DEAD UNLUCKY: A Joe Box Story

by Jim Reeves

  ‘Tell wife number one to do one. Wife number two ditto. Simple,’ said Fish.

  ‘I sorted wife number two, no problem. Wife number one might not be so easy,’ Joe sighed.

  ‘Bit of a bugger.’

  ‘And the rest,’ Joe said mournfully. ‘I might have to get another job.’

  ‘That’s a bit drastic.’

  ‘Two nights a week here doesn’t cover it. I need a few more quid coming in.’

  ‘Got any ideas?' asked Fish.

  'I'm mulling over a few things,' Joe said.

  'You swamped with offers?'

  'Not exactly,' Joe sighed. He opened a folded newspaper on the table. 'But I've found something I might have a go at.'

  Fish leaned forward to read an advertisement that Joe had circled. 'Detective Agency? It says they want an Investigative Operative. What the hell is that?'

  'Don't know, but I'm going to find out,' Joe said. 'Can't sit on my backside doing nothing.’

  'If that’s the best idea you’ve got, I reckon you're well and truly stuffed,’ Fish told him.

  'You got that right,’ Joe said.

  Chapter 4

  Joe stood in the street and looked at the sign ‘Dancer Investigations’. He was surprised to realise that he was actually nervous about the job interview. He thought he had long ago outgrown interview nerves. Maybe he had just been too long in one job and had forgotten what it was like. Joe entered the building and climbed a flight of narrow stairs. He paused on the landing, getting his breath back, then he knocked the door and entered.

  The windows were smudged, paper was peeling from the walls and the floor was covered with cracked linoleum. An attractive woman, maybe thirty years old, was seated at a desk facing the door. She looked up as Joe entered the room. Joe took in her shoulder length blonde hair, sapphire blue eyes, peachy complexion, pouting lips, and her figure such as he could see above the desk. She was sensational, bordering on spectacular. Given time, Joe could have come up with something a little more graphic, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe her at that moment. He was caught completely off guard. His breathing became suddenly laboured and his mouth dry as he stared at her. He had almost forgotten what he was there for. He had been psyching himself up for a job interview and now he was totally thrown. He didn’t need a distraction like this.

  The woman looked at him with an almost resigned expression on her face like she knew what he was thinking. She probably gets this reaction all the time, he guessed. She paused a beat to let him get over it then raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  'Dancer Investigations?' asked Joe, coming out of his reverie with a start.

  'Can I help you?' the woman asked. Joe held up the folded newspaper. 'I've come about the job vacancy. Investigative Operator the advert said.'

  The woman frowned. 'You should have called to make an appointment. It does say that.'

  'My mobile was on the blink,' Joe told her. 'And I was passing.'

  'You'd better sit down,' she said, without too much enthusiasm. 'I'm Maggie Dancer.'

  'The boss lady? I thought you were the secretary.'

  'I'm that as well,' she told him.

  Joe walked across the room and sat facing Maggie. He leant forward and passed her several sheets of paper stapled together. 'My CV,' he told her.

  Maggie read the first page of the CV and eyed him doubtfully across the desk. 'It says ‘over twenty-one’ for your age.’

  ‘That’s right, I am over twenty-one,’ he nodded with a smile.

  ‘I can see that,’ she said, not looking too impressed. ‘To be honest, you're a little bit older than I had in mind.'

  'I’ve still got a pulse,' he said. 'And to be honest, I thought you'd be a bloke and a bit older yourself. So that sort of makes us even.'

  'The hours can be very long if you're on surveillance. It can be very tedious and tiring.'

  'Looks can be deceiving. I've got a lot more stamina than you might think.'

  'Are you married?' asked Maggie.

  'Not lately.'

  She raised her eyebrows. 'Divorced?'

  'Only twice.’

  'Any particular reason?'

  Joe thought for a moment. 'Maybe I just like wedding cake.'

  Maggie suppressed a smile and made a note on her pad.

  'Any children?'

  'None I can confess to.'

  'Are you in a relationship at the moment?'

  'Only with my bank manager.' Joe grimaced. 'He likes to keep in regular touch.'

  ‘Any health problems?’

