(Part IV , VI)
McGonagle Biscuits was a family firm, established for well over a hundred and fifty years, and the current president was Agnes McGonagle. She was also known as the fifth Duchess of Stirling, and was the sole heir to the family fortune until she deigned to produce a child. Since she was currently only nineteen years old everyone thought she had plenty of time. The untimely loss of her parents had left her thinking otherwise though.
Carter and I were waiting outside the McGonagle executive suite, somewhat impatiently. Apparently Prentiss Cakes had set up some kind of lawsuit over some mini jam sponges and the lawyers were having their say. Lawyers love to have their say, and extensively, they're working for rich corporate clients. I had locked horns with a few lawyer types while at college and knew the ropes. My ex-partner Wiggins knew how to deal with those types. She's gone now, to who knows where.
The secretary took a call on the intercom and then looked over at us. She was the maternal type and waved us through to the office of the current owner and president of McGonagle Biscuits once some boringly suited legal types had left. As we passed over the threshold the I felt the temperature drop a few degrees and then was distracted by the decor. The room was spartan in the main and thin in the business style. The desk had moved from the old-fashioned position of dominance, now being reversed to look out through the massive expanse of glass that dominated a wall opposite the door, and now being flanked by worktops and some computers with streams of numbers pouring up the screen. All the clutter was concentrated in that end of the office and the round coffee table presumably used for meetings was barren.
Agnes McGonagle was leaning on her chair as we entered and blinked when she saw Carter with me, even scowled a little. Some attractive women don't like other attractive women being around. It's a fact of life.
"Agents, it's good to meet you." Straightforward voice, nothing special. Carter took the lead and did the usual introductions. Then we resumed. "Well, what can I do for you?"
"You've taken over this company recently - we're sorry for your loss - and we'd like to know if there's anything you think would be useful for us in our line of enquiries." Subtle as a brick, just the way I liked it. "And may I have one of these biscuits?"
"Yes, of course." I took a custard cream as she thought it through.
"I don't know that there's anything we can add to the last research report we sent through to you two months ago. It's still mostly a mystery. You like custard creams, huh? Soft on the outside and soft on the inside." She winked at me. I couldn't remember the last time a woman had winked at me. Carter scowled some more. I don't know why she would; She had a lovely boyfriend called Frankie who made her spaghetti and meatballs. People are wacky. McGonagle grabbed a packed of the already mentioned biscuits from a display and lobbed them at me. "On the house."
"Thank you, ma'am. It's been three months and the activities in question seem to be escalating, and the statistical link remains. There must be something going on here."
"Nothing to my knowledge, agent. Nothing that I know of. It's a mystery." McGonagle locked eyes with mine for a moment, smiled, and then motioned for the door. "If you have nothing further..."
"Has anyone gone missing on your staff recently, Miss McGonagle?" Carter, asking the obvious questions while I munched another biscuit. I had to cut down.
"I'll ask personnel to send you a report, but for now I have to get back to work. I'm running some simulations for my Maths degree and that blasted lawsuit has already sapped a huge part of my day. Learning's a great thing, especially when it distracts from company tedium."
There was nothing more we could ask without being rude so we made our farewells and departed, custard creams firmly in hand. On the way back to the office Carter was stubbornly silent. I was sat thoughtfully and pondered everything we'd seen. Mathematics didn't seem to fit very well with biscuit making and McGonagle was an impressive young lady. Back at the office I reviewed missing people reports and wondered who to approach at the University when I coincidentally went to check in with old friends.
Two cups of tea later, and after lunch of course I finally opened the biscuits and found the note. On it there was a place, a time and a few brief instructions. I didn't tell anyone but I did leave a copy with Carter in a sealed envelope on her desk, asking her to read it the next day if I didn't come in. I didn't want to spook an informant. Then I read some more reports and narrowed down the possible identities of the missing/disappeared man. Finally I left work ten minutes early and made my way to the Rusty Bucket pub on Wend's Octangle where inside I told the owner I was for the small function room and was shown in.
Agnes McGonagle was inside and I would have seen how pretty she was this evening if my attention hadn't been grabbed by the main attraction. I'd never met myself before.
More? Of course there'll be more!
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