The Detective’s Apprentice

by Edward Kendrick

  “Yeah. After a while they must have thought they had me so afraid of them that they didn’t have to drug me, although they did keep me locked in a room at the new studio when I wasn’t working. I was scared, but I was angry, too. I tried to get away. That didn’t go so well. They found me, brought me back, and did as they’d threatened. They sent a couple of the films to my family.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yeah. They made me call my dad a couple of days later. I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He called me all kinds of names; a pervert, a fag, and said I got what I deserved for running away to become a porn star in queer movies. He ranted until I finally hung up when he said if I tried to come home again, he’d slam the door ‘in my cock-sucking face’.”

  “You did get away, though,” Derek said.

  “You think? Yeah. I took a chance, again, and that time it worked. I met a kid who showed me how to hide so no one would find me. He thought I’d run away because my parents were abusive. Well, that’s what I told him, anyway. I learned how to survive and I earned some money…umm…using what I’d learned from…well, you know. The cock sucking part. Anyway, I got out of town, hitched until I was far enough away that I figured I was safe. Ended up here right before winter hit. Just so you know, I work when I can, day labor, but there’s too many guys and not enough jobs, so…” Joe jumped suddenly, looking down, and said, “Damn, dog, you startled me.”

  Derek smiled when he saw Sherwat had laid his head on Joe’s lap. “He’s good at picking up on emotions,” he explained. “He could tell you’re hurting and he’s letting you know he’s there for you.”

  Joe stroked Sherwat’s head, yawning as he did.

  “You should get to bed,” Derek suggested. When Joe nodded, stood, and began collecting the dirty plates, Derek told him to leave them; that he’d take care of them. “Go get some sleep. We’ll figure out what to do about you in the morning.”

  From the look on his face, Joe didn’t like what he’d said, or at least how he’d phrased it. “You don’t have to do anything about me,” he said sharply. “I’ll leave as soon as I wake up.”

  “Your choice,” Derek replied, although he didn’t think that would happen, if for no other reason than the fact that the snow was still coming down heavily from what he could see out of the dining room window. He smiled when Sherwat followed Joe into the bedroom. Stay with him until he’s asleep, pup.

  Derek did the dishes and then got Joe’s clothes from the dryer, folding them before taking them into the bedroom to put on the dresser. He wasn’t the least surprised to see Sherwat lying on top of the comforter at the foot of the bed. The dog looked up at him but didn’t move. Softly closing the door, Derek headed upstairs to bed.

  Chapter 2

  When Joe awoke Wednesday morning it took him a moment to remember where he was…and why—and that Sherwat wasn’t there. Derek probably came to get him, to let him out. Reluctantly, he left the warmth of the bed to look out the window.

  “Fuck and double fuck,” he said under his breath when he saw it was still snowing. “How the hell did I end up in Alaska?” He knew he hadn’t, but looking at the snow—piled halfway up the basement window of the house next door—sure make it feel as if that’s where he was.

  Turning, he eyed the bed, contemplating crawling back under the covers and staying there until spring. Not an option and he knew it.

  I should be damned glad I’m somewhere safe. If I hadn’t met Derek…

  That’s when he saw his clothes neatly folded on the dresser. He’d forgotten all about them before going to bed the previous evening. Another thing he owed Derek for. Picking up the least worn pair of jeans, a halfway-decent sweatshirt, underwear, and socks, he went into the bathroom. After taking care of the most pressing business, he washed his hands, brushed his teeth, and got dressed—leaving the borrowed sweats hanging on a hook on the door.

  There were two doors in the bathroom, the one to the bedroom and another opposite it. He carefully inched open the second one to see what was behind it—which turned out to be an office. He saw part of a desk and bookshelves. Easing it open a bit more, he saw Derek, who seemed to be working on a computer.

  “You can come in,” Derek said, swiveling his chair to look at Joe.

  He did, although he didn’t go to where Derek was seated. Instead he walked to the bookshelves to see what they held.

