Chapter 8 Making Decisions
It was going to be a fairly major problem tracking down Harley McDougal. I had no idea if he was still in town, or had departed for other places. Either case, I needed a way to find him. I'd spent a restless night thinking about what I needed to know before I could decide what to do about Merilee. I had a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, I admit, but at least it was something.
"Discreet Services," the woman answered in a sexy voice. "How can I help you?"
"I need help to find someone. Can your company do that?"
"Yes, sir. Let me put you on to one of our staff. Just a moment, please."
I waited as the elevator music played on the phone while I was on hold.
"Spagnoli speaking," came a gruff man's voice. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Dieter Hunsinger. I need to find someone. Can you do that for me?"
"Probably, but I need to know a lot more. Why don't you come to the office and we can talk about it? I should be able to tell you what the chances are then."
"Yeah ... sure. What time?" I wouldn't have too much trouble shuffling my schedule.
"Let's say one o'clock this afternoon. Ask for Norm Spagnoli."
"Sure. See you then." I hung up, still wondering if my idea was going to work.
I walked into the fairly modern offices of Discreet Services promptly at one. The receptionist was just coming back from lunch and relieving the girl who had covered for her.
"I'm here to see Mr. Norm Spagnoli. I have an appointment."
"Yes ... just a moment and I'll get him for you," she said in that sexy voice I really liked.
A couple of minutes later a big, bald, rough looking guy with a goatee and dressed in a dark suit came out from the back and looked me over.
"Mr. Hunsinger?" he asked in a voice that sounded more like a growl.
"That's me."
"Good," he said, extending his very big hand. "Let's go in the back and talk."
I followed him and he led me to a small meeting room. I took one of the comfortable seats and sat across from him. He had a spiral-bound notebook and pulled out a pen.
"Why don't you tell me who you're looking for and why," he began.
"I'm looking for a guy by the name of Harley McDougal. I want to talk to him."
"What about?"
"My girlfriend ... or ex-girlfriend."
He looked at me for a moment. "You plannin' to beat the shit out of him?"
That caught me off-guard. "No ... no ... just need to talk to him."
"Yeah ... sure. Look, Mr. Hunsinger, you don't need the kind of trouble you could get into if you did something like that. Everybody in this town knows you and respects you. Why would you want to throw all that away with a criminal conviction?"
He knew who I was! That was not necessarily good.
"I don't want to cause that kind of trouble. I need to talk to him to find out some facts about him and my ... ex-girlfriend."
"And what happens if he won't talk to you?"
"I don't know. I haven't worked that out yet."
He was shaking his head. "Why don't you tell what the hell you are trying to accomplish and then maybe I can help."
I looked him over. I wasn't sure I would trust someone who looked like him normally, but he was a professional and I had to trust someone.
"Harley is a well-known pussy hound in this town. I was dating this girl and found out she was seeing him on the side. I want to find out just what went on between them. Then I want to talk to her and see if her story matches. See if she's telling the truth."
"What makes you think Harley what's-his-name is going to tell you the truth?"
"He borrowed five hundred dollars from her. I was planning to be a bill collector. I figured I might be able to trade the debt for some information."
Again he was shaking his head. "Jesus, pal. That's weak. You got little or no chance of getting the truth. He'll tell you what you want to hear to get out from under. Your plan ain't worth shit."
I slumped back in the chair. He was right. All he had to do was ask the right question at the right time and I knew my idea wasn't worth a damn.
"So ... what can I do?"
"You leave it with me. Go look at yourself in the mirror, Mr. Hunsinger. Then look at me. If you were Harley, who would you least likely want to talk to between you and me?"
I snorted a reply. "You," I admitted.
"Good guess. So let's get down to the nitty gritty," he said, leaning forward. "What do you really want to know? And don't bullshit me. I can't do my job if you aren't straight with me."
I gave him the whole story. I told him about Harley and Merilee and what had caused me to break up with her. I wanted the whole truth and not some fairytale. I was trying to decide what to do about Merilee and I needed the facts.
He told me what he charged, and he wasn't cheap. But when I thought about it, I wasn't going to be happy until I knew, so I gave him the go ahead, signed the agreement, and wrote a check for the retainer. He said he would get back to me as soon as he had something to report. For whatever reason, I felt I had made a good decision with Norm Spagnoli. He was rough, and didn't pull any punches, but I got the feeling he was good at his job.
I tried to put Merilee out of my mind until I heard something from Spagnoli. I wasn't too good at that. How am I supposed to forget someone as sexy and good-looking as her? Not easy! I guess I should be grateful, just the same. I had almost forgotten about Joanna and what she had done to me. And ... I was sleeping better at night.
It was two weeks later that I got a call from Norm Spagnoli. We set up a meeting at his office for four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon.