The Mysterous Case of The Vandersmith-Arnadline Stalker

 

            Arnold Vandersmith was just as reedy and unattractive in person as he was in his photographs, with the added flaw of a nervous and hesitant demeanor.  I waited in the doorway that connected his office to the outer room as he typed on a typewriter, oblivious to my presence.   After a few minutes, I cleared my throat to get his attention, and he jumped in surprise.

            “Oh, excuse me,” he said, standing up abruptly.  He extended one long, pale hand towards me, using the other to wipe his forehead.

            “I’m Birdie Harris,” I told him, getting right to the point.  “I work for the detective your fiancée hired.  Did she tell you?”

            A strange flicker passed over his eyes, and I wondered if he had been against hiring me.  He was probably afraid that news of a stalker would make the papers.   Then, he glanced at me, confused.

            “And you’re researching the case?”

            I always told people I was the secretary, not the detective, for two reasons.  Most people were hesitant about a woman doing a man’s job.  If I announced that I was the one looking into the cases, plenty of clients would walk out without looking back.  I couldn’t afford to lose that much money, and so it was easier to pretend that the actual detective was just away constantly.

            However, being a secretary also made people less likely to worry about me.  I was a middle-aged bottle blonde, wearing sensible shoes and a secondhand skirt.  Most people just passed right over me.  They didn’t think I was the detective, and that meant they weren’t afraid of me snooping and finding their dirty secrets.  It was easier to get people to trust me alone in their houses-- or offices-- if I didn’t say I was the P.I

            I smiled, then pulled out my notepad.  “So,” I began again, “your wife hired a detective to find out if someone is stalking her.  She received threatening notes.  I was wondering if you know anything about it.  Have you been receiving any notes, or other threats?”

            “No,” Arnold Vandersmith said slowly.  “But, actually... now that you mention it, I’ve been having some strange things happen to me.  Just the other day, I almost fell down the elevator shaft.”

            That struck me, and I glanced up at him.  “What?”

            He nodded.  “I opened the doors, expecting to find an elevator waiting for me, but there was nothing.  I thought that it was an accident, but if Mia is being attacked...”

            He trailed off, as I wrote the new information down on my notepad.

            “Do you think that someone could set it up so there was no elevator?” I asked him.  He nodded.

            “I’m sure that they could.  It happens on accident, sometimes, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it happened on purpose.”

            We talked for a few more minutes, but Arnold Vandersmith didn’t have any more useful information.  Finally, I put my notepad away and stood up.

            “Thank you for your time,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.  “I’ll give this to the detective.  We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

            Arnold Vandersmith nodded.  “Please contact me if you find anything new, I’m terrified for Mia’s safety.”

            He wrote his name and address on a piece of paper, and handed it to me.  As I tucked it in my bag, I thought about the new situation.  It was beginning to look as though whoever was stalking Mia Arnaldine wasn’t just focused on her.  If Arnold Vandersmith was also getting attacked, it was probably someone angry at both of them.  I needed to compile a list and start searching.

 

***

            I first got involved in the Vandersmith case when Mia Arnaldine came to me with a case.  At the time, I had no idea that the whole thing would be as ugly or as messy as it ended up.  If I had known what was going to happen, I probably would have left the entire thing alone.

.           Mia Arnaldine was a petite, pretty young woman of high standing.  A young debutante, her wide blue eyes and thick brown hair garnered much attention.  When she entered my office, however, stress marred her face and made her features sharp.   Fiddling with one of the buttons on her sleeve, she looked around the small room uncertainly, and then noticed me.

            “Excuse me,” she said.  “Is the detective in right now?”

            I put on a reassuring smile and stood up.  “No, I’m afraid he’s out on a case right now, but I’m his secretary, Birdie Harris.  If you tell me your name and what you need, I’ll tell him about you.”

            She looked at me for a moment, and then nodded.  I gestured at the chair placed on the other side of the desk, and then returned to my chair she took a seat.  Mia glanced once at the thick wooden door that lead to the detective’s office, and then cleared her throat and began her story.

            “I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but I’ve recently gotten engaged.  Arnold Vandersmith, the son of Thomas Vandersmith.  We’re to be married in May.”

