The Waiting Game (Garvey Fields) (17 page)

He glared at me, straightened his back and tried to stare me down, looked at his watch again, “ten minutes,” he said. “I apologize, there is nothing in your demeanor or attire to suggest you are not a gentleman, it was not my desire to insult you.”

“Thought not and I knew you weren’t really Larry or Errol.”

He made an involuntary lurch type flinch of his shoulders, and then relaxed. I think he realized he actually didn’t understand what I meant.

I stuck out my hand and he shook it this time, I was disappointed with the shake. He’d been all mouth and a limp handshake, which told me he was probably a coward who hid behind money and the power his race, wealth and status afforded him. If he’d tried to break my hand I’d have respected him more.

“So I’ve been briefed a little by Cortina, are you willing to make a payoff to rid yourself of this Grace girl problem?”

“Not so much as a dime,” he said indignantly. Raising his voice a few decibels to emphasis his point more forcefully.

“Really? If this is a hustle she’ll want compensation for their trouble. If she goes onto marry him in Vegas or something it’ll cost real money. What kind of money are we talking about him receiving going forward?”

“That is unimportant,” he said, but it was more like a retaliatory strike because I’d wounded him first.

“If you give me half the info you get half a job.”

He considered by statement like one might a golf shot, “as we speak he receives ten thousand dollars a month U.S from a trust fund his mother, my late wife, established for him.” He took a breath, “when he’s thirty he’ll get more money than most double lottery winners.”

“Damned, well you can’t blame a girl for trying her luck to see if she wins big, not these days anyway. Have you tried the twins, any chance of a discount or agreement?”

“It’s a shady gambling debt that is uncollectable,” he said like a spoilt child trying to make a point that a silly parent didn’t get.

Cortina sighed wearily; this was why she stuck to unfaithful spouses and a little escorting. Spouses cheated and were caught, escort provided company, the only question being how much they wanted. This kind of detective work, dealing with those who didn’t understand the rules, was too cumbersome and likely to lead to the client messing things up themselves.

“Whatever you say Mr. Flynn,” I said. “But these people don’t have a habit of letting people off debts; it would set a bad precedent. After all, the Twins would have authorized payment if your son had won.”

“That doesn’t matter me,” he said finally.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

 

 

L
ooking back that is when I should have walked away; working for someone who doesn’t have a concept of consequence or the impact of what they are asking or saying is no different to a normal paid job. He wasn’t trying to understand the gangsters or the honey pot or the perilous nature of his son’s position. He simply believed that he could will something into or away from existence. That didn’t work in the arena he had stepped into, down on this trade floor the rules were different and the consequences were direr.

“Well I guess you can stick to that line, but those twins might not sleep so well knowing they got an account in debit of $500,000 that isn’t worth anything to them.”

“So you’re saying there is a threat of violence?” he asked. The penny had finally dropped.

“Hard to say really, their places are exclusive, get an A-list crowd. The truth is they can’t afford to go around killing or disabling people, it looks bad, but every now and again someone takes a hit just to keep up appearances. Even if they don’t want to deal with things directly, they could always get an associate to handle things for them. You know, car crashes, exploding gas pipes, random shootings in a public spaces and your son would be the innocent bystander. Either way the message gets out and people play by their rules.”

He looked at his watch again, and then forced hit blazer sleeve down as though trying to pull off the arm. “All of this is your concern; the D.A and I are friends, if you think you are unable to…”

“Are you a Democrat or a Republican?”

“Republican.”

“You ain't friends, I’ve known him a while too, Grand Jury, that sort of thing. Listen, you could have gone to him straight away, but you came to Cortina and begged her to bail you out of a messy situation, knowing you couldn’t use regular channels. So I would say D.A or otherwise it didn’t stop your cry for help.”

He clicked his heels together like Dorothy, “my money is as good as it is long, you bring me results and I’ll pay you prompt and maybe even provide a bonus. I think we have an understanding. Ms. Young I will be in touch, I expect to be kept informed.”

He turned and left the office closing the door softly behind him.

I turned to Cortina.

“How do you know this guy,” I said.

“He uses the escort service from time to time and mentioned something to one of the girls. They suggested my firm; I run the escort and detective agencies as separate entities. You goanna do the job?”

“For a two thousand dollars a day, yeah sure, just make sure he puts my money in escrow. I don’t trust his ass one bit.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

I like to read; in fact I have a degree in English Literature. I would ask you to forgive my editing sometimes though. I started writing because I was looking for something and could not find it. I enjoy Walter Mosley’s Easy Rawlins, books by Eric Jerome Dickey, but I wanted a slightly more urban series of urban mystery fiction. I hope you enjoy this effort and those that follow.

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