Problem? What Problem?

After the movie, I took her home. That was when and where the troubles were to get started.

Her parents were waiting for her, and when I say “waiting,” I mean, they were literally standing there at the door kind of waiting. Yes, that’s the kind of “waiting,” for her.

“Who is this?” The father asked even before any exchange of greetings, “Who is this?”

“Hi Dad, this is my friend Manley…”

“Manley, Manley who… What’s this about?”

“As I said — Dad, he’s a friend of mine. We go to the same school. He offered to take me home today and I accepted the offer. I never thought that that would pose a problem.”

“Problem? Problem? Why would it be a problem? Let him in, come in, come on in and tell us more. I want to hear some more about this…”

As of late. I’ve been playing a song over and over in my head and singing along to the lingering refrain, and it goes something like this:

“Miss Luba’s one daughter, she’s a girl I love. I’m going to marry her soon, under a silvery moon.”

However, only bubbles and I would have known about me singing this little song. I was looking forward to popping the big question but not before consulting with them and receiving the blessings of the Dahoust family, of course. But after this encounter, after what happened here on this night, I’ve got to be thinking of another song to sing:

“I’m not sure anymore, more. Who’s knocking at my door, door…”

Libby’s family home is a duplex in Kirkland near the strip mall on St Charles Boulevard. All four of them used to occupy the main floor of the house. The upper floor was rented out, right up until just over a year ago when Kamal got married, or was married off to a girl he hardly even knew. Kamal and his young family now occupy that space.

In a sense, it’s still rented out because. Kamal has been paying rent to his father. Not the full amount as that which the previous tenant was paying but. It’s rent payment anyway. His father said that he has got to teach the boy, (he still calls him boy even at twenty-six and married. With a second child on the way,) he’s out to teach “the boy” how to be responsible in life.

The well-manicured lawn out front was still mostly covered over with dark dirty snow and ice. The temperature has been fluctuating widely in recent times, rising and falling. But it has mostly risen significantly over the last week or so. I even saw a couple of white lilies spouting out from under the sappy fall leftover grass from last year.

Those first blooming spring lilies were sprouting up along the peripheries near the ice mounds where the brown-greenish grass was already bouncing back from hibernation. I’d gotten as far as up to the granite tiles at the front door. Mr. Dahoust’s words were saying. Come in, “Come in, come on in and tell us more.” But his eyes were saying something quite different and very frightening.

“I really have got to be going now,” I said, “Maybe some other time we can meet up when it is more convenient and more planned out. As opposed to me just dropping in on you unannounced like this.”

He didn’t take the hand that I’d offered.

“No, no,” he protested. “You really must come on in and sit down and talk to me.”

His wife, though, Luba, was a bit more civilized, than him, it would have seemed. She waved a shaking bye-bye hand at me as I turned and walked away.

“Some other time — sir,” I said, “and I will come back to talk to you, but I really must go now.”

That was to be the last that I was to see of Libby since then. In the same way, as I had come to know her.

On the drive back to my place downtown. I checked the phone on several occasions to verify that both sound and vibrate were active, and that it was not muted. I didn’t want to miss a call; I specifically didn’t want to miss Libby’s call. It never came. On at least two other occasions. I’d started to dial her number but quickly decided against it and hung up. In my mind’s eye, I could see her there at home being grilled by her overbearing parents, and I didn’t want to be a fly on the wall when that call should come chiming in from the very person who they were there, quizzing her about.

Later that night. When I’d figured that she would probably be in bed or somehow alone by herself. I called through and nervously waited until the voicemail came in, I hung up and went to lie down. All night long I tossed and turned. I just could not find the elusive shut-eye. It was hard trying to focus on my work the following day too. I couldn’t concentrate. So, I took the evening off and did a drive-by past the house at nightfall.

Everything looked just as they did the night before. Everything except for the people who were there trying to figure me out. They were nowhere to be seen at this point. So, I circled around the block and came back around. Much slower this time, but still, nothing odd. I drove into the parking lot at Tim Hortons and parked. Went inside and ordered a coffee and a donut. Just the price I had to pay to hang out there. I wasn’t hungry and even if I was. I had no appetite.

I hung around until it began to get dark and then hopped in the truck and drove by the house again. Would have chosen to use the work truck instead of the car for more reasons than one. I went there straight from work, and I also thought that it would be much harder for me to be spotted in the truck since, (other than for Libby.) None of them knew about that vehicle. And thirdly, I’d figured that a work truck parked on the corner of the street in a residential neighborhood is an everyday occurrence. There’s nothing strange about that.

