Bad Company

by Jen Schoenbein

  “And you didn’t think about the complications of hiring his son when you did?” I frowned at Pete.

  Peter began pacing the office. It didn’t take him long; it was a small office.

  “Well, yes. Of course, I did. But I kind of thought it’d be good for business, you know? Doing Domenico a favor and all by giving his son a job. But now...I don’t know what to do. I just want to know if it really is Marco, stealing from me. If I have proof, then maybe...I don’t know. Maybe I can scare him off or threaten to tell his dad or something. I really have no idea, but I have to know for sure.”

  “Well, I can come meet him and feel the situation out. I could work as a ‘fill in’ for a few shifts.” I offered, leaning a hip against my desk and crossing my arms. “People are more inclined to talk to their peers. He’s more likely to open up if he sees us as equals. It also gives me a cover for poking around in the office and asking questions.”

  I had done some work like this in the past and the employees generally had an idea of what was going on in a company. They just tended to keep their mouth shut about it. No one wants to rat out another.

  Of course, there could be more than one of them in on the gig.

  “Once I get a feel as to who’s behind it, I can follow them and see if I can find out more information, like if they’re working alone, or with someone else,” I continued. I walked back around my desk to get my price sheet and handed it to Peter. “These are my fees. I work on an hourly basis. Extra expenses for dangerous cases. Any fees I incur while under investigation will be billed to you as well. I require a $1000 retainer. If you don’t use it all, I’ll reimburse you. Otherwise, I’ll bill you the remainder.” It was fair. I had tried to go without the retainer in the past and it had bit me in the butt a few times.

  Peter was still listening, so I kept the lead and went on.

  “I’ll give you daily updates on the case, by email or phone call, whichever works best for you,” I said, pulling my standard contract out of the drawer. “Although, I will warn you, sometimes it takes a few days to get any sort of lead to follow up on. If you decide to hire me, I’ll need you to fill out and sign this waiver. It explains that you have hired me and for what purposes. It also states that you understand I will be looking into whatever information necessary to solve the case, whether it’s pertaining to you, your family, or your business.”

  I needed that so I didn’t get in trouble for looking into a client’s life. Sometimes they changed their mind or didn’t want to tell a spouse they had hired me. It was a little insurance that proved I had business looking into their business.

  Peter frowned some more, still undecided. But he was still in the room.

  “You can take your time. Take it with you and bring it back if you decide you want to pursue it. I will tell you, though, if someone is stealing from you, they won’t just develop a conscience and stop. People just get greedier.” I stood to shake his hand and usher him out. I had given him all the facts. It was time for him to make the decision.

  “No, I’m ready. I want to get to the bottom of this,” Peter said with a decisive look on his face. He sat to fill out the contract. “I’m ready to find out what’s going on.” He filled out the form with grim determination, signed it and filled out a check with my retainer fee. “I’m not telling my wife that I hired you, so no one else will know about this. Shelly would be really upset if she thought I was looking into Dom’s boy.”

  “That’s not a problem.” I replied, filing the fact away. “I can be discreet. When does Marco work next?”

  “Tomorrow night, but Friday is our busy night.” Peter said. “If you want to pick up an extra shift then, it won’t raise as much suspicion. Would you want to be making pizzas or waiting tables?”

  “Probably wait tables. I can get more exposure to everyone and will have more excuses to be digging around.” A rough plan was already forming in my mind. ”What time?”

  “The dinner shift starts at 5pm.”

  “I’ll be there at 4:00pm to familiarize myself with the place and the menu.”

  “Have you ever waited tables before?” Pete asked.

  “Yes,” I replied nodding. It had worked at a bar that served dinner back before the police academy. I hadn’t been there long, but I figured it’d be similar enough.

  “Then it shouldn’t be a problem,” he said nodding. “I don’t have any fancy computer system or anything.”

  I shook Peter’s hand and let him out the door. Another job in the bag.

  I hoped this case would have better luck than with the Mennon case.

