Authors: D. D. Vandyke

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Private Investigators, #Women Sleuths, #Hard-Boiled

Loose Ends (23 page)

BOOK: Loose Ends

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“Maybe. Probably some kind of reposting drop anyway. If I have to fly out there it’s going to cost you.”

“Better than paying blackmail. As you said, a thousand a week is over fifty a year. I’d rather take out a loan and pay you.”

I grunted. “Good for both of us. Just remember, I’ll need more than five bills. I have a research assistant to pay and if I need muscle I have to lay out for them too. I’m assuming you want the pictures back and a guarantee they won’t be publicized, but I’m not sure that’s possible as they’re digital. I’ll do the best I can, but it will depend on what kind of leverage I can find on whoever did this. We can’t go to the cops right away, because eventually this will get on the police blotter and those are public records. Even if I manage to clean everything up, you don’t want official paperwork lurking in some file if you can help it, I’m thinking.”

Frank put his head in his hands. “Look, Miss Corwin, I’m just a guy in a bind here. I’ve never been involved with any criminal activity, never had anything like this happen. I have no idea what to do except trust you to fix the situation.”

Oh, boy. That hit me in a soft spot, the part of everyone who ever wanted to be a cop and help people get justice. I had an idea how violated he felt right now, wanting a professional to make it all better. Well, I guess that was how I earned my living so I opened my mouth and did what I always do. I promised a little too much.

“Frank, you get me the cash and I’ll get you some answers. At least we’ll have something to hand to the police if it comes to that, or if I get lucky we might be able to make the situation go away.”

“Thanks, Cal. You’re a real lifesaver. Any chance you and me…”

“No,” I retorted automatically. “I make it a firm policy never to get involved with clients. You know, like with teachers and students,” I went on with sudden inspiration. “Ethics, and all that.”

“Oh, sure.” Frank blinked and swayed in the chair. “Hey, is there anywhere around I can get a room? Cheap, clean hotel or something?”

“You don’t want a ride back home? I’m going over to Granger’s Ford to poke around anyway.”

“No, I’m wiped out and I already called in sick. Just what I need, old Annie the snoop to look out her window and see me sneak into my own house after getting out of a gorgeous and desirable woman’s car on a weekday when I’m supposed to be already at home.”

“Give it a rest, Frank.”

Frank shrugged and smirked as if he knew that the compliment felt good to me no matter how cheesy. “If my car doesn’t turn up maybe you can run me out early tomorrow morning?”

“I’m not a morning kind of gal, Frank, but we’ll see.” I almost asked him why he couldn’t rent a car, and then remembered his stature and the special equipment he needed.

I gave him the address of the misnamed Five Star Hotel a few blocks away, told him to call Mickey if he needed any local help, and then steered him toward the nearest ATM.

Once he’d trudged out I went down to the lower level where my assistant made his abode. One side of the large room, the less disgusting side, sported a semicircular arrangement of screens and computer gear. The other held an old sofa and loveseat, a couple of chairs and a blizzard of junk food wrappers, empty soda bottles and cans and some pillows that clearly needed a Maytag introduction. Once every month or two I had to threaten to pull the graphics chips out of his computers – I mean,
my
computers, as I had bought them, after all – to get him to clean the place up.

Mickey squatted like a frog in a rolling office chair, shaggy and overweight. Yeah, he was a nerd’s nerd and had his foibles, but boy, could he find things out when he was motivated.

“Wazzup, boss?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the frenetic game action on the screen.

“I have a case, I think. Need you to start with this.” I handed him a sheet of paper with pertinent facts copied from Frank’s notes plus some I’d added. “See if that Camry has shown up anywhere – towing yards, police blotters, anything. Then a quick rundown on the client. Franklin Jackson, special-ed teacher out of Granger’s Ford. Try to find the physical location of this box address in Chicago. Let me know when you run out of dirt to dig in.”

Holding out his free left hand, Mickey kept mousing around the screen with the right, firing frantically at his pixilated enemies. I put the paper into his palm and left. No point in micromanaging him. He’d be useless until he finished his current quest or whatever it was, but after that he’d do good work as long as there was food, cash and coffee.

Something caught my eye out the window that faced the courtyard behind my office. A woman, tall, redheaded and slim, in slacks and a windbreaker, lit a cigarette near Molly. She seemed to glance my way before turning to stalk off between buildings. Something about the way she walked bothered me, like her feet hurt perhaps. Fairly sure I had never laid eyes on her, but still…

Short of chasing her down there wasn’t much I could do. It might mean nothing or she might be trying to work up the gumption to walk into my office with a case. It
was
Monday after all. For now, I had to get started on Frank and his minor problem.

And it was minor. Not to him, I was sure, but in comparison to a kidnapped girl, a murdered ex-cop or a bomb the situation was tame. Stuff like this happened every day when I was on the force. Usually the information got out no matter how hard you tried to lock it down. I’d given Frank the benefit of my wisdom, but like most blackmail victims, they didn’t want to listen. So, I’d have to try it his way.

As a cop I’d had my ways of taking care of things and of course the thin blue line still did.
Policing
was often a lot easier and more effective than
law enforcement
, and by that I meant that some things are better taken care of unofficially, off the books.

Now that I was even farther from those books, I could engage in my own version of policing now and again. A twisted arm, a payoff, a word in the right ear…when the goal was to suppress information, methods like these might work. If it came to law enforcement…well, at some point I could just dump it in the lap of SFPD and forget about it.

Closure? That was a luxury in this business.

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