“I’m sorry, sir, even if I had seen her come in we’re not allowed to reveal the names of our guests, or their room numbers. I suggest you call her.”
“If I knew her number,” he replied tightly, and then sighed. “Sorry, it’s not your fault I’m an idiot.”
She smiled briefly and he had the feeling she agreed with him. Leaving the motel, he went back to his car, settling in for what might be a long wait before Mrs. Sullivan left.
* * * *
“Any luck?” Joe asked when Derek returned to the office.
“I got the goods on my insurance fraudster,” Derek replied. “Then I was able to follow Mrs. Sullivan to what I presume was an assignation at a motel. The problem was, she went straight to the elevators, did not pass go, did not collect her two hundred dollars, as they say. By the time I realized she had, it was too late, and the desk clerk wouldn’t give me the information about her room number. I waited until she left and followed her home.”
“If she’s meeting a man, it’s probably his room anyway,” Joe pointed out.
“Yeah, I know. It was a long shot, which means I get to sit on her until she goes there again. This time I’ll be prepared.”
“Maybe if we double-teamed her?” Joe said.
“That would take you away from the office.”
“Derek, come on. Until a week ago you didn’t have anyone manning the place when you were gone. I don’t think it’s going to shock people if they need to go back to leaving messages on the voicemail for a few days, if that’s how long it takes.”
“Yeah, true. Did you have something in mind?”
“Not a clue. You’re the detective. I’m just your apprentice. You’re supposed to be the brains of the…” Joe grabbed a tissue and sneezed…and again. “Damn cold. I’ve filled the damned basket,” he said. Balling the tissue up, he tossed it at the basket. “And he makes it for the win.”
Derek couldn’t help laughing as he asked, “Have you been taking your meds?”
Joe waggled a hand. “When I think of it.”
“Figured as much. Shut down the computer and let’s go home. I’ll make chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Okay, the soup will be out of a can, but it still works.”
* * * *
On the way home they discussed how they could find out who Mrs. Sullivan’s lover was.
“You could rent the room across the hall from him,” Joe suggested.
“Which means I’d have to know which room was his to begin with.”
“Okay, good point. How about you hang out in the lobby until she comes in then take the elevator up with her.”
“First off, the desk clerk knows what I look like. After what I told her about Mrs. Sullivan, she might start wondering why I’m back again.”
“What if you posed as a janitor? The motel must have them, right?”
Derek chuckled. “It might work, until a guest buttonholed me to fix something in their room. The problem is we don’t know how often he and she get together, or if it’s always at that motel. It could be a different one every time.”
“Ugh. This surveillance thing isn’t as easy as they make it look in the movies.”
“Nope.”
They dropped the subject for the time being as Derek and dozens of other commuters navigated their way around a three-car pileup on the highway.
When they got home, Derek made supper while Joe let Sherwat out and then filled his food bowls. Joe wasn’t certain he believed the whole ‘chicken soup for a cold’ thing, but he remembered his mother swore by it, so he was willing to see if it worked. If not, at least it makes for a good, quick meal.
They’d almost finished eating when Joe said, “I figured it out.”
“Oh?”
“We have to follow her when she leaves home. If she ends up at a motel, which she might not because she could just be running errands, you drop me off in front while she’s parking. I go to the elevators and hang around as if I’m waiting for one, and then get on the same one she does. When she gets off, I do, too, and watch which room she goes to.”
“That’s so easy, why didn’t we think of it to start with?” Derek replied with a rueful smile.
“We were trying to get too fancy. As soon as I know, I’ll call you, or better yet text you, and you take it from there.”
“You have a phone?” Derek asked, sounding surprised.
“Yeah. I bought a cheap pre-paid as soon as I, umm, earned a few dollars, after the great escape. I thought it would give me a way to call the cops if the bastards caught up with me. I never use it, but I do buy minutes when I think of it, you know, in case.” He shrugged.
“Smart. As of today, I’ll buy them for you.” Derek chuckled. “No detective worth his salt goes anywhere without being able to keep in touch, as you put it, ‘in case’.”
* * * *
It took three days for their plan to work. In the meantime, Derek took care of business for his clients in the mornings while Joe watched the office. At noon, they hung the sign on the door that Derek had used before he’d hired Joe—‘I’ll be gone until tomorrow morning. Please call and leave a message’. “Which happened once in a blue moon,” Derek said dryly. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t get many drop-ins.”
Then, they’d get take-out for lunch, eating in the car while they sat in the church parking lot.
Tuesday and Wednesday Mrs. Sullivan did what Joe had said. She ran errands.
“I’m getting to see parts of the city I didn’t know existed,” Joe groused at one point, earning him a pat on the leg in return.
Derek had decided, after some thought, that he would make it a point touch Joe when it was appropriate. If he gets used to it, in a strictly ‘we friends and friends do that’ way, maybe he’ll stop jumping or pulling away when it happens. The only time he’s come close to accepting my touch without question was after his nightmare. I can’t hold him the way I did then, but there are small things that would be natural. He wasn’t certain Joe would ever accept him as a man, not just a friend, but he planned on doing what he could to make it happen.
