I was momentarily speechless. It wasn’t often that I was caught off guard. Roger’s accuracy had me mystified. That, and a stranger standing at my door carrying an attaché case and telling me that he was looking for Rosey who lived in Sterling, Virginia. Not the usual sort of visitor I have.
Sam nudged my left leg as if to say that I needed to say something appropriate to this stranger standing just outside my apartment doorway. I was glad that Sam had immediately left his restful perch on the sofa and had joined me at the door. Since I had been lounging on this cold, rainy day, I had no firearm on my person. I felt appreciably vulnerable until Sam touched my leg. BFF.
“Oh, forgive me,” I said rather clumsily. “I was expecting someone else due any moment now. You surprised me.”
The man at the door looking for Rosey was approximately 5 feet 7 inches tall. The reason I knew his approximate height was my mother had the same vertical dimensions. I was looking down at him as well.
He was well dressed – light gray suit, white shirt, blue tie, and about twenty pounds overweight. At least twenty pounds overweight. I might have underestimated his unnecessary girth. His brown hair was only long enough to permit a part on the left side. He was graying on the temples. His shoes were polished and his brown leather attaché case gave him the appearance of importance.
“I’m Marvin Dillingham,” he repeated as he extended his right hand to greet me. The left hand was carrying the case.
I reluctantly shook hands with him.
“Mr. Dillingham, why have you come here looking for Roosevelt Washington?”
“I need to speak with Mr. Washington,” he said. “It’s important.”
“I got that part. Why did you come here?”
“I understand from a reliable source that you and Mr. Washington are friends.”
“I see. And this reliable source?”
“I did some research on Mr. Washington and … well, finding you was a happy accident. Oh, and I am assuming you to be Clancy Evans.”
“I’m overjoyed,” I said in a flat voice without much expression. “So, if you did diligent research, then you should know where Mr. Washington lives.”
“I know his residence to be in Sterling, Virginia. My diligence uncovered that much. May I come in?” he said.
“I don’t know you, Mr. Dillingham. I’m not in the habit of allowing strangers to come into my home unless they are seeking my services as a client.”
“What type of services do you offer?” he said.
“So when you came across me – Clancy Evans, that happy accident you referred to – you didn’t discover the services I offer?”
He smiled.
“I see. You were just testing. Trying to be sure I was who you guessed me to me?”
“My research on you was fairly thorough. I make it a habit to at least go the second mile,” he said.
“And what did that research reveal to you about me?”
“Private detective with an attitude and a solid reputation.”
“Solid, huh?”
“Or so I was led to believe.”
“Reliable source?”
“I’ve used it in prior … searches.”
“It would appear that whoever informed you about me, told you some of the truth.”
“Then may I then come inside and talk about with you about locating Mr. Washington for me?”
“We can talk. Come in,” I moved to the door side of my threshold and permitted him to pass. “You can sit over there on the couch. I suggest you sit on the left side. Sam likes to occupy the right side.”
Dillingham stopped midway to the couch and turned back towards me.
“Sam?” he said.
I pointed to the large black Labrador standing next to me eyeing Dillingham cautiously. Sam’s eyes were focused with unwavering intensity on the man in our apartment. I had the feeling that Sam was restraining himself from growling.
“What a majestic animal,” Dillingham said and then turned and proceeded to sit down on the left side of the couch.
Sam walked methodically to the right side, slowly climbed onto his perch, and then sat down on his haunches – all of this without taking his eyes off Marvin Dillingham. To his credit, Dillingham didn’t seem to be unnerved by the watchful eye of my fearless canine. On the other hand, Marvin Dillingham had no first-hand experience with said dog.
“Where are you from, Mr. Dillingham?” I said.
“I work in Washington, D.C.”
“Live there as well?”
“Close by.”
“You drove here from D.C.”
“Indeed. Lovely trip.”
“No doubt. Tell me why you want to find Mr. Washington.”
“Well, that’s sort of between me and Mr. Washington. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I simply have some business with him.”
“I see. Let me explain how I work in my profession. If you’re going to hire me to help you find Mr. Washington, then you’re going to have to tell me what your business is with him.”
“My, my, you are direct. I was informed of your straightforwardness when your name was given.”
“I thought you said that you found me through your research.”
“I did in fact say that. But your name came to me from a friend. After I had your name, then I did the research. I tried to do some research on Mr. Washington as well.”
“Hard to come by good intel on Mr. Washington,” I said.
“True enough.”
“So, do you want my help or not?”
“I just need you to tell me where I can find Mr. Washington.”
“That’s not going to happen, Marvin, unless you give me more information. I don’t know you at all. As far as I can tell at the moment, you could be lying about yourself. I need to know what business you have with Mr. Washington.”
I decided to continue using Dillingham’s formal moniker for my friend, Rosey. No reason to divulge my informality with my friend.
“So you must know me before you can simply tell me where I can find Mr. Washington?”