  Heward Bank was only a few miles away. I jumped into my Jeep and headed across town to poke around a bit. I had already seen the bank’s video footage. The bank manager, Mr. Tomlin, was more than happy to share it with me when I first took the case. He had been very helpful and wanted Suzy found as well.

  Everyone seemed to like Suzy, with her apparently sunny personality. In the video, Suzy didn’t looked stressed or worried at all. She just strolled on out of the office, purse swinging from her elbow. She had a pleasant smile on her face. As she walked out the door, I could see her slide sunglasses on and she turned her face up as though to soak in the sun.

  The other employees said it wasn’t unusual for her to head out at lunch. Sometimes she’d walk to a nearby restaurant for a bite to eat or grab a snack. Other times, she just took a short walk around the block.

  When Sam saw the footage, he confirmed that nothing looked out of place. Suzy was wearing a bright purple blouse and gray slacks. He said she seemed happy.

  Pulling up to Heward bank, I parked in the lot. I walked in and looked around, nodding to the tellers. I had been in several times, so they knew who I was by now. I glanced up at the security cameras, noting the path Suzy must have walked as she came around the teller window and out the front door. Turning, I took the same path, once again.

  Then, I walked back out the front door and looked down the street at the gas station in which Suzy had last been seen. Suzy had walked there instead of driving, so I took off on foot to trace that route. I wanted to trace her steps as close as possible to see what she saw that day. Maybe I would see something I had missed before.

  Walking into the small, dark store, I grabbed a water. No one could remember what Suzy had bought at the gas station and they didn’t have a deli counter with food. It was likely she either grabbed something small like nuts, a candy bar or a drink. There was no record of her card being ran, so she must have paid in cash.

  I grabbed my wallet and cash to keep up the pattern. As I walked by the beer case, I noticed that they didn’t have Mickey's beer in stock. Puzzled, I walked up to the cashier and asked if they were out.

  “No, we quit carrying it about a month or two ago,” the store clerk said. “The owner has been cutting back on inventory. Business has gone down with the economy, so we have less variety in stock. It’s too expensive”

  “Are you sure it’s been that long since you had it?” I pressed him. “Could it have been more recent?”

  Jeremy had said he bought Mickey’s here last week, when he saw Suzy. I had to be sure the clerk wasn’t just mistaken on timing.

  “No, actually, I’m sure,” the clerk confirmed, nodding his head. “St Patrick’s Day we sold entirely out of Mickey’s, along with any beer or liquor even remotely Irish.” At my questioning expression he added. “Mickey’s is green…After that, the boss only replaced the more popular beer.”

  I nodded, paying for my water and walked out slowly, looking around for any other clue.

  I knew the gas station was having a hard time financially. I hadn’t been able to get any good footage from the video cameras as they only kept the cameras on at the gas pumps. The owner claimed he wasn’t going to run any more electricity than necessary. He had to cut costs wherever he could.

  But that was okay, because now I had a lead again. A small one, but it was still a lead. Maybe Jeremy Jones was a bigger scumbag than I thought. H
e had definitely lied and I was about to pay him a little visit.

  I had found Jeremy’s address from my database search engine. It was an expensive monthly subscription, but critical when tracking people down. It wasn’t always the most recent information, but I could generally find who I needed given enough time.

  I had tried to visit him a week ago, when the gas station clerk mentioned that Jeremy, a regular, had been there at the same time as Suzy. However, he was never home when I stopped by. After a little persuasion his roommate had given me Jeremy’s number. Then, after another two days’ worth of messages, I finally got him to call back...which brings us to this morning.

  That was the highly unhelpful phone call that had been death of my stapler. I liked that stapler.

  Jeremy owed me a new stapler.

  Jeremy Jones lived in a pay-by-the-month motel in Hamlin Park. It was near the Julia C Lathrop Homes, not exactly the best part of town. Since I had been eluded so many times, I decided to make camp down the street and watch for Jeremy to leave. I suspected he had really been home a few of the times I tried to see him. But short of getting a warrant, I had to try a different tactic.

