by David Achord
Her smile faltered. “To make a long story short, my father got royally shafted by some local politicians when I was a teenager. I went to school with their kids and it was not a pleasant time. I’m convinced that’s why he had a heart attack. When I was at his funeral crying my eyes out with the rest of my family, I had an epiphany and decided putting corrupt politicians in prison was going to be my life’s work.”
“I can understand that, but I think you should stay in Nashville,” I said.
“Why is that?” she asked.
“Because I’m selfish,” I answered. “I like being around you.”
She laughed. “I like being around you as well.”
Hope stifled a couple of yawns during after dinner drinks. She mentioned she was expected back at the office no later than seven and the flight to Chicago was at noon, so I insisted she go home and get some sleep, even though it was not yet eight o’clock. She didn’t argue. I walked her to her car. I got a kiss. Not a deep, passionate kiss, but at least it was on the lips and not a handshake.
“I had a wonderful time, Thomas,” she said.
“I did as well,” I replied. “Maybe when you get back, we’ll do this again.”
“Or maybe you can come up to Chicago sometime,” she said with a slight smile. I want to say it was flirtatious with a hint of wistfulness in it, but I’ve often been told I have an overactive imagination.
I watched her drive away. I wasn’t tired, and ended up at Mick’s. There were only a few people there, including a younger millennial-hipster type I had not seen in there before. He was talking loudly and telling some tall tale about how he sued someone and won a gazillion dollars. Normally, I would’ve ignored him and sat in my usual spot, but he was sitting in the next stool. Sighing, I went down to the end of the bar and sat by Puffessor Ebenezer Farquhar.
“How are you, Ebbie?” I said as I sat. Ebbie leaned close.
“We got us a know-it-all down there at the other end,” he whispered.
“Sounds like it,” I said. Ebbie continued.
“Yeah, self-proclaimed business expert, political expert, you name it. An all-around blowhard.”
“Well, he fits right in around here,” I muttered. That earned me a rebuking scoff from Ebbie.
Chapter 37
I walked in the back door of my home a little before ten. Anna and Marti were sitting on the couch with Gracie, who was snuggled up between them and sound asleep. Tommy Boy was on the back of the couch, curled up and asleep as well.
“How’d your date go?” Anna asked.
“I think she enjoyed herself,” I replied.
“That’s nice. What about you?”
“Yeah, I did too,” I said. “But it’s not going to go anywhere. She’s going to transfer to Chicago.”
“Chicago? Why?” Anna asked.
“It’s a temporary assignment on the gypsy case, but her specialty is investigating public corruption and she’s being considered for a position there. She’s more than likely going to transfer there permanently.”
“Did you give her a going away present?” Marti asked with a mischievous grin.
“Nope. Nothing but a friendly kiss,” I said. I went to the kitchen and started to grab a beer, but opted for some scotch. Returning to the den, I sat at my desk and turned on my laptop.
“What are you girls up to?” I asked while I waited for the computer to boot up.
“Watching Netflix,” Anna said, gesturing at the TV. It looked like some sort of romantic comedy. I suppressed a disgusted grimace and got online.
“What are you doing?” Marti asked. She had walked up behind me and was now peering over my shoulder.
“I haven’t checked my emails lately. I thought I’d catch up.”
“We’re not taking any new jobs right now, are we?” Anna asked. “I mean, there’s no telling how long you’re going to be working for the Feds, right?”
“What do you mean?” Marti asked.
I grunted. “I signed a contract that says as long as I am on the Fed’s payroll, I cannot take on any new jobs.” I thought for a moment. “But it didn’t say anything about Ironcutter Investigations, or its employees.”
Anna bit her lip for a second and then understood. “So, Ronald and I can still take on jobs.”
“And me,” Marti added gleefully.
I chuckled. “I must admit, you did a good job with those emails. Even Ronald was complimentary.”
“Is it over yet?” she asked.
“Our part is over. The lawsuit itself will probably take another year or two,” I said.
She frowned. “When do I get paid then?”
“The end of the month,” I said and briefly glanced at Anna before focusing back on her. “Is this type of work something you’d like to do on a regular basis?”
Her eyes lit up. “I think I would. I mean, I don’t know if I’d make a career out of it, but I think it’s interesting work.”
“We could use another person on a case by case basis. The PI business can be sporadic. Sometimes you’re turning customers away, sometimes you can go a whole month without a case. So, until we get enough business for you to be full time, I’d suggest finding an alternative job to help pay the bills.”
Anna sat up. “We totally forgot to tell you. Mick is hiring Marti as a bartender.”
Marti was grinning sweetly. “It won’t pay as much as stripping, but I’m never going back to that line of work.”
“That’s great. Is it part-time or full-time?”
“Weekends, starting off. Kim said she wants to see how it goes before giving me more hours.”
I chuckled. “I’m sure the regulars are going to be thrilled.”
Her grin continued. “I hope you’ll be my best customer.”
“It’s highly possible,” I said. “Alright, at some point, you’ll need to get your PI license. Anna can help you with that, right?”
“Right,” Anna said.
“PI license, check,” Marti said. She was still grinning.
I chuckled and sipped my scotch. I had to admit, Marti working as the bartender at my one and only hangout was a pleasant thought.
“Do we have any new cases waiting?” Marti asked.
“Hmm, that’s a good question,” I answered. “Let’s check.”
I stood, walked over to my desk, and logged onto my laptop. I drained my scotch and was considering a refill, but before I could stand, Marti hurried into the kitchen and came back with two finger’s worth in the tumbler. I caught a glimpse of Anna rolling her eyes. Once handing me the tumbler, she stood behind me and pressed close.
“So, what do we have, boss?” she teased and then inhaled. “Wow, I like that cologne you have on.”
I heard Anna guffaw, ignored her, and opened the first email. Marti looked over my shoulder and read it.
“That one looks interesting,” she said.
“Nah, we don’t do infidelity cases,” I said.
“Why not?”
“Those types of cases are problematic. If they don’t like what you’ve discovered, they’ll try to skip out on paying you, and if it ever gets to the point of a divorce hearing, we’ll be subpoenaed to testify and we won’t be paid for it.”
“Really?”
“Nope,” I said. “Once you are subpoenaed, the client is under no obligation to pay you for your time.”
“Don’t forget to tell her about the Knoxville case,” Anna said. Marti gave us a questioning look.
“A couple of years ago, a PI in Knoxville was hired by the husband to prove his wife was unfaithful. She was. The husband used the information provided by the PI to track down and kill his wife’s lover. Then he killed her before killing himself.”
“Oh, man, that’s messed up,” Marti said.
“Yes, it was. Even worse, he got sued by the relatives of the wife’s lover. We don’t want to get involved in anything like that. Let’s move on.”
I sent a perfunctory one-sentence reply, deleted the email, a
nd moved on to the next one. As I read, Marti read along with me and soon chortled.
“She wants you to set up her fiancé to see if he will stay faithful to her,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s called a honey-trap.”
“A what?”
I explained. “Let’s say the mark is a regular at a bar. We’d use someone like you to go into the bar, flirt with him, and then make some kind of sexual overture. You tell him something like you’re only in town for the night and you’re looking for some hot, no-strings-attached sex. You then ask him if he’d be willing to meet you back at your hotel. You’re wired during this and recording the whole interaction, including his response.”
“And you give the recording to the wife,” Anna added.
Marti was wary now. “But do you have to have sex with him?”
“Nope. You’re not really staying at the hotel. You tell him to meet you in an hour and break contact. If it all works correctly, you never see him again.”
“Wow, that’s sneaky,” Marti said.
“Yeah, and with someone like you, it would take a man with an extremely strong will to turn you down.”
Marti nodded. “I get it. That’s easy. We could make bank doing that,” she said. She saw me frowning. “What?”
“Nah, we don’t do that kind of work. It’s sleazy.”
She didn’t respond, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. I typed the rejection response, sent it, and deleted the email. The next two were more of the same.
“You’re turning down some easy jobs,” she remarked.
“Trust me, they’re not worth the trouble.”
I sipped my scotch and when I read the seventh email, I sat up in my chair. “Here’s an interesting one.”
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“It’s an email from a law firm soliciting a bid to investigate a local insurance agency for possible fraud,” I said. I did not mention that the author of the email said I was referred to him by William. Anna might demand I delete it out of spite.
“Oh, that sounds promising,” Anna said. “Any specifics?”
“Not a lot, but it sounds like a research job,” I said.
“Do you guys do a lot of research jobs?” Marti asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I just thought a private investigator’s work involved a lot more action. You know, a lot more time on the streets.”
I chuckled. “That’s only in TV shows. Most detective work is dull and tedious.”
“So, what kind of work do you guys actually do?”
“We offer a wide variety of investigative skills. Criminal defense consultation, background investigation, surveillance, missing persons investigations, death investigations, and last but not least, fraud investigations.”
“Is fraud what you investigate the most?” she asked.
“Not always, but lately we’ve had a few more than normal,” I said.
“Thomas has a good reputation for handling the more complex cases,” Anna said.
Marti gave a slow thoughtful nod. “I see. That’s what allows you to pick and choose which cases you guys take on.”
“Yeah, mostly. Sometimes work is slow and you have to take whatever is offered. But right now, we have some good offers.” I gestured at the email on the computer. “Like this case. It’s low risk, very little field work is involved, and cases with law firms have a higher guarantee of being paid.”
Marti gazed at me. “I’m beginning to see how you think. Very smart.”
I saw Anna in my peripheral vision rolling her eyes again. I waved her over. “Alright, let’s perform some due diligence on this potential client.”
“Like what?” Anna asked.
“We want to make sure there are no red flags with this law firm. What do you think we should do first?”
“Um, we should probably check to see if they’ve had any complaints or disciplinary actions,” Anna said.
“Yes, exactly. Fortunately for us, the board of professional responsibility has a website and they post all disciplinary actions.” I opened two tabs, went to the law firm’s website, and clicked on the attorney’s profiles. There were four of them. I then went to the second tab, opened the board’s website, and proceeded to run each name.