            I nodded.  The news of their engagement had made all the local papers.  Arnold, in his pictures, was a thin, bespeckled man with a pencil mustache and a hairline that was already receding at twenty-six.  Not much to look at, but his wealth and his name probably meant a lot to Mia.

            “But I’m afraid,” Mia continued.  “I think someone doesn’t want me to get married.  After we were engaged, I began receiving letters.”

            She fumbled with her bag, and then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to me.  The letter was badly worn, but the message was still clear and easy to read.  On the paper, in large block letters, someone had written  I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.

            As far as death threats went, I had seen worse, but it seemed hard for Mia to even look at the paper.  I quickly scanned the letter for any obvious clues, but nothing stuck out.  Folding it up, I looked at Mia.

            “Well, it is a death threat, that’s for sure.  I’m going to need to keep this for the detective to look at--he’s going to want to see if there’s anything useful.”

            Mia nodded, and then glanced at me.  “Do you have any suggestions for me?  I’m very frightened.”

            I thought for a moment about my answer.  She wanted advice, but I had to be careful not to act too much like a detective.  After a moment, I smiled again.

            “Well, I’d say just be careful.  Live your life, and keep an eye out for anything strange or unusual.  Not much more you can do.”

            She smiled.  “Thank you.  I’ll come back in a few days.  Will that be enough time for the detective to look into my case?”
            “Absolutely,” I said.  Mia Arnaldine smiled again, and quietly left.  After she was gone, I sat back in my chair and inspected the letter more thoroughly.

            It was nice paper--  thick and smooth, and a pale cream color.  The letters were written in black ink.  Whoever had sent the message was careful, and there wasn’t much I could notice, even on a more thorough search.  Mia Arnaldine’s rough treatment hadn’t helped, either.  If there had been any clues in the paper, they were probably all lost among the creases and tears.

            I set the letter in a drawer, and then went to get my coat.  The first thing I needed to do was talk to Arnold Vandersmith.  If someone was stalking his fiancée, he would probably have something to say about

***

            Three days later, I was nowhere.  I couldn’t find anyone who seemed likely to want to kill both Arnold Vandersmith and Mia Arnaldine, and all of my leads were busts.  There were no rival businessmen, no scorned lovers, no one with any sort of a grudge or a vendetta.  Stuck, I decided to talk to Arnold again.

            When I entered the room outside his office for the second time, he wasn’t there and his door was shut.  Instead, a tall, slim blonde was standing by a desk, writing something.

            I paused in the doorway, waiting for her to look at me.  She glanced at me, and then continued writing.  After a few more moments, she gave a deep sigh and put her paper down.

            “Yes,” she said, in a deep, smooth voice.  “What do you want?”

            “I want to talk to Arnold Vandersmith.  Are you his secretary?”

            “Yes,” she said.  “I’m Kitty Freeman.”  She turned to place something on the desk, and I took the opportunity to scope her out.

            She was probably around twenty, and she knew she was beautiful.  Her clothes were expensive, and classy - a designer skirt, and a nice silk shirt.  Completing her outfit was a pair of red leather high-heels.

            Kitty Freeman turned back towards me, and raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.  “Can I help you?”

            “I’m Birdie Harris.  I work for a detective your boss hired.”

            She gave a small snort, and tossed her hair.  “Why did he hire a detective?”
            “He’s afraid someone is trying to kill him and his wife.  They both think they’re being stalked.  Do you have any idea what it could be about?”

            It was a long shot, asking her, but when I worked as a secretary, I knew a lot more about my boss than most people expected.  If she was the same way, she could have useful information.

            Kitty Freeman was standing very still, staring at me.  Her face twisted into an expression of shock, then of fear, before settling into one of consideration.

            “Actually,” she said, “Lately I’ve been feeling like someone’s been following me.  I can’t ever see anyone, but sometimes I’m sure I’m being watched.”

            I nodded.  A new piece to the puzzle.  Whoever was behind this had some connection to all three of them.  I needed to find more clues, and that meant I needed to know more about all three people involved in the cases.

            I hesitated for a moment.  “Arnold Vandersmith said he had something to show the detective.  A letter.  Could I get it from his office?”

