"You have gone after the living." A pause. "Now you must go after the dead."
As Gabriel sat next to his assistant in the hired taxi headed to Silver Street, he mulled over the words of the midnight caller. Had he interpreted them in the way they were meant to be? Or was he merely embarking on another fruitless excursion?
"Are you alright, Mr Bedford?" his assistant gently enquired. She seemed to be on eggshells around him today, and the detective figured it must have had something to do with his particularly foul mood and unpredictable temper.
Gabriel couldn't deny the recent developments had had him most unhappy. And the alarming tendencies of the merciless woman who was ostensibly his ally certainly didn't help.
"Mr Bedford?" Gabriel did not grace her with a reply.
The vehicle stopped with a violent jerk, and the detective threw the door open and stormed out. Worrying more about whoever had the misfortune of encountering him than about the detective himself, Charlotte picked up her little bag and stepped out. It was a pleasant morning, not too warm or cold, and the hem of her pale dress fluttered in the wind. She thought it a shame they hadn't started earlier in the morning, owing to her employer's notorious indolence.
"Mr Bedford!" She dashed after him, not expecting a reply. Without as much as glancing back, Gabriel hurriedly made his way to the address that was now listed under the name Caroline Gale.
It was a quiet, sophisticated place. With a lovely garden and a friendly Rottweiler (that nearly sent the detective sprinting out the iron gate), Charlotte thought the Gale residence a dream come true. For Gabriel, the canine was akin to a nightmare.
Nevertheless, he gathered the courage to send the dog a malicious sneer and made his way across the lawn. At the front door, they were greeted by a woman of around forty.
"Ms Gale?" asked the detective without ceremony.
"That's me," she smiled warmly. Charlotte instantly liked the woman.
"Gabriel Bedford, Private Detective," he said. "There is something I must ask you with regard to your mother, Mrs Jane Gale." Realisation struck Charlotte like lightening. She was extremely embarrassed to not have figured out the purpose of their visit until she heard the name the dying Mr Hunter had uttered. More so, because several times during the ride she had contemplated asking her employer. Now she could only thank every God in existence that she had been dissuaded by the metaphorical cloud that had hovered over his head all day and held her tongue.
But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ms Gale's smile dropped. "May I ask why?" she asked tentatively.
"I am currently working on the Carter Hill case."
"It has been opened again?" She seemed less surprised than Charlotte had thought she would be. "Please, come in."
"Thank you," Charlotte said as she followed the woman through the hallway. It was a small, cozy home, the kind she had always dreamt of. Growing up, Charlotte had always had to move about with her mother. She had few memories of her childhood, and most of them were of dirt and poverty and sickness. Her father had been affluent, but her estranged mother was too proud to get in touch with him, even on her death bed. For reasons she could not comprehend, amidst the comparison between the Gale household and her own childhood home, a neglected apartment at The Pinnacle came to mind. Charlotte hid a smile.
"Do be seated," said Ms Gale. "Would you like something to drink, perhaps?"
"No, thank you," Gabriel said brusquely. "I believe Mrs Gale had been with Garcia & Co. at the time?"
"That is correct." Ms Gale took a seat opposite the detective as she smoothened her dress. "She worked with Mr Hill briefly before he was sentenced."
"How long?"
"Mr Hill had worked in the Finance department before that," she replied. "He had been transferred to my mother's department only a few months prior."
"I see," Gabriel leaned back thoughtfully. "What did she think of the matter? Did she think him guilty?"
At this, Charlotte watched the woman's face twist in fury. "He was innocent," she said fiercely. "He couldn't have not been. He was the kindest person I'd known! Neither he nor Kate made the kind of money he was accused of laundering, nor had they ever wanted it," she paused, breathing heavily. Her anger gave way to hot tears that rolled down her cheek. She whispered, "They were supposed to get married that summer."
"You had known them," Gabriel said simply.
"He was my tutor," she replied, her lips trembling with emotion. "But he was more than that. To me, he had been a brother and a mentor. I hadn't known him for long, but it was he who..." she paused, unsure. "He stopped me from taking my own life." Charlotte gasped quietly. "He showed me life was worth living. Every weekend, he would come over to tutor me, and then we would go to the beach or watch a film. Sometimes he brought Kate because he was bad at Maths," she sobbed. "How could such a man take two lives?"
Charlotte looked down as she felt her own eyes moisten. All this time, she had viewed the case as exactly that- a case. But now that she had seen the way it had affected all of the people involved, frightening them to the point of silence, she was heartbroken. She was finally beginning to see a different side to the story than mere calculations and deductions- a human side.
The Carter Hill Case, along with all its victims, had had somewhat of a domino effect- everyone that it touched fell. She no longer wondered none of the witnesses had come forward- perhaps there had been those that had, but their testimonies never saw the light of day.
"There is something I'd like to show you, Mr Bedford," said Ms Gale. With a night nod, Gabriel watched her rise and disappear into the hallway.
Not long after, she returned with a small cardboard box. Setting it down on the coffee table, she turned to the detective. "This," she said, bringing out a worn photograph from inside the box, "my mother left me." Clearly, it had seen better days. The edges were frayed and the paper itself was soft and yellow. But it had been well-preserved, with not as much as a crease on it.
