The Bogey Man

by Marja McGraw

  “For how long?”

  I knew things were going my way when he asked that. “For as long as it takes.”

  “Oh. What about eating?”

  “We’ll stop and pick up sandwiches on our way.” Then came the clincher. “And we’ll buy some drinks, too. We have to be self-contained.”

  He threw me a quick glance. “Sounds more like a party than serious business.”

  “You’ll find out how much of a party it is in due time.”

  I drove to a convenience store where we bought some pre-made sandwiches and I picked up one small bottle of water for myself.

  “How long do you think we’ll be at this?” Chris asked.

  “I told you, as long as it takes.”

  He licked his lips. “Give me a guess, huh? I’d like some idea how to plan my day.”

  “When I’m on a job I don’t even try to make a plan. Sometimes I’m on a surveillance for two or three days, without ever seeing home.”

  “That long. I see.” Chris, hanging on to his sandwich, went back and picked up some mini donuts, a bag of corn chips, a candy bar, a bottle of water and two soft drinks. “That should do it.”

  I was sure that really would do it. He was playing right into my hands when he added a large cup of coffee.

  As he checked out he also bought a pack of smokes.

  “Not in my car,” I said, pointing at the cigarette pack. “I don’t smoke and you won’t either while you’re with me.”

  “But – ”

  “I said no. If you want to be a P.I. you’ll have to learn some self-discipline. Starting with no smoking in my car. You can do what you want in your own car, but not in mine. Besides, as a P.I. there will be times when you can’t smoke or you’ll give yourself away.”

  The clerk asked if I wanted a bag. I told him I did, knowing I’d use it for trash.

  Chris and I drove to the west side of town, parking a couple of houses down from an older home surrounded by dead brown grass and a couple of brownish-green diseased trees. The paint was peeling off the dirty white house. Poor thing looked pretty pathetic. The rest of the neighborhood wasn’t bad, with green mowed lawns and modest but well-kept homes.

  And the first lesson began.

  We sat for about an hour, chit chatting only when necessary. Explaining the case in more detail, I said that John Flagg’s car had been struck while he was driving through a parking lot. Someone had backed into him as he turned into an aisle. There was minor damage to his front bumper, but he claimed whiplash and other back problems. This seemed to be a common complaint from accident victims, sometimes real and sometimes fake.

  Chris finished his coffee and reached for the water.

  “You might want to hold off on that,” I suggested.

  “Why?”

  “There’s no restroom nearby.” Okay, I’d done my duty and warned him.

  He thought about it for a nanosecond. “Nah, I’ll be okay. I’m thirsty after eating all those corn chips. So while we’re sitting here, tell me why you do this job. Tell me why you like being a private eye.”

  I didn’t have to think about it before replying. “First, let me tell you that this isn’t an easy job. It’s hard work and you have a lot of sleepless nights. You have to keep good logs on virtually everything, and someone will still question you.

  “It can be dangerous, too. You were there the night that angry husband came after me. People aren’t happy if they find out you’re snooping into their lives. Think how you’d feel about it. And I wasn’t happy to find out you were watching me.”

  He nodded his understanding.

  “You might take a case that you think is frivolous. Remember, the case is no less important to your client just because you might think it’s silly. You have to understand people in this business. Actually, you use a lot of psychology both in dealing with clients, and in catching the bad guy. And you have to keep an open mind. Your client could turn out to be in the wrong.”

  “Why do people come to you instead of going to the coppers?” Chris asked.

  “Some people don’t trust the police, and some want to establish their own innocence. And there are those who simply don’t believe the police will care about their situation, like the wife of the guy you knocked down. The police wouldn’t care about him having an affair, but it’s important to the wife.”

  “So tell me something good about the business.” Obviously, he didn’t want to hear the negative side.