            Kitty pursed her lips and looked at me.  This was a long shot-- if she knew that I was lying, it would be hard to explain. 

              I didn’t need to worry.  After a moment’s deliberation, Kitty gave a languid shrug.                 “I suppose,” she said, pulling out a ring of keys from her skirt and unlocking the door.  “Don’t mess his papers.”

            His office was fairly plain.  A heavy wooden desk sat in the center of the room, with a chair behind it.  To one side, locked cabinets rested against the wall, and on the other side there was a potted plant and a painting.  There was no way for me to get into the cabinets, so I focused on his desk, looking for any reason someone might want to kill him and his fiancée.

            His desk was filled with notes and memos, but nothing that looked threatening or worrying.  I spent ten minutes shuffling through papers, and was about to give up and leave when I noticed his day planner.

            I flipped through it.  There were reminders about meetings and projects scribbled over all of the days, and a warning of an upcoming audit scheduled for the company.  But still, there was nothing I could find that seemed significant.

            I put the planner back, and sighed.  I wasn’t any closer to finding out who was trying to kill Mia and Arnold, or even if it was the same person.  I had no clue.

            “I need to go deliver a message,” Kitty Freeman said suddenly, leaning around the door frame to look at me.  “I’ll be back in just a few moments.”

            She turned on her heel and left through the outer door.  I glanced at the space she left, wondering where she was going in such a hurry.  I decided to take advantage of her absence, and inspect her office.

            There wasn’t much to see - a small desk near the door, a chair against one wall, and a closet to my left.  I looked around the room, and then quickly looked at the desk again-- one of the papers had caught my eye.

            It was a love note, to Kitty.  My darling, it said, soon we will be able to be together in reality as well as in spirit

            The letter had been folded up, but was laying on top of a pile of papers, out in the open.  Normally, I would have passed over it, but the paper looked familiar.  But I couldn’t recognize why. Instead of trying to figure out what was bothering me in the middle of the office, I tucked both notes in my bag and went to Kitty’s closet.

            Pulling open the doors, I stared.  Inside the closet were jackets, and a wooden rack filled with pair after pair of high heels.   I pulled out my notebook and jotted down the new information:  Kitty has lots of expensive clothes - where does she get the money to afford them?

            I started to close the door again, and then stopped.  Sticking out of the pocket of a green silk jacket was a small piece of paper.  Carefully, making sure not to bump the jacket too much, I pulled out the paper and unfolded it.

            It wasn’t another love note, as I’d been expecting.  Instead, it was a memo to Arnold, from a Mr. Sanders, in Human Resources.  He was worried by some discrepancies in the payroll, and wanted Arnold to help them look into the matter.

            More information.  I jotted the contents of the memo into my notebook, and then replaced the paper.  Why was it in Kitty’s jacket, instead of with Arnold?  Was Kitty hiding it?  Why?

 

***

            The next day, at home, I realized why the note was so familiar. I had seen the handwriting before.  Digging in my bag, I finally found the paper with Arnold’s address and number.  The two were identical.  Arnold had written the love note to Kitty.

            Things were starting to fall into place, and I needed to see Arnold as soon as I could.  I grabbed my shoes, and the note.  As I picked up the note, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else about it seemed odd.  I was missing a crucial detail, I knew, but I couldn’t think of what it could be.

            I hailed a taxi and headed to Arnold’s apartment suite.  Along the way, I weighed my options.  I could tell Arnold that I knew about his affair with Kitty, but if he were threatening Mia - which was beginning to look more likely - it would probably be better for me to play it safe, and see what I could learn from him without making him nervous.

            At the apartment, I carefully waited until the desk clerk was distracted, then slipped in and took an elevator up to his floor.  He had written his apartment number on the paper, so it was easy for me to find his door and knock.  However, Arnold didn’t open the door.  Mia did.

            “Oh, Mia,” I said, surprised.  She seemed equally shocked, and stared at me, tucking something into her bag quickly.

            “What are you doing here?” she asked me uncertainly.  “Has the detective learned something about my case?  Why did he send you to talk to Arnold, and not me?”

            “Well, I needed to...” I trailed off.  Kitty’s red shoe was sticking out of Mia’s bag.

