remembered he'd
said some nasty things about that rat-faced Scherer. "You said, no
quotes."
"That's right. I won't quote
you."
"OK." And that was it.
As Z lumbered down the path toward his
car, he was thinking that, though he'd been leery of the interview,
it hadn't been a bad experience.
It hadn't taken long,
either.
Maybe Susan was right. That he should
talk more. He'd certainly gotten some things off his chest about
Scherer that he'd been carrying around for a long time.
All in all, Z was feeling ...
fine.
* * * * *
Chapter 8
Life was a football, Z
often thought. (No doubt one of the lesser observations from
someone who used to play the game.) And like a football, took crazy
bounces. Though things hadn't been going Z's way, by Monday, the "ball" had
bounced right into his hands.
Just another thought that
had gone through Z's mind as he sat in the Cavalier, in the Monday
midnight dark, parked in the shabby blackness of Jarbo. There was
nothing to do but think as the Cavalier's hot engine ticked its response to the
old street's chittering insects, Z smelling the unmistakable odor
of late night: dew, the leather leaves of aged trees, dust, unmowed
lawns. ... And poverty.
For starters that morning, Z had
gotten a call from Harry Grimes, Kansas City's most respected
private investigator, Grimes making his mark in law enforcement as
head of security for Sunflower Ordinance during World War II. After
that, he'd gone into the P.I. business where he'd developed the
reputation as the best skip-tracer in the Midwest. Launching his
business -- Deerstalker Detectives -- he'd taken on three partners
in the 60's, in the 70's, adding two more. (Z wondered how many
people, hearing the word Deerstalker, thought Harry ran a hunting
club. Z knew better, of course, Z a fan of Sherlock Holmes.) Harry
was now in his 80's (if not 90's) the old man in semi-retirement
but still acting as Deerstalker's "rainmaker." Too old to do
sleuthing himself, Harry spent his time making himself visible to
the business community; had a membership at Wedgewood, Kansas
City's premiere golf club, as well as playing at several other
links. You wanted a detective agency who could work at the highest
levels? You talked to Harry on this or that club's 18th green or in
some posh clubhouse after a quick nine.
First based in Lenexa, Deerstalker was
now headquartered at Corporate Woods in Johnson County, Kansas --
just a skip and a jump from Kansas City proper, positioned in that
new, and quite exclusive, "executive park" to garner business from
the younger generation of K.C.'s corporate leaders.
Z had met Harry a few
times before Harry "retired," just brushed past him, really, Harry
going this way, Z that. Enough contact, though, that Harry started
throwing a little business Z's way from time to time. Always part
of a larger case -- sometimes an executive kind of deal Z didn't
fully understand. Like Harry trusted Z, Z trusted Harry, everyone
calling Harry the Silver Fox (Fox, indicating clever rather than tricky .)
This time, Harry had called to say he
wanted personal information about a man who'd moved to the
Northland. Z's territory.
Z liked working for Harry Grimes. Made
Z feel like he was going up in the world. (Also, Harry paid well.
And paid in advance.) Harry hadn't discussed the case, just asked
if Z was busy, getting the expected denial. Harry said he'd send Z
a check, sort of put Z on retainer, like someone with potential
legal problems would put a hot-shot lawyer on retainer.
Yes. It always made Z feel classy to
be associated with Harry Grimes.
The second thing that had gone right
this morning was Z's decision to ring up Jamie Stewart at her
apartment (it still being summer) rather than at the Catholic girls
school in Kansas City, Kansas, where she taught in
winter.
In addition to teaching, Jamie
"moonlighted" in Kansas City, Missouri, as the K.C. cops' "occult
expert," which meant they used her to expose "supernatural" fraud
of one
said some nasty things about that rat-faced Scherer. "You said, no
quotes."
"That's right. I won't quote
you."
"OK." And that was it.
As Z lumbered down the path toward his
car, he was thinking that, though he'd been leery of the interview,
it hadn't been a bad experience.
It hadn't taken long,
either.
Maybe Susan was right. That he should
talk more. He'd certainly gotten some things off his chest about
Scherer that he'd been carrying around for a long time.
All in all, Z was feeling ...
fine.
* * * * *
Chapter 8
Life was a football, Z
often thought. (No doubt one of the lesser observations from
someone who used to play the game.) And like a football, took crazy
bounces. Though things hadn't been going Z's way, by Monday, the "ball" had
bounced right into his hands.
Just another thought that
had gone through Z's mind as he sat in the Cavalier, in the Monday
midnight dark, parked in the shabby blackness of Jarbo. There was
nothing to do but think as the Cavalier's hot engine ticked its response to the
old street's chittering insects, Z smelling the unmistakable odor
of late night: dew, the leather leaves of aged trees, dust, unmowed
lawns. ... And poverty.
For starters that morning, Z had
gotten a call from Harry Grimes, Kansas City's most respected
private investigator, Grimes making his mark in law enforcement as
head of security for Sunflower Ordinance during World War II. After
that, he'd gone into the P.I. business where he'd developed the
reputation as the best skip-tracer in the Midwest. Launching his
business -- Deerstalker Detectives -- he'd taken on three partners
in the 60's, in the 70's, adding two more. (Z wondered how many
people, hearing the word Deerstalker, thought Harry ran a hunting
club. Z knew better, of course, Z a fan of Sherlock Holmes.) Harry
was now in his 80's (if not 90's) the old man in semi-retirement
but still acting as Deerstalker's "rainmaker." Too old to do
sleuthing himself, Harry spent his time making himself visible to
the business community; had a membership at Wedgewood, Kansas
City's premiere golf club, as well as playing at several other
links. You wanted a detective agency who could work at the highest
levels? You talked to Harry on this or that club's 18th green or in
some posh clubhouse after a quick nine.
First based in Lenexa, Deerstalker was
now headquartered at Corporate Woods in Johnson County, Kansas --
just a skip and a jump from Kansas City proper, positioned in that
new, and quite exclusive, "executive park" to garner business from
the younger generation of K.C.'s corporate leaders.
Z had met Harry a few
times before Harry "retired," just brushed past him, really, Harry
going this way, Z that. Enough contact, though, that Harry started
throwing a little business Z's way from time to time. Always part
of a larger case -- sometimes an executive kind of deal Z didn't
fully understand. Like Harry trusted Z, Z trusted Harry, everyone
calling Harry the Silver Fox (Fox, indicating clever rather than tricky .)
This time, Harry had called to say he
wanted personal information about a man who'd moved to the
Northland. Z's territory.
Z liked working for Harry Grimes. Made
Z feel like he was going up in the world. (Also, Harry paid well.
And paid in advance.) Harry hadn't discussed the case, just asked
if Z was busy, getting the expected denial. Harry said he'd send Z
a check, sort of put Z on retainer, like someone with potential
legal problems would put a hot-shot lawyer on retainer.
Yes. It always made Z feel classy to
be associated with Harry Grimes.
The second thing that had gone right
this morning was Z's decision to ring up Jamie Stewart at her
apartment (it still being summer) rather than at the Catholic girls
school in Kansas City, Kansas, where she taught in
winter.
In addition to teaching, Jamie
"moonlighted" in Kansas City, Missouri, as the K.C. cops' "occult
expert," which meant they used her to expose "supernatural" fraud
of one
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