  I found a parking spot about a street down from Jeremy’s door to keep watch and pulled out my notepad to think through the facts and make notes. I sighed, deeply regretting not grabbing another coffee on the way over.

  It had been 10 days since Suzy’s disappearance. If she had been kidnapped for ransom, there would have been word by now. Had she been kidnapped for information, she would have likely told them by now and they let her go or killed her. She could have been kidnapped for the sex trade or by a stalker.

  Then, there was the third option, she could have been killed. Easiest solution, and at this point, most likely. There was little information to the opposite and I knew the odds but wasn’t ready to give up yet. Maybe I was just being stubborn, but I kept thinking a body would have turned up by now. Why would they hide it?

  Chicago was a busy town with lots of foot traffic. That is, unless the body was dumped or buried way out of town. But since I didn’t have any leads pointing that direction and there wasn’t much I could do about it, for now I let that scenario go.

  Option four was the most difficult. I had to start considering a scenario that Suzy did leave Sam. It was starting to look like another possibility. Sam wasn’t really paying me to pursue this route, but it was my job to find Suzy. If I couldn’t get anything else to materialize, I had to offer him some sort of closure.

  Thinking through that, though, there were no clues that she was unhappy. None of her belongings were missing, no new charges on her credit card and no credit cards in her name only. No one at work had reported any changes in her mood and all confirmed of her commitment to Sam.

  But still, stranger things did happen. She could have been planning it for a long time and saved up cash. Maybe she was quiet about it and keeping up pretenses because she was afraid of backlash. Sam did seem wealthy. Maybe he had some connections I didn’t know about.

  My instincts were telling me that this path was a waste of investigation time, but I would be ignorant not to consider the possibility. I rubbed my forehead, frustrated. What if this woman doesn’t want to be found? Am I chasing a ghost?

  About 2 hours later, I saw a heavy-set man emerge from the motel and lock the door behind him. Jackpot.

  It didn’t look like the scrawny roommate and the key suggested that he lived there. There was a good chance this was Jeremy. He headed South on foot, so I waited til he was almost out of sight before I slide out of my Jeep to follow.

  I kept close to the buildings and let him get as far ahead as I could without losing site of him. It was dark by now and I had my right hand in my leather jacket pocket, curled around my telescopic baton. I scanned the area for trouble as I edged along.

  The man walked into Al’s Beef, on the opposite corner. A few minutes later, he came out with two take out bags, wet with grease. He continued down the street, munching on fries from one of the bags, wiping his hands on his jeans. Ew.

  After several blocks, Maybe-Jeremy walked up the entrance of a brownstone, unlocked the door and entered. I couldn’t tell if it was residential or commercial.

  I waited a few minutes, then walked closer to get a good look at the place. It was an off-track betting shop. Maybe-Jeremy had a key to this place, so he had some business with the shop, probably an employee or manager.

  I waited around a while across the street, but it didn’t look like the man was coming out anytime soon. I watched a few people come and go, presumably to place bets, but nothing significant. So, I headed back to my apartment to do some research on Jeremy and the betting parlor.

  A had a new lead.

  Meanwhile, in the betting parlor,

  “You were right about that Italian Beef, Suz!”

  “You know it!” Suzy replied with a fist pump. “What did I tell you? Al’s is the best.”

  “I totally have to try the chili fries next time, they looked amazing, too.”

  “Definitely, but I have another favorite you’ve just got to try next time,” Suzy replied. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had the Bananas Foster crepes at Yolks. We totally have to do that next!”

  “Ooh, I love crepes!” the pudgy man replied, wiping meat juices from his chin with a napkin. “So, did you get this week’s numbers figured? I can’t push the boss off another day.”

