Call Me! (5 page)

NOW THAT THE groceries are put away, I pop the lid on a diet soda and bring it upstairs. I don’t have a formal office up here like Ben has on the first floor, but what I have works for me. I’ll give you a quick tour if you like, but try not to blink.

This open area at the top of the stairs, overlooking the den, is what passes for my office. You’ll notice the windows on the far side offer a view of the front yard. On this side, if you look over the railing, you’ll see our back yard through the sliding glass doors of the den. It’s about the size of a postage stamp, so there’s not much labor required to keep it tidy.

Yes, my office area is small. Room only for a desk and chair, but what else do I need? I’ve got a laptop, printer, and cell phone charger on the desk, supplies in the drawers.

Come, I’ll show you the rest of the upstairs.

It’s a mere ten steps from my desk to the door of my bedroom. There’s my Queen-size bed and the single night stand and lamp. You’ll note the huge dresser on the opposite wall, and the thirty-six inch TV atop it.

Yes, I could afford a larger TV, but I only watch to fall asleep, so I’m quite content. Yes, I’ve got cable. No, I don’t have HD. Yes, I know the closets are small. But there are two of them, and remember, the dresser’s ji-normous.

My cell phone is ringing, so I’ll wrap this up. The window overlooks the driveway. The open door leads to the bathroom…and that’s about it.

Caller ID is coming up blank, so I answer the phone cheerfully.

“Dani Ripper, how can I help you?”

“I think my husband’s cheating.”

“If you think he is, he probably is. Want me to find out for sure?”

“I reckon so.”

“That’s the spirit!”

I get to my desk, get out a legal pad and pen and say, “What’s your name?”

“Jeredith Baker.”

“And how old are you, Ms. Baker?”

“What difference does that make?”

“I’m building a profile. I’m not on the clock yet, so anything you tell me now will save you money later.”

“I don’t have much money.”

“Hey, me either!” I say, “and you know why? Because my prices are so reasonable! But I’m very good at my job, and I’ll get you a fast result.”

“Well, you sound like a go-getter.”

“Thanks. How old are you, Jeredith?”

“Sixty-two.”

I shake my head. She’s probably mistaken about her husband cheating. Still, I can charge her for my time, knowing she’ll be even happier if her husband turns out to be faithful.

“What’s your husband’s name?”

“Burt.”

“Burt Baker?”

“Yep.”

“And how old is Burt?”

“Sixty-six.”

A thought crosses my mind.

“Is Burt taking medication for erectile dysfunction?” I ask.

“Is that the little blue pill?”

“Yes. But there are other colors for similar medications.”

“He takes a lot of medicine, but probably not that type. Burt doesn’t dance much.”

“Excuse me?”

“In the commercials on TV they always show people dancing after taking those blue pills. And smiling. They take the pill, they dance, they smile, they hold hands. Does that sound like Burt to you?”

I can’t believe I’m participating in this conversation. Shows how badly I want to do some real PI work.

“So, Burt doesn’t dance?” I say.

“No ma’am, nor smile much, neither.”

We go back and forth like that awhile, and I start building a profile. I’m surprised to learn Burt spends hours at a time online, so I tell Jeredith I’d like to have a look at his computer.

“Wednesday at one o’clock,” she says. “He always leaves the house at noon on Wednesday, and stays gone till night time.”

“Do you ask where he goes?”

“Of course. But he tells me to shut my trap and mind my own business.”

I frown. Already I don’t like Burt. I tell her I’ll see her on Wednesday. Then I call Dillon.

“Captain Spaceship,” he says.

“Dillon, it’s me, Dani.”

“I want to be called Captain Spaceship.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Still, it’s what I want.”

I sigh. It’s not easy dealing with teenage computer nerds.

“How about I call you CS?”

“Are you
crazy
?”

“CS. Captain Spaceship.”

“CS stands for cock sucker.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Jeez, Dani.”

“Look. I’ll make you a deal. I won’t call you Captain Spaceship and you don’t have to call me Princess Washing Machine. The thing is I’ve got a job for you. If you don’t want it, I’ll do it myself.”

His laugh sounds like the braying of an asthmatic donkey. And once it starts, like now, it goes on and on. When it finally ends he says, “Are my
ears
functioning correctly? Did I hear you say you’ll do it
yourself
? You couldn’t find a jpeg in a music file!”

“Dillon, either take the job or hang up. If you hang up, I’ll never call again.”