  ‘I get a bit of asthma now and then but nothing to worry about.’

  Maggie stared thoughtfully at the sheet in front of her. 'It says here that you have relevant knowledge of detective work. When did all that happen?'

  'I watch 'CSI Miami’ a lot. I've seen every episode of ‘Columbo' there ever was and I was a big fan of 'Morse' in his day.'

  'That's a pretty tenuous connection,' said Maggie doubtfully.

  'Tenuous is my middle name,' he told her. 'I think I picked up a few pointers along the way. I know a few moves.'

  'I’m sure you do.' Maggie pursed her lips and eyed him doubtfully across the desk for a few seconds. 'You're a quite a sloppy dresser.'

  Joe straightened up in his chair and looked down at his crumpled greasy raincoat, baggy trousers and scuffed shoes. ‘What you see is what you get.’

  ‘That’s what worries me.’ Maggie frowned.

  ‘You should see me on my day off,' Joe smiled. ‘I really let my hair down.’

  'You need more than an old raincoat to be a detective,’ Maggie tells him. ‘Frankly, you just don't look the type.'

  'Ideal for undercover work,' Joe pointed out. 'You don’t want somebody who looks the type.’

  ‘Did you do military service?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Believe it or not, I was too young for conscription so I gave it a miss.’

  ‘Detective work can be very boring,’ Maggie continued. ‘It’s 99% sitting around waiting for something to happen or else sifting through endless documents or records looking things up. There’s nothing glamorous or exciting about it. I’m really not sure you're right for the job. You’re older than I had in mind and you haven’t got any real experience. I need somebody who can hit the ground running.'

  Joe leaned forward and spoke, in little more than a whisper. 'Lady, I can hit the ground anyway you want,' he told her. 'I'm keen, I'm available and most important of all I'm hungry.'

  Maggie looked taken aback. 'Where did that come from?'

  'That's my Bogart impression,' he smiled. 'Like it?'

  'Not much. Is there anything else I should know?'

  ‘I sing in a local night club Fridays and Saturdays.’ Joe told her.

  ‘Sing?’

  ‘I play the piano and kind of sing mostly old stuff.’

  ‘Old stuff?’

  ‘Elvis, Sinatra,’ Joe nodded. ‘I usually stick to people who can’t sue me.’

  ‘That’s certainly different,’

  ‘Keeps me off the streets.’

  ‘Are you any good?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Sensational.’

  ‘I almost believe you.’ She smiled. ‘Which club is it?’

  ‘The Blue Parrot just off Brindley Place.’

  Maggie stared thoughtfully at Joe’s CV. ‘Have you done anything else besides sing in a night club?’

  ‘Did a bit of boxing once. Long time ago.’

  ‘Should I remember the name?’

  Joe shrugged dismissively. ‘You’d have to look in the history books.’

  ‘I might do that but it still isn’t relevant experience for this job,’ said Maggie.

  'Don’t be overawed. I’m really a very ordinary bloke deep down inside.'

  ‘I never would have guessed,’ Maggie smiled.

  ‘What about you?’ Joe asked. ‘Are you any good?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Maggie gave him a puzzled look.

  ‘As a private detecti
ve?’

  ‘I manage,’ she told him.

  ‘Been at it long?’

  ‘Nearly a year,’ said Maggie.

  ‘What did you do before that?’ asked Joe.

  ‘I was a detective constable in the CID. West Midlands Police.’

  ‘A copper?’ Joe looked mildly impressed. ‘And you decided to go it alone.’

  ‘Something like that,’ nodded Maggie. ‘But actually, I’m supposed to be interviewing you.’

  ‘Suppose it would be nice to have a man around the place,’ Joe suggested.

  ‘The advertisement didn’t specify a man,’ Maggie pointed out.

  ‘True,’ Joe nodded. ‘But it would make a lot of sense.’ He looked around the office. There was a patch of wallpaper peeling off the wall in a corner behind Maggie. 'This place could do with a bit of tarting up.'

  'Really?' Maggie looked indignant.

  'You got much going on at the moment?'

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'Businesswise. Have you got much on the go? Any big cases?'

  'I don't discuss cases.'

  'You'll have to if you give me the job.'

  'I'll worry about that when it happens,' Maggie smiled.

  'I'm a dab hand with a paint brush,' he told her.

  'I want an investigator not a painter and decorator.'

  'Give me a couple of days and this place will look the business.'

  'Depends what business you have in mind,' said Maggie.

  'First impressions count for a lot,' Joe told her.

  'That doesn't seem to bother you too much,' Maggie smiled.

  'You should do that more often,’ Joe grinned. ‘It suits you.'

  ‘Do what?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Smile.’

  Maggie looked aghast at him.

  ‘Don’t worry. That was a compliment,’ he assured her.

  ‘I don’t like compliments during business hours,’ Maggie said.

  ‘That’s okay. I don’t usually do compliments during business hours,’ Joe said.

  'If I did offer you the job, when could you start?' Maggie asked, changing the subject.

  'What's today?'

  'Tuesday.'

  'How about Wednesday?'

  'It's not that urgent.’ Maggie pursed her lips. 'I've only just advertised the job. I think I should wait a day or two to see who else applies.'

  'You're turning me down?' Joe asked, disbelievingly.

  'Not necessarily. I just want to look at all possible options. I’m putting you on hold while I wait for other applications.'

  'You could be missing the chance of a lifetime,' Joe warned her. 'I might get snapped up by somebody else.'

  'I'll just have to take that chance,' Maggie told him. 'I want to make sure I get the best person for the job.'

  ‘I think you’re looking at him,’ Joe said.

  ‘You could well be right but I don’t think there’s any need to rush things.’

  Joe rose glumly from the chair. 'I'll wait to hear from you then. My number's on the CV.'

  The door opened and an elderly woman, probably in her late seventies, entered the office.

  'Mrs Roberts.' Maggie smiled.

  'He's gone again,' Mrs Roberts told her mournfully.

  'Tregorran?'

  'It's been three days.'

  ’He always turns up,' Maggie told her.

  'But three days and not a word,' Mrs Roberts sighed.

  'Have you tried all the usual places?'

  'Not a sign. Nobody's seen him,' Mrs Roberts told her.

  'Do you want me to look for him?' Maggie asked.

  'I'd be ever so grateful.'

  'Do you have the usual photograph?' asked Maggie.

  Mrs Roberts took a photograph from her handbag and put it on the desk. ‘That’s him on his birthday.’

  Maggie smiled and glanced at Joe’s CV. 'This is Joe Box, my associate. He'll be in charge of the investigation.'

  Joe looked surprised as Mrs Roberts eyed him disdainfully. 'I've not seen you before.'

  'I'm usually undercover,' Joe told her.

  'Probably just as well in that raincoat,’ said Mrs Roberts, looking him up and down. ‘Have you got much experience?'

  'Enough to make your hair curl,' Joe smiled.

  'Anyway,' Maggie interrupted. 'If you leave it with us, I'm sure we'll find Tregorran in no time at all.'

  'I hope so,' Mrs Roberts sniffed, as she turned to leave. 'I'll call in tomorrow to see if there's any news.'

  Joe looked at Maggie when Mrs Roberts had left. 'So I'm your associate now. What changed your mind?'

  'Mrs Roberts. You can look for Tregorran. You could say you're on trial.'

  'And if I'm found guilty, I get the job?'

  'Something like that,' Maggie nodded.

  Joe looked at the photograph on the desk. ‘It’s a cat!’ He said incredulously.

  ‘Well spotted,’ Maggie nodded. ‘You might make a detective after all. He goes missing every few weeks but usually turns up after a few days.’

  ‘And he has a birthday?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘We didn’t discuss money.’

  ‘This is a freebie for Mrs Roberts but find the cat and then we’ll decide if I can afford you.’

  ‘Do you do many freebies?’

  ‘Just Mrs Roberts.’

  ‘So what’s the deal?’ asked Joe.

  ‘If you find the cat come back and we’ll talk about it. If you don’t find the cat, don’t come back.’

  ‘I’m doing it for nothing?’

  ‘You’re doing it for Mrs Roberts,’ Maggie reminded him. ‘If you’re lucky you might get a job at the end of it.’

