Chapter 14

 

Six years ago …

 

“So, I’m wondering what to do about my job. Sloan and Mercer is a great accounting firm, but I see my future there going either into a rat-race spiral or turning completely dead-end. If I don’t hurry and get on the fast track for promotions I’ll be stuck forever preparing the simplest tax returns.”

I looked across the table at the guy I’d been dating for three months. He looked totally bored.

“Gary, have you heard a word I said?”

He let out a huge sigh and signaled the waitress to bring him another beer. Didn’t bother to ask if I wanted more wine. I tried to see what I’d found attractive about him in the first place. He had nice hair. That was about it. His career in electronics was ‘on hiatus’ as he liked to tell people, but it basically meant the company had let go of the dead weight in an overall downsizing maneuver and he hadn’t yet found another job. Our so-called dates had degenerated to where it was mostly a case of my suggesting we go out somewhere as long as I was willing to pick up the tab.

He flashed a smile at the waitress as she set the beer down, and he fussed with a lime wedge while I thought back to what I’d been saying. The lagging economy was the main reason I hadn’t quit Sloan and Mercer—there was no certainty I’d find anything else very soon. And although my inheritance money would take care of me for awhile, I couldn’t imagine myself being like Gary—using up my savings and sitting around the house all day.

“So, how was your day?” I asked, although he’d pretty well covered it in the five minutes it took to say hello in the parking lot and walk into the restaurant.

“Are you asking whether I got myself out and applied for a job? ’Cause that line’s getting really old, Charlie.”

“Okay. You don’t want to talk about my work and you don’t have any, and we really have nothing else in common.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and slid to the edge of the booth. “This should cover the drinks. Have a nice life.”

I walked out, expecting that shaky feeling when you aren’t sure you’ve done the right thing. But the feeling never came. Gary had been sweet and attentive in the beginning, and we’d both had career hopes that made us seem like an up-and-coming couple. And he wasn’t bad in bed. But you can’t build a life on such fragile pinnings, and at twenty-seven I was looking to settle in with The One. I just didn’t have a clue who it might be.

My mother’s Buick sat in the lighted parking lot—another piece of my life where I’d become stuck. It had seemed a practical matter to keep the car that was paid for, rather than rushing out to buy what I really wanted, but sheesh. The thing was more than ten years old now. I climbed in and listened to the battery strain a little to start it. Another thing I’d better attend to before next winter.

At least my red Lab would be waiting at home for me. A dog is the one thing you can count on in life. I pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru lane and got the pooch a cheeseburger and myself a Big Mac and Coke. The evening was looking up already.

I turned on my street and noticed a bunch of extra cars a few houses up the way. Four teens piled out of one and made their way, laughing and kidding around, toward the Delaney house. Looked like a party—on a Tuesday? A little wave of disapproval coursed through me. The twin girls must be about thirteen now. What were they doing having a party on a school night?

Drop it, Charlie. It’s probably their birthday and the parents are throwing a bash for them.

My disapproval turned to faint envy. Even on my birthday there wouldn’t have been a big party with lots of friends on a school night. It would have been a sleepover Friday night with a few girls. Gram always baked me a huge chocolate cake and she let us girls have run of the house all night long. Now, I can only imagine how she was handling the noise we made. Locked away in her own room, she probably turned up her radio and fell asleep to some old big-band tunes. The envy turned to gratitude. My birthdays were always fun.

The phone was ringing when I walked into the house. Most likely it would be Gary, calling to apologize and suggest we get together again. Translated to: hey, we didn’t eat anything tonight. I ignored the ringing until the answering machine took over.

Standing by the kitchen counter, I let my greeting message play while I handed the dog his cheeseburger. He scarfed it down in two chomps. The voice which spoke to the recorder wasn’t Gary, thank goodness.

“Hey, sis. I’ve been wanting to talk about an idea I had. Just want to run something past you … Call me—”

I picked up the receiver before he hung up.

“Ron? Sorry, I just walked in the door. What’s up?”

“Hey. Yeah, I wanted to talk about something. We could meet at Pedro’s.”

