His Twisted Smile Read online

  “Do you think you could make us some coffee? I’m parched.” He suggested politely. Still a little dazed, Isabelle nodded and turned away, moving to the left of the stairs and heading to what he imagined was the kitchen. With a deep breath, he mounted the stairs. Nearing the top he saw a couple of rooms opposite, with passages left and right leading to more rooms. Following, Isabelle’s instructions, he turned right. He passed by a large bathroom on the left, some kind of office on the right, what appeared to be a bedroom on the left, perhaps Isabelle’s, and then he reached Millie’s room. The door was closed, but it had the young woman’s name, surrounded by sprays of yellow flowers and green leaves, on a plaque mounted on the door. Perhaps it was an artefact of her younger years or perhaps it was still in her adult nature to enjoy such things; Gordon suspected the latter given some of her other choices. He opened the door and was hit by a flowery, feminine scent. The room featured some things that might be considered standard: bookcases, a desk with a computer, a glass unit holding a large screen television - with a DVD player and a games console on the lower shelves - and a music centre. There was a double bed on the left and across from the door was a large window. The blinds were closed, so Gordon flicked on the light and stepped into the room. The room looked perfect; not one thing was out of place and the only indication someone had been in there recently was a depression on the bed that looked as if someone had been sitting on it.

  Gordon shut the door behind him and set to work. First he searched for a diary; he checked under the bed, under the pillows, the bookshelves and the set of drawers to the left of the bed. He didn’t find what he was looking for but did come, to his slight embarrassment, across her underwear draw. He surveyed what was on top and didn’t find anything that could be considered provocative or sexy, just normal looking underwear and some that could’ve been considered boyish. With a mind that a diary could’ve been hidden in the wardrobe, and also to check out what outerwear Millie had to wear, Gordon went there next. He opened the double wooden doors and looked inside. There were the usual items one might expect to find: jeans, dresses, skirts, blouses and t-shirts. What were obviously not there were the kind of clothes she was found in. Gordon checked out a few of the items and then knelt down, looking around the bottom of the wardrobe where there were neatly stacked shoe boxes, which, perhaps obviously, contained shoes. There were sandals, ankle boots, trainers and pumps. Gordon replaced them then checked the drawer beneath the wardrobe. It contained more clothes, which he carefully looked through but found nothing of note. He shut the drawer, closed the wardrobe doors and glanced around the room again. The main thing left to check was the desk. It had a simple office chair in front of the computer, which he sat on and began looking through the drawers on either side of the gap for leg space. Millie had enough stationary to start her own store, with numerous pads, pencils, pens, stamps, and other things that might be used for a creative purpose. He plucked one of the larger pads at random and started leafing through it. Millie was a talented artist, he discovered; the utilized pages contained intricate, extremely detailed drawings ranging from simple portraits of celebrities, to pictures of fantasy characters, which seemed to be entirely of her own creation. Unbidden, Gordon remembered his own daughters drawings. Though younger than Millie, her drawings showed the promise of a talent that would have blossomed with time, practice and patience. Gordon replaced the pad and let the maudlin thoughts go back to where they had come from.

  He booted up her computer next. Everything signed in automatically, and he leafed through the emails. There were quite a few saved, more than a thousand, so instead of reviewing them now he forwarded all of them to his personal email account, along with the saved drafts and some of the junk emails. The trash had been automatically deleted permanently, as per the notice that deleted emails are purged every thirty days. He went to her address book and took note of the people listed in the ‘BFF’ category in a pad he retrieved from his pocket. This was one of the terms Gordon knew, and it stood for ‘Best Friends Forever’, so he figured these people might have some clue as to where she was going on that last walk and, perhaps, who she might have spent her final days with... willingly or unwillingly. There was one ‘BFF’ entry that also had a heart beside the name, a woman named Tamsin Muller. Gordon took this to mean she meant more to her than the others and figured she might be the best place to start when it came to interviewing her friends. With their names, addresses and phone numbers recorded, Gordon decided to browse in a general way through the files of her computer and her internet history. She’d been searching for places to visit on her trip; some were obviously tourist places, but it seemed she was also interested in exploring areas beyond the usual ‘come see me’ areas. She had looked at everything from festivals and events to buildings and recommended cafes and shops. She’d saved a route that took her to many small towns, some of which had pins denoting them as areas of natural beauty or historical interest. Gordon sent a copy to himself just in case it became relevant, although he doubted it would, and then he looked at her saved pictures.

  Millie had scanned in the pictures she had drawn then used the computer to colour them. Gordon had been impressed with her talent initially, but now he was blown away. The attention to detail was astounding; some were done in a comic book style with excellent use of shading, while others had been turned into digital paintings, which wouldn’t have looked out of place as the promotional posters for big budget movies or something equally spectacular. Then there were photographs of her and her friends, her and her mother, and a few pictures of her when she was just a few years old with a tall, handsome man who was presumably her father. Looking at the picture of Millie and Isabelle he was once again struck by how alike they had been. There was one thing he noticed as he scanned through the pictures with her friends that seemed important to him; not even in the pictures when she was partying did she have a drink in her hand or any clothing that could be considered immodest. Not that he would have cared if she had; to his mind, a woman could wear whatever she wanted and she shouldn’t be judged for doing so. What was of interest to Gordon was where she got the clothing she was found in. She could’ve borrowed it from a friend, but why?