Kamal got out of the car and was just going through the door as I approached the house. I held my head as straight as I could while still observing from the corner of my eye. He didn’t go to the upstairs apartment where he was supposed to be living with his wife and child. But he went into the main dwelling instead. His mother came to the door to meet him and took one of the two brown paper bags from him that he was carrying.

She then reached out and placed a hand on his waist and into the small of his back and pulled him inside. Mind you, it was just a little nudge but it was very significant for someone like me who was there searching for something, anything. Anything that could give a clue as to what might be going on, on the inside of that house, and anything that could give me a hint as to what to do or think next.

Before closing the door, Mrs. Dahoust again stuck her head slightly out the door. Looked left, then right, and then nimbly drew her face back behind the closing door. I remained put where I was sitting in the truck for another ten minutes or so. Not wanting to solicit suspicion and attention to myself there. I was, in the meantime, keeping my eyes open for any and every hint of what might be going on inside the house.

I eventually drove home with not much more than what I had when I arrived there. Again that night, I tried calling Libby’s number but got the very same result: the party you’re trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please leave a detailed message and we will get back to you shortly. Would have tried one more time before I went to sleep. Exactly the same outcome.

Lying there looking up at the ceiling and trying to imagine what could have transpired behind the walls of that house. And to try to figure out what might have been going on there since Tuesday evening when I dropped her off there. Anything that could have been the cause for the cutting off of all communication so abruptly. Those things were puzzling for me. And then, suddenly, it happened.

I felt the hair standing up on the back of my neck. Erectile tissues were springing to life under my nightshirt. I couldn’t help but recall the tale she had told me in the conversation, when she was telling me of the incident with her brother and her, and how their father had not only almost killed him but had threatened that he would. If it ever should happen again. Looking at it from where I was lying there on my back. The situation did not seem too far removed from that one, and I could not rest in comfort. Not until I knew for sure what was going on with Libby and ensuring that she was safe. But the time was quickly slipping away.

“I’ve got to get going.” I said to myself, “And the time to do so is now.”

I ran through my notebook and agenda to see if I had jotted down any memos. Or if I had any to-do lists that might have included Libby. There was a rather vague note that I was to accompany her to Toronto or Ottawa for the interview. If and when they should call her, but nothing further. I couldn’t just sit there and twiddle my thumb and do nothing. “I’ve got to do something,” I said, but what? Just then, the demon that was lying dormant within me for way too long, suddenly, woke up and spoke up.

“Get busy,” she said, there’s a lot of work to be done, Manley.

I fired up my trusted computer and got to work. Searching for whatever. Not having a script to work with, I had to start at the beginning. The phone books. I quickly found the family. Not many Dahousts were listed in the region. So it was easy, I found her, her father Alfonso, Luba, and Kamal, living in Kirkland. No such luck with LinkedIn, Facebook, Twitter, and such. That family wasn’t into the social media thing yet, it would have seemed. I hit hard against the brick wall as I thought of things to do.

I concluded that the tried, tested, and true method is the best one, the hands-on one. My hands-on method. So back to the future, I had to go. I grabbed hold of my computer and my trusted toolbox containing my lock-picking apparatuses. Can’t go without those on a mission like this. Welcome back to the dark side — Manley. I hopped into the truck and drove back out to Kirkland on the West Island. Drove past the Dahoust’s home and parked.

I then fired up my computer and got to work scanning the houses and cars for protection systems signals. While trying to pinpoint the particular ones for the Dahousts’ and trying to figure out how to disable them. Did find a signal in the house. One on the Toyota Camry taxi too. That’s Mr. Dahoust’s car, but I did not detect any system signal on Kamal’s Acura TLX sedan parked there. So, I quickly formulated a plan of action.

“I’ll start with the Acura,” I said. It seemed like the logical choice to me because. Based on what I already knew about the family. Libby does seem to spend a lot of time in Kamal’s car. So if I’m going to find anything of value? That would probably be the best place to start, shy of getting into the house home-invasion style. This sort will probably be for a later stage in my plan if need be.

I had to go and kill some more time. It was way too early for that kind of work, people were still coming and going at much too regular intervals. Two to three o’clock in the AM would be the best time to report back in for work on this shift I thought. So, I hit the road back towards downtown Montreal. In about the next four to five hours when the whole street is likely to be bedding down. I’ll be back, Jack.

To be continued.

That’s it for today. Be sure to join us again tomorrow or any time thereafter, for more, as we continue with this story. A story called “HOW to TRAIN A WILD PUPPY DOG NAMED MANLEY.” Don’t forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you’d subscribe and follow us somewhere too, thank you.

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Just an excerpt from the “MANLEY Book.” A Novel, it’s available wherever books are sold. If you don’t see it, ask for it, they’ll get it for you.

By @writingelk All Rights Reserved.