I looked at my Big Mac. “I’ve got dinner already, but come on over if you want. There’s absolutely nothing going on tonight around here.”

“Okay. Be there in twenty minutes.”

Ron used to live a lot closer, but since the split last year with Bernadette, she and the boys stayed in their house and he moved up to the northeast heights to a dumpy apartment only a bachelor could love. He doesn’t love it, but he’s there. I think it’s his version of a hair shirt.

I finished my yummy fast food dinner and had put coffee on by the time he arrived.

He parked himself at my kitchen table with his coffee and the new bag of peanut butter cookies I’d bought yesterday.

“Dinner,” he grunted.

“Sorry there’s nothing better. I ate the one and only Big Mac, and well, you know what kind of cook I am.”

“The Nutter Butters are good.”

“So?” It’s rare that my brother says we should talk, and I admit to being a little apprehensive.

“I hear you’re not thrilled with your job at Sloan.”

No big secret.

“So, how about you and me become partners?”

“Me, in the private investigation business? I don’t have the credentials for a license.”

He chased three cookies with a big swig of his coffee. “Not what I had in mind. I’m thinking you’d be the financial brains—keep the books, send bills out, answer the phones sometimes.”

I ran it all through my head. “A partner, not an employee? So how much money do you need from this partner?”

He glanced down at the table for a second. “Enough to cover the current bills. I guess I’ve been better at spending than keeping on track of what people owe me.”

I pictured the dim little windowless office on the second floor of a has-been building up on Wyoming. It would mean driving halfway across the city for me to spend the day without seeing the sun. My job at Sloan and Mercer wasn’t the greatest but the downtown offices were nice and they were close to home.

“My terms would include a new office, someplace in a decent part of town. I’ll front the money for the upgrade, if that’s what it takes. I’ll need to see your financial statements as they stand now.”

He gave me a blank look.

“You don’t have financial statements?” Yikes. “How do you figure out what to declare on your taxes?”

“I got a little receipt book that makes a carbon copy. At the end of the year I add them up.”

Fine until you get audited. I paced the kitchen floor. “Okay … Here’s the deal. I’ll set us up with a real accounting system, computerize everything. I can come up with the money to get started, but I can’t financially support the business if it isn’t making a profit.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, there’s money every month.”

“Yeah, but now you’re in trouble with unpaid bills.”

“Bernadette—”

“Okay, I’m not placing blame. Let me take a look at your last couple of tax returns so I get a basic picture.”

His mood brightened by a dozen notches. “We can do this, Charlie. You and I have always gotten along real well.”

True. Our other brother, Paul, is from a whole different planet, but Ron and I have always been close.

“One other provision,” I said. “I don’t want to get into the investigation end of things. You bring in the cases and work them. I do finances only.”

We hashed out the details for several more hours, until I realized I really should get to bed if I was going to be worth diddly at work tomorrow. The idea in my head was that I would give two weeks’ notice and use evenings and weekends during that time to locate new digs for RJP Investigations.

He stood up and gave me a hug. “It’ll be a great partnership.”

A big unknown, as far as I was concerned. But the thought of walking into Sloan and Mercer and handing in my notice raised my spirits way up the scale.

“I’ll go home and gather the information you need,” he said, suddenly motivated. “Let’s get together again tomorrow night and go over it again. When can you get away so we can look at offices?”

I laughed. “A step at a time, Ron.”

We walked to the front door together, the dog trailing at our heels. Out on the porch, the music from the Delaney house was roaring louder than ever and at least a dozen kids had spilled out into the front yard.

“Gram would have sent them all packing a long time ago, if I’d tried that,” I said.

“She’d have tanned your hide. I can’t believe the parents are letting them do this. It’s almost midnight on a school night.”

“I doubt they’re letting them. They travel a lot and I have a feeling they aren’t home.”

“Thirteen-year-old girls home alone?”

“Hey, boys do this stuff too. I hope Bernadette is keeping a better eye on your kids than this.”

His mouth went into a firm line. “Yeah. She’d better be.”