Embedded Files
Elizabeth Sherwood walks through the busy New York City streets. She watches the faces of all the passers by looking for some kind of inspiration for writing her new novel. There’s a chill in the late afternoon air and there are clear signs that winter is on its way. Elizabeth shivers and buttons up her coat in an attempt to block out the cold.
It’s the fall of 1990 and Elizabeth had spent the last three years working as an English teacher back at New York’s school for the Performing Arts. It was a job that she enjoyed but ultimately she wanted to be an author. Her first novel, a steamy romance story, which had been published nearly 5 years ago, had been very successful. Elizabeth had quit her teacher job and moved to Maine to concentrate on her writing career. The success of the novel meant her publishers wanted more of the same, much to Elizabeth’s frustration. She didn't want to get stuck writing one particular genre of books, particularly one that she didn't find fulfilling. However, she delivered her second novel to her publishers and although ultimately she wasn't satisfied with it, the book sold well and again the publishers wanted more of the same. At that point, persuaded by her best friend Lydia Grant, she decided to return to teaching at the School of the Arts.
After a couple of years break from writing she began working on a crime thriller novel. Her publishers were sceptical at first but after it sold better than the steamy romance novels, Elizabeth again quit her job at the school. Her publishers had changed track and now wanted more crime novels. Once again Elizabeth finds herself frustrated with her writing career, so much so she had spent that morning staring at a blank piece of paper on her typewriter. Unable to write even one word she’d decided that she needed to get outside for a walk and fresh air. Her hope was that watching the faces of passers by, trying to come up with back stories of the people she was watching would inspire her to come up with another whodunnit mystery story, so far she’d come up with a big fat zilch and was starting to get annoyed with herself.
At that point she felt moisture on her face and looking up she realised that a light drizzle of rain has started to fall. As the sky had been clear when she’d left home she hadn't even considered taking an umbrella with her. She decides as she hasn't found the inspiration she was hoping for she would head back to the dryness of home and quickens her pace, to get out of the rain as quickly as possible.
Fifteen minutes later Elizabeth is back in her apartment building and drying off her long blond hair with a towel. She pours herself some coffee and notices the red light blinking on her answering machine. She presses the play button and listens to the message:
“Hi Elizabeth, it’s David Reardon here, long time no see. Well I have a bit of a problem which I was hoping that you’d be able to help me with. So call me back and I hope to hear from you soon, bye.”
David Reardon was a friend from the past, when he had spent a couple of years working as a drama teacher at the school of the arts. After he’d left to concentrate on his acting career, Elizabeth had seen him a couple of times but had heard nothing from him for at least 5 years. Elizabeth is curious as to what he could possibly want her help with. David had omitted to leave a contact number in his message so Elizabeth scans her address book looking for his number. The number she has is from about eight years previous so she hopes he’s still at the same apartment. She dials the number and after about a minute a female voice, with a Spanish accent says “Hallo”.
Elizabeth hesitates not sure she has the right number when the woman on the other end of the line again says "Hallo" Elizabeth realises that she has to say something: “Oh, Hello, may I speak with David Reardon please?”
There is a silence for a few seconds until the female voice says: “Sorry... No English!”
The woman quickly hangs up the phone, leaving Elizabeth listening to a dialling tone. She replaces the receiver on the phone. It’s obvious that David had moved and Elizabeth has no way to contact him. For a few moments she again wonders what it could all be about and just as she resigns herself to having to wait until David contacts her again, that’s if he did actually try again, an idea strikes her.
She reaches for the phone again and quickly dials another number. This time it is for one of her closest friends, Lydia Grant, who taught dance at the school of the arts. The two women had been the best friends for more years than either of them cared to admit. On paper, they had little in common, coming from vastly different backgrounds. Lydia was a passionate dancer, choreographer and performer. Her whole life was built around the arts and teaching dance to the kids at the school. While, Elizabeth had never had any inkling to ever want to perform. Still, they were both, strong, independent, forceful woman who enjoyed teaching and shared similar political views.
Lydia answers: “Hello?”
Elizabeth: “Hi Lydia, it’s me. I was just wondering if you had a recent phone number for David Reardon?”
Lydia is surprised by the question: “David, why?”
