by Mia Carson
I chewed on my bottom lip a moment. “No, I don’t mind you talking to them, but I’d rather not give you their names. What if, instead, you go with me when I meet with them. I’ll introduce you, and you can talk to them then. Is that okay?”
“I’d rather conduct my interviews in private.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll wait outside by the car. I have nothing to hide, but my clients appreciate discretion, and having a PI—can I call you that?”
She smiled as if she’d heard it dozens of times before and waved her hand. “That’s fine.”
“Okay. And having a PI show up on their door unannounced to ask questions wouldn’t be my first choice.” I could tell she didn’t like my answer, but I didn’t budge.
“Okay, we’ll do it your way.”
“Thanks, Ms. Jacobs.”
“Tanya.”
“Tanya,” I repeated. “Shall I pick you up here, say nine in the morning? You can ride with me. You can follow me around for a few days and see what I do.”
“That’s going to burn through your deposit very quickly if I do that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care. Well, I do care. Money isn’t the most important thing, but it is something. If you see what I do, maybe that’ll give you a better idea of where to start digging.”
She bobbed her head as her lips twisted to the side. “Maybe.”
I rose and stuck my hand out. “Thank you. I’ll be here at nine o’clock sharp.”
She also rose and took my hand in a firm handshake. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I turned and walked out.
I dropped into my car but didn’t start it. I’d gone into Clearview Investigations expecting to find some fat, grizzled, old fart with a three-day beard, wearing a fedora and a loosely knotted tie, a half-empty fifth of bourbon sitting on the corner of the desk. What I’d found couldn’t have been more different. A small woman, very attractive, neatly attired in a dark grey dress skirt with a matching blazer over a pale-yellow blouse. She was very professional and seemed confident in her abilities.
I hoped that confidence was warranted. I’d told her the rumors had been picked up by news organizations and was starting to hurt my business. It was true, but I hadn’t stressed how true. My name was my brand, and it was being dragged through the mud. I’d already lost one of my private classes. The woman hadn’t said it was because of rumors, but in Hollywood, everyone was very sensitive to public opinion. She probably didn’t want her name associated with mine in case the rumors turned out to be true, and no amount of assurances from me made any difference.
I started my car and pulled the paddle to put it into gear. I didn’t mind Tanya following me around for a few days. Hopefully she would see for herself I wasn’t the guy someone was trying to make me out to be, and maybe she would see something I didn’t. That was supposed to be her schtick, after all. Once I knew who, or why, I had lawyers to take care of the problem. But it all started with Tanya.
She said David Jacobs was her father. Robert Thisliski, one of my private clients, and the man who David had helped, couldn’t say enough nice things about him. As I pulled into traffic and wailed away, I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Tanya
I had an office, but I worked out of my car. The office was so I had a place for mail delivery and so when a customer wanted to meet in private, I had an office to meet with them in. I was sitting at my desk, surfing the internet, following up on the rumors about Neil’s behavior.
I’d spent a couple of hours digging after he left, and I could see what he was talking about. The rumors were everywhere, though subtle. Twitter, Facebook, Google+, and other social media had a few messages, but they weren’t being inundated. Assuming Neil was telling the truth, whoever was orchestrating the campaign was trying to get the message to spread organically, which was smart. If Twitter suddenly lit up with ten-thousand messages of Neil getting grabby with some woman, most people would instinctually know it was probably a smear campaign. It also made it a hell of a lot harder to track down the source.
My outer door opened and Neil stepped into my office. Yesterday he was dressed for business, but today he was wearing shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt. I’d gotten a pretty good first impression of what was under those clothes yesterday, but his shorts and tight t-shirt allowed me to see just how impressive he was. He was seriously ripped, but he wasn’t bulky like a power lifter or body builder. My mouth went slightly dry. I’d had a crush on him when he was on television in the Olympics, but he was even better looking now. No, he wouldn’t have to force himself on a woman. Most women would probably be panting to do whatever he asked them to.
“Ready?” he asked with a smile, pushing his sunglasses up on his head.
I shook myself out of my momentary daze. “Yeah,” I said, pushing back from the desk.
“You’re hardly dressed for working out,” he teased as he held open the door for me.
I grinned. I was dressed as I always dressed… skirt, blouse, blazer and comfortable pumps with a low heel. “I’m not working out. I’m asking questions, remember?”
“Oh, right,” he said with a smile, a very nice smile, I had to admit.
We stepped into the parking lot and I locked my door. Clearview Investigations was tucked into the corner of a credit union. I rented the two small offices from them, and had for years. Dad had set the deal up, talking the institution into renting him space in exchange for doing background checks on new employees. The credit union had walled up one of their two side entrances and converted the space and an adjacent office into rental space. For six hundred a month, I had the space and all my utilities paid, along with plenty of parking, around the clock video security, and a door with my name on it. Not a bad deal considering the same space would be three or four times that amount anywhere else, and all it cost me was a pro-bono background check on a potential new employee three or four times a year.
He led me to a bright red Porsche 911, the low, sleek, car looking like it was doing 80mph just sitting there. “That’s your car?”