  “First, I want to remind you that this isn’t a game. It’s a tense and serious business for the most part. Having said that, when you can find a missing person or help a child before they’re hurt, or when you see a criminal brought to justice, then you’ll feel like you’ve earned your pay. Sometimes it’s even gratifying to save the insurance companies some money. There’s more, but those are the basics.”

  “Don’t you ever have any fun?”

  “All the time. But business is business, and that comes first. And your take on things can become bothersome if you don’t try to lighten things up. Not long ago I talked to a retired investigator. You know what he said? He said, ‘Life has no value. There’s no future in today’s world. Things are too wild and unexpected these days.’”

  “Pretty negative guy. Was he really feeling that bad about things?”

  “Yes. And now let’s get back to work. I don’t want to miss something because I was sitting here talking to you.”

  Chris sat quietly for a while. Before I could stop him, he opened the car door and stepped out. Opening the back door, he pulled out his suit jacket and hat and put them on. The brim of his hat had rolled upward, so he folded it down and moved the hat forward on his head. He climbed back into the car.

  “Chris, don’t do that again. You want Flagg to make us?” If Flagg saw us sitting in the car, the stakeout would be over.

  Chris opened his pack of smokes and pulled one out, sticking it between his lips.

  I glared at him.

  “Sandi, I don’t smoke. It’s all part of being Bogey. If I’m going to play the part, then I need to have cigarettes handy.”

  “You don’t smoke? Then why did you have to buy a new pack? Couldn’t you use the same ol’ cigarette all the time?”

  “Eventually they fall apart. I tend to play with them, and they get soggy from letting them hang out of the corner of my mouth.”

  “Ugh. Have you ever tried to smoke one?” This guy was full of surprises.

  “Never. Once. It made me sick.”

  “Huh.” I glanced over at the dirty white house. The allegedly injured party had come outside and made his way down the walkway, turning directly toward us.

  “Uh oh. We’ve been made. Let’s cut our losses and get out of here.” I reached for the ignition key.

  “Wait. Let’s see what his story is.” Chris pulled my hand away from the key.

  “No way. We’re outta here.” I reached for the key again.

  He stopped me. “Just cool your heels for a minute.”

  “Are you nuts? We don’t want a confrontation with this guy. Now let go of my hand!”

  “Don’t you have a gat?”

  “I seldom carry a gun. Let go of my hand.”

  “Excuse me.” The polite but unfriendly voice of Mr. Flagg came from the driver’s side window. “Why are you people parked here? You’ve been here for a good two hours. Uh, are you from the insurance company?”

  Chris stuck the unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Hey, pal. I gotta check the plumbing. Would that be a problem?” Chris was squirming in his seat.

  “Not a problem for me, but it could be for you.” The man definitely sounded testy and wasn’t about to let Chris use his bathroom.

  Chapter Twelve

  “It was worth a shot,” Chris said, trying to hold still. “I’ve really gotta go, so we’re gonna hit the bricks.” He let go of my hand.

  I started the engine, but Flagg reached into the car and grabbed my arm. I tried to shake him off
while Chris opened the door and jumped out of the car. The engine died.

  He ran around to the driver’s side and grabbed Flagg’s arm, effectively pulling him away from me. “Hey, pal, leave the dame alone.” He pulled the right side of his mouth back and grimaced, Bogey-fashion, apparently trying to intimidate Flagg.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Flagg pushed Chris’s hand off his arm.

  “I’m the private dick who’s gonna take you down.”

  Flagg started to laugh. “Oh yeah? Well, how’s this for taking somebody down, Mr. Dick?” He threw a punch that landed Chris on his butt. “And don’t come back,” Flagg said, jumping up and down and holding his arms up like a winning prize fighter.

  He stomped across the street and back to his house. Just before he slammed the door, he held his hand in the air and gave us a rude one-fingered good-bye wave.

  “Well,” I said, watching Chris shake his head, “you sure made a mess out of things.”