“They look clean,” I declared. “What’s next?”
“Um, should we check their credit?” Anna asked.
“Yes, we should. Send Ronald a text with the info. He can run a credit check quicker than we can.”
Anna grabbed her phone and I watched in bemusement as she typed it all out in seconds using only her thumbs. While she waited, I searched each of the attorneys through social media and anything else I could think of. After an hour, I found nothing concerning. Ronald had texted Anna back and gave the credit scores of each attorney, each of whom had an excellent rating.
“I like what I see. What about you two?” I asked. It was rhetorical—I’d already decided to contact the people at the law firm—but I wanted to see if they had any misgivings. Both of them agreed. “Alright. Anna, email them a response and arrange a meeting. I’ll secure us the case and then you two can work it.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yep. I’ll help if needed, but I think you two will have no problem with it.”
The women grinned and gave each other a high-five with some sort of finger wiggle at the end.
“This calls for another drink,” Marti said. She grabbed our glasses and hustled into the kitchen while I gave up my seat for Anna to use the laptop.
“Has there been any developments?” she asked. I shook my head. “Before you came home, Marti and I searched a bunch of news websites, but there’s nothing.”
“Yeah, the Feds are keeping a tight lid on it,” I replied.
“So, how does the pay work now that I’m a PI?” Marti asked when she brought fresh drinks into the den.
“It will depend on the job,” I said. “As a general rule, we charge a flat rate fee of one thousand a week, plus expenses, but some jobs are negotiated on an hourly rate. The email job, for instance, was charged on an hourly rate.”
“Can we work on more than one case at a time?” she asked.
“Of course,” I answered. I could see the dollar signs in her eyes as she smiled. “Don’t go counting your money before it’s in the bank. There have been times when I’ve gone a couple of weeks without a case.”
“If that happens, we’ll just have to do some honey-traps,” she said, her grin broadening.
I laughed and thought about it. There were some people in this world who I wouldn’t mind screwing over, but this method still seemed unethical to me for some reason. After all, if I were going through some marital troubles and I was on a business trip, nobody knew me, and I was a little drunk, would I be able to resist Marti hitting on me? I shook those thoughts off and took a generous sip of scotch. I looked down and saw two metal cubes in my glass.
“What are those?” I asked.
“They’re called whiskey cubes,” Marti said. “I had some at home that I never used, so I brought them over.”
I took another small sip. My scotch was chilled and made for a pleasant taste. “Nice, thanks.” Marti responded with a wink.
Chapter 38
I don’t know if Marti had spent the night, but she was gone when I walked into the den the next morning. Anna was still asleep, so I fed the critters, walked Gracie, and had my breakfast on the front porch while Gracie played in the yard.
The first thing I did was text Hope, asked if she had a good time last night and if there had any new developments. She texted back quickly.
Nothing new on the case. I had a great time last night. Currently sitting at the airport waiting to board. Maybe the stars will align for us one day.
I thought it over. This was a time for a poignant and heartfelt response. I composed my thoughts and typed –
One day.
What can I say? I’m not much of a romantic.
I refilled my cup and played
with Gracie while I thought about Hope. I liked her. She was attractive, smart, professional, and she had my kind of humor. I thought we clicked together. However, she made it clear she’d jump at the opportunity if they offered her a position in the Chicago office, so any kind of relationship we’d have would be long distance, which rarely worked.
I then thought about Al. She was a pretty woman and had a hell of a body on her. Plus, she exuded the sexual energy of a horny sorority sister on prom night. Did we click? Yes, we did. But there was something about her. I sensed a hard edge. She’d been hurt before. Deeply. I wondered if she’d ever fully recovered. Hell, for that matter, I wondered if I’ve fully recovered from learning the truth about my wife.
And don’t think I was oblivious of Marti’s flirtations. Maybe she was only playing to ensure I would hire her, maybe there was something more. When I was a younger man, I thought about women constantly. Then, after my wife, and definitely after Simone, I spent more time working cases and thinking about old cars. But now it seemed like I was a horny teenager again, although I honestly wondered if I had it in me to ever fall in love and perhaps get married again. I was a little too old to have children, so if I ever became interested in raising a kid or two, I would either have to adopt or find a woman with her own kids. It instantly made me think of Al. Her two sons seemed like good kids and I believed I could see myself hanging out with them on occasion, but try as I might, I did not picture myself as a stepfather. I was too much of a loner.
My phone rang and I saw it was Al calling. Smiling, I answered.
“Hey, Al. Believe it or not, I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh, really? Like what?” she replied.
“Um, well, I’m not sure I can properly explain it over the phone. Maybe we should get together and talk about it in person. What do you think?”
“Do you mean like a real date?” she asked with more than a little bit of sarcasm in her voice.
I laughed. “Yeah.”
It was time to start focusing on business. I dressed in a pair of pressed khaki slacks, a white shirt, a pair of John Lobb brown leather shoes with a matching belt, both of which cost far too much, and finished it off with a custom-tailored sport coat.