  He checked to see if there was a diary of any sort on the computer but frustratingly, couldn’t find one. He had hoped she kept one as it might have led to some understanding of what she was thinking leading up to her final days, but it had been a long shot. Therefore, at that moment, Gordon didn’t think there was anything else he could learn from her room. He turned off the computer, stood and headed for the door. Before he left he turned out the light, then retraced his steps to the ground floor. Once down, he headed in the direction he had last seen Isabelle. He poked his head around the open doorway that led into the kitchen and saw it was large and likely used for informal entertaining as much as cooking. There were the usual appliances one might expect along the far wall, with an island surrounded by half a dozen stools between the appliances and the door Gordon was about to enter. Open double doors on the left led into the dining room and patio doors, where the Nevada sun was streaming through, were on the right. Isabelle was sitting at the island, supporting her head with one hand and holding a cup of coffee in the other. Her eyes were half closed but she perked up slightly when she saw Gordon, nodding her head lazily to the seat opposite where a steaming mug was waiting for him.

  “D’you find anything?” She asked, her words sounding a little slurred.

  Gordon approached, taking a seat and reaching out to pick up the mug by the handle.

  “There’re some interesting things that I’ve seen.”

  “Tell me.” She said, opening her eyes wider and looking straight at him. Gordon looked into her beautiful eyes, seeing the pain, a haze of alcohol and the hope that was flickering in their depths and wished he had more to offer her.

  “From what I’ve seen of your daughter, I think it’s likely that her death wasn’t an accident.”

  Isabelle brightened
, her face lightening for just a few seconds, as though the shadows clouding her world were pushed away.

  “What did you find?” She questioned eagerly.

  “Please, I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much. While I have my belief and my suspicion that there’s more going on here, that’s a very long way from having proof of anything.” Gordon told her soothingly.

  “I know… I know.” She muttered. “It’s just such a relief. No one has believed me, not one person, and to know that you believe my Millie didn’t do this to herself it’s just… overwhelming.” Isabelle recounted. Her eyes welled up with tears, which Gordon understood.

  “There’re some things I’d like to ask about Millie.” Gordon informed her before he took a sip of his coffee, to be surprised when he discovered the strong hit of alcohol that came with it. Isabelle looked apologetic.

  “I just made it how I’ve been taking it. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Gordon said, sliding the cup away. “So, from what I can see of Millie, she was very social. I’m guessing she was more the mother-type to her group of friends?”

  “Yes. She was always the designated driver because she didn’t drink, but still managed to have a good time.”

  “Why did she choose to live that way, if I can ask?”

  “I honestly don’t know. When I was her age I dabbled in a bit of everything. While I wouldn’t have encouraged her to follow exactly in my footsteps in that regard, I never hid it from her or discouraged her from trying anything in a safe way. But the truth was she just didn’t want to drink or take drugs. She was a good girl, Gordon, a better girl than most people could imagine.”

  “I understand Millie wasn’t interested in having sex until she was married, but was there a guy she was close to? Someone who maybe came over or she spent time with. I mean, if she wanted to get married then that meant she wasn’t against dating, right?”

  “Most of her friends were women. Tamsin was her best friend; they were more like sisters I suppose. I was happy about that because, before my husband passed, I’d always hoped to have another child and Tamsin, well, she kind of filled a hole if you know what I mean. There was also a young man Millie spent time with while she was at University but she told me they weren’t in a relationship.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Derek Leland.”

  “Leland… as in the ‘Leland Security’ Leland’s?” Gordon questioned.

  “Yes.” Isabelle replied, after taking several long sips of her ‘coffee’.

  Harold Leland had at one time been a Lieutenant in the Carlson Flats Police Department. He’d retired and used his savings to invest in an existing security company that had quickly become a massive success thanks to his injection of cash. After some shuffling, he had become the owner and changed the company name to reflect his new status. According to the odd article he’d glanced at, the lucrative contracts they had acquired thanks to Leland’s connections had led to more business and a reputation for providing high quality security for a variety of events in Carlson Flats and other cities in Nevada. Harold and Gordon had crossed paths here and there early on in Gordon’s career, but Harold had retired before they could establish a relationship. Gordon didn’t know a lot about the son, but Harold had been something of a hero amongst the members of his precinct - an example of the good things that can happen when service ended. It wasn’t odd, he supposed, that Millie and Derek had crossed paths; both families were wealthy and there were a few schools that excelled at educating the wealthy families in and around Carlson Flats.

  “So, she and Derek weren’t close?” Gordon asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. Millie may have wanted to wait until she was married, but in all honesty, she seemed more focused on enjoying as much of the other aspects of her life as she could before settling down. She wanted to travel, she wanted to focus on becoming a damn good vet, and she wanted to spend time with me. I’d tell her to go find a nice boy to spend time with and she’d laugh and say she’d know when she met the right one.”

