Chapter 1
Getting things done is hard in this
town. You'd be amazed how many less than trusting spouses I get. I
hate married couple cases but they foot the bills. My last client
was concerned about his trophy wife Christie. Blonde, 5'10" and
legs that JLO would die for. A former second run Chargers cheerleader
and exotic dancer. With this in mind, my client thinks the new wife
might be moving around on him. She and his son seem to be at odds
with each other and it was creating turbulence in the household. He
worries his son Billy isn't applying himself, almost time for college
and he won't stick with something. He prattled on for another twenty
minutes but I was already getting a clear picture. Whether Mr.
Brooks CPA wants to admit it or not, something is definitely screwy.
On the third day on the job I got my answer.
Tailing Billy so easily, I should give
Brooks a discount. The Comfort Inn on Hotel Circle Space is
convenient for those family outings to Sea World but it doesn't look
like Billy was looking to visit Shamu but an afternoon delight seems
to be the order of the day. From the balcony, to the bartop and
finally across the couch, I thought Billy was applying himself with
vim and vigor. I guess I just haven't been as close to family as
Billy and Christie but from the lens full I got, they seem to be
hitting it off rather nicely.
With a hop, skip and a jump back to the
office I printed out all the sins of the son for the father. I
really hate this part. You always warn the client of the wrongdoings
and how they really don't want to see the results of their suspicions and they always tell you they will get what they paid
for and so on. It always takes the wind out of their sails, causes
wrinkles and raises blood pressure. This is his third shuffle
through the pictures as he is mildly cursing under his breath. By
this point, I am envisioning a quickie divorce, a child out of the
house and possibly the will. The dying silence is finally gotten to
me. I lean back in my chair, pour us each a glass of rye and slide
his glass to him. In one swift belt he downs the whole glass,
shivers slightly and slid the glass for another. Topping him off
another glass I finally broke the dead air.
"Well Mr. Brooks, where you go
from here is of course your choice. I will have my final report and
charges finished by tomorrow. Again, I am sorry for this...turn of
events" I never really know what to say in these
circumstances. I guess, "Maybe if you bought the kid that
Transformer when he wanted it, this would happen." wasn't going
to cover it, so I remained quiet. The balding man of 52 and 5'8"
with the less than stellar physique looked tired, pissed and far too
quiet. He finished the last of the whiskey in his glass, slid a
check on my desk and stomped out of my office without so much as a
chance to give him a receipt.
Well I can always mail it to his
address assuming it doesn't became a murder scene in the next 24
hours. This is why I hate divorce cases. The husband takes late
nights, the wife is out for extensive spa treatments. Hell the only
one not getting the evil eye dropped on them is the family dog
because he is either widdling on the rug or licking himself into a
pretzel. I look at the check and he apparently felt the need for the
bonus expense since it took me less time than a full week. A phone
app snap later, I flush my account with a much needed transfusion and
settle back with a paperback.
Occasionally I get my neighbor's
clients by accident or they got turned around in spite of my name and
job description itched in gold. Really hate that dentist, the smug
bastard. "Can I help you?" Apparently I startled her
from whatever was roaming in her head because she spun around like a
deer caught in the headlights. The deep brown eyes gazed up at me
with no so much fright but woe. "Are you Mr. Malone?"
"Yes I am, Ms.?" "Dietrich. Cathy Dietrich. Can we
talk in your office? This is extremely delicate."
I opened the door and ushered her to
one of the two wing-back leather chairs. They cost me a pretty penny
but worth it. Plus those wooden chairs were pretty battered even
before they were destroyed. "I'm in a serious bind, Mr.
Malone. I was in investments with a firm called Money Manages with
Chet Baker and well.. I was seeing decent profits from it and... I
held up a hand and stopped her. "So you dug deep and invested
big. Next thing you know, the firm crashes and you are out of funds,
a letter or email apologizing and now a disconnected number. Close?"