“I think you’re getting the hang of it.”
“What if I choose not to hire you to help me?”
“Then you can leave.”
“So you’re not going to tell me where he is.”
“Not unless you trust me enough to hire me.”
“Will you at least provide me with a working telephone number?”
“No.”
“You’re not being very cooperative,” he said. He was not smiling.
“I have no reason to be cooperative.”
“I drove all the way to your place from D.C. I would think that the least you could do would be to give me a phone number or a location.”
“You would be wrong. In my line of work, Marvin, information in the wrong hands can be dangerous.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Well said. And, I don’t know you. Those two points often work in conjunction with each other for me.”
“Seems that we are at a stalemate.”
“Seems.”
“May I have something to drink?” he said.
“Name your poison.”
“I think I can smell coffee in the air. Coffee would be good.”
“Coffee it is.”
I moved to the kitchen but not before I took a quick glance back at Sam who was still completely focused on Marvin Dillingham at the opposite end of Sam’s couch. I knew that if Marvin moved away from that position, Sam would alert me without hesitation. The ensuing growl would be loud enough to warn me just prior to Sam jumping into Dillingham’s path to stop him from whatever irregular direction he might be headed. My fail safe system.
I retrieved a mug from the kitchen cabinet, plunked it down loud enough for anyone in my apartment to hear, and then quickly eased my way into my bedroom to retrieve my 9mm. Just in case.
After I conveniently placed my Glock in my back holster, I covered it with my shirttail, poured Marvin’s mug fu
ll of coffee and headed in the direction of the couch.
I stopped after I passed through the open threshold between the kitchen and the so-called living room of my place. It was also my study, den, library, and work area. Rogers lived there as well.
“I drink mine black,” I said. “Forgive me. I didn’t ask you how you preferred it. You want anything in yours?”
“Ah, yes, please. A smidgen of cream and a trace of sugar.”
I turned back and reentered to the kitchen.
“Milk, no cream,” I said after I opened my refrigerator door.
“Milk will be fine.”
I completed my assignment of a smidgen and a trace. Walked to the couch, handed him his cup and returned to my chair. I felt better now that I had my firearm uncomfortably lodged at my backside.
The jury was still out on Marvin Dillingham.
I watched him drink his coffee. Sam watched as well. He had no way of knowing, but Rogers was videotaping him. It was an automatic arrangement between us whenever a potential client entered our apartment. Provided me with some documentation. And evidence, if need be. Rogers also had permission, as if she would ever need permission, to video and record anyone, anytime, in our apartment.
“If you will not tell me what I would like to know regarding Mr. Washington, may I ask you some other questions?”
“You can ask.”
“Bravo,” he said.
Don’t usually have folks in my apartment say bravo very often.
“Where does Mr. Washington work?”
“Washington, D.C.”
“Really?”
“Ironic, huh?”
“Wish I had known that,” he confessed.
“Might need to step-up your research in the future.”
“It seems that we have gotten off on the wrong foot, so to speak.”
“So to speak.”
“What if I wanted to employ Mr. Washington?”
“For what end?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know what he does. So, tell me, how would I go about trying to hire him?”
“Let me get this straight, Marvin. You don’t know what Mr. Washington does and yet you want to hire him to work for you.”
“You make me sound silly.”
“Well, Marvin, to tell you the truth, you’ve done a pretty fair job of that all by yourself. I think you might consider regrouping and coming at this another way.”
He drank his coffee slowly. He took several sips. He seemed to be rather pensive at the moment.
“What do you suggest?” he said.
I walked over to Rogers, retrieved one of my business cards, and handed it to him.
“This is you,” he said.
“Bingo, Marvin. I can see you’re already at the top of your game.”
“I was led to believe you were a nice person.”
“Some days. Other days, not so much.”
“This just gives me your name, profession, and phone number.”
“What else do you need?” I said.
“Does this mean that I can call you?”
“Tomorrow morning. Not before nine, say. Call me and let’s see what happens next.”
“But if you are just as oblique tomorrow as you are now, then what good will this do me?”
“The chance you will have to take, Marvin. Spend the night here in Norfolk. Get a good night’s sleep. Eat a healthy breakfast tomorrow morning. Then call that number after nine o’clock and let’s see what happens.”
“You are a strange bird, Miss Evans.”
“And you thought I was oblique.”
3
My friend Roosevelt Washington could be described as a specimen of a man. Tall, muscular, and quite handsome would be the general flow of any generic rendering of his outward appearance. One would need only to talk with him for a few minutes along the lines of some serious subjects in order to ascertain his mental acumen. Otherwise, a person might get the idea that Rosey was rather casual and oftentimes flippant with his sideways remarks. He obviously spent too much time with me.
I knew him along both lines. At 6’3” and generally in the neighborhood of 230 to 245 pounds, he stood out in most crowds. He was educated at UVA, Harvard Law, and Oxford. Except for the fact that he disdained the title, I could have referred to him as Dr. Roosevelt Drexel Washington. I never introduced him that way. He might spit in my eye if I ever did.
