***
With a snort of laughter, McKenzie took several more photographs of his client’s client. Doug Johnson was a fresh-out-of-college claims lawyer, and his first real client had a very lucrative claim.
Cable Noles was supposedly injured when something fell on him at a major store chain. He suffered debilitating pain to his head, neck, and back and was no longer able to function in a productive fashion. The tragic incident put him in a wheelchair, a neck brace, and prevented him from ever being able to work again. The accident also set him up for a nice fat paycheck from the major corporation, if his lawyer took the case to court.
As the man exited his car, he put on a neck brace before pulling a wheelchair from the trunk and plopping himself into it. He then realized he had to stand back up to shut the trunk. As he jumped back out of the chair McKenzie shook his head, snapping photographs. The man wasn’t even trying. Doug Johnson was afraid his client was lying, and didn’t want to risk his fresh career on the word of a man who was probably out for a nice successful scam payout.
The dark haired, chubby fellow grasped the tires of the wheelchair and pushed as he proceeded back around to the front of the building. McKenzie touched the forwarding icon on his iPhone to send the pictures to the lawyer moments before the man would wheel himself into the office. A response chirped back from the phone, a yellow angry face and a promise that the check was in the mail. Shrugging, McKenzie headed back to his old Ford F-150 he had parked on the side of the road.
Satisfied that the work day was done, McKenzie headed back to his house on the Suwannee River. The cloudless sky hinted at the possibility of taking his Boston Whaler out on the water for the weekend. The way he saw it, he refused to retire at his old age, but he had no problem occasionally pretending he was. A few days to cut loose, ignore the phones and clients and pretend to be a relaxed old man rather than a private investigator pushing his own limits out of pure stubbornness.
As he pulled into his driveway, his phone chirped another text message alert. Groaning, McKenzie glanced down at the display as he shut off the ignition. The text notification disappeared and was replaced with a cartoon magnifying glass over the name "Watson" that flashed on the screen as the call came through. John "Watson" Fairchild usually only followed his text messages with a call immediately if they had a good case lined up. Sighing as he stared past the stilts that kept his home out of flood waters to the gorgeous boat sparkling by the lone dock.
"Next weekend," McKenzie muttered to himself as he answered the call. "Please tell me I either get to pretend to be the fiancé of a beautiful, buxom woman to impress her family or, better yet, a secret uncle died and is leavin’ me his millions."
"You’re too old for a mysterious dying uncle and you’re a P.I., not a spy." John sounded exhausted, and after spending the day answering the ridiculous calls that rolled through their office, McKenzie wasn’t surprised. "More like alligators, a few random body parts, and a rich couple trying to toss off a liability issue."
"You suck the fun out of everything and you shouldn’t talk about an interestin’ case as if your damn cat just died. Gators and body parts sound fun."
"I don’t have a cat."
"You should."
"So, you want to take a trip down to play with giant reptiles? The job pays pretty well. The clients want to dump the accidental death charge on their alligator farm or park or whatever it is and try to pawn it off as a drunken man or some kind of thrill seeker death. They’re willing to pay nicely to keep the insurance premiums down."
"Sounds like I get to go to the Swamp."
"The farm isn’t at the University of Florida stadium."
"Close enough and I still get to enjoy some of my weekend."
"So when do you want to head out?"
McKenzie glanced at the boat once more before shaking his head and heading into the house.
"Come on over and we’ll take a drive."
McKenzie ended the call and headed for the shower. At least it wasn’t another angry divorcee, a paranoid and overprotective spouse, or kids wanting help finding a lost bike or dog. McKenzie let his head sag under the hot spray as it washed away the sweat from the day, knowing he would be drenched and possibly crawling through an alligator pen before the night was through.
***
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