Ms. Dietrich looked stunned "Well
yes. Just like that. Can we do anything? My lawyer says they
cannot bring up any lawsuits because they don't have a physical
address anymore and maybe a detective will cost more to find them
than the money I lost. I don't agree."
I leaned back in my desk chair mulling
it over. "I'll need more information than that. Maybe a
picture on your investor, his previous address would be a good
start." Dietrich fishes in her expensive purse drawing her
Iphone out. "Can you print this?" Sitting next to Cathy
for a selfie I see a smug brunette with a bright toothed grin,
scheming eyes and a flashy suit material that looked like something
you would wear in the clubs...in the early nineties. "Okay now
the hard questions." "Excuse me?" " You see Ms.
Dietrich, my clients come in, drop the proverbial bombshell in my lap
and I listen until it is time to act. However I can sense you are
not quite done unburdening your soul. SOoo were you and Chet close
at all or purely professional?" Cathy slumped into the chair
and let out a long built-up sigh. Her features went ten years older
and I was hard pressed to guess her exact age. "No Mr. Malone I
wasn't very professional at all. I was lonely, Chet was young, fresh
and said all the right words. I promised myself I wouldn't fall for
him but he was very charming and so confident and now I just feel
like a complete and utter fool. Please just find him, get my money
back and see to it the police have his little carcass for the inmates
to play with."
Hell hath no fury. I keep seeing it
time and time again. Well I have enough to work with and she has
been pretty upfront with me. "Alright Ms. Dietrich, my services
are $350 a day, plus expenses and a two day minimum. I will text,
email or phone you with updates and I will remain on the case so long
as we stay within the confines of the law. Understand I am not a
mercenary, hitman nor a informant for a hit to happen so.."
Cathy look shocked. "Mr.
Malone..I...I," "Don't worry Ms. Dietrich. I am not
suggesting you were planning that. I am just covering my tail with a
business contract." Her worry lines started to decrease and I
really didn't think I would be combing through VICAP (Violent
Criminal Apprehension Program) to find this clown. "Alright
Ms. Dietrich I have enough to work with. I will get started
immediately and give you an update as soon as I have it." She
smiled with a warmth of satisfaction of purchasing a new car.
"Thank you again Mr. Malone. I'll talk to you soon I hope."
With that, she stood up with a renewed vigor and I saw her through
the doors. With the picture, Google and a bit of police contacts I
am looking at most maybe 3, possibly 5 hours of computer crunch time.
AFIS (Automatic Fingerprint Identification System) would be handy if I got a few fingerprints
from this prick so looks like a quick stroll over to the NCIC
(National Crime Information Center), list potential priors, his M.O.
And let my fingers do the walking. What? You thought I was going
to bust down doors with bravado and a sullen stare down? Crack the
heads of the informants in shady bars until they gave me a name?
Yeah last I checked I am not Spidey or Daredevil so we'll go this
route. Kicking back in my office chair with a glass of rye, I start
peeling away at this schmuck's records and it is reads like a need
for an exorcism. Frankly if I'm not sure if I should just knee cap
him or send the IRS after him. Chet or Raymond Mezrich, age 36 has
some different holdings around town but when you start breaking down
from lack of water and electrical, these are either open lots or
warehouses. Well you can always set up shop at a warehouse.
Dietrich described the place he was at Oceanside sounds like a rented
furnished house with all the trimmings.
So predator takes prospective clients
in the dragon's den if you will, shows off all the props include a
high end high performance sports car (rented), fake Rolex or Omega
and glam suits he got overseas from some poor kids working themselves
to death in a sweatshop. That's good for the marks digging into
their piggy banks but what about the high maintenance divorcees and
widows accustomed to the finer things in life? He has to have an
amount of petty cash or business credit cards so...he will still need
at least a billing address. Okay there's were we'll get answers.
Going over the notes that Ms. Deitrich
left, I notice how thorough and detailed they are. Makes it all the
more impressive this viper got his hooks in her. The calfskin
notebook she left me filled with particulars, highlighted fine points
and a few overemphasized exclamation points of what she should do to
his genitals. The calthader lined with cayenne pepper was quite
disturbing. After 20 minutes of perusing these meticulous hand
written notes, she goes on to say what a time she had with "Chet"
at Eddie V's. Ugh La Jolla again. I swear there must be a
breeding ground for these opportunistic jagoffs with great credit
ratings. I could get arrested in La Jolla. Afford a dinner, a show
and maybe hit a club and I am out a grand easily. Okay it is not
the mecca of greed and misfortune but getting close. I decide to
close up the office, leave Chula Vista and go snag my parabolic
microphone from my place.
Even since that "incident" I
had to relocate from Chulie to University Heights. It gets crowded
on the weekends with all the young partiers, antique nuts and street
performers but my rent is reasonable, my neighbors are decent hard
working folks and it's kind of nice living up on a hill. Fresh ocean
air every morning buuuut...the crows and morning doves rousing me
from sleep is still something to get used to. My neighbor is out
with her service dogs for a walk. Sweet woman who enjoying
retirement but like every retiree they just find something else to
do.
After I check the hall closet's false
wall I snag the microphone and place in it a gym bag. I strip down
to grab some more chic look of chinos, deep gray dress shirt, gel my
hair and grab my Wayfinders to complete what I affectionately
call...the douche disguise. Thankfully with the classic Charger I
can now blend in.
Gone o gone is the way of my LTD but
that is the inevitable change. With the mic aimed low I can just
look as though I am an idiot trying to get my smartphone to work.
The modern day quest for fire expression.
20 minutes later and a 10 dollar valet
to park the Charger, I head into Eddie V's and make a beeline to the
extravagant bar. Cosmos,single malt scotches and martinis ranging
from 15 to 20 bucks a pop signifies to me, I am so not in this income
bracket and probably never will be. My bartender Dave roughly about
6'3" sandy blond hair in a man bun and at least 250 sculpted
muscle. Seriously does everyone in this town hit the gym more than
me? I run every day and do some light conditioning but this guy
looks like a forgotten Greek god. This is so depressing. Dave chats
up some well-dressed divorcee cougars that look like they will either
take turns ravaging his chiseled bod or jump him simultaneously when
I flag him down for a drink. Dave smiles a bright white yet fair
grin at the ladies as he comes over to help me out.
"What can get for you, my man?"
"Um an ounce of charisma you got going there. I think they
want you across the bartop." "Yeah that is a bit too
common here. Thanks for saving me." I snickered slightly and
got some Chivas Regal on the rocks. Dave returned and it's go-time.
"Hey man, you seen this guy around? We got talking about
investments and then dummy me forgot to get his number. He seemed to
treat this like it was his haunt. Can you help me out?" Dave
glances down at the screen and goes all rigid. "If I were you,
I'd steer clear of that jagoff." "Really? So I shouldn't
be dealing with this guy?" "Nah bro. Word is he's like a
massive dick that swipes money of rich men and plenty of chicks left
and right. No real proof or anything but I think its like pyramid
schemes and crap like that." I decide I have beaten around the
bush long enough. "Okay Dave you seem to know this jerk and I
really need to zero in on him." Flashed my credentials and told
him how he screwed over my widow client and Dave's eyes narrowed.
"Okay bro, yeah he shows up here for lunch so you just missed
him but he always makes his way back around 9 to check to the top
shelf hunnies roaming about. He's such a sleaze but he doesn't cause
any scenes or acts up here so we can't ban his ass."
"Dave, if I leave you my card
can you buzz me the minute he is in?" I slip him a fifty with
the card. "I'd really appreciate it. With any luck you won't
have to see this prick ever again," Dave snags the card and
slides the fifty back. "Bro, I am so totally doing this for
free." Dave navigates back to the cougars topping them off and
offering a bit more conversation, I finish my drink, leave a twenty
for his time and set back to the Charger.
Okay a date with a douche. Well I
better look the part of a patsy then. Time for that horrific suit
Tom gave me, some loafers and a goofy expression.
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