  “Are you a reader?” Derek asked.

  Joe lifted a shoulder. “When I can get my hands on a book that looks interesting. Usually out of a trash bin behind someone’s house.”

  “Feel free to take any of those you want. They’ll keep you busy which might be a good idea right now. If you haven’t looked outside, I can tell you it’s going to be a while before either of us leaves the house.”

  “I did, so I figured as much.” Joe ran his finger over the spines of the books, not really seeing the titles because he was covertly watching Derek, who had gone back to what he’d been doing. “Are you working?” he asked when he saw that Derek was filling out some sort of form.

  “I am. Doing a report for Mr. Edwards on the guys I photographed last night. Normally, I’d wait until I got to my office but as I said, that’s not happening today.”

  “He won’t be open to do anything about it,” Joe said, moving closer.

  “Not unless he’s crazy,” Derek replied with a brief smile. “Still, the sooner he gets it, the sooner I get paid for the job since I’m sending my bill, too.” He chuckled. “I wonder if I can charge him extra for braving the weather.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Nope. I may be small time, but I’m scrupulously honest.”

  “How long have you been a detective?” Joe asked, daring to come close enough to rest a hip on the corner of the desk.

  “I graduated college when I was twenty-one, interned with a big agency for a year, and then went off on my own, thinking I knew everything there was to know about being a private investigator. It’s taken four years to get where I am now, since I found out very quickly that I still had a lot to learn. I’m finally beginning to make enough to keep my head above water.”

  “But…” Joe frowned.

  “But?”

  “You have a house so you must be doing okay.”

  “It was my parents’. They decided to move somewhere where it didn’t snow four months out of the year, but they didn’t want to hand it over to some stranger, so they passed it on to me. I pay them a small amount each month in rent. A hell of a lot less than they could have made if they rented it out to someone else or sold it outright.”

  “You got lucky.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Derek returned his attention to what he was doing and a few minutes later he put everything into an email to Mr. Edwards, hit ‘Send’, and got offline. “You hungry?”

  Joe didn’t want to admit he was starving, so he only nodded.

  “Good. Me, too. Let’s see what I’ve got for breakfast.” A couple of minutes later, he said, “There’s eggs, sausage—” he checked the cupboard, “—pancake mix, and two kinds of dry cereal. Take your pick.”

  Joe didn’t want to take advantage of Derek, since from what he’d said he wasn’t exactly rolling in money, so he told him that cereal would be fine.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want,” Derek replied. “Personally, I’m going for sausage and pancakes topped with a fried egg.”

  Joe wrinkled his nose. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t you ever had them that way? You don’t know what you’re missing so you’re going to find out, like it or not. By the time you finish your cereal they’ll be ready.”

  “Maybe I’ll pass on the cereal?”

  “Smart move. I don’t remember when I bought them, but they’ve been up there for a while.”

  “So you were going to pawn them off on me?” Joe grinned briefly so that Derek would know he was joking.

  “It was you or Sherwat, and he hates cere
al. Speaking of which…” He opened the door to the garage, which let a cold draft, and a damp dog, into the kitchen. “I made him a dog-door between the garage and the back yard. Believe it or not, he loves the snow.”

  “He’s crazy,” Joe said.

  “Tell him that. Here.” Derek handed him a towel that had been hanging on a hook beside the door. “Dry him off, if you would, while I get the pancakes and sausage going.”

  Joe did, getting a couple of licks in the process. He hung the towel up when he finished, then asked Derek if he could help with anything.

  “Sure, set the table. Silverware’s in there, plates up there,” Derek replied, pointing out where he meant.

  Ten minutes later, they were sitting down to eat, after Derek filled Sherwat’s bowls so he wouldn’t bother them by begging. “Or that’s the theory,” he told Joe, chuckling. “Sometimes it even works.”

  “You were right,” Joe said after wiping out his pancakes and egg. He smiled ruefully. “Of course there’s not much I won’t eat, even if it comes out of a dumpster behind a restaurant, but these were really good.”

