Return of the High Fae Page 4

  "I don't suppose you can tell me anything else about these files?"

  I paused for a moment, wanting him to at least think I was considering it. "Not yet," I replied. "Can you live with that for now?"

  "Yeah, sure, but you're gonna owe me," he snickered as he reached over and disconnected the drive. Then he picked up the laptop and drives and carried them into another examination room as I followed. "I gotta finish this other case but I'll look at these when I get a chance and give you a call if I find anything."

  "Thanks, Mal." I said, smacking him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "I need to get back to work anyway." We walked to the door together. I paused before I went out. "One more thing, let's keep this between us, ok."

  "Keep what between us?" he joked. "Don't I always?"

  I didn't say anything else as I exited and headed for my car. The truth was we'd shared plenty of secrets over the years and we trusted one another. I'd probably end up telling him most of what happened last night eventually, except maybe for the magic part. I didn't need to burden him with all of it.

  As I pulled into my parking spot in the back of my office, I reflected on what had been happening to me. Magic beings, cursed computers, talking dogs, bad dreams, you name it. It was turning into a helluva week. You'd never know it from the way things were going, but most of the time my life was boring. You read these stories about P.I.s and the dangerous and glamorous work they do, but up to now, the reality had been somewhat different altogether.

  I'm not saying there isn't the occasional exciting moment, but a lot my work is done on the phone and on the computer. When I usually do get out of the office, it's to talk to a witness in some civil suit or deal with a criminal matter that the cops are too busy, or too lazy, to deal with. That, believe it or not, was my bread and butter. Sure, that wasn't the way things were going, but it was the way they were supposed to be!

  I know I used to be a cop and all, and sure, I've had my fair share of the glamorous side of this business, like catching robbers and murderers and being on the evening news. Hell, I've even proven the cops wrong and gotten folks out of jail. But civil and criminal work doesn't usually include Wizards and magic wands. I just shook my head and hoped this wasn't an omen of things to come. I stepped out of the car and walked over to the doorway and waved hello to Hailey as I entered. She was on the phone, but I saw her wave back as she continued her phone conversation.

  Hailey owned a legal services business. Paralegal work, document filing, subpoena services, that kind of stuff. She'd been in the business longer than I had and had known me when I was still a young rookie on the beat. It was a small business, and although she did have a staff, she usually acted as the receptionist and answered the phones herself. I rented office space from her so that I had a downtown business address and a place to hold meetings. More importantly, she was a good friend and treated me like family. I spent a minute chatting with her after she hung up the phone and then retrieved my mail and messages.

  Once that was done I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee from the kitchen and headed into the back. Before you even ask, the cup is black and says "I want to believe". I plopped down at my desk and booted up the computer. Most of the mail was junk but there were a few checks and letters. The messages were return calls or calls from other business acquaintances. The checks were a nice bonus; it was always a good sign when clients actually paid on time.

  The P.I. community in Vegas isn't small and, although the large firms like to think they are the big shots, at the core of it all are a group of folks just like me that I've known for years. These guys are ex-cops, ex-agents or security professionals that cut their teeth on the Vegas streets. Many as far back as when the mob ran the town. Although I wasn't old enough to have been there for all of it, I'd known most of these guys and gals when I was still a rookie on the force and the others from my childhood days growing up.

  I called back a few of them and spent twenty minutes just bullshitting, or as we say in the business, keeping up with my contacts, and then reviewed my to-do list on my computer. Aside from my regular client caseload, I had to do a few backgrounds; some phone interviews and one witness locate for a girl from a wealthy family that was now a stripper. There you go. Here's something that sounds like it would be out of the ordinary: Head out to the night clubs, find a stripper and let her know daddy's sick and mommy wants her to call.

  I love it when some guy asks me what I did interesting this week and I tell them I spent an evening hitting the bars and the strip clubs. "Wow", they'll say, "I wish I had a job like that, wink, wink."