“Yeah, why?” He opened the passenger door for me and I smiled in thanks as I dropped down into the low-slung machine.
“No reason. Just asking questions.”
“Because that’s what you do.”
“You’re catching on.”
“What do you drive?”
“A 2015 Honda Accord.”
He smiled at me as the car thrummed to life. “Not very sexy. I thought PIs drove cars like classic T-Birds, Firebirds, Ferraris, and stuff like that.”
“Only on television. How are you supposed to tail someone in a bright red Ferrari?”
“You do that a lot? Tail someone?”
“Sometimes. Cheating spouses rarely announce where they’re having clandestine affair, so you wait outside their house until they leave, and you follow them. Most of my job is me sitting around waiting for something to happen. The job isn’t nearly as glamorous as it is on television.”
“You have a gun?”
“Sure.”
“You have it with you?”
“Does it matter?”
He glanced at me as he worked his way through traffic, his eyes playful. “No, not really. I was just wondering if I had to worry about pissing you off.”
“No worries. I have my weapon with me, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never pulled it on anyone.” I paused and decided if he was going to dish it out, he was going to have to take it. “Still, don’t piss me off. I have a black belt in Jujitsu. I wouldn’t want to have to kick your ass.”
“Yes, ma’am…I mean no, ma’am,” he chuckled. “So that’s why you drive such a blah car?”
“Yeah. A big part of private investigation is going about your business without being noticed. A white Honda Accord is as near an invisible car as there is. My previous car was a silver 2010 Toyota Camry. How am I supposed to sit and take photos of cheating spouses, without being noticed, in
a tomato like this?”
“Tomato!” he cried in mock outrage. “I’ll have you know this is a finely crafted German automobile!”
“No offense, but it doesn’t exactly fly under the radar, does it?” I asked, nodding at his door as two women oozed past in a SUV, checking out the car and the driver.
He smiled and nodded at them in acknowledgement. “No. I guess not. Is that what you do? Catch cheating spouses?”
I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. That’s well over half my business. I also do quite a few background checks for employers, along with some loss prevention, serving of papers, tracking down deadbeat parents, that sort of thing.”
“Ever done anything like this before?”
“First time. I’m looking forward to the change.”
“Glad to give you a break from your routine. I just wish it was someone other than me.”
I kept my comment to myself. I was still pretty sure this investigation would go nowhere, and I was just taking his money, but he wanted me to do it and I’d give it my best shot.
We wound our way through the canyons to where the movie stars lived. I appreciated the fact he didn’t try to show off his car or his driving skills and kept his speed reasonable as the car purred along. He pulled to a stop in front of a massive iron gate set inside an ivy-covered wall. I could just see the roof of a house peeking above the landscaping inside the fence. He pressed a button on a speaker box.
What do you want? a gruff male voice barked from the speaker.
“To find out if you’ve been doing your exercises like I told you to, you crotchety old fart.” Neil looked at me and grinned as the gates slowly swung open. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Who is it?”
“Robert Thisliski, but you’d probably know him as Rob Thistle.”
“The movie star?”
“One and the same.”
“I didn’t know he was still alive.”
He snickered as we crept through the gate and up the drive toward the house. “He’s too ornery to die. He had a heart attack about three years ago, and he’s been trying to mend his ways. He’s given up the drinking, smoking, and womanizing, and started working out.” He looked at me as we stopped in the circular drive in front of the castle-like house. “Don’t let him get to you. His reputation as an asshole is well deserved, but he doesn’t really mean anything by it. Just let it roll off you.”
“I can handle myself.”
He nodded as he opened his door. “I never thought you couldn’t.”
Neil led me to the door. Thistle’s house was really something. Made of brick, with immaculate grounds, it reminded me of a castle with its round, turret-like rooms at the corners of the house, and the incredibly steep roof. He rang the bell, and I smiled as chimes that sounded like a clock tower rang inside.
“’Bout time you got here,” Rob grumbled as he opened the door.
“Good to see you too,” Neil replied, leading me into the home.
I couldn’t remember a lot about Rob Thistle, but what I could remember was he was a famously bad-tempered actor and womanizer in the early 80s. He was one of those guys women flocked to no matter how badly he treated them. I never thought he was that handsome either, but there was no denying the man’s talent. He’d won four Oscars and had been nominated for a bunch more. The only reason I knew about the Oscars was because they were on prominent display in the entry.
I glanced around as I followed the two men through the house. The entry of Thistle’s house was larger than my entire apartment and dazzled with polished oak and marble with a wide curved staircase leading to a balcony, and more rooms, above.
“Who’s she?” Rob asked as he turned towards an elaborate home gymnasium.
I didn’t know much about exercise equipment, but the room appeared to be outfitted with every piece of equipment imaginable, all expensive, I was sure. Just the equipment in this room was worth more than all my assets combined.
“Tanya Jacobs, daughter of David Jacobs. David passed away and she took over the business,” Neil explained.
“A woman private dick? What’s this fucking world coming to?” Rob looked at me then softened slightly. “Sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man. He really got my dick out of a sausage grinder in a palimony suit. You any good?”
