“Wait a minute. I’m not a cop. I’m a P.I. I don’t work for the city and the commissioner hates me.”
“C’mon, don’t you want to guard one of the most famous movie stars in the world? It’ll be fun.”
“Oh sure,” Philip said.
“You might learn something.”
“Such as?”
“You figure it out. They’ll be here at eight in the morning. Help me out, Phil, okay?”
Philip sighed. He hadn’t had much practice being a bodyguard. So far, his private investigator career consisted of surveillance, background checks, locating the lost, and more recently, coming close to getting himself killed in two murder investigations.
“Who’s paying?”
“They are. Don’t ask how much. I don’t know.”
Philip grunted. No wonder the commissioner agreed. The pay wasn’t coming out of his pocket or the town’s.
Tony gathered his keys. Before he reached the door, Philip stopped him.
“Why’d you really ask?”
“You’re good at what you do. They’re having problems. I’ll let them know you’ll help.” He brightened. “Besides, who knows, maybe you’ll make it through this case without a scratch. That’d be a novelty.”
Philip threw a pencil at him. The pencil pelted off the window.
“See you at eight.” Tony skipped out the door before the second pencil hit.
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The Ghost of Herbert Grezley Page 6
