Part 25 (2/2)
”Not too private.”
I looked from detective Sue back to Caroline, then back to Sue. ”Caroline's my best friend. I'd trust her with my life, if that's what you mean.”
”No, just kind of noisy in here.” She idly glanced back toward the mechanical bull. I followed her gaze and watched as a yelping girl slid off its rear.
Caroline stood up. ”I need to use the washroom for a minute. I'll be right back.”
Sue smiled, then turned to me once Caroline walked away. ”Not trying to be rude to your friend, but I can't just a.s.sume you're ready to talk money and contracts in front of your buddies.”
”No, I guess not.”
”What I have is a standard agreement. I'll give you a copy. Nothing fancy, no frills. I try to give folks a fair deal. I do require a retainer to get started, and of course, details on what you hope to accomplish. I don't think this is the best place to talk about that. If I got a handle on what y'all were saying earlier, then I suppose others might be able to also.”
”You could hear us?”
”Yes and no. But for the most part, yes. I believe Caroline made some remark about asking my age, and you objected.”
”You heard that?”
She smiled. ”Sort of. I'm not telepathic. Though sometimes ... I wonder.”
I looked around at the people sitting nearest to us. None seemed to be paying any attention. ”We were joking. I mean, Caroline was joking ... about asking your age. She's not-”
She held up her hand. ”Don't worry. I thought it was funny. I almost laughed out loud. And I'm not quick to take offense, or to make hasty judgments. I wouldn't last in this business if I did. I'd like to talk to you tonight for a few minutes, if that's possible, so we don't waste each other's time. But I can't talk in front of your friend. I'm sure she's all that you say she is, but it's not the way I do business.”
”Okay. Where do you want to go?”
”How about my van. What windows it has are tinted, and n.o.body's going to hear us in there.”
”I'll just tell Caroline we're leaving.”
”Sure.”
Her van was parked a block away on a side street with minimal traffic. The minivan looked fairly ordinary, white, and was due for a wash. I noticed the windows were tinted a dark black, except for the driver's and pa.s.senger's, which were a lighter black tint.
She unlocked the doors and let me in. The pa.s.senger compartment appeared like any other, and was clean and organized. The only personal items were a box of tissues and another pair of sungla.s.ses on the floor. I looked toward the back of the van, but couldn't make out a thing. Light s.h.i.+elding curtains covered the windows. I did get the feeling that whatever equipment she carried back there wouldn't be found in your average family van.
She reached behind her seat and grabbed a black briefcase, then punched in a code that released the lock. She pulled out a single doc.u.ment printed on white paper.
”This is my contract. You can read it over if you like, but you don't have to sign anything now. Unless you're in a big rush. Like I said, it's fairly standard in the trade, and my rates are in line with other good P.I.s.”
”I'm not worried about the money.”
”Well, that's always good news. How soon did you want me to start?”
”As soon as possible. Is that a problem?”
”No, no problem.”
I took a deep breath, then let it go. ”Whatever I tell you ... I mean ... I guess what I'm trying to say is ... I need to know if I can count on you not to involve the police, if it turns out ...” I hesitated, thinking. ”Are you a cop? Were you ever on the police force?”
”No, I'm not a cop, though I was interested-well no, I wasn't-to tell you the truth. I'd rather work on my own. But I know people, a lot of people, who are officers of the law, and they don't mind helping me out now and then, and that goes both ways.” She stopped, waiting for me to respond.
”I don't want you to do anything illegal,” I said, ”or to do anything illegal myself. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you do uncover something, could you at least tell me first before you go to the police with the information?”
She finally took off her sungla.s.ses, and I could see that she looked quite young for her age. She wore no makeup, but wasn't unattractive, clear tanned skin coupled with light blue eyes and blonde lashes.
”I can't promise anything until you give me a clue as to what you expect me to do.”
”Okay, that's fair. Sorry. Two things, essentially. I want to find the guy who murdered my sister, and I want to know if my husband is cheating on me.”
She nodded her head. ”I know about your sister. Awful thing. Sorry. I know they're still looking for the guy.... So, you want me to try and flush this creep out, and you want me to find out what your husband is up to, if anything.”
”Yes, basically that's it,” I said, then looked down at my hands.
”But not everything.”
”No, that's about it.”
”Gwyn, the more information you give me up front, the better I'll be able to help you. I can't guarantee anything if you leave stuff out. Believe me, I've heard it all. Nothing shocks me. But it's your dime. However you want to play it.” She gave me a half smile. ”Why don't you look over my contract, think about it, then get back to me. I will say this. I don't go out of my way to hurt people or to mess up their lives. You can trust me there. I'll do everything in my power to help you, within reason.”
Afterwards, I walked back toward the Wild River where my Jeep was parked. I wasn't ready to be alone, or to go home to an empty house. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Caroline.
”Hey,” she said, ”how did it go?”
”Good. We talked a little. I have her contract. I like her. I think I'll hire her.”
”Great. So where are you now?”
”Walking back to my car.”
”You going home? Do you want to stop by?”
”I kind of would like to stop by.”
”Then come on over. I cleaned up the place, and no one's even seen it yet. I figured maybe you and that detective might want to meet here. Hate to waste a clean apartment on just myself. I'll make us coffee.”
”Okay. I'll bring dessert.”
”Super.”
I could feel my spirits lift as soon as I stopped by the grocery and picked out chocolate ice cream and home-baked sugar cookies. As I mounted the stairs to Caroline's second story apartment, I caught a whiff of freshly brewing coffee. She'd left the door ajar, but I gave it a knock anyway.
”Come on in,” she yelled out.
Her one bedroom apartment was s.p.a.cious, the way apartments used to be built years ago, with full country kitchens and large bathrooms. The building itself housed ten units, and was over forty years old.
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