            Mia followed my eyes, and glanced at the shoe.  She pulled it out, and inspected it, smiling tightly.

            “Oh, do you like my shoe?” she asked.

            “Is it yours?”

            She looked at me sharply, and suddenly I realized-- she knew about Arnold and Kitty.  She knew Kitty had been in Arnold’s apartment.

            “Yes,” she said slowly, staring at me.  “I know it is a little different from what I normally wear, but I enjoy how it looks.”  She placed it in her bag.  Giving me one last, tense smile, she brushed by me and went out the door.

            I looked around the apartment, first checking to see if Arnold was home, and then--  realizing I was alone-- inspecting the rooms for any clues.

            The first thing I noticed was the window in Arnold’s bedroom was open.  It wasn’t just a crack to let a breeze in, either; someone had shoved it all the way up into the frame.  It opened onto a fire escape.

            If Mia had found Kitty’s shoe, it was possible she’d lost it trying to climb out the window.  It was easy to see at least one possible scenario: Kitty at Arnold’s apartment, alone after an illicit rendezvous while Arnold went to work.  Mia stopping by, possibly to see Arnold, or maybe to pick something up, or for any other number of reasons.  She probably had a key, being Arnold’s fiancée, so she hadn’t knocked on the door or buzzed up.  Kitty might have heard a key in the door and known it was Mia, since Arnold was at his office.  She probably ran straight away from the door, clambered out the window, and-- in her haste-- lost a shoe.  By the time she realized it, it was too late to go back.

            Very torrid, but there was nothing I could see that hinted at Kitty stalking Mia.  Or Arnold, for that matter.  I needed to keep looking.

            There was nothing else in Arnold’s bedroom that I could find, nor in his kitchen or his living room.  When I checked his study, however, I noticed something.  More of the heavy cream paper, the same kind he used to write his love note to Kitty.

            Something about the paper still bothered me.  There was something I was missing about it, that I felt but hadn’t been able to place when I saw the note on Kitty’s desk.  I had seen the same, strange brand of paper somewhere else.  Not only had it been used to write Kitty’s love note, it had been used to--

            A wave of shock washed over me, and I fumbled for my bag.  Digging through the contents, I pulled out death threat Mia had given me when I first met her.  I unfolded it, and compared it to the stack of blank paper sitting in front of me.

            It was the same paper.

            I grabbed a sheet from the stack, and tucked both back in my bag.  I still needed to find Arnold, and if he wasn’t at home, he was probably at his office.

 

***
            As it turned out, Arnold wasn’t at his office.  But Kitty was.

            The sight when I opened the door was astonishing.  Kitty had been busy, ransacking her desk and closet.  Papers were strewn everywhere, jackets and shoes lay in messy piles on the floor.  Kitty herself was on her hands and knees, frantically looking though a pile of what looked like office work.

            “Are you all right?”  I asked her.  She jumped, and gave a sharp gasp.

            “What are you doing?” she said suddenly, swinging around to glare at me furiously.  I gave her a look, and she suddenly shrunk back, cowed.

            “I need to talk to Arnold.  Is he in?”

            She shook her head.  “He’s not here right now.  I don’t know where he is.”

            I nodded, and took a step back to leave.  Kitty’s voice stopped me.

            “You, you didn’t happen to see a note, did you?” she asked suddenly, an odd expression on her face.  “Just a note.  It was on my desk, and I’m afraid I’ve lost track of it.  It’s quite important to me, so have you seen it?”

            She was talking about Arnold’s letter to her.  I had it tucked in my bag, from where I had picked it up days ago.  I shook my head.

            “Damn it,” she said quietly, and resumed searching.  While she was occupied, I walked back into the room, picked up one of the papers from her desk and read it.

            It was another memo from Mr. Sanders, in Human Resources.  The internal audit had revealed enormous discrepancies in the company’s account, and he wanted Arnold to investigate it.  Someone appears to be embezzling, sir, he had written.  I urge you to look into this matter at once, before the company loses more money.

            “Give me that,” Kitty suddenly shrieked, snatching the memo from my hands.  She crumpled it up and stuffed it in a pocked in her skirt, then stared at me.