  “Thanks. I can make more if you’re still hungry.” Derek eyed the dog, who was leaning against Joe’s leg. “By the way, the two of you didn’t fool me for a second.”

  “Huh?” Joe said, trying to look innocent.

  Derek laughed. “Did you eat any of the sausage?”

  “Maybe?” Joe patted Sherwat’s head. “He gave me those puppy eyes, so how could I resist?”

  “Do you want another helping?”

  “No, thanks. Honest, I’m good.”

  They cleared the table, at which point Joe insisted that he would do the dishes. Derek didn’t protest, telling him he’d be in his office.

  Sherwat settled on the kitchen floor, watching Joe as he worked.

  “I shouldn’t have come here,” Joe said, talking to himself. “I could get used to it if I’m not careful. And to you,” he added when Sherwat woofed softly. Drying his hands, he sat down beside the dog and stroked his back.

  “I don’t even know anything about him. The last time I trusted someone look what happened. I lost my family; I went through hell until I managed to escape. Since then…” He shook his head. “At least I’m trying to get it together, a much as I can. It’s not easy. Not with so many guys like me living the way I do. I wish there was a pound for the homeless where we could be adopted, the way you were.”

  When Sherwat looked up at him as if commiserating, Joe chuckled. “I can see it now. Rows of cages filled with kids from ten to twenty, all standing there saying ‘Choose me, choose me’ as people walk by. Not that anyone would. Go looking for street kid to take home, that is. We’re disposable, like paper cups. Toss us away and move on.”

  He rested his head on Sherwat’s, sighing deeply. Then he pulled himself together and got up. “Time to find something to do, instead of crying on your shoulder. I should be happy Derek did let me come home with him. There’s lots of homeless out there who probably didn’t even get lucky enough to find a spot in a shelter or a church last night. That could have been me.”

  Sherwat was on his feet by then. He dashed out of the kitchen, looking back at Joe as if to say, ‘Follow me’. Joe did and found the dog standing in the dining room with a ball in his mouth. “You want to play?” Joe asked when Sherwat dropped the ball at his feet. He picked it up, tossed it into the living room. From there, a rousing game of fetch ensued that ended when Joe, laughing hard, called it quits because the ball was so slobbery he didn’t want to touch it again.

  * * * *

  Derek heard Joe’s laughter and smiled. At least he seems to be relaxing a bit. This has to be hard on him, trying to figure out if I’ve got some ulterior motive for letting him be here, given what he went through. I know I’d wonder if it were me.

  He returned his attention to what he was doing only to pause when the door opened and Joe said, “Is it okay for me to get a book?”

  “I told you it was, so have at it.”

  Joe crossed to the shelves, Derek got back to work, and all was quiet for a few minutes. Then Joe asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Background checks for one of my clients.”

  “Oh. Like seeing if someone who wants a job has any, what do they call it, wants and warrants against him?”

  “That, and confirming he, or she, worked where they said they did on their application, or looking for anything that seems off.”

  “Does everyone do that?”

  “No. A lot of people who have small businesses will call the applicant’s former employer directly to make certain the person did work for them and why they left, as well as what they did for the company, their salary, and whether the company would rehire them. I do that, too, but more thoroughly, or so I like to think.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “It usually is, but it’s necessary.”

  “And something you can do from home.”

  “Yep. I normally don’t, since I have a real office, as small as it is, close to downtown.”

  Joe nodded. “You don’t want your clients coming here, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I should quit bothering you.”

  Derek smiled. “Trust me, talking to you beats this—” he tapped the screen, “—any day.”

  “Yeah, but still…” Joe clutched the book he’d chosen and left the office. Since he hadn’t closed the door all the way, Derek could see him settle on the living room sofa. A minute later, Sherwat joined him. “Off the sofa,” Joe ordered.

  “It’s okay,” Derek called out. “He usually sits there when I watch TV.”

