Sands of Time
Page 18
“I don’t think Linda should tell you any more.” Janet stated. “We don’t know anything about your qualifications.” She looked around my office, staring hard at my Felix the Cat clock on the wall. It’s the kind where the tail ticks away the seconds and the eyes move in the opposite direction. A gift from a client a while back. I love that clock.
“My qualifications? Isn’t Cam’s reference good enough? I mean, he did say I was good… right?”
“Yes, but…” she paused still looking around my office, “you aren’t exactly in Liberty Place. I nodded.
“Janet he doesn’t…” Linda tried to jump in, apparently feeling uncomfortable.
“No, it’s OK Linda. I am thirty-six years old and have been a licensed private detective for six years now. I am about six foot two inches tall and weigh in in the neighborhood of two-hundred pounds. I’m a cancer and my birthday is in July. More importantly I am a private detective… I detect things… find things… help people. You need something or someone found, I’m all over it. Husband cheating? I can help. Husband hitting you, I’m there. I don’t do custody stuff. I’ll find your husband and boy but then its your problem. I won’t remove a child unless there is imminent danger and under no circumstances will I intervene in any dispute that does not have danger written all over it. I am licensed in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to carry a concealed firearm and I do. Regularly. Betsy is a Walther PPK. I’m a pretty good shot, too, if I don’t say so myself.” And there was that Bob Barker smile again.
“Betsy?” Linda questioned with a small smile.
“Yup, that’s my girl.” And I pulled Betsy out of her holster and placed her on the desk for all to see.
“Mr. Carter!” Janet stood and quickly got behind the chair. Clearly because everyone knows that leather chairs are bullet proof.
“Linda,” I reached inside my desk drawer and pulled out a hello legal pad, “do you have pictures?”
“Pictures?” Linda looked confused.
“Yes, pictures. Sammy? Lenny?”
“Here,” Janet reached inside her purse and produced two formal pictures. One of a man in his late twenties and one of a young brown haired boy.
“These Lenny and Sammy?” Linda nodded. The whole dynamic between these two was mind boggling. But I was still enjoying staring at Janet’s svelte form so it was all good.
“Here,” I handed the pad to Linda, “why don’t you write down the address of the school and your address for me. I’ll need the names of Sammy’s teachers and some contact information for you, too.”
“Wait,” the annoying woman spoke again, “we haven’t hired you yet. Are we on the clock now?” Now she’s concerned with money?
“No,” I began slowly, “I don’t charge by the hour. I charge a flat fee and consider this a…” I waved my hands in the air and sat back in my squeaky chair, “a free consultation.”
Janet looked at me very hard for a moment before saying, through clenched teeth, “Fine. Write down the addresses and names, Linda.” She turned and stalked out of my office. Linda looked at me, uncomfortably again before scrawling down the information and handing me the pad.
“She’s not always like this. She’s just scared. You know, for Sammy.”
I nodded, “and I’m sure you are too?” That seemed to catch her off guard.
“Oh, of course.” She said with a small laugh. We exchanged finalities and I promised I’d be in touch once I’d spoken to some people.
I didn’t know what to make of those two. One thing my keen detective instincts told me was that either Linda was blessed by the gods with a body that never quit or she did not have a seven year old son.
About the Author
Bruce lives in Suburban Philadelphia with his wife and four children. In addition to writing, he enjoys baseball, playing guitar, reading, church, cooking and being a dad.
Bruce grew up at the Jersey Shore and graduated from Admiral Farragut Academy in Pine Beach, NJ where
he first fell in love with reading and writing under the guidance of Jeff Cain and Verne Romefelt. From those early influences Bruce was introduced to and fell in love with Shakespeare, Marlow, Henry James and Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Other Works by Bruce A. Sarte:
Philadelphia Story: A Lance Carter Detective Novel
Towering Pines Volume One: Room 509
The Star of Christmas
Best Friends Forever
The Show Must Go On
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