The Detective’s Apprentice

by Edward Kendrick

  “Great, I think. If you’re sure I can handle it.”

  “All he needs is the basics. It’s not like the job requires someone with high security clearance. He has me run checks to make certain the people have worked where they say on their applications, so that he knows they’ve got the restaurant experience he needs, and that they don’t have a police record for theft and such.”

  “A driving ticket is okay?”

  “Yes, unless it was for a DUI. He’s a bit of a Puritan and is death on anyone who drinks or uses drugs of any sort.”

  “All right.” Joe mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he wouldn’t screw up.

  * * * *

  Friday morning, after eating breakfast and giving Sherwat a quick walk, Derek and Joe headed out.

  “First stop in the near-new shop,” Derek said as they made their way to the main highway into the downtown area.

  Given that Joe was wearing the best clothes that he owned, a worn pair of jeans and a heavy sweatshirt he’d gotten at a drop-in place a couple of weeks before meeting Derek, that made sense to him.

  They were at the shop when the doors opened at nine. By nine-thirty Joe had tried on several pairs of jeans, found two that fit, and had chosen two button-down shirts. At Derek’s insistence, he also picked up two turtlenecks to wear under the shirts, as well as packs of briefs and socks. They decided the underwear must have been overstock from a clothing store that the manager had donated to the shop rather than disposing of them.

  After Derek paid for everything, they went on to his office. As he’d told Joe, it wasn’t downtown per se, but close to it. The building was older, with two shops on the street level and a door between them that opened onto a hallway leading to a small lobby with an elevator at the far side. They took it up to the third floor, and then walked down to Derek’s office.

  “My home away from home,” Derek said as he ushered Joe inside and disarmed the security.

  There was a tiny waiting room with two doors off it, and two chairs along one wall. Between the doors was a desk. “If I had a receptionist, that’s where she’d sit,” Derek told Joe. He smiled wryly. “I had high hopes when I got the desk but hiring a girl Friday never happened.”

  Behind one of the doors was a miniscule washroom. The other one was for Derek’s office. It was larger than Joe had expected, given what he’d seen so far.

  There were two windows overlooking the street, with a low cabinet under them. Derek’s desk, against one wall, held a computer set-up, including an extra-large monitor, and had a hutch which was filled with books and files. There were two chairs by it, his and what he told Joe was for clients. Two more chairs with a low table in front of them sat next to the doorway to the waiting room.

  “I got lucky and found the desk cheap at a Goodwill,” Derek said when Joe commented on the fact that it looked old.

  There were file cabinets against the wall opposite it, and a door which Derek opened to reveal a storage room. “This is mostly for what I need to set up security for my clients.”

  “You buy it before someone needs it?” Joe asked.

  “Yes. It’ll all pretty basic and I learned that it’s better to get things when they’re on sale and store them here. If there’s something I don’t have, then I hit up one of the local equipment suppliers, or order online if it’s not a rush job.”

  “I bet setting up security is fun.”

  “I’m not sure fun is the right word,” Derek replied. “It can be challenging at times. After you’ve been here a while I’ll take you along when I go to set something up so you can see what’s involved.”

  Joe liked that idea—not only going with him but the fact that Derek seemed to be thinking in the long term as far as keeping him around. All I have to do is not screw up.

  “Why don’t you change into some of your new clothes,” Derek said. “Then I’ll set you to work on the background checks for Mr. Moore.”

  Joe did as he asked. When he returned, Derek said, “You look pretty spiffy.”

  “I feel strange. It’s been forever since I’ve worn anything even half this nice.”

  Derek grinned. “Get used to it. You’re a working stiff now. Okay, let’s get you to work.” He turned on the computer, telling Joe what the password was to get to the main screen. After going online, he brought up the sites Joe would be using. One of them required a password to access it, which Derek wrote down for Joe. “As soon as you memorize it, chew up the paper and swallow it,” he quipped.

  “Uh-huh. I’m not a spy. I’ll put it in the shredder, if you’ve got one.”

  “I do.” Derek opened a door on the cabinet under the windows to show him. “Here are the names of the three people you’re going to do searches on,” he said, opening a file on the computer. “As I told you last night, you have to verify their previous work history and run a criminal check on them.”

  “All right.” Chewing his lip, Joe set to work. Derek watched as he ran the first name, using the person’s social security number to find the information he needed. “Am I doing this right?” Joe asked.

  “Yes. Don’t forget to enter what you’ve found into the file.” Derek explained the finer points before leaving him to do the other two on his own.

  Joe decided Derek had been correct when he said doing background checks could be boring. He couldn’t imagine spending half a day searching for tons of information on a person, or more likely several people, that one of the clients needed to know about. It probably becomes automatic in time, but right now…He’d entered the information on the second person and moved on to the third when the desk phone rang.

  Derek came over to answer it, taking the cordless phone with him as he spoke to what sounded to Joe like a regular client. When he finished, he set the phone back on the stand, went into the storeroom, and came back carrying two boxes. “I have to leave. Ms. Wiley had finally decided she needs a couple of cameras to catch shoplifters.”

  “What if someone calls or comes in while you’re gone?”