"This was taken on an employees' picnic," she said, pointing to the date at one corner of the photograph, then to the small group of people at the centre. On the left was a younger Mr Hunter. Beside him, with a little book in hand, was a woman with so striking a resemblance to Ms Gale that it startled Charlotte. Beside them were two others that she didn't recognise. "And it had been their last," Ms Gale shook her head, as if to shake off the sorrow.
"This, right here, is Mr Hill," she said, pointing to the handsome young man on the right. "And beside him is Mr Oppenheim, the then-assistant manager."
"And that, beside your mother I believe, is Mr Hunter?" Gabriel said.
"You have met him?" Ms Gale said, her eyes lighting up. Charlotte felt terrible for the news she was about to receive.
"He is dead," the detective said simply. Ms Gale's expression crumpled. Tears rose once again in her eyes.
"I see," she said, crestfallen. She shook her head again. "There is something else..." she let her voice trail off, her nimble fingers reaching into the cardboard box to produce a bundle of papers. She handed them to the detective. "The official records have all been destroyed. I know this because no matter how hard my mother would try to find something in his defence, she found nothing. It was as though all the evidence had disappeared into thin air. But this," she flipped a few pages, then settled on one, "this had escaped their notice. It was no use- the transactions had all been carried out under his name. But the time right here," she pointed to the page with what seemed to be a list of entries, each with a designated date and time, and then to the photograph she had discarded on the table, "and this- here, you can compare them." Gabriel did so, taking his time to study them.
"What records are these?" he said finally.
"Those of the alleged transactions," she answered. "Most of them had been destroyed. But fortunately, this survived."
"And since the time of the transaction differs from that of the photograph by a few minutes at most, it must have been impossible for Mr Hill to carry it out," he finished, although he sounded somewhat dubious. Charlotte shared his sentiments. After a long investigation yielding next to no results, a lead finally appearing seemed almost too good to be true.
"Yes," answered Ms Gale.
"And why had you not turned this at the time, Ms Gale?" the detective asked sharply.
"I was a coward," she replied, lowering her head. "You might not believe me now, but I had thought of it. So many times had I nearly walked to the station to testify. But my mother had stopped me- and she had been right. Naturally, this wasn't enough proof. And she had been afraid for my life. I wish I had had the courage then- believe me, I do." She raised her head, her eyes burning in supressed pain and anger. "But I hope it isn't too late to make amends."
Gabriel didn't answer immediately, scrutinising the furious woman. Finally, he spoke. "It isn't," he confirmed. "But," he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in the way Charlotte knew they did when he had discovered something no one else could as much as fathom, "your mother, Ms Gale, seems to have stumbled upon something that cautioned her against acting recklessly, something which had caused the deaths of the two officers at the time of the incident and the investigators afterwards. I need you, Ms Gale, to confirm if she suspected a connection between the embezzlements and the particularly rampant activities with regards to narcotics at the time."
Charlotte's face reflected the surprise on Ms Gale's. However, the woman's reply only served to stun her further. "Why, however on earth did you know that, Mr Bedford?"
"A lucky guess," he answered. "But she did suspect it?"
"I felt she knew," answered Ms Gale. "But she told me nothing. She was afraid, that much was obvious."
"Naturally," Gabriel said thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry. I really wish I could be of more help."
"You've been a great help, Ms Gale," Charlotte reassured. "Thank you."
"You must bring them to justice," Ms Gale said fiercely. "Would you like to take the rest of the stuff in it to examine? It might help."
Gabriel readily agreed, and left Charlotte to carry it. Once again thanking the woman, she rushed after the detective.
But to her surprise, instead of hailing a taxi, the detective began to walk. "We can't afford to risk having this taken away," he explained. She had a keen suspicion the detective didn't want to risk spending more cash either, but she digressed. Instead, she decided to voice the questions that had plagued her mind since the conversation with Mrs Gale's daughter.
"How on earth did you know about the connection with narcotics?"
"I made enquiries," he answered simply. "To investigate crimes, you must keep criminal friends."
"Informants," Charlotte mused.
"Not necessarily," he said. "Their business is selling illegal drugs, not information. However, they make an exception for me."
She didn't enquire further, because she had a hunch he would not divulge any more than he already had. Instead, she said, "But what exactly did you find?"
"Naturally, there is no way to know for sure if the laundered money had been used in the business," he answered. "But while I was studying the records, it struck me as an unnaturally large amount to be laundered by an amateur. Besides, there were the murders. Would someone with the mere intention of laundering resort to killing, no matter how desperate?" he said, letting the information sink in. "And in connection to such a colossal amount of money, naturally, one business in particular came to mind."
"But it couldn't have been a mere pedlar, for instance?" she said doubtfully.
"Precisely." He stopped, looking back at his assistant. "I suspect this is indeed intertwined with something far greater than mere embezzlement." He paused, looking away.
"What are you thinking, Mr Bedford?" Charlotte said gently, her voice subdued.
Gabriel looked over at her, his eyes with the faraway look she recognised.
"That Carter Hill was bad at Maths..."