Candy For A Dead Man

[SimonW]

The second story featuring Detective Harry Stone. So far have only written what you see here. Hope to make more. Enjoy.
For those newer to Detective Harry Stone, I recommend reading his first appearance in The Blue Locust Mystery.



Candy For A Dead Man


Chapter 1: Marley’s Death

Mr. Keith Marley, otherwise known as The Confectionery King (due to the candy bars of his last name) had died approximately at ten past one in his office/Study of his main confectionery shipping building.
The speculation of his death was somewhat final because the doors and windows were locked. But something to Detective Harry Stone seemed somewhat amiss.
He surveyed the body of the forty five year old manufacturer and maker of Marley’s Candy Bars, the late Mr. Marley himself.
The body was dressed in a comfortable-looking grey business suit that included jacket and pants with a white shirt underneath, the collar of which was rumpled. Completing the ensemble of attire the late Mr. Marley wore as he died was a pair of dark grey socks and polished black shoes.
The body had not been disturbed, as far as Detective Stone could see. The victim was slumped forward on his desk, a wrapped brown bag looking untouched beside the hand where Mr. Marley held a half-eaten candy bar, one from his stock.
Detective Harry Stone was sitting in the chair opposite the body, observing it with great thought. Taking a puff from his cigarette, he knew the press would have a field day with this. He could see the headline now, “Candy King Killed Self In Office” or something to that effect. But Harry Stone knew he was getting ahead of himself. He was the one in charge of the investigation, despite the fact that even the crime scene boys seemed to have closed the book on this one. Purely a simple case of suicide.
It was no secret that Mr. Marley was distraught due to the fact several batches of his candy bars were contaminated. Even the employees and workers were afraid to touch a bar in case it was tainted.
‘Oh the merry king goes round and round only to find himself on the ground,’ thought Detective Stone grimly to himself.
Taking another breath in after sighing out his cigarette smoke, Detective Stone felt a nagging doubt in his mind. He was just not sure as the other police and crime scene scientists had been. And what aggravated Harry Stone most was that he did not know exactly what it was that made him so unsure.