  “Take a message if it’s a call. On the off chance someone does come by, find out what they need, get a name and number, and tell them I’ll be in touch as soon as possible. With luck, I should be back by one.”

  Of course as soon as Derek left the phone rang.

  Joe answered, saying, “Clarke Investigations. May I help you?”

  “You’re not Derek,” the man on the other end said.

  “No, sir. I’m his…” What? “His secretary.”

  “Since when does he have a secretary?”

  “I started this morning, sir.”

  “Okay. Let me talk to him. Tell him it’s Robert Oliver.”

  “He’s not in at the moment, Mr. Oliver,” Joe replied. “I can take a message.”

  “Have him call as soon as he gets back. He had my number.” With that, Mr. Oliver hung up.

  “Bossy,” Joe muttered, writing the man’s name on the pad by the phone.

  He finished with the last background check, entered the information, and decided Derek would probably want him to print out the file. It took him a moment to figure out how to do that because it had been a long time, over three years he realized, since he’d used a computer. With that accomplished, he went to the windows. Below him he could see people on the sidewalks, most of which had been shoveled, much to his surprise. Of course there was snow piled high between them and the street, making it difficult for people to cross to the other side.

  If it wasn’t for Derek I’d be out there somewhere, praying there was an open soup kitchen or drop-in place where I could get something to eat, since for sure there wouldn’t be anything edible in the dumpsters. That is if I’d survived the storm, which I probably wouldn’t have.

  The phone rang again; he answered and took down the name and number of a man who was interested in having Derek install security on his new home. Five minutes later there was another call. He took their information as well, promising Derek would return the call that afternoon.

/>   Now I know what else I can do for him, other than the background checks.

  Going into the waiting room, he looked for a phone outlet behind the desk. There was one, although Derek would have to get another phone if he’d agree to what Joe was thinking. He went into the storage room to see if there were more pads for taking phone call information, as well as pens or pencils. There were, so he took some, setting them on the waiting room desk.

  The hallway door opened just as he’d finished. It was Derek. He started toward his office before apparently realizing Joe was there, and what he’d done. He arched an eyebrow in question.

  “I was thinking,” Joe said hesitantly. “When you have to leave all your calls probably go to voicemail, right?” When Derek nodded, Joe continued. “I could act as your secretary. I already told one man that I was. It would better if your clients or people who want to hire you talked to a real person, so they don’t have to stammer through leaving a message in voicemail. I could even answer some of their questions once I know a bit more about things.”

  Derek looked thoughtful. “Not a bad idea when it comes down to it. You’ll need a phone, which isn’t a problem. The one I’ve got in my office came with a second handset and a base for it.”

  “So you’re okay with it?”

  “Yep.” He took in what was on the desk and smiled. “I see you’ve already raided the storage closet.”

  “I hope it was okay.”

  “Of course. You’re part of the operation, now.” Derek continued on to his office while Joe sighed with relief.

  He hurried after him to give him his messages.

  “Mr. Oliver…again.” Derek shook his head. Joe didn’t want to ask why. “The other phone’s in the storage room,” Derek told him before calling Mr. Oliver back.

  Joe got it but waited to set it up until Derek had finished his call, and the ones to the other people who had left messages. He plugged it in and was checking it to be certain it worked when Derek joined him.

  “Mr. Oliver should be here in twenty minutes. When he gets here, show him into my office, please.”

  Joe beamed. “My first chore as your secretary.”

  Derek smiled, patting his shoulder. “That and answering the phone. I have to do some research for another client who wants something in the way of security that I don’t have in stock. By the way, there’s an intercom function, so if I need you while I’m with I client I can let you know. If you need me, press the INT button, as long as you’re not on the phone talking to someone. You can’t talk to me and them at the same time.”

  “Got it.” Joe waited until Derek went into his office then settled behind the desk, wondering what to do. If he had a second computer I could, I don’t know, write out bills or something? Maybe I’ll suggest it, not that he can afford to buy one, probably.

  Several minutes later the hallway door opened. The man who came in looked askance at Joe. “You’re his secretary?”

  “Yes, sir.” Joe thought he had to be Mr. Oliver, and asked.

  “I am. Would you please tell him I’m here?” His tone bordered on imperious in Joe’s book, but he did, and returned to usher Mr. Oliver into Derek’s office.

  After greeting the man, Derek and Mr. Oliver sat and Joe went back to his desk. My desk. He grinned. A good fifteen minutes later the intercom beeped. When Joe answered, Derek asked him to show Mr. Oliver out.

  As Joe opened the hallway door for him, Mr. Oliver paused, asking, “Where did he find you?”

  Again, his tone of voice irritated Joe so he replied sardonically, “I’m a rescue, like his dog.”

  “Don’t be impudent, young man,” Mr. Oliver retorted before walking into the hallway, closing the door with a bang.

  Joe heard a snicker from behind him and turned to see Derek standing there.

  “He deserved that,” Derek said. “If he hadn’t seen me he’d probably have read you the riot act.”

  “What did he hire you for?” Joe asked. “Or did he?”