  “She was a romantic.” Gordon stated.

  “Yep. Through and through; she believed in that fairy tale - the happily ever after kind of thing. Can I ask what your plan is to try and find my daughter’s murderer?” Isabelle suddenly asked.

  “The key will be finding out where she went the night she disappeared. We can’t say for sure that’s what led to her death but, from what I read in the report, the police were never able to find who she might have been with. No DNA, no pictures, no hits from the canvass and an easy explanation in the form of an accident.”

  “And how will you accomplish this?”

  “I’ll start with her friends. I mean no disrespect, but it seems like she put everything she did on social media, so I find it hard to believe she didn’t tell anyone where she was going and what she would be doing the night before she left on her trip.”

  “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me.” Isabelle commented sadly.

  “It seemed to me that she had a big heart. I think if she didn’t tell you then it was because it was something she couldn’t tell anyone. Maybe someone was in trouble and needed her help.” Gordon explained. “What was she doing the last time you saw her?”

  “We’d just had dinner and finished watching a movie, some silly romantic comedy. I told her I’d clear up and she thanked me and said she was going to go and do some drawing.”

  “What time was this?”

  “About… eight, maybe half past.”

  “So, what happened next, specifically?”

  “I was in my office looking…” Isabelle looked away for a second before looking back at him. “Looking at an online dating site Millie had suggested. I’ve been single since my husband passed away; not that I’ve minded because Millie is… was my whole life. But she insisted I needed to find a nice man. I wasn’t sure if I would go through with it, but I felt I owed it to her to actually look it over. It was a little after nine when she popped her head into my office and said she was going out. I asked why she was going out so late and she told me it was something she needed to do before she set off on her trip. I thought it was strange, I mean she wasn’t usually so secretive, but she was an adult and I couldn’t stop her.”

  “What was she wearing?” Gordon wanted to know. She looked at him oddly for a second. “I ask because if she was dressed up nicely then she might’ve been going to a party, if she was dressed casual…” Gordon trailed off and Isabelle nodded.

  “I understand. She was wearing jeans, boots and some kind of long sleeved shirt. Her hair wasn’t done up, just a simple, quick ponytail.”

  “So she wasn’t dolled up.” Gordon commented to himself, scrunching up his face in thought for a second. She could’ve been meeting a friend or she could’ve been running an errand. “Did she take anything with her?”

  “I can’t say for certain what she took, but she had her purse and that’s where she usually carried her car keys, her phone and her wallet, that kind of thing.” Isabelle informed him.

  “Two questions: one, did she have any close friends in the community, and two, what’s in walking distance outside of here?”

  “She had a few friends in the community, but I think the people she was closest to were the ones she met at university. Some of the people her age in the area didn’t understand her lifestyle choices and encouraged her to change her ways.”

  Gordon remembered the people suggesting she find a man in every place she stopped, and figured these were the people Isabelle was likely referencing.

  “As for anything nearby, there’s a strip mall with some boutiques and restaurants. But the police said she never visited them.”

  If that was true, Gordon thought, then it meant she was meeting someone, probably someone with their own vehicle. The report stated she didn’t meet anyone at the strip mall because they reviewed the surveillance footage and interviewed the people working that night. If she’d been there then it would’ve been o
bserved in some capacity. It might be worth double checking on his way out, he decided, but imagined it wouldn’t yield much.

  Feeling he’d made as much progress with Isabelle as he could for the moment, he looked across at her for a few silent moments and then spoke again.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Why me?”

  “Huh?” Isabelle questioned.

  “I’m not the only private investigator in Carlson Flats and, let’s be honest, you’ve got the funds to hire any of the bigger firms that actually have real offices.” Gordon stated. “So why did you come to me?”

  Isabelle finished her ‘coffee’ and looked him squarely in the face.

  “At first, everyone wanted to help. Friends, extended family, the police and even journalists; they all wanted to help explain why my baby was gone. And then the police decided she did it to herself, the offers of help dried up and the more I railed against the verdict, against the injustice, the more I became ostracized. Friends stopped returning my calls, the journalists forgot about Millie because it was, I was told, at best a story about a good girl gone bad and, at worst, a story about my failure as a mother to raise my child properly. It felt like I was alone in a bubble, and outside there were people who had already moved on.” Isabelle quietly explained. Gordon listened without interrupting her.

  “I considered other investigators, I even interviewed a few of them, but none seemed to understand what I really wanted from them. They promised a thorough review of the case file and that was it. And then I was given your card and, thanks to the internet, I was able to find out about your… history. I know you understand the pain I’m in and the need for answers. I know you weren’t able to get the… closure you needed, so you know the wound I’m carrying. We’re kindred spirits in that way, Gordon, so I can trust you to do whatever needs to be done in order to find the truth, because you know how important the truth is. I’m not under the illusion that it will magically make everything better, but the wound of not understanding why she’s gone is eating away at me. In short, Gordon, I needed someone who has felt what I feel and can commit himself to giving me the answers I desperately need. All I want to know is the truth and hopefully, unlike your family, that will lead to justice for Millie.”