A Dangerous Business: Laura Curtis , #2

Chapter 1

Essex, Southern England.

I knew something was wrong.

The overwhelming smell wafting through the slightly open shed door was a giveaway. Not for nothing do my family call me super sleuth.

Epping Forest was dense in this part making it difficult to see properly, but the sound of a million bloated flies buzzing with ecstasy, was another pointer to a tragedy I’d been tasked to prevent.

I crept forward not knowing what to expect but being of ruthless disposition was ready to squash any fly that landed on me.

How the hell had this happened? Just a few paid jobs into my career as a PI and I’d screwed up. So much for super sleuth. I didn’t relish the thought of telling the lady she would not be cuddling her beloved again. She’d be inconsolable.

Preparing myself for the worst I took out my can of defense marker spray and taking a deep breath covered my mouth with a scarf. Then kicking the door open I rushed in as the flies rushed out.

If only I’d trodden more carefully. Both feet slid out in front of me and I ended up sitting on the floor...in a pool of drying blood.

It took me awhile but I adjusted to the murky gloom, the smell I would never forget. Fortunately no-one else was present. Laura Curtis, super idiot more like it. I climbed to my feet and looked around.

In one corner lay the carcass of a dead lamb but no sign of the dog I was trying to trace. I felt sorry for the lamb, pleased for the dog. Some rustlers, possibly illegals, had been using this place as a doss house. The foreign language papers in the corner confirmed it. Now I was back in business. I knew this because of the tip-off I’d received from my top informant, a ten-year-old schoolboy.

He claimed to have been in the forest with friends and seen Otto, a once seen never forgotten German mountain dog. In his words the dog was the size of a bear. It had to be Otto who it seemed was in the company of some funny looking people. When asked what he meant he said he thought the dog looked too good for them. He was right, Otto being one classy canine. And worth a lot of money.

Unfortunately the owner hadn’t got around to having a dog tracking microchip implanted. Still, if she had I wouldn’t be on the case. Always look on the bright side.

From what I could see, it appeared the shed had been vacated shortly before my arrival. So much for silent sleuthing. Now I would have to alert my informant again and get him and all his friends to keep looking. I headed for my car.

In so doing I remained alert enough to see a half-hidden path to my right. As I stood debating whether or not to take it I noticed dog hairs caught in a prickly bush. Right color, could be Otto, I decided to follow. I was wearing a dark track suit and my blonde ponytail was under a baseball cap so I reasoned I would be difficult to see. If only I could move quietly.

I’d been creeping through the dense green foliage for about twenty minutes when my nostrils told me they were not too far away. Getting down on my stomach I slowly inched my way forward. There they were, three men and two women.

I felt sorry for them, they were leading a tough life. No doubt scumbag people traffickers had taken their money promising a new life, a life of comparative luxury. There was certainly nothing luxurious about the clapped out camper van that seemed to be serving as home. But that was not my problem, I had to find and rescue Otto.

Light was fading and I reckoned I had another hour to wait before I could move around safely. Just then Otto stood. He was tethered to a tree by a rope that gave him a radius of about six feet in which to move and do his business. Would he be there overnight or would they take him into the camper van? I had no option but to wait and see.

It was just after seven when the five of them retreated to the van, presumably to eat. A safe bet since they’d brought out food for the dog. I hoped this was an indication that Otto was to remain tied to the tree all night. Not if I could help it.

I allowed a further fifteen minutes to elapse before crawling to within touching distance of Otto. To my horror he started to growl but stopped when I quietly spoke his name. As carefully as possible I untied the rope at the tree and gently pulled him to me and we edged our way back down the path. I don’t know if he sensed the need but he remained very quiet.

I thought we’d got away with it until I heard the shouts. Stealth was no longer an option and we substituted quiet for speed. Luckily I had Otto in the passenger seat as the first dog snatcher reached us. He was fit and wiry and looked to be in his late twenties. He was certainly quick and managed to trip me as I made for the driver side. Falling I rolled to my left as fast as I could but he still managed to deliver a painful kick to my shoulder.

Jumping up I faced him, waiting for his next move. He drew a knife which he brandished in his right hand in a threatening manner. Adopting my petrified little girl pose I waited for his move and he started to smile, no doubt imagining what he was about to do to me. And I didn’t think it had anything to do with carving me up.

What he hadn’t imagined was the fast hard kick I delivered to his left shinbone. He screamed, I avoided the knife, stepped in and before he could recover kneed him in the crotch while delivering a blow to his chin with the heel of my hand. It was enough to enable me to get in the car. 

He began screaming words I couldn’t understand but something told me it was nothing complimentary. Still, we’d made it and we hightailed it down the road.

*

Mrs. Jacobs was beside herself. On being re-acquainted with her beloved Otto she laughed, she cried, all while hugging the big brute who reciprocated by leaning against her, almost knocking her over.