  Chapter 3

  I woke at my desk with a long line of ‘g’s on my laptop monitor. I had fallen asleep at my desk office, forehead on my keyboard, yet again. I had forgotten I left my laptop at the office the night before, so I went there instead of home. I really needed to get some office help. What I really needed was a full night’s sleep, but since I was too tight on funds to hire someone, I had no one to share the workload. Yet, I promised myself.

  I had found some interesting information, though. I pulled up Jeremy Jones’ driver's license photo to confirm that Maybe-Jeremy really was Actually-Jeremy. Fist pump for that one!

  I also found out that the off-track betting parlor was owned by Fabien Dessi, a well-known criminal in Chicago. He had ties to Pietro Marchi, suspected to be old mafia family. What was up with the mafia connections this week?

  These cases were edging toward the bad-for-your-health variety. But I couldn’t give up on the case now. I had to find out what happened to Suzy.

  I closed down my computer and looked at my watch. It was nearly 7am, so I decided to forgo more sleep and to clean up for the day. I lived in an apartment on Henderson Street. It was small but had a decent kitchen and was only a few blocks from the office.

  I liked being close enough to walk to work. Being stuck in the office was my idea of a bad day and luckily most of my work was out following leads. The research and bookkeeping part of my job was the only part that kept me in the office. Bookkeeping always came last, as my cases were always top priority. I had to keep the money flowing in. It also was the easiest task to procrastinate on.

  I let myself into the front apartment door and got my mail before walking up the stairs to 4B. My neighbor, Noelle, was leaving and I nodded a hello to her as I let myself in. I sighed as I realized how I must look coming in this early, wearing slept-in clothes and hair more than a little crazy.

  I shrugged, it probably wasn’t the first time my neighbors had seen me dragging myself back in at such an early hour. Dropping my mail by my dead ivy plant on the kitchen counter, I got a glass of water from the sink. I chugged it and poured the small amount left into the ivy, hoping it would revive. I had never been good with plants.

  I was hungry and really wanted some breakfast, but my need for a shower and a toothbrush, I thought with a grimace, was much higher. Ultimately, my desire for caffeine outweighed both and I stopped long enough to start a pot of coffee before heading to the shower.

  The shower felt like heaven and I sighed with pleasure as I pulled on my robe and opened the bathroom door to the smell of coffee.
I walked into the kitchen, pulling the heavy cream from the fridge and pouring a large tablespoon in my favorite coffee mug proclaiming ‘I DRINK COFFEE FOR YOUR PROTECTION’ before pouring the delicious life-giving essence called coffee.

  I fried some eggs and sausage in my favorite cast iron skillet. I tried to start every morning with a good dose of protein and an even better dose of caffeine. I topped it with a half of an avocado to add something green. After breakfast, I got dressed and headed to the precinct.

  The local precinct was across town on Belmont, and I had left my Jeep at the office, so I walked back to my office and headed out. It was nice to get a little fresh air on the way.

  At the police station, I noticed all of the officers behind the window, all decked out in their starched uniforms and glanced down at my own jeans, V-necked tee and leather jacket. I couldn’t help but smile a little. It hadn’t been an easy road on my own, but I was happy with my decision to leave the police academy. Being my boss had a lot of benefits.

  I walked up to the front desk to show my PI badge to the rookie on duty and let him know who I was here to see, then waded through the desks to the evidence room.

  “Morning,” I said with a nod and a smile to the blonde in the evidence room window.

  “Hey, Mal! How have you been?” asked Jen, blue eyes smiling.

  Jen and I had been friends since the police academy. We were some of the only women and watched each other’s backs. It had cemented our friendship, which had grown a lot since then.

  “I’m doing great. I just came by to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sure, how can I help you?” replied Jen with a smile.

  She looked too sweet to be a police officer with her bouncy bob and heart shaped face. She had been very popular with the boys back at the academy. But she was smart and strong when needed.

  “What do you know about Fabien Dessi? I’m trying to find out more information about one of his employees that works at his off-track betting parlor in Humboldt Park.”