much and walked to the door to leave. His initial burst of energy to ascend from his seat startled Vincent de More. Without looking behind him, Jones gave a sarcastic wave to Vincent. He left, but not without leaving the last words of the encounter, "Your chair is very comfortable. Thank you for the talk. We will see each other again. I am sure of it."
The threat was meant to further throw Vincent de More off kilter. If abrupt movement was enough to throw the man, a little more applied pressure may be able to set him off completely.
If de More believed that the intention of Brian Wells was strictly to find justice through the courts, it would be of benefit for him to be quiet. However, if the standard of evidence being considered was the amount for blackmail, Jones believed he could fool Vincent into playing the part of a criminal with much less resistance.
Walking back to the attendant''s post to leave the establishment, Jones now had ample time to look at the wall paper he had hastily walked past earlier. The reminiscent design now became clear as to where he had seen it before. The picture frame''s carved flower pattern matched with exactly with the wallpaper.
He needed to get to Lovemarine quickly and report his findings. Jones knew the detective suspected Vincent as well. That much was transparent from the second Luca Hartmann started to defend the owner''s son. Jones still had no idea who exactly the owner was. He remembered something from the newspaper clipping, but needed the perspective of a socialite expert. The name of Beatrice de More did not anything without knowing her accomplishments in life.
Security laid in wait at the entrance to the residential wing. Jones explained that he was to leave and that if Mr. de More decided to press charges that he could find him at Claudia''s address. This was generally not the proper procedure to a trespass, but Jones acted with enough authority that neither the attendant nor the called guard were willing to do anything.
Jones had made it to his car with no further impediment. The only thing he could think to do was drive to Luca''s home once more and talk with Lovemarine about who he was now willing to allege was the killer.