  Sure you do buddy. Hell, unless I set it up in advance, I usually don't even bother going past the check-in booth where you pay unless I have to. Most of the time, I just drop a dime.

  Of course I don't tell them that. Let them think what they want. It lends an air of mystery which can be good for business. The reality is I've spent so much time in those places and too many hours close up with the girls. Hard bodies or not, I see way past the makeup and poor me stories.

  Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike strippers, or exotic dancers, as the profession is called. I get along fine with them and they're usually good sources. I do run across a few of them in my line of work. Most of these girls are professionals and believe me when I tell you, it's just business. If you think some hot-bodied gal is gonna risk her $1000 bucks in nightly tips for a roll in the hay you've got another thing coming. I'm not saying some of them don't do that but it's a quick way to get blacklisted or arrested if they meet up with an undercover vice cop. The clubs do not look fondly on a girl if that happens.

  I picked up my phone and called a vice cop that owed me a favor or two. Within minutes, I knew my girl was a dancer at Darlings, one of the more popular Vegas strip clubs. I got up from my desk and walked back to the reception area and refilled my cup.

  Hailey was doing paperwork but she looked up at me and gave me a smile. "Hey sugar! Any luck with that subpoena last night?" she asked, taking a sip from her own cup.

  "Sort of," I groaned. I eyed her as I decided what to say. I couldn't exactly explain what really happened, could I? "I got hooked up in some drama and ended up getting a promise from the folks to have him call me. He was already on a plane to Jersey before I could catch up to him."

  "Drama? You slippin' darling?" Hailey was from Texas, and even in her 60's she could still turn on that southern belle drawl. It didn't fool me though; she could make a truck driver blush if she wanted to.

  "Actually, no, I wound up stopping some bozo trying to mug Milagre, if you can believe that." Sometimes it's best to just tell the truth, even if it is a slightly altered version.

  "You're shittin me?" she sputtered, almost dropping her cup. "I didn't hear anything about it. Did you get him?"

  "Nah, he got away, I had to check on Milagre as he'd had been knocked to the ground. But corporate's handling it so no press."

  "I'll be damned, he all right?"

  "Yeah, he's fine. He promised me he'd have Pontedra call me when he got back into town."

  She shook her head and sipped her coffee. "That seems like it'll be worth a few favors." That was Hailey; a favor was money in the bank.

  "We'll see. Hey, you still have Alicia's number?"

  Alicia was the house mother at Darlings. A house mother was the girls anchor, not management, but not just an employee either. She, or he, acted as the go-to person for all their needs, clothing, food, personal items such as shampoo or perfume or just someone to listen to. Although I had dealt with her a few times I knew she was one of Hailey's regular sources.

  "Alicia DeVries at Darlings? You bet, hold on a minute." She reached down and opened a drawer and pulled out her rolodex. Hailey was as computer literate as anyone but some things would never change. The rolodex was one of them. If you were important to her, or ever had been, you were in there. The names in her list were priceless. She started going through the cards. "Yeah, here you go," she replied, writing the number down on
a card and handing it to me. "What you got, or are you just going for the show?"

  "Don't you wish," I chortled. "It's just a locate, rich kid's dad is sick and mom wants her to call."

  "Boringgg, just make sure you let her know first, you know how she can be about her girls."

  "Yes, mom, I know, she's just like you," I quipped.

  Hailey just gave me a good bye wave. "Go back to work, I got things to do!" She'd acted gruff but I could tell by her smile she approved of my use of the word mom.

  With my evenings' locate planned out, I spent the rest of what was left of the workday running computer searches and talking to people on the phone. The immediate cases were filed and the reports written. Those that could be sent electronically went by email. The others went into envelopes for the morning's mail. Invoices printed out and accompanying the reports, my office workday was over. I looked up at my retirement clock on the wall; it was 5:30 p.m. Wow, I thought to myself, nothing weird had happened to me in a good 6 hours. That was a good sign.