‘Oh Mrs. Curtis, thank you so much for bringing him back to me, I can’t tell you how happy and relieved I am.’

I’m glad she told me, I’d never have guessed.

‘I was just doing my job. It’s been a week since they took him but fortunately he’s been well looked after. Still, if they were to get the best price they needed to keep him in good shape. Now look, he’s a very handsome specimen and others might take a fancy to him so please, get that chip put in.’

‘Oh I intend taking care of that first thing in the morning. Now, how much do I owe you?’

As I drove home to Cambridge I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. From now on all dognappers had better watch out. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband Jim all about it, and show him the check, my first payment as a PI. It was late so our children, Jack and Emily, would be in bed, I’d boast to them in the morning.

I’d already told Otto not to say anything about the altercation with the knifeman, I certainly didn’t intend mentioning it to my family. 

Chapter 2

It was more than three months since I set up in business, Laura Curtis, Private Investigator...of the mundane! Or so it now seemed. My current assignment, the rescue of Otto, qualified as the most exciting so far.

And for this I studied long and hard?

In preparing to become the world’s greatest PI I learned about fraud investigation, the art of surveillance and undercover work. It had been an intense study but necessary, or so I thought. As I sat staring at the walls of the spare bedroom that now served as my office, I was beginning to have doubts.

Thanks to husband Jim’s karate expertise I was skilled in the art of self-defense. On a recent visit to my mother who now lived in Los Angeles, I’d gained some firearm knowledge courtesy of my step-father’s son Zach, an FBI agent. I knew I’d never carry a gun in the UK but what the hell, it did no harm to be prepared for any and all eventualities. If only.

I’d become a PI because of the part I played in bringing down a plot to defraud the National Health Service. The Cambridge hospital, where I’d held a fairly senior management position, had been one of those targeted by the crooks. The scam involved supplying fake drugs through the NHS Trust system using hospital pharmacies to dispense the crap. The people behind it stood to make a lot of money, a huge amount.

I was aware of at least one killing they’d carried out to protect their anticipated income; I’m sure there had been others. In fact on the day they were finally taken down I’d faced the prospect of becoming a victim to their murderous greed. Scary but somehow compelling.

Yes, helping to bring them down sometimes involved an intense level of danger but...I loved every minute of it! So much so I could not have gone back to my old position. I needed to keep feeling that adrenaline rush.

By making contact with firms of solicitors and accountants I’d been able to get a few jobs but nothing that got the juices flowing. Making contacts had been easy, my involvement with the hospital caper had been widely reported. I’d expected, hoped for, something similar. I was still hoping.

Then I thought of my upcoming trip to Perth and the sad, very sad reason for it. I would be saying final goodbyes to one of my oldest friends. She was dying of cancer. And here was I feeling sorry for myself. The sorrow turned to guilt. I might be bored but it could be a hell of a lot worse.

Mindful of the fact that I was also a wife and mother I was about to call it a day when my dedicated business phone rang. ‘Laura Curtis.’

‘Ah Mrs. Curtis, I’m glad I got you and not an answerphone. My name is Julie Thompson and I need your services.’

‘Hello Ms. Thompson, what can I do for you?’

‘Not over the telephone, I’d like to meet tomorrow.’

She didn’t waste words. ‘Let me look at my diary.’ I didn’t want her thinking she was my only client. ‘OK, ten tomorrow morning I have an hour, you want to come here?’

‘No, I prefer to meet at Bennetts Café on King’s Parade.’ 

‘Is that wise? It gets very busy there.’

‘I’ll see you there at ten.’

*

She was already there when I arrived, in a private room above the café, she knew the owner. Julie Thompson was a slightly overweight forty something with a severe look about her, accentuated by the way her straight black hair was tied in a bun. I was on time but she couldn’t resist a studied look at her watch. Right away I knew this woman was going to be a royal pain in the rear.

We exchanged good mornings ordered coffee and she got straight down to business. ‘You’re here because you come highly recommended. I hope you can live up to your reputation.’

‘I’m here because you asked to meet. If I’m interested in and feel comfortable with what it is you would like me to do I’ll consider your proposal. Now, shall we start again?’

I didn’t know how she would react, I didn’t care. So business was not exactly brisk but I was not about to become her skivvy. I watched as her face went from righteous indignation to annoyance to finally accepting that I could not be intimidated by her sense of self-importance.

‘Touché, let’s start again.’

I noticed she did not intend to apologize, no matter, I’d made my point. ‘OK, please call me Laura and if I may I’ll call you Julie. Now, I’d like you to explain why you need my services.’

She suddenly lost her composure and appeared close to shedding a tear, instead she looked up and said, ‘My ex-husband has disappeared taking our eight-year-old daughter with him. I need you to find them and bring her back. The scumbag of a husband you can do what you like with. Preferably bury him.’

I