Thursday afternoon they were finally able to put their plan into action.
Mrs. Sullivan left the house soon after two o’clock, driving south on the highway until she came to one of several motels at the edge of the city. As soon as she turned into the driveway leading to the parking lot behind it, Derek stopped to let Joe out, and then drove to the lot. He found a space well away from her car, keeping his head turned as she walked around to the front of the building. He doubted she’d seen him the last time, or would remember him if she had, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Soon, his phone beeped and he saw a text from Joe. I know which room. You won’t believe.
Believe what? Derek texted back.
Tell you when you get here. Joe added the room number. I got a picture.
Derek didn’t bother to ask of what. Instead he went up to the fifth floor where he found Joe standing at a window at the far end of the hallway wearing a white jacket he hadn’t had when he entered the motel.
“So what won’t I believe?” Derek asked. “And where did you get the jacket?”
“I sort of borrowed it when I walked past the room where they keep the cleaning carts. It was right there begging for me to put it on.” Joe had turned his phone on as he explained and brought up the picture he’d taken. “They didn’t even know I was there. You know how people are about service people. They’re invisible unless they need them.”
The picture showed Mrs. Sullivan being greeted at the door to a room by a slender, dark-haired woman—although greeting wasn’t quite the right word, Derek thought, as they were obviously sharing an intense kiss.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
“Yeah. Definitely not a man.”
“No kidding.” Derek handed the phone back while trying to decide what to do next. “I’d like to find out who the other woman is. Unfortunately, if this is like the last motel, the pe
rson at the front desk won’t tell me, even though I know the room number.”
“Does it matter who she is?” Joe asked. “I’d say it’s real obvious Mrs. Sullivan’s having an affair, just like her husband thought.”
“You’re right.” Derek started toward the elevator, deep in thought. He finally decided what he had to do, and told Joe as they rode down to the motel lobby.
* * * *
Derek pressed the doorbell then stepped back, waiting for Mrs. Sullivan to answer. The door was on the chain when she opened it, giving him a view of half her face, one eyebrow arched in question as she said, “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”
“No, ma’am. I would like to speak with you about this afternoon.”
She visibly paled, quickly closing the door, and he was certain he’d blown it. Then he heard the chain being released and she opened it again. She stood defiantly, one hand on the door to keep him from entering. “Who are you?”
“My name is Derek Clarke. I’m a licensed private detective.” He held out his wallet with the license visible. She barely glanced at it, her gaze going to Joe, standing right behind him. “This is my assistant, Joseph Lawson,” Derek said. “We were hired by your husband to—”
“I’m quite sure I know the reason,” she said before he could finish. “What I don’t understand is, why you’re here.”
“I can explain, although it might be easier if we weren’t standing here in the freezing weather.”
For a moment it seemed as if she would refuse. Then, with a brief smile, she stepped aside to let Derek and Joe enter. The moment they did, Derek heard a deep growl and realized why she didn’t seem too worried about them being inside. A huge bull mastiff stood two feet from her, its eyes locked on him and Joe.
“It’s all right. They’re friends,” she told the dog, patting its head. “Although that’s up for debate at the moment,” she added with a glance at Derek.
The dog relaxed, sitting back on its haunches, although it kept an eye on Derek and Joe as Mrs. Sullivan escorted them into the living room. She gestured for them to sit on the sofa, while she settled in armchair opposite them.
“Why come to me rather than reporting directly to my husband about my…assignation?” she asked.
“To be honest, I would have, if you were seeing another man,” Derek replied.
“What makes this different?”
“The circumstances? I may be wrong, but I don’t think your affair has to do with you being bored with him and wanting something new and different. If I were to take a guess, either you didn’t admit to yourself that you’re interested in women until recently. Or you knew, refused to accept it, and married your husband to prove to yourself that you were normal, so to speak.”
“A psychological evaluation?” she replied dryly.
Derek nodded. “I suppose you could call it that, although it’s based on personal experience. No, I’m not married,” he hastened to add. “I do know how hard it can be to come out, even these days.”
“Oh, really?” Her gazed went from him to Joe. “He’s a bit young for you, isn’t he?”
Joe met her gaze, grinning. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I might be older than I look.”
“Joe…” Derek shook his head. “He works for me, which is the extent of our relationship.” He almost added, “At the moment,” but refrained. He knew they might never move beyond friendship, his wishes to the contrary. “You don’t have to answer, Mrs. Sullivan, but how and when did you meet your girl…well, woman friend?”
“Please, if we’re going to continue this discussion, call me Beth.” When he nodded, she continued. “First things, first, though. I’m bi, and I’ve known it since I was in high school, although I never acted on it until I met Tonia.” She smiled softly. “There was an instant connection that I couldn’t ignore. Unfortunately, she’s married, too. It’s why we have to meet the way we do. It’s damned frustrating but there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Is she bi, too?” Joe asked.
