The Unborn

Chapter 8

Ben stepped into the elevator and hit number three on the keypad, the doors rolled shut and the drone of the elevator’s engine sounded flatly throughout the shaft. He pulled a clear plastic bag from his pocket containing the business card for Lowman and Beaumont Accountants. Although he had studied the card numerous times already, he looked it over once more, turning it over and upside down in the hopes that he might spot something that he had missed previously. Nothing was making sense to him, the entire Tessa Hunt murder baffled him, and what would an accountancy firm have to do with anything anyway? He felt as though he was just wasting his time on fruitless leads while a madman with a perverted fetish for pregnant women is still on the loose.

The droning stopped and the large steel doors rolled open before him, he walked from the elevator and stood in the corridor, looking left and right for Suite 5C. He spied an informa-tion board on the wall immediately to the left of the elevator doors, positioning himself in front of it; he scanned the business names for Lowman and Beaumont. Ben took in the instructions to find the accountants and turned away from the board. He headed right, then right again and finally, at the end of the corridor he turned left where he found himself standing before a plain timber door adorned with a silver plaque, Lowman and Beaumont Accountants.

Running his fingers briskly through his hair, Ben then tucked the business card back into his pocket and let himself in through the door. Cream walls and beige carpet greeted him when he stepped into the waiting room; the reception-ist looked up at him from behind her computer and smiled, acknowledging his presence. Although he couldn’t hear what she was saying, he could see that she was on a call. He picked up a magazine from the glass top coffee table and made himself comfortable on the imitation leather lounge chair of the waiting room. He thumbed through his magazine, completely uninterested in it’s contents, in an effort to look occupied. The last thing he wanted was to go storming in causing a ruckus and demanding to see the accountants immediately and without an appointment. He was prepared to be patient and didn’t mind a little free time to study his sur-roundings.

"Is there something I can help you with, Sir?" the secretary spoke to him from her desk.

"I’m Detective Ben Torrens," Ben sprung from his chair and walked over to her. "I was wonder-ing if it’s possible to speak with Mr. Lowman and Mr. Beaumont at all?"

"May I ask what this is about Detective?" She asked, scanning his badge.

Ben looked at the secretary and asked, "May I have your name?"

The receptionist blushed and replied, "Of course, I’m sorry. It’s Cindy."

"It’s to do with official police business, Cindy. Unfortunately I can’t give you too many details I’m afraid."

Cindy scurried out from behind her station, "Follow me Detective."

She led him into a small conference room with a large cedar table and eight chairs in the centre of the room. A laptop computer sat at one end of the table, accompanied by a biro and a large note pad. To one side of the room, a small bureau stood against the wall. A crystal water decanter and eight glasses sat on a tray on top of it. Cindy guided him to the nearest chair and pulled it back from the table, motioning for him to take a seat.

"Please make yourself comfortable here, I’ll see if they can see you Detective." Cindy paused for a moment and then added, "Is there something I can get for you while you’re waiting?"

"No, I’m just fine thanks Cindy," he answered.

A broad smile spread across her pretty face, "Okay then. I’ll try to be as quick as I can."

Ben returned her smile and said, "Thanks, I appreciate it."

On the wall in front of him, Ben noticed a framed print of a horse and carriage. It brought back memories of when he and Anna were married many years ago. She had desperately wanted the big wedding with all the trimmings, and for her, that included the large guest list, the most beautiful garden in Freybourne and of course a horse and carriage to deliver her to and from the service. A smile began to form, tugging lightly at the corners of his mouth as he recalled how beautiful she looked in her brilliant, white wedding gown. Her bronze hair was pulled back loosely with two delicate combs, giving the illusion of subdued flames flowing down to her bare shoulders. He couldn’t think of a time when he remembered seeing her so contented.