Detective Harry Stone turned and left the office whilst still in thought as he entered the room where Mr. Marley’s secretary worked. A few other officers were around, one or two of which were interviewing a woman dressed in strict attire. She wore a grey overcoat with a white turtleneck and a long drab grey secretarial dress and smart black lady shoes.
The person who found the body was Mr. Marley’s secretary, a Miss Wilson whom seemed like a capable woman in her late fifties.
“I had found Mr. Marley at one. I was only going in to see if there was anything else I could do just before going out for my Lunch break,” muttered the distraught woman for the third time while trying to maintain her steel-like resolve.
She felt rather encumbered by the pressure of the police, not that she minded because she wanted this unpleasantness to be over as soon as possible. But the roundabout way the police seemed to be asking the same questions over and over again mildly ticked her off.
“Did Mr. Marley usually keep his door unlocked?” asked a young officer to Miss Wilson.
Miss Wilson seemed to do a sharp intake of breath lightly because this was another question already asked of her but she was not one to leave a question unanswered.
“Mr. Marley was a man who believed never to turn away visitors…even the unwanted ones. His office was like his home and his workers or family knew that if they ever needed to see him, they could at any time,” replied Miss Wilson crisply in a serious manner.
Believing they had gotten all they could after a few more questions, the officers left via the doorway to the outer hall of the Marley Bars Building.
Two patrolmen stayed outside guarding the outer door whilst Patrolman Bob Wallis stood next to Detective Stone by the inner door, being the patrolman on guard of the door to Mr. Marley’s inner office.
“Seems cut and dry sir,” remarked Bob Wallis to Detective Stone after the other officers had left and Miss Wilson looked relieved to no longer be barraged by repetitive questions.
“We shall see Bob, we shall see,” responded Detective Stone as he smirked slightly and took another puff of his cigarette.
“Oh, Miss Wilson?” queried Detective Stone as he walked forward whilst leaving a puzzled Bob Wallis to watch him in his stead.
Miss Wilson had walked to her desk and had picked up a few papers and file folders before her attention was drawn by the voice of Detective Stone. She glanced up at the shabby man wearing a brown overcoat and hat with a cigarette in his left hand.
“Yes, Detective…?” asked a befuddled Miss Wilson, her steely exterior gone for a slight moment and displayed the distressed woman who seemed to have almost run out of patience.
“Detective Stone. If you would be so kind to tell me, how long have you worked for Mr. Marley?”
Miss Wilson seemed at ease with this question and regained her composure. It was better than what the other officers had asked and this Detective Stone’s voice did not seem to have the hounding hint that she detected from the other cops. Adjusting the papers in her hands by tapping them lightly on her desk, Miss Wilson placed them down again and sat at her desk on her chair with the efficient elegance that senior secretaries possessed.
“I have worked for Mr. Marley’s company and family for over thirty years. Aside from my secretarial duties, Mr. Marley gave me the post of Housekeeper to his Estate. Any dealings with the house when I was away were taken care of by another of the Staff,” remarked Miss Wilson with an almost benevolent glare.
Detective Stone nodded slightly, almost as if he was absorbing all she said with his vacant expression.
“Yes, we know that. Did Mr. Marley expect company today?” Detective Stone asked as he took another puff on his cigarette.
“Mr. Marley’s visitors were never put on file, unless it was a new employee or company representative,” said Miss Wilson after a few seconds of consideration. “As far as I can recall, he received at least two new workers-in-training and one new company representative.”
Detective Stone rubbed his stubble chin in thought whilst holding his lit cigarette in his other hand.
“And what of old employees?” he finally asked after a few seconds of rubbing his chin before placing his cigarette back within his mouth, the tip once more aglow with renewed breath.
Miss Wilson appeared to mull the question over, her brisk business-like mind almost struggling to remember.
“As far as I can tell you, only one old employee paid a visit to Mr. Marley’s office,” she responded with a slight grimace.
“Really? That interests me a great deal. What was the man’s name?” asked Detective Stone as he rested his cigarette upon his pursed lips to allow himself to take out his notepad and pencil from the folds of his over-worn long coat.
Miss Wilson did not hold back her disdain at such an untidy appearance but could tell the detective was not one to care for personal grooming habits and merely gave a small frown of disapproval before replying.
“His name is Albert Jenkins, a senior employee,” remarked Miss Wilson, her efficient manner not deterring Detective Stone from scribbling busily into his notepad as she replied to his question.
“And your opinion of Mr. Jenkins?” suddenly asked Detective Stone, glancing up from his notepad. His pencil was hovering at the ready whilst his lit cigarette lingered smoke from between his wavering lips as he tried to talk.
Miss Wilson was caught off-guard and for a brief second or two she did not say anything before responding.
“I have no opinion of Mr. Jenkins. I do not socialize with the workers of the factory,” she said in a candid tone, her voice firm with conviction that she did not approve of “work relations” when they were not needed.
“I understand, Miss Wilson. Did Mr. Marley often get visits from his staff?” asked Detective Stone, his hand scribbling more notes.
“Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. Mr. Marley was a benevolent man. He allowed his workers to see him in any time of need. Whether it be a time of crisis, work related or not,” replied Miss Wilson candidly. “But, Detective Stone, why are you inquiring into what is considered a simple suicide case?”
Detective Harry Stone glanced up after his hand stopped writing in his notepad and as soon as Miss Wilson finished with her own question to him.
“Because, Miss Wilson…it is not a simple case anymore, not to me,” he replied with an almost sly smirk as he puffed out more smoke from his slightly parted lips. “A man known to be distraught yet also known to be a fair boss and benevolent seems hardly likely in this case to be known to commit suicide. A man accustomed to leaving his door unlocked, that hardly matches with what we know to be true today,” he said as he walked over to the outer door.
“Also, I do not believe a man who would be contemplating suicide would order lunch, Miss Wilson. Good day,” added Detective Harry Stone just before pocketing his notebook and tipping his hat lightly to Miss Wilson. He walked out of the outer office with the smirk still plastered to his face, a trail of cigarette smoke lingering as he left.




(to be continued...)

 

[Copperfox]

Mister Marley seems to have been a much nicer man than the Marley in A Christmas Carol. As for "candy bars of his last name," does this mean that a brand of candy called Marley _actually_ exists where you live, or that there is such a brand-name _only_ in the world of your story?

 

[Glenburne]

A candy maker murdered? That's a profession you don't see in mysteries every day.

 

[SimonW]

Mister Marley seems to have been a much nicer man than the Marley in A Christmas Carol. As for "candy bars of his last name," does this mean that a brand of candy called Marley _actually_ exists where you live, or that there is such a brand-name _only_ in the world of your story?

As far as I know, there are no Marley Bars manufactured in Australia....just a brand name I made by coincidence on the fly that happens to sound believable of my character's last name.

A candy maker murdered? That's a profession you don't see in mysteries every day.

I know. I felt the need to have a profession not known to be murdered...much less a kind man in his expertise too, which my story states as fact. I have no idea where I got the idea from, only just popped into my head as I wrote the title and it fleshed itself out from there. Glad you are enjoying it so far.

 

[SimonW]

(Chapter 1, part 2…)

Detective Harry Stone felt himself at a loss of what to do next. Sure, he had an inkling of a case to declare it as a Homicide rather than Suicide, but even he knew hunches and ordered lunches did not a case make. With these perturbed thoughts running throughout his head, he made his way down from the office area towards the packaging and shipping depot where the sole product, Marley Bars, were to be sealed in boxes and delivered to designated trucks for delivery.
The main processing plant was subdivided in four conveyor belts where the human workers would be situated in to check the sealing of each individual candy bar before a final inspection by a supervisor at the end to package the bars in sealed packaged boxes to the trucks.
This was all explained by the four foremen that supervised the other workers per conveyor belt and was well known within a tour brochure of the Marley Factory. As far as the investigation was concerned, public knowledge of the running of the factory was just glossed over as unimportant data for the deceased’s obvious case of suicide.
Detective Stone mused over these facts silently to himself, still keeping even the most basic information at hand to ease his investigative mind. Whilst pondering these thoughts in his head, Detective Stone let his eyes wander over this remarkable piece of machinery in front of himself, just shaking his head at the grandness of it all. Not the machine itself, just his own thoughts currently on this case.
‘Candy King Killed Self In Office,’ he thought grimly, the previous thought clouding his mind as the words resonated within his mind over and over again until he shook his head and looked down at his own scribbled notes in his notebook he had grabbed from his pocket hurriedly.
With a sour grimace upon his face, Harry Stone put his notebook back into his brown jacket pocket and sat upon a nearby wooden stool to somehow grasp his own addled sanity back into working order. With a deep breath, Detective Stone let himself calm down within the exhale of his breath from his mouth.
“Sir?” an inquiring voice said from the left of Harry Stone quietly in a mild mannered tone so not to startle Detective Harry Stone in contemplative thought.
Detective Stone drew his attention to the mild mannered speaker with ease, the obvious voice of Patrolman Bob Wallis standing to attention in his usual policeman’s uniform at the ready.
“What you got for me, Bob?” casually asked Detective Harry Stone with a wry and crooked grin.
“Well, I don’t really know, Sir. Miss Wilson asked me to give you this,” Bob replied with a folder file outstretched in his hand towards Detective Stone.
“Anything else?” Detective Stone asked as he took the file from Bob Wallis and glanced at the tab at the top that bared a name marked as Joey Marley.
“Just that she told me to give this to you if you needed help,” remarked Patrolman Bob Wallis with a shrug of his shoulders.
The simple minded Patrolman seemed oblivious as Detective Stone subtlety raised an eyebrow in mild interest.
“Very good, Bob. You may return to your duty,” dismissed Detective Stone and Patrolman Bob Wallis gave a salute before leaving back to his post to guard the crime scene.

( to be continued…)

 

[Copperfox]

Bob Wallis appears to be straddling the gap between Doctor Watson and Inspector Lestrade.

 

[SimonW]

Bob Wallis appears to be straddling the gap between Doctor Watson and Inspector Lestrade.

Indeed.