  “He did,” Derek replied as he went back into his office. Instead of settling at his desk, he took one of the chairs by the table. When Joe took the other one, Derek said, “Mr. Oliver has a fifteen-year-old son who’s in the habit of running away.”

  Joe grimaced. “Are his parents abusive?”

  “No, but they are very strict. He, Sam, is either at school or home. He’s not allowed to go anywhere else without his parents’ consent and then it has to be somewhere they approve of, like the library or a movie that they’ve checked out first to be certain it’s appropriate for a teenager. If it is, he can go with a friend, or friends, as long as his folks have met them and decided they won’t be a bad influence on him.”

  “Whoa. I’m not surprised he runs. I take it you’ve found him before.”

  “Yes. Once he went to a friend’s house, which made it easy. Another time he was smart enough to go to one of the teen shelters when the weather got bad. This time, however, could be different. As far as his parents can figure out, he probably left the house right before the storm hit. They didn’t realize he was gone until the next morning. Stupidly, as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Oliver figured there was no way I’d be willing to look for Sam until the weather cleared and the streets were passable.”

  “Some father,” Joe muttered.

  “I won’t argue that. Mr. Oliver says he called some of the shelters, and a couple of Sam’s friends.”

  “Lots of luck with the shelters knowing if he was there,” Joe said. “I’m sure they were filled beyond capacity, and you know most of the kids who use them don’t give their real names.”

  “True. There is one thing in our favor. Sam would stand out.”

  “How?”

  “He’s five-eight, has to wear glasses because he can’t see two feet in front of him without them, and he’s, to put it kindly, chunky.”

  “Meaning he could do to lose a lot of weight.”

  “Yep. He’s not bad looking, in spite of that, but he’s not model material, either.”

  “Makes me feel sorry for him.”

  “Me, too,” Derek agreed.

  “So what’s the first step to finding him?” Joe asked.

  “The same things Mr. Oliver did, only more thoroughly. Check out shelters, find out who his friends are and call them, again. I have a list of them from the last episode. If he’s not with one of them, they might have heard from him. Given the weather I doubt he tried to sleep rough. Besides which, he’s never done that before.”

  “I can call the friends. They might be more willing to talk to me than an adult,” Joe offered.

  “All right. I’m going to go around to the shelters with his picture. Someone there might recognize him. That’s how I found him the last time. If any of the guys you talk with sound like they’re trying to cover for him, let me know immediately and I’ll swing by their house to see if he’s there.”

  “Question. With the bad weather, could he have ended up at a hospital if the cops found him and he had frostbite or…whatever?”

  “Possible, although he might not have given them his name.” Derek took out his cell phone. “I’ll start there, while you get to work on the friends.”

  A while later, Derek said, “None of the hospitals have him listed as a patient. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve talked to most of the guys on the list. They all swear they haven’t seen him since the last time they were all at school, which was on Monday. He was there, and they all said he seemed fine, or at least his usual self.”

  “All right. Keep calling. I’m going to the shelters.”

  “Let me go with you?” Joe said. “I can use your cell to finish the list while we’re driving.”

  “Sure, why not. Like with his friends, you can talk to some of the kids who are there and probably get a better response than I would.”

  * * * *

  It wasn’t until they got to the third shelter that they had any luck finding Sam. While Derek talked to the people who ran the place,
Joe went into the recreation area. He knew some of the guys, as he had at the other two, and began chatting with them, asking how things were going—which led to stories about how they’d managed to make it through the storm.

  “Fuck, I ran into one kid,” a teen who called himself Nike said. “He didn’t have a clue. Dumber than dumb. If he hadn’t been so fat he’d have frozen to death before I convinced him to get his ass over here.”

  That piqued Joe’s interest. “I think I know who you mean,” he said. “Wears glasses with one of those straps to hold them on?” He was guessing about the strap but maybe he’d find out if Nike had seen Sam.

  “No strap, but yeah on the glasses. He kept taking them off to clean them. I told him to forget it but he said he couldn’t see without them.”

  “I think I know him,” Joe said. “Well not ‘know’ know but I ran into him, too. You must have a special touch, Nike, if you talked him into coming here because for sure I couldn’t. Is he still around?”

  Nike shrugged, but another teen said he thought he was in the dining room. “Waiting to feed his face, like he needs to.”

  Joe frowned when the other guys laughed, resisting the impulse to tell them that none of them were perfect. Instead, he crossed the hallway to the dining room. It was already crowded with guys waiting for supper to be served, some of them lined up in front of the counter, others seated at tables.

  It took Joe a few moments to find Sam—or the kid he thought was Sam from his build and the glasses. He was at a table in the corner, talking with three other teens who appeared to be his age or slightly younger. From the expressions on their faces they were having a serious conversation. Then Sam said something and they all burst into laughter.

  Now what? Let Derek know he’s here, I guess. Sam knows him, although I bet he won’t be too happy to see him.

  He went to find Derek, who was talking to one of the counselors. When Derek glanced at him, Joe nodded toward the hallway.

  “He’s here,” he said as soon as Derek joined him, taking him to the dining room. “That’s him, right?” he asked, pointing.