            “What did you read?”

            “Nothing much.  All I managed to see was that it was from an employee.  Why?”

            Kitty’s face was pinched and pale, white rims around her nostrils.  She pressed her lips together and breathed hard, through her nose for a moment, before stretching a skeleton grin across her face. 

            “It was nothing,” she said.  She paused for a moment, then looked at me.  “I’m afraid I need to leave.  I’m in... well, I’m in a little trouble, I’m afraid, and I’m going to need to go solve it.  I need to talk to Arnold before I go, so I’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.”

            “You mentioned something about being followed,” I said, trying to drag as much information out of her as I could.  I had a good idea of what was going on with her, but I wanted more.  “Is that still an issue?”

            “Oh, no, I think I know who was following me.  Goodbye.”

            She smiled at me, expression still unpleasant, and tilted her head towards the door.  I took the hint, and left.

***
            Arnold was trying to kill Mia, who knew about Kitty, who was in some kind of trouble.  I had plenty of questions, but not a lot of answers.  Who was following Kitty, or Arnold, for that matter?  Why?  What about Mia?  What did she think of Kitty?

            I needed to talk to Arnold, still, but first, I decided to see Mia again.  She was at her house, and when I knocked, she opened the door but didn’t let me in.  Instead, she stared at me, looking distracted, and strangely angry.

            “Is something wrong?”

            “I’m sorry?” she said, staring at me.  “Oh, no, nothing is wrong.  I’m fine.  Why do you ask?”

            “I know that wasn’t your shoe, Mia,” I said gently.  “I’m worried it shocked you.”

            “Oh, no,” she said.  “I’ve known about it for a while.  Or, I suspected it.  The shoe was proof, but not anything shocking.”

            She smiled sweetly, and I was about to say goodbye, when I realized something.

            “Wait,” I said.  “How did you know about them?”

            Mia’s expression morphed suddenly from a smile to a ugly grimace.  She stared at me, eyes wild and shocked, like an animal that had been caught, suddenly, in a trap.

            “Oh,” she said hurriedly, “I didn’t know for certain, obviously, but I had guessed.”

            She was lying. 

            “But it is fine,” she continued, not noticing my suspicious.  “Soon, the entire matter will be resolved and Arnold and I will be married.  In fact, you don’t need to worry about me at all.”

            She was obviously stressed, and losing her composure.  And she was babbling at me, telling me things that she really shouldn’t.  But suddenly, the same thought seemed to occur to her, and she shut the door in my face.

 

***

            At home the next day, I sat back and thought about the situation.  Kitty was probably trying to kill Arnold.  Arnold was almost certainly trying to kill Mia.  And Mia was, well she knew about Kitty, at least.  Soon, the entire matter will be resolved, she had said.  Could she be willing to kill Kitty to get her away from Arnold?

            She was willing to stalk Kitty, I realized suddenly.  Or, probably.  Kitty had said she had felt like someone was following her.  She, and I, had both assumed it was the police had been trailing her, but what if it had been Mia?

            Another thought hit me, leaving me cold.  Kitty had said she was going to go talk to Arnold.  Mia had said she was going to deal with Kitty.  I needed to find them, and quickly.  I grabbed the little handgun that my old boss had given me-- just in case-- and headed out.

            Arnold’s office was abandoned; Kitty had stripped her desk clean, probably to get rid of any trace of her crimes, and no one was at Arnold’s desk.  No one answered Mia’s door.  Heart pounding in my chest, I hailed a cab and headed for Arnold’s suite.

            The man at the desk was resistant to me going up without an explanation.

            “I simply can’t let you go without one of the tenants giving me permission.  I’m sorry, ma’am.”

            I leaned in,until I was staring  directly at him.  “Listen to me,” I said slowly.  “I am a detective, and I have just solved a case.  People are going to die unless you let me go up and prevent a crime from occurring.”

            The desk clerk looked shocked, then scared.  “What should I do?” he asked.

            “Call the police,” I said, already past the desk and heading for the stairs.  “Tell them to go to apartment 406, that people are trying to kill one another.  Hurry!”

