Continuing adventures of TT, and again, just for fun.
Thanks to Angel Love for her editing. Any mistakes are probably mine since I continue to tinker after editing.
TT Spalding - PI
The Preston Case
I was devastated! I was sitting in my office, looking out the tiny window that faced another tiny window in the brick wall of the building next to mine. That stark, blank wall mirrored my emotions. I had never been so low. Why, you ask? My hero, that immortal writer of mystery novels extraordinary, Mickey Spillane, was dead! The creator of that wonderful character, the one that I modeled my life after, Mike Hammer, was dead. Dead, as in stiff and planted in the cold, cold ground. The injustice of it all was too much for me. I had nothing left in my life. Gone! Just like that! In his prime and only 81 years old. There was no justice in the universe!
No more "It was easy" comments from Mike Hammer, his PI. No more sexy dames slinking into his office and no more nasty comments from the cops he always was one step ahead of. With Mickey gone, Mike was no more. I didn't think I could go on. As I sat there in my dark office, the shade over the door pulled down, an open bottle of warm beer in my hand and a tear in my eye, I heard a pounding on my door. I tried to ignore it but the pounding just intensified. After enduring it as long as I could and getting no response to the repeated, "Go away!" yells, I got up and walked slowly over to the door, slid the lock back and yanked it open.
"What the hell are you doing? I've been calling you for the last hour and I keep getting your voice mail. What's wrong? Why isn't the office open? You look like hell warmed over."
That was the voice of my loving wife, Maggie, the woman who was my life partner and my business partner. She was also my secretary and girl Friday but right now she was my worst nightmare. I couldn't tell her how badly I felt and how much I wanted to just curl up and get drunk and maybe slit my wrists. She wouldn't understand. She would want me to open the office and make some money so we could go on vacation. Vacation, when my life was over!
I told you there was no justice in the world! As she followed me in, she looked around, turned on the lights and unlocked the file cabinets. She slid behind the desk she used and turned on the computer. Once she had things to her liking, she got back up, went to the door, raised the shade turned over the sign to 'Open', and walked out to fill the pot with water for coffee. She didn't even wait for my answer. My world had collapsed and she was fixing coffee! How could she be so insensitive?
I sat back down with my warm beer and my sorrow and tried to find again that angst that I was nursing so successfully before this unwelcome interruption. As I again began to sink into my oblivion, Maggie came stomping back in, slapped my feet off the desk and slapped me as well. 'Smack' across the mouth! Not really hard, but Jeez! Did I say insensitive?
"Get your lazy ass moving. We have Mr. Preston coming in less than an hour. Do you have your notes? Your planner? Do you have anything?"
"Mickey is dead woman! Have you no compassion? No sensitivity? My hero! Gone! How do I go on?"
"If you don't get your fat ass up and get busy, I'll be the one that's gone! You promised me a vacation and Mr. Preston is the key to that vacation. He's rich, he's desperate and we can take him for enough to go to somewhere nice. Now, get your ass up and forget Mickey!"
"Hey! Maybe we can go on vacation to Murrell's Inlet. That's in South Carolina. That's where Mickey lived. Can we go there? You could get a room up in Myrtle Beach and lay around on the beach and shop while I visit his home?"
"Yeah, sure, I can do that. I'll also pick up a couple of young studs at the beach and then I won't give a crap where you go. You can do your thing and I'll do mine. How would that be?"
That threat was too real and too much in the realm of possible that I changed my mind real quick. Maggie was a real looker, a peach, a real doll. (Damn, I had to learn to talk like a real guy again). Anyway, she so much as wiggled her finger at another guy and he would follow her anywhere.
"I'll get ready for Mr. Preston. You're right. We'll go to Hawaii like we planned."
So, I pulled my notes and began to fill out the log. That's where I put all of my notes and thoughts about my clients. That's where my book would come from. The one I would now dedicate to Mickey Spillane. I thought back to Mr. Preston's visit.
He was well dressed, pricey threads, indicating money. As a matter of fact, he smelled of money. Old money, the kind that you inherit, not the new kind. He came from a wealthy family and it showed. His daddy was probably a big shot of some kind. I didn't like him from the start. Too smug, too self assured. Probably had himself a trophy wife that he couldn't keep satisfied and she was stepping out on him. Poor sap probably didn't have the balls to keep a good looking woman home where she belonged.
Not bad, but my heart wasn't in it. Mickey wasn't looking over my shoulder any more and I just didn't have the will to go on. Well, I had no choice but to take some of his money since Maggie was showing him in. I stood up and held out my shaking hand.
"Mr. Preston. Good to see you again. We have a couple of things to go over and the contract to sign before we can get started. You've met my wife? She'll be sitting in to take notes and get the paperwork started."
Mr. Preston was a tall, thin man with a sharp chin, small eyes and big ears. He looked to weigh less than 140 pounds soaking wet and if it weren't for the clothes he was wearing, he wouldn't attract a woman's attention even if he was the only man around. At least that's what my opinion of him was. I didn't know about Maggie since she was still glaring at me, and paying him no mind. I decided to get on with it to distract her.
"First, can you tell me again why you think your wife is cheating on you? Patricia wasn't it? Why do you think Patricia is cheating on you?"
"My wife is a very beautiful woman Mr. Spalding, and she attracts a lot of attention. There have been several men who made it no secret that they would like to get to know her better. But, to my knowledge, she had always refused to allow herself to be compromised. It is in her financial interests not to be compromised. But I have begun to see some changes in her lately. She is suddenly very interested in my whereabouts. She has been going out during the afternoon, supposedly with a girlfriend. She often fails to answer the phone at home when I am traveling and she seems to be shopping much more often. She was never that interested in shopping before."
I watched his face as he spoke about these things. I got the distinct impression that he cared less about what she was doing and more about whom she was doing it with. It was also clear from the way he spoke about her that he had little feeling for her. If my impression was correct, she was a trophy wife only for show. He had no love for her. I also had the distinct feeling that he might be gay. But, that was neither here nor there.