“No.” Beth’s expression soured. “She’s hiding behind her marriage, which I’ve told her more than once, but she’s not ready to change that.”
“Are you?” Derek asked.
“Hiding? Probably. Would I change that if I could? I don’t know. I love my husband, whether you believe it or not. I also love Tonia.” She sighed. “The proverbial rock and a hard place.”
Derek nodded. “You may not be able to convince Tonia to leave her husband, if that’s what you’d like her to do. I do think you should have a long talk with your husband, since you say you love him. He must love you or he wouldn’t have cared that you’re seeing someone else. If he understands what’s going on, and why, and that it has nothing to do with him, he might be willing to accept it. After all…” Derek smiled. “You’re not screwing around with a man, which should help.”
She laughed. “There is that.” Sobering, she asked, “Are you going to tell him?”
“I’ll make you a deal. For now, I’ll keep it to myself. I can tell him, and it would be the truth, that so far I’ve found nothing to prove you’re involved with another man. If you talk to him, I’m sure he’ll terminate our contract. If he doesn’t within say the next two weeks, then I’ll let him know exactly what’s happening.”
“That’s fair.”
“By the way,” Derek said as he got up. “Then next time Tonia gives you clothes or jewelry, you might want to avoid wearing them around your husband. That’s what clued him in that you might be having an affair. You told him you bought them but they weren’t on your credit card bill.”
“What? Oh, good grief. I have a good friend who was cleaning out her closets. That whole Marie Kondo thing. She offered them to me and I took them. I only told Tom I bought them because he’d have had a fit if he knew they were hand-me-downs. He’s proud that way.”
Derek laughed. “Okay. Well next time…”
“I’ll tell the truth.”
“A good idea, on all fronts.”
“Yes, I know.” She walked them to the door, saying as she did, “Thank you for coming to me, first. I will talk to him, I promise. I hope he can accept it, because as I said, I do love him.”
“As long as you make that clear, I’m sure he will, although it might take time.”
“I know.”
When Derek looked back as he and Joe walked to the car, he saw her watching them. She gave a small wave before closing the door.
“Do you think things will work out for her?” Joe asked.
“I hope so, for her sake. She seems like a nice woman.”
Chapter 9
Friday afternoon, two weeks after they’d spoken with Mrs. Sullivan, her husband came by the agency to tell Derek he wouldn’t need his services anymore, and why.
“I can’t say I’m happy about things, but I’m trying to accept them,” he’d said. “We love each other, which helps, I suppose.”
Derek agreed that it did and gave him his bill, which he paid on the spot before thanking him again and leaving.
In the interim everything had gone on as usual, both at work and at home. Derek had taken on several more jobs while Joe watched the office. “Something I couldn’t have done without you around,” he told Joe more than once.
At home, they did chores on Saturday, which was their usual routine now, went to a movie one Sunday, and played tourist on the next one as Derek showed Joe parts of the city he hadn’t seen while he’d been living on the streets. That included visiting galleries in the arts district, which Joe found fascinating, much to his surprise.
* * * *
It was Monday, again, and Joe sighed as he looked out his bedroom window, muttering, “You have to be kidding.” He said the same thing a few minutes later when he joined Derek in the kitchen, adding, “It’s March, damn it!”
“We’ve been known to get snow in April, though not usually this bad,” Derek replied, patting his shoulder. “You’ll live.”
Joe snorted. “If I don’t get buried under three feet of snow, first.” He figured it was a logical supposition as the storm had taken on blizzard proportions from the look of it. “It was sunny yesterday when we went to the galleries. I though spring was finally here.”
“I wish.” Derek took down the box of pancake mix, got two eggs and bananas from the fridge, and set to work making breakfast.
Sherwat was dancing by the door to the garage, so Joe opened it to let him out before going into the living room to turn on the TV and find a local newscast. He brought the sound up so they could hear it in the kitchen, and then went back to start the coffeemaker.
A reporter was giving an update on the weather, telling the viewers that all government offices would close at noon, that traffic was snarled by accidents on all the major highways, and then he read off a list of school closures.
“I guess we’re not going in to work,” Joe said when the man finished.
“What was your first clue?” Derek asked with a grin.
“Maybe the foot of snow I saw out the windows,” Joe replied. “So what do we do to keep from going crazy with cabin fever?”
“Good question. We could…” Derek shot him a look of amusement, “Start spring cleaning.”
“Right. I hate to tell you but it won’t be spring until next week, on the calendar. In real life?” Joe shuddered.
“So we’ll get a jump on it.” Derek ducked when Joe took a swipe at him. “You have to admit it’ll be better than sitting around watching bad morning TV.”
“I suppose. When my mom used to do it, she made me and my brothers take turns shampooing the carpets. Somehow I don’t think you’re going to run out to the nearest grocery store in this weather to rent a machine.”
“Nope. I have some special stuff for dry-cleaning the carpet. Sprinkle it on, brush it in, and then vacuum it out.”
The Detective’s Apprentice Page 9