  “If you say so.”

  Derek returned to the background checks, finally wrapping them up and sending them off an hour later. Shutting down the computer, he went into the living room where he found Joe apparently engrossed in his book, using Sherwat’s head, which was on his lap, for a book rest.

  “You look comfortable,” Derek said as he went to open the curtains on the front window. It was still snowing, although lighter now than it had been when he woke up, which he supposed was a plus. “Might as well get used to it. It’s going to be a while before we can get out of here.”

  Joe grimaced, saying under his breath, “Meaning you’re stuck with me until who knows when.”

  Sitting in the armchair beside the sofa, Derek replied, “I wouldn’t call it stuck. At least I’ve got someone to talk to beside Sherwat.”

  “I’m not real good at conversation.”

  “Like you don’t want to discuss the finer points of black coffee versus cappuccino versus Americano?”

  Joe snorted. “I’m not even sure what cappuccino is.”

  “Okay, hmm. What do you think about football versus baseball?” When Joe rolled his eyes, Derek grinned. “Not into sports, huh? All right. Here’s a question I saw someone ask on Facebook. What wouldn’t you do, even for a million dollars?”

  Joe replied immediately, “Kill someone. Well, unless they were hurting a kid or a woman. Then you wouldn’t have to pay me to stop them.” He worried his lip. “Although I’m not sure I could kill them except as a last resort. Would you?”

  “Probably not unless it was the only way to stop them.”

  Joe studied him for a long moment before asking, “Do you have a gun? I mean, you are a detective.”

  “I’m licensed to carry but I rarely do. I’ve been hired as a bodyguard a couple of times and the client feels safer if I’m armed.”

  “What about if someone gets pissed at you because you proved they were a crook?”

  Derek shrugged. “The people that happens to are usually trying to pull off an insurance scam against one of the companies who use my services. Killing me would be a bit over the top.”

  “But it could happen?”

  “I suppose. I’m not big-time, Joe. I run a one-man operation, mainly setting up security for clients, or doing the dreaded background checks.”

  With a grin, Joe asked
, “Do you have a sexy girl Friday?”

  “You’ve been reading too many of the wrong books. I do it all, answer the phone, set up appointments, send out bills, and, unfortunately, pay the bills, too. Hopefully enough comes in to make that possible. In between all that, I do whatever I’ve been hired for.”

  “That doesn’t sound terrible exciting.”

  “Most of the time it isn’t.”

  “That sucks.” He showed Derek the cover of the book he’d chosen, a battered copy of one of John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee stories. “So it nothing like this?”

  “In the first place, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t live on a houseboat in Florida, and secondly Travis isn’t really a PI. I think he calls himself a ‘salvage consultant’ if I remember correctly.”

  “Yeah, but still…”

  “Don’t try to make me into something I’m not. Okay.”

  Joe nodded. “Okay,” and went back to reading

  Derek turned on the TV, keeping the sound just above audible so it wouldn’t disturb Joe. He found a local news channel that was giving a special update on the weather. Among the stories was one about two deaths from hypothermia because of the blizzard—a homeless man, and a girl who was barely sixteen. Their bodies had been found in downtown alleys.

  He wasn’t aware that Joe had been watching until the young man swore softly. “They could have been me, if you hadn’t come along.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “It’s not fair, damn it.”

  “No, it’s not,” Derek agreed, wishing there was something more he could say. Instead, he turned off the TV. “I’m going to find something to read, too,” he told Joe. “After I let Sherwat out.”

  At the word ‘out’, the dog was off the sofa, making a dash into the kitchen.

  “We could take him for a walk, maybe,” Joe said.

  “We could, if I can find some old boots of mine that will fit you and a jacket, although you’ll probably swim in it.”

  Joe snorted. “That would be nothing new.”

  Derek found things that would work, saying when Joe donned the winter jacket, “You look like a kid wearing his big brother’s hand-me-down.”