I grinned. “He taught me everything I know.”
“Great, but that’s not the question I asked, is it?”
I sucked on my teeth a moment. “Better than he was,” I finally said, refusing to back down.
Rob looked at me, then nodded. “Confidence. I like that.” He glanced at Neil. “If she’s telling the truth, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“You ready to get started?” Neil asked.
“No. I’m not feeling it today,” Rob grumbled in return.
“Too bad. Have you been doing the routine I set for you?”
“Who do you think you are, ordering me the fuck around in my own home?”
“I’m the guy you hired to whip your sorry ass into shape so you’ll be around to terrorize people for another twenty years, that’s who. Now, have you been doing the routine?”
“Yeah, goddammit. Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate you?”
“Not in the last ten minutes. Let’s get to work, and no slacking off. You’ve got an audience today. You don’t want the pretty lady to think you’re a pussy, do you?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Neil’s face split into a wide grin as he glanced at me, his eyes dancing in merriment. I looked away to hide my smile. He was enjoying himself.
For the next two hours, I watched as Neil and Rob went through routines, exchanging scathing insults the entire time.
“Watch your form, dumbass!” Neil growled as Rob strained at a machine. “You want to wreck your shoulders?”
“You want to do it?” Rob puffed.
Neil stepped in and adjusted Rob’s position slightly as the man grimaced at the weight. Neil had him working with light weights, but lots of reps.
“What the hell are you doing back there? Adding weight?” Rob groaned as he pushed again.
Neil laughed. “Come on! Two more! You can give me two more, can’t you? That’s it! Give me one more! Come on, old man! Get it up! One more!” The moment Rob got the weight up, Neil stepped in and gabbed the handles, helping Rob lower the weight.
“When was the last time I told you I fucking hate you?”
Neil grinned. “About three minutes ago. We’re done for the day. Go sit in your sauna for twenty minutes or so, and drink lots of water. Water! No booze. Then grab a shower. Same time next week?”
“No. You’re fucking fired,” Rob snarled as he mopped at his face with a towel.
Neil laughed. “Okay. I’ll see you then. Listen, can you do me a favor?”
“Why should I do anything for you, you sadistic son-of-a-bitch?”
“Tanya would like to ask you a few questions, in private. Would you mind talking to her?”
“What kind of questions?”
“About the problem I told you about.”
“Just fucking ignore them. Jesus Christ, Gibson. They’re just rumors. Do you know how many rumors there were of me sticking my cock in some bitch?” He paused and smiled with a shrug. “Of course, with me, most of them were true.”
“Will you do it?”
Rob looked at me with a lecherous smile. “Want to join me in the sauna?”
I smiled at him. During the workout, I’d gotten wise to his game. “I didn’t bring anything to wear.”
Rob’s smile spread. “That’s okay. I always sauna naked.”
I pretended to think about it. “I would, but between the heat and your workout, if I got you alone I’m afraid I’d give you another heart attack.”
Rob burst into laughter. “You got a mouth on you, and I like that.” He glanced at Neil. “Sure, I’ll talk to her.”
Neil nodded his head. “I’ll wait out by the car. Come on
out when you’re done.” He handed Rob a bottled water and nodded at me as he stepped out of the room.
“My dad worked for you?”
“Yeah, about fifteen years ago, I guess. I was living with this bitch, got tired of her shit, and threw her ass out. She sued me for palimony, despite the contract she’d signed. David did some digging and found out I wasn’t the first shmuck she’d tried to con. She would get some guy on the hook, let them fuck her for a year or two, then get bitchy until they threw her out. Then she’d sue and settle. Pretty good racket, I guess. Anyway, your dad dug that shit up on her, even though she was changing her name each time, and that shut that shit down right fast. She didn’t get shit from me.” He grinned. “It was a pain in the ass, but the fucking I was getting made it worthwhile. There wasn’t anything that bitch wouldn’t do.”
I nodded. That was before my time, but Rob’s story wasn’t that much different than most of my clients. Times changed, but people didn’t.
“Mind if I record this?” I asked, holding up my phone.
Back in the day, Dad had to lug around maps, tape recorders, cameras and note books. I had a big digital SLR for surveillance, but everything else was done with my phone.
“No.”
I started the recorder app and stated the date, time, who I was with, and the case. Later I’d transcribe the conversation into my case file.
“What do you think about Neil? Think he’s doing what the rumors say?”
“That he’s fucking bitches all around town? Yeah, probably. That he’s harassing or raping them? Probably not.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Rob repeated. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t fuck him if you got the chance?”
“Mr. Thistle, Mr. Gibson is my client.”
Rob waved his hand dismissively, his face twisting in annoyance. “Who the fuck cares? When I was still working, I’d fuck my female lead, all the female supporting cast, and half the crew. That don’t mean shit.”
“It does to me.”
“Fine. So, he’s not your client. Then would you fuck him?” When I hesitated, he smirked and continued. “That’s what I thought. Neil can get all the pussy he wants. He doesn’t have to harass anyone. Hell, my own granddaughter would give him a blowjob in the foyer if he’d ask her too.”