Book 2: Chapter 39: Breakfast at Tiffanys (1/2)

Tawny's floppy ears drew back on his head, a sign of confusion. ”Tips on being a private investigator? Were you planning on going into the business?”

Dan shrugged noncommittally, unsure of how much he should reveal. Tawny probably wouldn't be thrilled that Dan wanted to poke around in a police investigation, but there was nothing explicitly illegal about looking into things on his own time. Dan just wasn't allowed to do anything that might impede the detective's work.

”I wouldn't suggest it as a career choice,” Tawny admitted, taking a sip of his iced tea. ”Private Eye's have a poor reputation anywhere you go, and work is unsteady at best.”

”Not a huge market, then?” Dan queried curiously. Tawny hadn't spoken much of his PI days to any of his students, though an Academy classroom had hardly been the time or place for that conversation.

The officer's ears bounced about as he shook his head. ”Not so much. People just aren't all that inclined to call upon independent investigators these days, and those that do have a fairly common theme. Usually its something regarding their personal life. People have an easier time revealing their worries to a complete stranger, than their own loved ones. The police, or victims of a crime, make use of us on occasion, but it's not a steady career by any means.”

Dan blinked. ”Weren't you a PI for a decade or two? That's a whole heck of a lot of cheaters.”

”Yes, there were many. But not all of them were guilty. Sometimes it was just a paranoid spouse.” He grimaced. ”Dealing with clients is another problem entirely. Often, people do not want to hear the truth. They want to hear what they believe to be the truth. The moment you contradict that, they stop believing you. It was... frustrating.”

”That's true of any job,” Dan pointed out. ”You must have to deal with belligerent civilians as a cop?”

Tawny shrugged. ”The badge lends a certain amount of inherent respect and authority. People listen when I talk, even when I'm not saying what they want to hear. It is better, trust me.”

Dan leaned back in the bench seat. ”Well, I'm not really looking to be a PI at the moment. I was more interested in how you went about actually doing the job. Y'know, the investigation parts.”

Tawny blinked and cocked his head in an eerily canine fashion. ”Why do you ask?”

Dan shifted awkwardly in his seat. How much should he say? If he really believed that he wasn't doing anything wrong, then he should be fine admitting it. That logic seemed to track.

After another moment's consideration, Dan gingerly admitted, ”I want to look into some things on my own time.”

Tawny visibly came to attention. ”What kinds of things, Daniel?”

”Oh, you know...” Dan said, twirling his hand in an utterly meaningless gesture. ”Things.”

”What kind of things, Daniel?” Tawny repeated, his voice stern.

Dan grimaced.

Tawny stared.

Dan broke first. The words poured out in a rush, ”My case. Cases. The cases I'm in. Three of them, now, I think. I just need to do something, you know? People keep trying to fuck with me, and I've got no answers, and sitting at home twirling my fingers is driving me up the wall.”

Tawny took in the jumbled explanation with a series of rapid blinks. He quietly reached for his drink, and took a sip. He set down the glass, and it clanked against the hardwood table. Ice jingled against glass, as he slid it away from himself with a single finger.

”That,” he pronounced with solemnity, ”is a terrible idea.”

”Most of mine are,” Dan admitted. ”I'm still gonna do it.”

”Civilians shouldn't poke their head into murder investigations,” Tawny said sternly. ”I knew better than that even when I was a private eye.”

”You never got hired to look into a murder? Not even once?” Dan asked.

Now it was Tawny who shifted awkwardly. ”A few cold cases here and there, perhaps. But those weren't active investigations. They were years old, and not nearly as dangerous to look into. Nothing came of most of them.”

”I can't sit around and do nothing, Michael,” Dan admitted. ”I can't do it. It's not in me.”

It had been, but he'd purged it. Dan had learned the truth: passivity was a trap. He would no longer sit by and wait for fate to happen upon him. He'd gotten lucky the once; it wouldn't happen again. Dan would have to march out and find it on his own.

”And I can't, in good conscience, assist you in something that might get you killed,” Tawny countered immediately.