( chapter 1, part 3…)


Detective Harry Stone glanced down at the file folder within his hands, the lingering trail of cigarette smoke a mere inconvenience as the detective’s mind was elsewhere.
With a mirthful small chuckle escaping his slightly parted lips, Harry Stone opened the file of this new lead he was given moments ago in proxy by Miss Wilson. He did not question the authenticity of the file, the dossier appearing genuine for Joey Marley, obviously a relative of the recently deceased victim.
As he sat musing over the file, Detective Stone allowed his eyes to wander over the unremarkable papers with photo attached as a referral job application. It consisted of three pages with staples imprinted within the top left most corner to keep the papers in place of the file. The photo was the only remarkable notation within, at least, since it was a printed photograph and not type-written in precise spacing. It depicted a mid twenties male wearing glasses and a somber expression of boredom as he knew his photo was going to be taken. His demeanour was elegant yet slouchful as the dark black hair was slightly parted to the side in a gothic yet geeky fashion. Even in the “Notes” section at the bottom of the last page had nothing of interest, just that Joey Marley seemed an average but good worker at the factory.
Shaking his head lightly, Detective Harry Stone almost missed something upon his first skim through of the three papers until he re-read a certain paragraph in a background of previous employment that was at least somewhat relating to the case at hand.
‘Oh how merrily we dance and sing, playing music for our King,’ mused Detective Stone with slight amusement.
For upon the file’s second page in clear black and white was the information that interested Detective Harry Stone. Joey Marley used to work in a pharmaceutical plant, detecting and getting rid of poisons.


Chapter One End.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 1… )

Chapter Two: Candied Manor


Detective Harry Stone was within his squad car, travelling with concentration as he bypassed the gravelled path up to The Marley Estate. Mr. Marley and his entire family lived within a mansion estate up in what the locals called The Hills, an upscale rich district of the neighbourhood. Quite a prestigious and hilly terrain, a stark contrast to the industrial district where the victim had worked from.
Despite his earlier revelations, Detective Stone knew it was just a possibility of a chance Joey Marley was a suspect in his lead investigation. There was no concrete evidence as of yet. But he was not giving up. First, he decided, some general inquiries were needed and that was why he was on his way to the family abode of the Marleys.
As he reached an imposing iron gate blocking his way in his vechile, Detective Stone idled his car to a standstill nearby the barrier that held a large stonework wall to keep nosy people off the private property. A small guard station was embedded to the the side with a person garbed in an off-grey uniform with a badge and holding a cup of what Harry Stone assumed was by now cold coffee clasping the cup holder in their right hand. The man was not drinking, merely holding the cup at mid belly level as the security guard on duty was observing as Harry Stone rolled up next to the closed iron gate in his squad car.
“Afternoon,” Harry Stone said cordially as he displayed his Police ID badge towards the security guard.
There was a brief nod but no reply as the security guard just lifted his cup of coffee in response with his right hand to his mouth as his left hit a small button and a buzzer started. As the buzzing sound stopped, the iron gate started to buckle before opening inwards from both sides to allow passage into the private grounds of the Marley Estate.
“Much obliged,” Harry Stone stated whilst putting his policeman’s ID back in his pocket before placing his car in gear to move forward.
The security guard said nothing, merely having done his job as he saw fit and watched as the police vechile continued past the open gate. After the car bypassed the entry point, the guard pushed the button again to close the iron gates once more.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 2… )

The grandiose of the Marley Estate was lush in topiaries and a large water fountain serving as a prelude to the entrance of Marley Manor. Passing by the statue fountain was the white marble steps leading up to the entrance of Marley Manor, ornate white marble rounded stones served as bannisters on both ends of the looming stairs. Though few steps led up to the entrance, counting at most eleven steps that ended up to a flush cobblestones pathway that bordered upon the entranceway towards the house.
Detective Harry Stone parked his car and got out of his vehicle with a determined look in his eye and purpose within his steps.
Without much problems thus far, Detective Stone made his way to the front entrance after ascending the marble stairs.
Taking a slight pause in front of the front wooden doors, Detective Stone raised his arm and pushed the front door buzzer.
A slight buzz emitted from the buzzer, sending a silent alert that somebody had rung the front doorbell, leaving Harry Stone to wait patiently until after a few seconds the front door was opened.
The person whom answered the door was a man looking to be in his mid thirties with a look of shocked confusion. His attire was that of common chic, possibly a casual look of the upper class with a cashmere sweater that was coloured off white and wearing blue jeans with white sneakers. The blonde hair was slicked back with accents of chestnut brown streaks, the angular face befitting his upper body physique and his green eyes seemed to convey a slight sign of arrogance and befuddlement at just opening the door to Detective Harry Stone.
“Yes? What is it?” asked the man to the stranger at his doorstep. The accent was English with a little haughtier than thou type attitude.
“Detective Harry Stone, here about the late Mr. Marley,” replied back Detective Stone somewhat curtly as he flashed his police identification badge to the man.
The look of arrogance was replaced by a grimace as the man looked with indifference to Detective Harry Stone.
“Well, come on in,” begrudgingly stated the man as he opened the door fully and stepped to the side inside to allow Detective Stone access to the inside of Marley Manor.


( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 3… )

It took but a moment for Detective Harry Stone to assess his surroundings as he entered the spacious hallway of Marley Manor, the echoes of his footsteps eerily similar to almost feeling like an intruder within a dead person’s burial crypt. The clandestine effect was prominent and not lost upon Detective Stone as he held back his urge to light up another cigarette for fear of making his trepidatious feeling of unwelcome all more pronounced with his mere presence. He felt the need to take his fedora hat off in some semblance of proper decorum as the man whom had answered the door shut it behind himself with an awkward bang that reverberated within this empty chamber of a large entryway of a Grand Hall.
Taking in the ostentatious paintings that beheld figures of unknown renown as self portrait pieces aligning the walls, Detective Stone marked the plaques as bearing the last names of the Marley lineage.
“Rather a stern looking lot, I must say,” briefly muttered the man in the cashmere sweater that strained at the wooden seams as he crossed his arms in a guarded gesture towards the detective.
“Yes, well, I gather Mr. Marley must have been sentimental,” wryly stated Detective Stone in reply, leaving the comment on a more ambiguous note.
The man seemed to scoff outwardly in a snide manner, his face obviously one showing slight disdain.
“Uncle Keith was a man of family values, nothing more. Take it from me, detective, there were no ghosts in these halls haunting him,” off handedly commented the man before his attention was drawn away by the sudden apparition of a female voice coming from above.
“Patrick, who is it?” the mystery voice asked with curious intent, but still held the firm air of grace and command one would have if not for the feminine undertones of slight cautionary worry.
The speaker was upon the upper staircase, having come from the upper landing of the next floor above, a woman looking in her mid forties with flowing to the left side brunette hair and wearing a simple bed gown of woollen fabric one would find of one that had just gotten out of bed.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 4… )

“Pardon my mother, Detective Stone. She has not been well as of recently. This is a detective, Mother. Here on business about Uncle Keith,” proclaimed the man the woman had introduced as Patrick Marley, which seemed to ease the woman’s guarded manner somewhat into a more relaxed posture.
“Very well. Though why the cops are bothering us is beyond me. Honestly, they appear worse than the news hounds,” briskly muttered the woman with reproach as she gazed down from her position upon the stairwell with disfavour towards Detective Harry Stone.
Detective Harry Stone did not let this faze him in the slightest as he gave a slight bow towards what he assumed was the mistress of Marley Manor, possibly sibling to the late great Mr. Keith Marley. This slight motion seemed to dissuade the slight image of repulsion from Mary Marley’s temperamental face, the condescending look now replaced by a tired woman in need of rest.
“I shall trust you with this, Patrick. Good day to you, detective,” she announced with a tired air of decorum before proceeding back upstairs until she was out of sight.
“My Mother, Mary Marley, is trying at times. Sorry for her rudeness,” Patrick Marley stated as he drew his attention back towards Detective Stone with a half apologetic sarcastic smile playing upon the corners of his lips.
“No need to apologise, Mr. Marley. I trust the shock of her brother’s death is more than enough to justify her actions,” replied back Harry Stone with an edge of sympathy within his voice that seemed to catch Patrick Marley’s boyish nature off guard.
“Yes, quite. Would you care to join me in the Lounge for refreshments?” Patrick offered as he recovered slightly from this small exchange of words but felt it best not to let himself be riled up by nothing.
“That would be nice, yes. Then I can get down to business of why I am here,” remarked Detective Harry Stone as he placed his hat back upon his head as Patrick led the way towards a side room from the grand foyer entrance.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 5… )