Elizabeth explains: “Well, he’s left a message on my machine, saying he needs my help with something but he’s not left any contact number. The old number I have for him was answered by a Spanish woman, who simply said she didn't speak English.”
Lydia laughs and thinks for a moment: “Well, I saw David a couple of years ago when he was working on some new play and he gave me a new number then. I’ll have to look for it. Listen, can I get back to you with that because I was just about to leave as there is a school show going on tonight?”
Elizabeth: “Sure, there’s no hurry.”
Lydia: “Well, how about we meet for lunch tomorrow and I’ll bring it with me?”
Elizabeth pauses: “Oh I'm not sure. I'm in the middle of writing this book and I really shouldn't have any distractions!”
Lydia is unimpressed: “Girl, that is so tired. How much have you written today?”
Elizabeth becomes a little flustered: “Well, erm, It’s got nothing to do with how much I have written. It’s got to do with how much I should be writing!”
Lydia snaps and repeats the question: “How much have you written today?”
Elizabeth feels exasperated: “Okay. Okay I haven’t written anything. Are you satisfied now?”
Lydia becomes sarcastic: “So an hour out for lunch tomorrow isn't going to bring this great novel to a standstill is it?”
Elizabeth rises above it: “That’s not the point and you know it! What if I had a sudden flash of inspiration and needed to get my ideas down onto paper?”
Lydia laughs: “Somehow I doubt very much that is going to happen, but if it does we can postpone lunch. Otherwise I’ll see you at the usual place at 12.30pm, okay?”
Elizabeth reluctantly agrees: “Okay, you’re right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lydia quips: “Oh I do love it when people tell me I'm right. It’s a shame it doesn't happen more often. Now, I really must go there’s some last minute changes I need to work out with the kids for the show. I’ll see you tomorrow, bye.”
Elizabeth laughs: “Okay, you crazy fool, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Still smiling after the conversation with her friend, Elizabeth walks over to the other side of the room and sits at her typewriter. She looks at the blank page in front of her and sighs, wishing she could muster up some kind of inspiration to write something, anything! If she could get past the first chapter then maybe the rest would fall into place.
Elizabeth shakes her head and mutters to herself: “Who am I kidding? This book is probably never going to get written.”
She decides she had enough of trying to write and moves to sit on the sofa. She reaches for the remote control and flicks through the channels trying to find something that grabs her attention. After a few minutes she is surprised to hear a forceful knock at her door. Moving to the door she looks through the peep hole to see who is knocking and is shocked to see David Reardon standing on the other side. Elizabeth quickly unlocks the door and opens it.
Elizabeth: “David? This is a surprise!”
David gives her a quick smile: “Hello Elizabeth, can I come in?”
Elizabeth opens the door wider and motions with her hand for him to enter: “Sure, come on in.”
David’s voice turns serious: “I know this has come out of the blue but I really think you are the only person who can help me!”
Elizabeth is intrigued: “Well, that sounds interesting but before you start would you like a drink? You look like you need one.”
David nods: “That would be great, do you have some beer?”
Elizabeth raises and eyebrow: “David, I live alone, why would I have beer? I can offer you some white wine if you’d like that?”
David realises his mistake: “Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Yes wine would be great, thanks.”
As Elizabeth goes to the fridge in the kitchen, she pulls out a bottle of wine and begins to pour two glasses.
David continues: “I left you a phone message earlier today, I'm not sure if you've got it?”
Elizabeth returns with the wine and hands a glass to David: “Take a seat.”
David takes a sip of the wine while Elizabeth continues: “Oh I got your message, it’s just you didn't leave a return number and the number I have for you is out of date, so I'm sorry I couldn't call you back.”
David grins: “Sorry my mind is all over the place at the moment!”
Elizabeth becomes concerns: “That’s okay but what is troubling you?”
David takes a deep breath: “Well, my Grandfather has died...”
Elizabeth interrupts: “Oh David I'm sorry to hear that. Were you close?”
David nods: “Yes I guess we were. But it’s not his dying that has got to me. He was 82 years old after all. It’s how he died that has me worried!”
Elizabeth is puzzled: “What do you mean, how he died?”
David looks around as the room as though he’s checking for people listening in to the conversation. He leans closer towards her and lowers his voice: “I think...”
He pauses and looks around again before continuing: “I think..., he was murdered!”