            I headed up the stairs without waiting for his response.  By the time I got up the four flights, I was winded, but I headed for Arnold’s door, pulling my handgun out of my bag.  I didn’t want to use it, but it was better safe than sorry.

            Arnold’s door was ajar when I got to his suite.  I pushed it open, and went in.

            Kitty was standing, pointing a silver gun at Mia.  Mia was holding a knife, and looking between Kitty and Arnold.  Arnold was holding a table lamp, and glaring from Kitty to Mia.

            I cocked my own gun, and walked slowly into the room, careful to let all of them see me.                    “All of you, put your weapons down and stay calm.”

            For a moment nobody moved.  Then, Kitty swung her gun around at me.  At that moment, Mia leaped forward, knife brandished, and Arnold swung his lamp back for a strike.

            I fired my gun in the air, and winced as the bullet sent plaster pieces raining down into my hair.  It worked, however.  All three jumped, and dropped their weapons simultaneously.  Arnold’s lamp shattered, while Kitty’s gun and Mia’s knife both landed on the wooden floor.

            “Stop it,” I yelled.  “The police are on their way here.  I know you all want one another dead, but be reasonable.  You won’t be able to kill one another, not now.”

            Carefully, I stepped forward and kicked Kitty’s handgun behind me.  Then, I grabbed Mia’s knife and put it on the table near my hip.  Finally, I lowered my own gun.

            “Stand against the wall, all three of you.  I don’t want any of you trying anything.”

            Kitty, already near the wall, took a step back and stood still.  Mia gave Arnold a long, ugly look, probably upset about his attempted clubbing, and the stood next to Kitty, plenty of space between the two women.  Finally, Arnold stepped over shattered porcelain and joined the line.

            “Good,” I said.  “Now, the police are going to be here soon, so I’m just going to stay here until they come pick all of you up.”

            All three looked surly, but no one moved.  I could hear sirens wailing in the distance.  Finally, after a moment, Arnold spoke up.

            “How did you know to come here?”

            “It was obvious,” I told him, “and you were all sloppy.  None of you should have mentioned your own stalkers.  That was a terrible move.

            “You,” I said, looking at Kitty.  “You were embezzling the entire time, weren’t you?  And then people started catching on - I saw the note about the payroll you’d hid in your jacket, and the one on your desk later.  And with an audit coming up, you were terrified that Arnold would figure out what you were doing.  After all, you were the one in charge of salaries.  So you decided to kill him and make it look like an accident, but that didn’t work.  Only, it was okay, because by then, you’d heard someone was stalking Mia, and you knew you were being followed, and you decided to try and play it off as some lunatic attacking all three of you.  Kill two birds with one stone, right?  Find out who it was-- police or someone else-- and take the suspicion of Arnold’s death off of your shoulders.”

            I turned to Arnold.  “You too.  You wanted to kill Mia, so you could marry Kitty instead.  And you knew that your public engagement would probably attract attention, so you decided to pretend it was a deranged stalker, killing Mia out of what, psychotic love?  Then, when you started getting attacked, you wanted me to find who was trying to kill you.  You were planning on blaming Mia’s death on whoever was following you.”

            Finally, I turned to Mia.  “And you.  You came to me because you were scared of whoever was following you, I know that.  But you weren’t planning on me getting involved in your crime.  You wanted to kill Kitty because she was sleeping with Arnold.”

            “There isn’t a stalker,” I told them.  “There never was.  No lunatic, no enemy, nothing.  Just yourselves, trying to kill one another.”

            Kitty glared at me, fury marring her features.  Arnold stood as still and pale as a statue.  Mia clapped on hand over her mouth and began to weep, silently.

            “You were all stupid,” I finished.  “None of you knew how to kill someone, and you all made a lot of dumb, obvious mistakes.  The paper?  Keeping your hidden letters on your desk?  Telling me that you were going to resolve the problem?  None of you is cut out for a life of crime.”

            “I-- I didn’t know you were the detective,” Mia stuttered, eyes bloodshot.  “If I had, I would never... would never have told you.”

            “Freeze,” a voice said suddenly.  The police had arrived.  I looked one last time at the three assembled, would-be killers, ruined by their own clumsy actions, then turned to go talk to the officers.