Once Ms. Holloway left and I got a moment to catch my breath and think through the matter. I didn't think my first real client would be a walk in the park, but I was utterly lost as to what just happened and who exactly I met. I tried to push the embarrassment aside but I felt utterly beneath this woman who was meant to be my client. I shook all thoughts of the personals of the matter aside.
It was time for action. I took out the pantyhose from the bag and was immediately caught off guard with a pungent foot scent that hung around the nylons. I couldn't believe the stink that came off a single pair of pantyhose. It felt like a cloud of odor gathered from days worth of sweat had gathered in the feet of the stockings and now it was unleashed upon me. Luckily I had plenty of face masks around, so I put one on. Strangely, I hesitated before covering up my nose. A thought popped up but had sunk down before I could reel it in. For a brief moment, I was intrigued as to what they smelled like.
I didn't give much credit to rogue thoughts so I kept working away and actually made some quick progress. The tailor for these pantyhose, Sheer Silk is local and there was a good chance there would be records somewhere of someone buying these.
I had already realized at the time that the yarn I was beginning to unravel would be large, but already the possibilities were becoming apparent to me. Ms. Holloway's excuse for where she got the pantyhose was plausible enough, but I also took into account how easy it would be for her to frame someone. Here it was, mysterious pantyhose that could really be from anywhere. If Ms. Holloway thought she could trick anyone into incriminating the wrong person, it would be a young, amatuer P.I. All in all, the whole pantyhose business stunk. Pun intended.
There was also the problem of me getting paid. I didn't trust Ms. Holloway to be my employer. Hypnosis and sketchy night clubs didn't sound promising, it sounded like a trap and I wasn't going to spring it on my first ever case. And yet, something needed to be done. A moral obligation? Maybe. But I also knew that Ms. Holloway and the crowd she hangs around with were wealthy women and I felt as though there was money to be made. Hey, I need to pay the bills somehow right?
I wasn't about to go to Jake's mom and fleece her for the money, but if anyone would know anything about Jake, she would be the one to go to. So, given the file Ms. Holloway gave me, I found Jake's address and went off to talk to Mrs. Morris. The pantyhose clue would be my next resort, if need be.
Mrs. Morris' house, or rather Mary Morris, didn't live too far away. Usually I biked everywhere, I couldn't come close to affording a car and everything is pretty close to each other in Elm Haven, but I decided to walk this time. Biking wasn't the most professional means of transportation after all.
I found myself in a pretty typical suburban neighborhood which I figured was probably filled with upper middle class families, like the Morris'. I walked over to the address Ms. Holloway had written on the file and knocked on the door, butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. Before I left, I looked up a recent Elm Haven census and saw the family just consisted of Mary and Jake Morris, Jake's father had left them a long time ago, another point of similarity between Jake and I. And if Mary was anything like my mom (they even were around the same age; Mary is 41 and my mom is 43), I knew she would be worried sick about Jake.
The door swung open and, to my amazement, I was greeted with a smiling woman. She had strawberry blonde hair which flowed down to her shoulders. She was a thin woman, and from her yoga pants which complimented her long fit legs and from the sports tank top which wrapped around her curvy waist and toned arms, I figured she probably worked out quite often. She was barefoot and my eyes almost fell to her feet, but I forced myself to meet her eyes.
"I'm so sorry to bother you Mrs. Morris, my name is Henry Turner and-" I said, but she cut me off.
"Oh are you one of Jake's friends? I'm sorry honey, Jakey is out right now."
For a moment I was left dumbfounded, then I found my tongue, "No, Mam- I mean Miss- I mean Mary."
"No? What can I help you with?" She asked innocently.
"It's about your son..." I said and waited for a reaction. Her expression didn't change.
"Oh! You're from the Club!"
"Club Hosiery?"
"Of course."
I shook my head, "no Mrs. Morris. I'm actually a private investigator."
She let out a laugh. I didn't smile. "Oh I'm sorry, hon, you were being serious. It's just, aren't you pretty young to be a detective."
"I'm not a detective and actually my age is a benef-"
"You're not investigating the club, are you?" She cut me off again and for the first time, her expression showed concern.
"Well-"
"It's a perfectly fine club, I'll have you know! It's just about the only play in town a woman my age can have some fun!" She stomped her foot down which drawed my eyes to it.
Mary Morris wore baby blue pail polish on her pedicured toes. Her feet looked immaculate, like Ms. Holloway it was obvious that she spent time and money to have them look as pristine as possible. My first thought was how lucky I was to stumble upon two women with such pretty feet, but I then realized how strange of a thought that was and found myself frowning. Even more, my mind was racing trying to connect this image, Mary's foot, to a memory but for the life of me I couldn't remember it even though I wanted to so desperately.
Mary Morris giggled. I blinked and looked back up, my face turning crimson red. For the second time in the span of an hour, I was caught staring at feet. What was wrong with me? "Oh, I'm sorry I... I drifted off into space there..." Maybe I wasn't getting enough sleep.
"You must've visited the club before, right?" She was still smiling.
"No... I haven't" I almost said I haven't yet.
"Oh..."
"I have met Ms. Holloway, though."
"Oh, you've met Vivian! Hahaha, yes that makes sense."
I frowned. "Why?"
She ignored my question and gestured to the inside of her house, "come inside. We can talk about Jakey, the Club and anything else you'd like to."
I smiled and followed her inside.
As I walked inside I found the first differences between her life and mine, whereas my house is a moderately sized town house, Mrs. Morris' house was a spacious proper house with 3 floors, a wide open living room furnished expensively and with fine taste.
"What do you do for a living, Mrs. Morris?" I asked.
"Real estate. You may have seen my face on some signs around town and not have noticed."
I found the courage to ask what was really on my mind. "Can I ask an... awkward question? I by no means mean any disrespect or insinuation, but-" "But why aren't I more worried about Jakey?" Mrs. Morris smiled sweetly as she sat down on the couch.
I was about to sit down on the chair across from her but she patted the cushion beside her. Reluctantly, I sat down beside her. She asked. "Well, how much do you know about Club Hosiery?"
"Just what Ms. Hollo- I mean just what Vivian told me. The young men there are... influenced to serve the club members." I said.