Following David’s lead Elizabeth also finds herself looking around the room then shakes her head when she realises what she’s doing: “Murdered? Are you certain?”
David nods: “Yes, it certainly looks like it and what is worse I think one of my own family has murdered him!”
Elizabeth is confused: “But why would anyone want to murder your Grandfather?”
David whispers: “Money!”
Elizabeth repeats the word querstioningly: “Money?”
David continues: “Yes Elizabeth, I think someone was after his money! You don’t know my family and I wouldn't put it past any of them to bump off the old man to get their hands on his money!”
Elizabeth thinks that David is overreacting but remains sympathetic: “That’s terrible David. It’s also a very serious accusation. Are you sure that this isn't just some adverse reaction to your Grandfather dying?”
David snaps: “I'm not in denial if that’s what you think?”
Elizabeth shakes her head: “No, no that’s not what I think but you have to admit it’s a little off the wall to accuse your own family of murder?”
David rises to his feet and his voice rises in anger: “You think I'm crazy is that it?”
Elizabeth calms her voice in the hope of calming the situation: “Sit down David. Of course I don’t think you’re crazy but it just seems like an overreaction to a very emotional situation.”
David snaps: “It’s only an overreaction if it’s not true and what I'm telling you is true!”
Elizabeth sips her wine and contemplates what to say next.
David reaches in his pocket: “I have proof if you don’t believe me!”
He pulls out a letter which he opens and hands to Elizabeth.
David quips: “Go on read that. Read it out loud!”
Elizabeth looks at the letter for a moment and the reads out its contents:
“My dearest David, I am writing this to you with a heavy heart. For I fear you are the only one of the family that I can now trust. There are so many whispers, so many secrets and so many lies surrounding me. I think they are after my money and I think they want me dead David! So I beg you, my dear grandson, I beg you, come to visit me and come quickly. Please don’t mention this to any of the other family members as I don’t want you to be put in any danger. Love and regards Gerald Reardon.”
Elizabeth takes a deep breath as she contemplates the message.
David looks at her: “See? What I told you is true. He wrote that and posted it the same day that he died and I received it two days later. Surely there is no coincidence that he died the same day that he warned me?”
Elizabeth isn't sure what to think: “Well, he was obviously concerned about something but what was his mental health like. You said he was in his eighties. I don’t want to be rude but do you think he may have been confused?”
David shakes his head: “Elizabeth, if you knew him you’d be as concerned as I am. He had a very active mind he never confused anything. He certainly wasn't senile, far from it.”
Elizabeth sighs: “Well, I don’t know what to think. Have you spoken to the police?”
David tuts: “I'm not sure they would believe me either. I wanted more evidence before I involved them!”
Elizabeth: “Well, how about a private detective, maybe they could investigate for you and find some more evidence?”
David sucks his teeth: “I've thought about that. The only problem is that costs money and I'm broke. A struggling actor here, remember?”
Elizabeth is puzzled: “I just don’t understand what it is you want me to help with?
David hesitates before replying: “Well, I read your last book and you seem to have an eye for a murder mystery. I know you have an eye for detail so... so I thought you could help me investigate.”
Elizabeth almost chokes on her wine: “What? I wrote a book David, I'm no investigator. If things are as serious as you believe them to be, then you need a professional. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can help you.”
David sits down next to her: “Please Elizabeth, you know me. You know I wouldn't be making this up. All I want you to do is come to the family home with me. Meet the family and see what you think. If you honestly don’t believe that any of them is capable of murder then I’ll drop the whole thing. I promise!”
Elizabeth sighs: “David, I really don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides I'm right in the middle of writing a book. I really can't afford to take time out from it. I'm really sorry.”
David puts his head in hands for a moment and then turns back to Elizabeth: “We used to be good friends and I'm just asking a friend for a favour.”
Elizabeth becomes frustrated: “That’s not fair David. We haven't seen each other for years and besides a favour is when you ask for the change to buy a cup of coffee or to borrow something. A favour is not help me investigate which one of my family killed my grandfather!”
David smiles: “Okay, okay let forget the murder mystery. Forget I even mentioned it. Let just say one friend is asking another friend to spend the weekend away at their family’s country home. To catch up on the missed years and re-establish their friendship. What do you say? Will you help me? Will you help an old friend in need Elizabeth?”
To be continued.......
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