  “But I – ”

  “But nothing. I won’t be able to help the insurance company on this one. I’m going to have to tell them to get someone else for the job.” That wasn’t true. I’d taped the confrontation between Chris and Flagg, dropping the camera on the back seat after Flagg slammed his door. I couldn’t tell Chris that thanks to him I’d proved Flagg’s claims were bogus. If he knew, I’d never get rid of him.

  Chris pulled himself up and dusted off the back of his trousers. “I could have taken him. I wasn’t ready, that’s all.”

  “I’ve heard that one before.”

  Chris had done something stupid by stopping me from leaving and by confronting Flagg. I couldn’t let him get away with it. And I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t glanced past Chris and seen a familiar face coming down the walk of a house up the street.

  Apparently Jolly lived on this street, which surprised me. I would have expected him to live in a condo or someplace like that, not a lower middle class neighborhood like this one. As I watched I saw Pamela walk out of the house behind him, followed by a small child whom I recognized as her son. She pulled the door shut and turned the knob, checking to make sure it was locked. It must be her house.

  I could see their mouths moving and wished I could hear what they were saying. They looked quite serious.

  “Get in the car,” I said. If they saw Chris our cover would be blown. He was too recognizable.

  He must have heard something in my tone because he didn’t hesitate before hurrying around the front of the car and climbing in.

  “What’s going on?” He followed my gaze and grunted. “Ah, so that’s it. Who would have expected to see those two keeping company?”

  “Not me. I wonder what they’re up to.”

  Their discussion lasted about a minute more. Jolly suddenly smiled and held his hand out. Pamela took it and they shook, appearing to seal some type of deal.

  Thinking back to the night of the party, I recalled a few details. Pamela and Joshua had taken to each other in a hurry. Could they have already known each other? And now, here was Jolly. Had she already known him, too? But Felicity had invited Pamela at the last moment. Pamela didn’t move in the Hollywood industry circles. She was a quiet little waitress who worked two jobs and had a son. It didn’t make sense.

  If she didn’t move in those circles, then how did Jolly know her and where she lived? What was he doing at her house?

  “What are you thinking?” Chris asked. “I want to know how you’re wrapping your brain around this scenario.”

  “Wrapping my brain? That doesn’t sound very Bogeyish to me.” I quickly glanced at him and immediately turned back to Pamela and Jolly. “I’m wondering if it’s in any way possible that Pamela knew these people before the party. I’m having second thoughts about the blood on Pamela’s costume. And I’m wondering what they just agreed to.” And lastly, I’m wondering why I’m sharing this with you, Chris.

  “What are you going to do about this?”

  “Duck!”

  “You’re gonna duck?”

  “Get down.” I pushed his shoulder. “Pamela is turning this way.”

  “Did she see us?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m sure she saw the car. Good thing she doesn’t know what I drive.”

  “So what’s the dope? What are you gonna do?” Chris whispered his questions.

  “You don’t have to whisper. They can’t hear us. And to answer your question, I’m going to The Red Barn for lunch today. Pamela is wearing her uniform, so she must be on her way to work. I’ll see if she says anything about the visit from Jolly.”

  “You think she’d spill her guts to us?”

  “Us? There’s no us, Chris. I’ll ask Felicity to go with me. I told you, you’re not going to work on this case.”

  “Look, Sandi. I know you think I’m a big doofus, dressing and acting like Bogey and all, but I’m not. I can help you with this. Try me.” His expression had all the hope of a child talking to Santa Claus.

  I turned away, not wanting to fall for his endearing attitude.

  “Besides, I seriously want to learn this business and I want to do it right.”

  Glancing back at him, I saw something else on his face. It was a pained expression. He had an awful lot of coffee and soda pop gurgling around in his belly, so to speak.

  I looked at my watch. “It’s still early. I have to run over to the office. You can go with me, and I’ll think about it. Lunch, that is. And there’s a gas station a block over. I’ll stop there so you can make a pit stop.”

  He smiled, pleased with my answer, and kept his mouth shut, probably the smartest thing he could do at the moment.