  Before I left for the day I called Alicia and set up an appointment to see her. I told her what I had and she confirmed that the girl was working tonight. Then she told me to be there at 10:15 p.m. and to call her when I was on my way. I hung up the phone and headed home, stopping at the market for Charlie's bone. I mean, you never know, right?

  Chapter 4

  I pulled into the driveway and tried to get out of the car but Charlie beat me to it. He was in my lap as soon as the door opened. After a minute or two I was able to get out. They say you shouldn't let your dog jump on you, but let's be real. He knows who the boss is, and besides, it'd break his heart. I grabbed the bone, still wrapped in butcher paper out of the trunk, and he froze. He eyed the package, his tail wagging at 90 miles a minute.

  "This what you want?" I asked, holding up the giant bone.

  With a bark he rushed to my feet and sat, remaining perfectly still.

  Believe it or not, he did have some training when he wanted to remember it. I unwrapped it and gave it to him and then breathed a sigh of relief as he took it and headed towards the backyard. That was a load off of my mind. I hadn't heard a word, only a bark, maybe I wasn't going crazy after all.

  Placing my keys and wallet on the counter I kicked off my shoes and started the coffee. As I reached for a cup from the cupboard, my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten all day. Settling on a Piedmont Airlines cup, I fixed a sandwich and waited for the coffee to brew. When it was done, and with food and drink in hand, I sat down at the kitchen table and thought about the day.

  It hadn't started great, shocking computer files and all, but at least the remainder had been quiet. I still hadn't figured out Milagre's "what are you" act but there had to be a reason for it. Maybe I just hadn't seen it yet. For just a moment I tried to convince myself that it was just the ramblings of eccentric rich folks but I didn't buy that one either.

  I finished my sandwich and refilled my cup, then plopped down on the sofa to see what was on. I'd missed the local news, so I surfed for a few minutes but like the song says, 57 channels and nothin' on. Of course I had 4 times that many, but it still applied. Giving up, I set the timer on my phone and took a short nap. I still had to go out tonight and who knew how late I would be.

  It was 9:30 p.m. when the alarm sounded so I cleaned up my dishes and set the pot for the morning. I grabbed a clean shirt and then headed out the door, telling Charlie to guard the house. I waited a moment at the doorway and then relaxed when all he did was sit at his spot by the sofa. No requests, a good sign.

  I was halfway to downtown when I remembered to call Alicia. "Alicia, Rob Hoskins here. I'm on my way."

  "Thanks for the heads up, baby. Where are you, by the way?"

  "Just on the freeway, I should be there on time."

  "Great. Oh, Robert, can you do me a favor?" Oh, oh, Robert wasn't a good sign but what was I gonna say, no?

  "Sure, Alicia, what do you need?"

  "Can you stop at Walgreens and pick me up a box of tampons?"

  "Tampons?" I asked reluctantly. "You're kidding, right?" I hadn't bought tampons since before my kids were born. I had to move the phone from my ear, her response louder by several decibels.

  "No, I'm not kidding. Some dumbass took my last box out of my storage locker and now the vending machine is empty. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't have some available."

  "Ok, ok, I'll pick them up. You need me to investigate the theft as well?" I asked, sarcastically.

  "No, but thank you for offering, that one I can handle myself." She countered with a hint of anger in her voice.

  Not wanting to get her riled up, she was doing me a bigger favor after all, I simply asked, "any particular kind?"

  "Just get a box of regular." I heard her say and then she hung up.

  Like I said, house mothers take care of the girl's needs.

  15 or 20 minutes later I pulled into the Darlings parking lot and threaded my way through the throng of cars to the side alley and then navigated my way to the back. Pulling my car into an empty space I cut the ignition and dialed Alicia. "I'm in the back," I announced when she answered.

  "I'll open the door."

  Picking up my recent purchase from the passenger seat, I got out of the car and walked towards the back of the building. Like most businesses, the back was utilitarian and ugly. Just what one would expect in an industrial area where city zoning allowed the clubs to be. Unlike the front of the club, here there were no fancy statues, no full size photos of scantily clad women, no neon signs beckoning all to enter, just steel doors and loading docks and naked bulbs to break up the darkness.

