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Harvard Square was buzzing with activity as people enjoyed the beautiful fall afternoon before rain from northern New England would roll in later. I pulled my Harvard baseball cap on tightly against the crisp autumn breeze. The crimson cap, with the white capital H on the front, gave the appearance that I was either a person of great intellect or had shelled out twenty-four bucks at the Coop.
My gray Northeastern University sweatshirt represented my Alma mater and kept me toasty warm as I walked down Brattle Street. Perhaps my sweatshirt confirmed the authenticity of my college diploma for Cynthia Holland. My blue jeans were classic Levis and well broken in, just the way I liked them. The same went for my New Balance sneakers.
I passed Brattle Square and crossed over Mount Auburn Street. I cut through Winthrop Square and admired the bright fall colors on the trees. I crossed John F. Kennedy Street to Winthrop Street. Harvard students passed me on the sidewalk carrying pizza boxes from Pinocchio's.
Through the plate-glass window I could see the small pizza and sub shop was busy as usual. I went in, made my way to the counter, and ordered. Two slices of pepperoni for me, and a slice of eggplant for Jessica. I completed the order with a Coke and bottled water and paid. Jessica would sip her water while I had a Coke and a smile.
Two coeds got up to leave and offered me their table by the window overlooking Winthrop Street. I smiled and thanked them. They smiled back. The usual reaction. Maybe I didn't need to check with my mother.
As I was sitting, I spotted Jessica on Winthrop Street approaching the restaurant. Her five foot ten inch athletic frame moved quickly. Jessica believed in arriving at least ten minutes early to any appointment. Even for a casual lunch with her favorite guy.
As she entered Pinocchio's, customers did a double-take. I saw it often. At first glance Jessica had a passing resemblance to Gisele Bündchen. With a little closer inspection the customers realized Jessica's hair was more chestnut, and she had light green eyes.
A few took a moment longer to consider her. Could Gisele be in disguise? Is there a Tom Brady sighting? All the patrons of Pinocchio's seemed satisfied Jessica was not Gisele and went back to eating their pizza and subs.
“Do people ever wonder if I'm Tom Brady when I'm with you?” I said.
Jessica wrinkled her nose and said, “You have dark hair and are two inches shorter. But you have similar blue eyes.”
“You left out every bit as handsome and a similar gun for an arm.”
“Goes without saying.”
“But that would be a 'no'?” I said
Jessica nodded her head and then gave me a kiss.
“But you're the star quarterback of my team,” she said as she removed her blue LL Bean fleece pea coat.
“Best team around,” I said.
Jessica placed her jacket over the back of her chair and sat. If she hadn't already told me she would be meeting a client, her charcoal pants suit and white blouse would have been a clue. Everyone at Jessica's agency wore suits. Their detectives were former FBI, Secret Service, police, and lawyers. Jessica fell into the latter category.
“So Pinnacle Detective Agency doesn't have enough clients in Boston that they are sending you to Cambridge?” I said before taking a bite of my pizza.
“Worried about the competition?” Jessica said with a grin.
“We don't exactly fish in the same client pond,” I said. “Unless the Pinnacle waters are drying up.”
“Hardly,” said Jessica. “Some of our clients have us on retainer to investigate the missing keys to their beamers.”
“Can't they just take the Mercedes instead?”
Jessica paused in taking a bite of her pizza and laughed.
“And you wonder why I don't have you over to the office more,” she said grinning.
“Oh, I know why,” I said. “Plus, I hate to wear suits.”
“How did you ever last five years with the FBI?”
“I was finding myself,” I said.
I polished off my first slice of pizza. Jessica was only half-way through her slice.
“Seriously,” Jessica said, “we have some very challenging cases. Plus, there is all the travel.”
Jessica often spent time in New York, Los Angeles, London, and cities across Europe.
“Ah, the glitz and glamour of international investigations,” I said. “You know, if you ever want to take on grittier cases, Dash and I can always make space for you on Brattle Street.”
“While we work well together on the occasional case, I'm not sure being partners is in either of our best interests.”
“Does save on changing the sign and business cards,” I said.
I was well into my second slice. Jessica still had a quarter of her slice remaining.
“Besides,” she said, “I get enough grit when I help out on some of your cases.”
“A little grit can go a long way,” I said. “Although I may be stepping up in the world.”
“Do tell.”
“I reeled in a rather large catch this morning,” I said. “I'm actually surprised they didn't go to Pinnacle.”
“Maybe they did, and we didn't take their case.” Jessica looked at me playfully.
“Or they decided to go straight to the Commonwealth's number one private investigator.”
“Who is the client?” Jessica said. “I can tell you if I met with them.”
“It's a good thing you are so cute,” I said.
“Right back at ya,” she said, raising her bottled water and titling it in my direction.
I raised my can of Coke and took a sip. “I can't believe they ever messed with the formula,” I said.
“That was over thirty years ago,” Jessica said.
“It was a big deal at the time.”
“Tell me about your new client.”
“Cynthia and Jeffrey Holland,” I said. “They've hired me to find their daughter, Ashley.”
“Wait a second,” Jessica said. “Ashley Holland? Do you have a picture of her?”
I pulled out my cell phone and found a picture of Ashley the Hollands had sent me. I handed the phone to Jessica. She considered the photo of Ashley a second, then nodded her head.
“The luck of your Irish family may truly be working for you today,” she said. “Ashley Holland is mentioned in one of our investigations.”