  I watched Jolly climb into an old clunker, another surprise, and drive off. After delivering her son to the neighbor’s home, Pamela walked around the corner of her house toward the garage, and a moment later backed out driving a newer bright yellow Ford Focus. Again, I was surprised.

  “Looks like I’ve got a lot to learn today,” I said, half to myself and half to Chris.

  “Are we gonna do a tail job?”

  “A tail job?” I asked. That was a Bogeyism I’d never heard before.

  “Follow her. Are we going to follow her?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to enjoy this. There’s nothing better for a private dick than working on a case. Gets the blood flowing.”

  “Uh huh.” I waited until Pamela turned the corner before starting the engine. Heading for the gas station, I tried to put what I’d seen in perspective. I couldn’t do it. We passed the station when I saw Pamela pumping gas into her car.

  “You’ll have to hold it.” I drove to the office.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I saw that both Pete’s and Stanley’s cars were there. Chris followed me into the office.

  Pete scowled at the sight of him. Stanley looked up and promptly turned back to his computer.

  “The restroom’s in the back.” I pointed in that general direction and Chris took off at a run.

  “What’s the Bogey Man doing here?” Pete asked.

  “He rode along with me on a surveillance this morning. Got a problem with that?” I didn’t like Pete’s tone.

  “Yeah, not that it does any good. Are you seriously going to try to teach him something?”

  “You betcha. I’m going to teach him just how difficult things can be for an investigator.”

  Pete glanced in the direction of the restroom and grinned. “Sometimes I don’t give you enough credit.”

  “Let me tell you who we saw having an early morning meeting.” I grinned back at him.

  He waited impatiently while I put my soft backpack, something I carry in lieu of a purse, in my desk drawer.

  “Well?”

  “Pamela and Jolly were talking in front of what I assume is her house, and they shook hands like they were finishing some business.”

  Pete digested that before he asked, “And what are you going to do about it?”

  “I plan on having
lunch at The Red Barn today. Maybe I can find out what’s going on with Pamela.”

  “Good idea. I’ll go with you.”

  “No, if you go with me she’ll be suspicious. You’ve never gone there for lunch with me before. Actually, I should probably take Dolly, but I don’t want to involve her.”

  “I’m sure Felicity would be happy to go with you.” Stanley had turned to join in the conversation.

  “I’m going with her.” Chris walked toward the front of the office, his face bearing a less pained expression. He’d put his trench coat and hat back on, with the coat hanging open.

  “The hell you are!” Pete stood up, pushing his chair back. “She needs someone who knows the business to go with her.”

  Right. Like Felicity knew the business.

  “I’m learning, and I’d make a good backup partner.” Chris didn’t sound at all happy with Pete.

  The two men glared at each other.

  “Gentlemen, I’ll decide who’s going with me. Now go to neutral corners and calm down. Give me some peace and quiet so I can think.” I sat down at my desk, my tight lips daring the two men to say even one word.

  Pete didn’t sit down until Chris found himself a place on an extra chair. Pete knew arguing with me would make me dig my heels in, and he didn’t want that. We’d been down this road before.

  Stanley turned toward me. “What are you – ”

  “Give me a minute, Stanley.” I rarely use a sharp tone with him, and it seemed to surprise him. His shoulders slumped and he turned back to his computer. I felt bad.

  Pete turned back to his work, but I could see he was tense.

  I had to do what I had to do. “I’m taking Chris with me.”

  Pete started to object, but I held my hand up to stop him.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. You’ve seen the effect that Chris has on women. Why should Pamela be any different? So if he goes with me, maybe she’ll be off guard and offer something up.”

  Pete thought for a moment and drummed his fingers on his desk. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right.”

  “You do have a point, Sandi.” Stanley mimicked Pete and drummed his fingers on the edge of his keyboard, accidentally hitting a key. He strung a row of z’s across the computer screen.