“When and where?”

I tell him.

“How much?”

“Sixty.”

“Thousand?”

“Dollars, Dillon. Sixty dollars.”

“What’s the job?”

“We’re hacking a sixty-six-year-old man’s computer, on site. Think you’re up to it?”

He laughs. “I should be arrested for stealing your money.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say.

AFTER ENDING THE call with Dillon I log onto my laptop and check for updates.

BillInNeed
claims to have hooked up with a virgin. Of course he has. Just like I hooked up with Brad Pitt last night.
FingerSniffer
challenges “all underage whores” to send him “nekkid pix,” and
StickyRicky
has opened a discussion thread that asks, “What’s the wildest thing you’ve done, in exactly five words?” The post is only twenty minutes old but he’s already logged twenty-two responses. I read them with mild interest, because it’s not easy to express yourself in exactly five words.

One surprises me.

SimonHymen
, male, 15, posted: “Had sex with girlfriend’s father.”

Eew.

ShawnInPain’s
new post should stir things up among the dregs of humanity:
I have dirty thoughts about my sister. She’s fifteen and hot! I want to drug her and do vile things. Tell me what to do to her. Details, please.
My cell phone rings again.

“Hi, honey,” Ben says. “Want to go out tonight?”

“I’m up for a beer and appetizer,” I say.

“How about Carson’s?”

“Carson’s is cocktails, not beer. Are we celebrating something?”

“My birthday.”

I do the math in my head. “That’s in three months.”

He laughs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

At Carson’s, over drinks, I learn he wants me to give up my Tuesday.

“I can’t.”

“It wouldn’t be the whole day,” he says, “just Tuesday night.”

“Why?”

“I want us to take an old friend of mine out to dinner.”

The thing is I can accommodate him, since I haven’t called Sophie to switch our Tuesday lunch to dinner yet.

“It’d mean a lot to me,” he says.

“What’s so important about this friend?”

“It’s Roy Burroughs.”

“Who’s that?”

“My college roommate.”

I shake my head. “You guys would have much more fun without me. You can go out drinking, talk dirty, swap lies.”

He frowns. “You think that’s what guys do?”

“When you’re not belching, scratching, or passing gas.”

“Funny.”

“Seriously. You could take him to a titty bar, get a lap dance.”

He nods. “Okay. Forget it.”

Now I feel bad. Ben asks for so little. Dinner with his old friend is the least I can do.

“What time?” I say.

He looks at me with interest. “When could you be back?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Thanks, Dani.”

“Will Roy’s wife be joining us?”

“He’s not married.”

We’re quiet a while. Then I ask, “How come you never talk about this guy?”

“I hate his guts.”

“You’ll note the confused look on my face,” I say.

“All through school he was the biggest jerk,” Ben says. “Whatever I did, he had to top it. He had the money, the car, the grades, the girlfriends.”

“He intimidated you.”

“He was popular. A great athlete.”

“He lives here? In town?”

“Miami. He’s coming in town to close a big real estate deal. Wants to meet us for dinner, so he can rub his success in my face.”

“Why didn’t you say you were busy?”

“Because I’ve got
you
.”

“Confused look on my face again.”

“When he sees you, he’ll shit his pants!”

“He will? What a charmer! Silly me, willing to settle for a handshake.”

“I’m serious. You’re going to blow him away.”

“Thanks for adding the last word in the sentence.”

“You’re funny tonight.”

“But on Tuesday I’m what, your trophy?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

He looks at me. “Roy doesn’t have to know how things really are between us. It’ll be the first time in my life I actually beat him at something.”

“Can you hear how sad that makes you sound?”

“I’ll give you an extra day next week,” he says.

“Sunday or Wednesday?”

“Your choice.”

“Sunday.”

“Thanks, Dani. I know it sounds perverse, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

After the waiter takes our order we talk about
ManChild
. Ben says I haven’t spoken about him for a while, and was curious if I was still hunting him. I tell him
ManChild
frustrates me like Roy frustrates him, but I won’t give up. He says he’s proud of me for sticking with it.

While eating, we talk like married people. He wants to know if I’ll stay home tomorrow so the air conditioner guy can do the six-month maintenance. I can, and remind him the pest control guy is scheduled for Tuesday morning. Ben’s got that covered. We talk about our bills, then he yawns and says he couldn’t sleep last night because his back flared up.