report on my desktop PC while he argued about something completely different over the hands-free phone.
There was nobody was in the tiny waiting room and the appointment diary showed me there were no client consultations for at least the next hour. I stuck a Back In Ten Minutes sign on the door to
discourage potential drop-ins and waited until he was free.
Stabbing the cut-off button, he threw the headset into the waste paper basket with a curse vituperative enough to curl hair, pounded a few more words on to the keyboard, then spun his swivel
chair to face me.
“I wasn’t expecting you today. They let you out early at the zoo?”
I rescued the headset and hit Save with the mouse in passing.
“Nope. I didn’t get home till after four. I thought I’d come down and buy you lunch.”
He snorted.
“Aside from the fact that your idea of lunch is Chinese take-away, the only time you ever volunteer to pay is when you need a favour.”
“They don’t call you a detective for nothing. I’m speechless at your awesome powers! I cower in the shadow of your wisdom! Teach me, master!”
“Fuck off, Randall! You’re not getting round me that easily. Besides I’ve already eaten. As if you didn’t know.”
I grinned. The take-out I’d picked up on my way was in the waiting room. I fetched it, and watched Dean grimace as I broke open the disposable plastic chopsticks and opened a carton of
stir-fried bean sprouts with noodles. I could see I’d got his attention as well as piqued his curiosity.
Between mouthfuls I filled him in on what had happened last night while the printer chattered out his report in the background. His expression became grimmer as I went on. When I reached the
part about this morning’s news about the missing (now deceased) dancer, he got up and began to pace.
“Do you think they’ll employ us to investigate this officially?”
“I hope so. Tori’s having a council of war with the ladies in my living room right now. I’ll try and get her name on the contract. If it comes to it, I’ll sign it
myself.”
“Don’t be stupid, Randall, you know you can’t. Legally, we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. And with this latest wrinkle we’ll probably need all the help we can
get.”
My business partner was no happier with the idea of getting caught up in a murder enquiry than I was. And not because of the possible danger to his own life and limbs. The police really do hate
‘amateurs’ messing about in (or messing up) investigations, and the local plod has less cause to like us than most.
In summer we’d taken on a case that looked like industrial espionage, only to have it blow up in our faces. Several people died. If I hadn’t abseiled off the Tower in a bid to save
Dean’s neck and draw the murderer out, I might have been in prison myself. Dean had been careful not to take on ugly cases, or step on any of the Constabulary’s toes since then.
“Make sure one of the girls signs the contract. And it would be better if it wasn’t Tori. Make sure we get a firm commitment from them to pay us. Cash or cheque in advance if you can
get it. I know you’ve got a personal stake in this. Hell! I like Tori, even if I don’t agree with what she does for a living. She’s good for you! But we can’t afford to work
for free.”
“Message received and understood.”
“From what you’ve told me, the incidents might not be connected. It’s seldom that someone vandalises, stalks, makes an attack in so public a fashion, commits murder and then
rapes. Unless they wanted to throw someone off the scent. The events can’t have been reported in chronological order.”
He scrubbed his hand over his close clipped hair and poured himself a tiny cup of his personal addiction: Turkish coffee, strong, sweet and thick.
Dean liked the idea of the hard boiled PI image as propounded by Dire Straits song Private Investigations. Unfortunately, he wasn’t cut out for it. He couldn’t stand
There was nobody was in the tiny waiting room and the appointment diary showed me there were no client consultations for at least the next hour. I stuck a Back In Ten Minutes sign on the door to
discourage potential drop-ins and waited until he was free.
Stabbing the cut-off button, he threw the headset into the waste paper basket with a curse vituperative enough to curl hair, pounded a few more words on to the keyboard, then spun his swivel
chair to face me.
“I wasn’t expecting you today. They let you out early at the zoo?”
I rescued the headset and hit Save with the mouse in passing.
“Nope. I didn’t get home till after four. I thought I’d come down and buy you lunch.”
He snorted.
“Aside from the fact that your idea of lunch is Chinese take-away, the only time you ever volunteer to pay is when you need a favour.”
“They don’t call you a detective for nothing. I’m speechless at your awesome powers! I cower in the shadow of your wisdom! Teach me, master!”
“Fuck off, Randall! You’re not getting round me that easily. Besides I’ve already eaten. As if you didn’t know.”
I grinned. The take-out I’d picked up on my way was in the waiting room. I fetched it, and watched Dean grimace as I broke open the disposable plastic chopsticks and opened a carton of
stir-fried bean sprouts with noodles. I could see I’d got his attention as well as piqued his curiosity.
Between mouthfuls I filled him in on what had happened last night while the printer chattered out his report in the background. His expression became grimmer as I went on. When I reached the
part about this morning’s news about the missing (now deceased) dancer, he got up and began to pace.
“Do you think they’ll employ us to investigate this officially?”
“I hope so. Tori’s having a council of war with the ladies in my living room right now. I’ll try and get her name on the contract. If it comes to it, I’ll sign it
myself.”
“Don’t be stupid, Randall, you know you can’t. Legally, we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. And with this latest wrinkle we’ll probably need all the help we can
get.”
My business partner was no happier with the idea of getting caught up in a murder enquiry than I was. And not because of the possible danger to his own life and limbs. The police really do hate
‘amateurs’ messing about in (or messing up) investigations, and the local plod has less cause to like us than most.
In summer we’d taken on a case that looked like industrial espionage, only to have it blow up in our faces. Several people died. If I hadn’t abseiled off the Tower in a bid to save
Dean’s neck and draw the murderer out, I might have been in prison myself. Dean had been careful not to take on ugly cases, or step on any of the Constabulary’s toes since then.
“Make sure one of the girls signs the contract. And it would be better if it wasn’t Tori. Make sure we get a firm commitment from them to pay us. Cash or cheque in advance if you can
get it. I know you’ve got a personal stake in this. Hell! I like Tori, even if I don’t agree with what she does for a living. She’s good for you! But we can’t afford to work
for free.”
“Message received and understood.”
“From what you’ve told me, the incidents might not be connected. It’s seldom that someone vandalises, stalks, makes an attack in so public a fashion, commits murder and then
rapes. Unless they wanted to throw someone off the scent. The events can’t have been reported in chronological order.”
He scrubbed his hand over his close clipped hair and poured himself a tiny cup of his personal addiction: Turkish coffee, strong, sweet and thick.
Dean liked the idea of the hard boiled PI image as propounded by Dire Straits song Private Investigations. Unfortunately, he wasn’t cut out for it. He couldn’t stand
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