  A light appeared, and a door on my left opened. The shadow of a woman's figure, framed by the light, called out my name. "Rob, over here baby!"

  "Here," I answered, and walked towards her, the box, still in its plastic bag, held up before me.

  "You're a doll," she whispered, as she took the bag and motioned me in.

  As I strode through the doorway I found myself in what can only be called a large dressing room. There were two long rows of countertop, back to back, with mirrors and the tools of the trade on top. A variety of make-up, panties, G-strings, tops, the occasional corset and other accoutrements of the profession dotted the landscape. Several scantily clad women were vigorously applying lipstick, eye shadow, and various other powders to their faces. One was doing the same to her nipples. No one bothered to look up as I entered the room.

  "This way," I heard Alicia say as she grabbed my arm and led me into a small office down the hallway from the room. A slim, attractive woman in her late 30's, Alicia was dressed in blue jeans and a pink silk top. "Thanks," she said, holding up the shopping bag as she gracefully slid into the chair behind her desk.

  "No problem," I answered, taking a seat in front of the desk.

  "Give me just a minute." she muttered and I watched as she opened the box of tampons and grabbed a handful. Then she opened the top drawer of her desk with her other hand. "I'll be right back, gotta fill the vending machine," she said, taking out a ring of keys and walking around me out of the office. "Tiffany!" I heard her yell.

  Then I could hear her talking to someone in the hallway and then there was silence as the voices faded.

  I changed my focus to her office. It was small, the desk half the size of mine. The walls were covered in glossy photos. People she'd met, celebrities, porn stars maybe, judging from the outfits. I didn't recognize half of them but I wouldn't expect to. There were also several of her when she'd been younger. She'd been beautiful, not that she still wasn't, just older. But in this game, youth is everything.

  Her office made me sad. It wasn't her profession, we all have to survive and make money. It just seemed as if I was surrounded by faded dreams. It was as if one could see time ticking by, its force reducing the dreams to nothing but what was left on the walls and small desk, only memories. Alicia's voice brought me back to the here and now. Damn, I'm getting morose.


  She sat back down behind the desk and gave me a smile. "Essence is on the floor at the moment, she should be done in a few."

  "Essence?"

  "Shit, Robert, wake up baby. Essence is the girl you're looking for."

  "Oh, sorry," I laughed, feeling silly. Of course she would use a fantasy name.

  "She knows why you're here. She isn't happy about it but I told her you were only the delivery boy and that you weren't here to take her back. That's still true, right?" she asked, eyeing me warily for a moment.

  "Yeah, of course." I pulled the letter the girl's mother had given me out of my shirt pocket and unfolded it. I held it up and waved it at her. "I told her momma I would find her and deliver the message, that's it. I'm not here to kidnap her."

  That said, she relaxed and we shot the breeze for a few, she, asking me how Hailey had been doing and I, asking her how business was. About 10 minutes later, a young woman, blonde, robed, and wearing altogether too much makeup peeked into the doorway. She pointed at me.

  "This him?" she asked.

  "Essence, this is Robert Hoskins. Robert, this is Essence, also known as Victoria Reynolds," Alicia responded, introducing me.

  I started to stand up but the girl held her hand out and waved me to sit.

  "Just tell me what she wants."

  I started to hand her the envelope but she snatched it out of my hand.

  "Your dad's sick. Your mom wants you to..." She never let me finish.

  "Fine, anything else?"

  Alicia looked at me, I shook my head. "No, Essence, thank you," she said.

  The girl turned around and left without saying another word.

  "Well," I mused, "I take it I won't be on her Christmas card list."

  Alicia broke out in a giggle. "Fraid not, baby, she's a tough one. Hates the world and despises her parents." She rolled her eyes, her grin fading. "I'm not sure why. Never could get her to discuss it, you know how it is." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'll talk to her later, maybe I can at least get her to make a call."