The Side Lounge was a comfortable atmosphere to Detective Harry Stone. Though it would be stylised as “too English” with niceties to the chagrined simple man, he could not fault it as he relaxed upon the chaise lounge, ignoring the tacky floral pattern surrounding himself in this seat.
Patrick Marley was sitting across from him, the man evidently looking slightly nervous behind his smiling facade of a generous host.
“I gather your Uncle did not mind placating his family within this house?” asked Detective Stone with a broad smile as he took out his notebook and pen.
Patrick Marley glanced down at the notebook as Detective Stone flipped it open before hesitantly looking back up towards the detective’s eyes with a slightly irritated expression upon his face.
“Not that it matters in the slightest, but yes. He did not mind. As I stated before, family was everything to him,” Patrick responded whilst clenching his fists at the insinuation of the American detective’s question.
Detective Stone paid the young man’s emotional outburst no mind, just scribbling down in his notebook until he went on to his next question.
“And I gather there is no problem with Joey Marley?”
This question seemed to perplex Mr. Patrick Marley, as noted when Detective Stone surveyed the man’s face there was a faint trace of hesitance before he answered the question.
“My brother had fallen on rough times. Uncle Keith felt it best to give him a job.”
“In the family business, too. There was no ill blood between them?”
At this question, the face beheld a bemused sneer of incredulous expression upon Patrick Marley’s face.
“If anything, it made the family stronger. Joey always got the inclination that he was the bad seed of our mother’s side of the family. Don’t know why, he always was a decent brother to me,” sighed out Patrick Marley with a small shake of disbelief of his head.
“I see. Why do you think that is?” Detective Stone asked with genuine inquiry.
“Damned if I know. We are a close knit family, detective. Us Marleys hold no secrets from one another,” responded back Patrick Marley with an honest shrug of his shoulders.
“And where are the rest of the Marley family?” asked Detective Stone.
“Well, the current distant relatives are abroad on some vacation or such. Ruth Marley, my aunt and Keith’s wife, is around some place. Last I saw her was near the gardens. Kendall Marley is in his art studio, in the Drawing Room, I gather. He is an estranged brother of my mother and Uncle’s,” candidly responded Patrick Marley as Detective Stone started scribbling notes in his notebook.
Detective Stone paused and gave a few seconds of thought before continuing.
“And your brother? Where is he?”
Detective Stone noticed another hesitant pause before Patrick Marley answered if somewhat reluctantly.
“In the Parlour,” he said in a somewhat melancholy tone.
Detective Harry Stone did not register this as he did not want to pry further and stood up before Patrick had a chance to recover.
“Thank you, Mr. Marley,” Detective Stone stated briskly as he tipped his hat in acknowledgement before exiting the Side Lounge and leaving a baffled Patrick Marley still in a daze.


Chapter 2 End.

( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 1… )


Chapter 3: Family Matters…

It took Detective Harry Stone but a few seconds after leaving the Side Lounge after closing the door dramatically behind himself that he had no indication of where to go next within Marley Manor, as he had inadvertently left his host behind.
Lucky for him that a flustered looking maid at that moment was walking swiftly by with some stained linen within her hands nearby the flummoxed detective.
“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Parlour is?” Detective Stone sheepishly asked as she was passing him.
The maid stopped and drew her attention over to the strange man in a shabby overcoat and worn out fedora upon his head. She just gave an exaggerated look of weariness before replying without a second thought, “Two doors down to the right.”
Detective Harry Stone would have thanked her but the maid just kept walking without a second to waste, obviously too busy for pleasantries and scurried away with her overburdened laundry in tow.
Taking the advice with a pinch of bemused guile upon his lips, Detective Harry Stone followed the instructions given and briefly knocked outside of a dark oaken door that beheld slight filigree of floral pattens in an overarching vine motif etched within the door.
“Come in,” came a rather bored yet youthful voice that beheld a faint tone of command in a muffled manner from behind the door.

Detective Stone opened the Parlour door with trepidation, yet eagerness to do his job overcoming his nervousness with ease as he beheld the dimly lit room and the person within.
One could almost akin it to the old style opium dens as the room was insulated with an air purifier of sorts that made the musky air recirculate within this dank and dingy room.
A person was sitting within a dark mahogany chair, seemingly slouched in a position of bored relaxation. It did not take a genius like Detective Stone to figure out whom he was in the presence of as he had seen the face of them in their work dossier. He was in the company of Keith Marley’s younger nephew, Joey Marley.

( to be continued… )