He knocked on the door and entered before I could open it. He sometimes would push the doorbell button out of spite, just to hear it try to buzz and then end up coughing. He knew it bothered Rogers. Since he had already called ahead and knew we expected him, he had no reason to wait for a formal greeting by the door.
“You might want to keep your door locked,” Rosey said as he sat down on the sofa.
“It’s a safe neighborhood,” I countered.
“It’s an ugly world,” he said.
“I have protection.”
Rosey pointed to Sam curled up and sleeping soundly at the other end of the sofa.
I turned my back to Rosey revealing my Glock securely stationed in my holster.
“A handgun and a dog,” he said. “Is that it?”
“I have my wits.”
“If they rush into your apartment and surprise you, I don’t think the dog and gun will suffice.”
“Says you.”
“Says me. I think you should lock your doors.”
“I have Rogers as well.”
He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“I saw that,” Rogers said.
“Eyes and ears always alert,” Rosey said.
“My sophisticated DNA,” she said.
It was late afternoon. I enticed Rosey to take me to dinner. I drove since I knew he might be tired.
“Pizza or burgers?”
“That’s it?”
“Simple life. Few cases. Money’s tight.”
“Right. It’s been a while since pizza, let’s go for that.”
I drove us to the closest pizza place. It also happened to be the best pizza place. We ordered a large deluxe which meant one or two ingredients shy of everything known to humankind. It was their specialty.
I told him about Marvin Dillingham while we waited.
“And you don’t know what he wants with me?”
“Nope,” I said and took a swig of the cola. I have an unwritten rule which I seldom break. Beer or cola with pizza. Cola is my first choice simply because I have this insatiable sweet tooth.
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“And he wouldn’t say.”
“Apparently above my pay grade.”
“Most things are.”
“I get that a lot.”
“So where is this Marvin Dillingham?”
“Somewhere in Norfolk, or headed back to D.C.”
“You don’t know.”
“That would be correct. At least with any certainty.”
“Why those two choices?”
“I told him to stay the night in Norfolk, sleep, eat a good breakfast, and then call me after nine in the morning.”
“You allowed him to choose.”
“I did.”
“But he did not confide in you as to what he might do.”
“Bingo. You know, for a guy who works for the government, you can be quite shrewd in your deductions.”
“Obviously my association with my present company,” Rosey said.
“Obviously.”
“I think I should meet Mr. Dillingham,” he said just as our pizza pie arrived.
I finished my first slice and was halfway through my second and final piece. I didn’t want to make a complete pig of myself. Besides, of the eight slices the pizza maker had cut for us, I knew that Rosey could and likely would devour five. That left me three. I would eat my two here at the table and take my third piece home. I would then place it solemnly in the refrigerator and then retrieve it early tomorrow morning with the idea of enjoying a b
it of cold pizza with my hot coffee. Strange but true.
“You have an opinion about Marvin Dillingham?” he said.
“Rogers believes him to be a fastidious bureaucratic type who likely does good work at whatever work he does for some agency in D.C.”
“Kinda vague for Rogers. And you?”
I chewed my mouthful, and then swallowed before answering. I downed some cola and shook my head.
“I have nothing.”
“No opinion.”
“He didn’t give me much to work with. He refused to answer my questions, so I told him zilch about you.”
“Zilch.”
“I did tell him you worked in D.C.”
“You tell him what and where?”
“Nary a tidbit.”
“I look forward to meeting this fastidious bureaucrat tomorrow.”
“If he calls,” I said.
“You think he’ll call?” Rosey said.
“Only if he really wants to find you.”
Next morning I was sitting in my grungy but comfortable blue chair relishing my cold piece of pizza along with my hot coffee. Sam’s head was resting comfortably on the arm of the couch while his eyes were glued on me. Actually they were glued on my pizza. He was waiting. Hoping. Lusting.
Weak person that I am, I handed him my final two bites which he wolfed down without hesitation. I swear he smiled at me. The phone rang as I finished my second cup of coffee.
I looked at the clock on the wall beside my apartment door. It was 9:01. Rogers answered the phone and I talked.
“Clancy here.”
“Good morning, Miss Evans. This is Marvin Dillingham. You told me to call.”
“Good morning, Marvin. I hope you rested well.”
“What happens next?”
“Yikes. I guess the meeting with me yesterday has caused you to be a little more succinct in your approach.”
“You had a profound effect upon me, Miss Evans.”
His words and tone did not sound like a compliment.
“I have been told that by others. Okay, let’s get right to it. Would you like to come over to my apartment and meet Mr. Washington?”
“You are not playing games with me, right?”
“Nothing but the truth.”
“I will be right there,” he said and ended the call.
Out Jumps Jack Death: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 8) Page 3