  ‘So I’ve got two choices?’ Joe said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  'How do I go about finding a cat?'

  Maggie smiled sweetly, ‘Just ask yourself what Columbo would do in a situation like this.’

  She pushed the photograph of the cat across the desk. ‘You might need this.’

  Joe picked up the photograph and studied it. ‘Tom cat is he?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Probably getting his leg over in some backyard,’ he said, moving towards the door.

  'Just so there are no misunderstandings, nothing is going to happen,' Maggie told him.

  Joe turned and looked questioningly at her.

  'Don't get any ideas,’ said Maggie. ‘This isn’t some Hollywood movie. This is real life in downtown Ladywood.'

  ‘The thought never crossed my mind,’ Joe told her, looking around the dingy office.

  ‘You haven’t stopped ogling me since you got here,’ Maggie pointed out.

  ‘You got a bloke?’ asked Joe, feeling himself redden.

  ‘That’s not really relevant,’ said Maggie.

  'Are you gay?' Joe asked, raising his eyebrows.

  'Not that it's any of your business but no, I am not,' Maggie said indignantly.

  'Just like to tick all the boxes,' Joe said as he opened the door to leave. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t do office involvements. Gets too complicated.’

  ‘Sounds like you speak from experience.’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’ve dipped my toe in the water a couple of times,’ Joe nodded. ‘Anyway, I’m too old for you.’

  ‘You’re probably too old for my mother,’ Maggie told him. ‘But I get the feeling that wouldn’t bother you too much.’

  ‘On that note.’ Joe winced and gave a dismissive wave as he slipped out through the door.

  Chapter 5

  Joe took a bus into the city centre. Almost inevitably, he gravitated along New Street and down the arcade to where Penny’s book shop was snuggled. She was serving a customer when he entered so he browsed the new books section until she finished.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said brightly when he approached the counter.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Joe said. ‘Break out the Garibaldi’s while you’re at it.

  Penny went to the small ro
om at the back of the shop and filled the kettle.

  ‘Fancy a pizza tonight?’ asked Joe, as he followed her.

  ‘I’ve got my Welsh class,’ she said, over her shoulder.

  ‘Welsh class?’ Joe frowned.

  ‘At the Brasshouse Centre. It starts tonight. I told you about it.’

  ‘I thought you were joking,’ Joe said. ‘Why would you want to learn Welsh?’

  ‘It interests me. My grandparents on my Mother’s side were Welsh.’

  ‘What time do you finish?’

  ‘Eight o’clock, but I’ve said I’ll go for a drink afterwards.’

  ‘With a bloke?’

  ‘Michael. He’s on the course as well.’

  ‘Don’t tell me his grandparents were Welsh,’ Joe said.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘But he’s discovered a sudden interest in the Welsh language? Where has he suddenly popped up from?’ Joe asked.

  ‘He hasn’t suddenly popped up, we were at Uni together. And I’ve seen him at the Arts Centre a few times.’

  ‘Was that the bloke I saw you talking to last week,’ asked Joe.

  ‘Yes.’ Penny looked a little uncomfortable.

  ‘Out on a date with me and you were chatting somebody up,’ Joe said indignantly.

  ‘I didn’t chat him up,’ Penny protested.

  ‘You managed to invite him to your Welsh class.’

  ‘Don’t do the jealous thing Joe,’ Penny groaned. ‘I hate all that. You don’t own me for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘I just don’t like being dumped,’ Joe said forlornly.

  ‘I’m not dumping you,’ said Penny.

  ‘You didn’t ask me if I wanted to learn Welsh,’ Joe said.

  ‘Do you?’ asked Penny.

  ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ Joe conceded. ‘But it would’ve been nice if you’d asked.’

  Penny put her arms round Joe’s neck and held him close. ‘Joe, I’m sorry but I never wanted to get too serious.’

  ‘Just good friends?’

  ‘Always,’ Penny smiled. She passed Joe a mug of coffee.

  ‘You slept with him yet?’ asked Joe.

  Penny looked uncomfortable. ‘If you mean, have we been to bed, then yes. But we were wide awake the whole time.’ She laughed nervously, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing.