1 The Reluctant Dick - The Case of the Not-So-Fair Trader by Jim Stevens

point.
    “Yes.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    “I’d like to request Diane Monday.”
    “Is this your home number?”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s your home address?”
    I fill in the blank.
    “I’ll call you back in five minutes,” he says and hangs up.
    I wait and in exactly five minutes, the phone rings.
    “Hello.”
    “I’m Nick.”
    “Nice to meet you.”
    “What time would you like to see Diane?”
    “You pick.”
    “One hour or two?”
    “One should be plenty.”
    At this point I have a pretty good idea what this is all about , and not because I’ve done this before.
    “In or out?”
    “In.”
    “Four o’clock.” Nick’s voice picks up in tempo.  “El even thirty-eight North State. T he name of the building is One State Street. Go to the front desk, tell the concierge you are Richard Sherlock and want forty-one-fourteen. He’ll call, and then buzz you in. Go to the second bank of elevators, not the first . Y ou don’t want to be looking stupid wandering around the wrong elevator bank.”
    “I can handle that.”
    “Knock on the door, your hour starts at four,” he hesitates, “you want anything special?”
    “No, I’m kind of a non-special kind of a guy.”
    “It’s four hundred, cash . W e don’t take credit cards.”
    “Fine.”
    “Where did you hear about us?” he asks.
    “Ah,” I hesitate.
    “You see us on the n et?” he says. “Escorts R us dot com?”
    “No.”
    “In the Reader ?”
    The Reader is a Chicago alternative weekly newspaper, which carries “Adult Entertainment” advertising. “No.”
    Nick must have a sheet to record the value of his advertising dollar. “Then where did you hear about us?”
    “Fan mail from some flounder.”
    Nick laughs, a fellow flying squirrel fan. “See you Monday.”
    “Thanks,” I said, “can’t wait.”
    I hang up the phone and turn on the computer. It takes forever to come on and get to the open space where I type in www.EscortsRus.com. A disclaimer comes on the screen. Is this absurd or what? I click, swear my age is over twenty-one, hit “Okay” and am sent to the menu page. What a menu. Halfway down the page are two women I last saw in church.
    Off goes the computer. I pick up the phone and dial. She picks up on the sixth ring. “What?”
    “I need you to bring an advance with you tomorrow morning.”
    “What?” Tiffany’s voice is weak.
    “Tiffany, are you okay?”
    “I’m tired,” she says, “I’ve been flushing my system all day. I’m sick of eating bran cereal.”
    “I need some cash.”
    “Daddy hates giving out advances. What’s it for?”
    “A prostitute.”
    “Oh, Mister Sherlock, if you’re that hard up, I could fix you up with one of my friends,” she stops, quickly retracts, “I mean one of my friend’s mothers.”
    “It has to do with the case.”
    “I’ve heard a lot of excuses, Mister Sherlock.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “You’re not meeting her on some street corner, are you?”
    “No.”
    “Well, I guess that’s some kind of positive.”
    “I’ll need four-hundred bucks, plus tip.”
    “You’re kidding?”
    “Hey, nothing’s cheap.”
    “Promise me you’ll use protection.”
    “I promise.”

 
     
    11
    Bored of trade
     
     
    Tiffany is waiting outside Conway Waddy’s door as I arrive.
    “Did you bring the four hundred?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “The ATM I went to was out of money,” Tiffany says. “Can you believe that?”
    “You go to the bank while I do this.”
    “And miss the reading of the will? You have got to be kidding, Mister Sherlock. Daddy said it is going to be a blast.”
    “Tiffany…”
    “Don’t worry; I’ll have the money by this afternoon when you go see your ho.”
    We walk inside and go directly into the conference room where all the players are present and accounted for. Brewster and Doris have taken the two seats at the head of the rectangular table, as if to say, we’re first in line . Clayton, who said he didn’t care if