This story was written for the 2024 Crime and Punishment Story Event, but I decided to publish it early. I hope to have another one done in time for the event. As always, the names and places have not been changed to protect the innocent or the guilty.
© 2024 Candy_Kane54
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"Okay," she said hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure she had heard me correctly, "but I still don't get why you won't take my money." As she spoke, her hands nervously fidgeted with the stack of Benjamins lying on the table in front of her.
I stuck out my hand and said, "It's simple. If I take your money, it means I can be bought and paid for. That's not how I operate. I have no need for your money. Instead, I barter. All I want in return for doing you a favor is a favor in return." Now that the terms of our agreement have been stated, I was ready to close the deal.
"What kind of favor?" she asked as she reached for my hand.
"I don't know," I truthfully answered as I took her hand in mine, enjoying how it fit so perfectly into mine as we shook on the deal. "All I can tell you is that I'll call on you sometime in the future for a favor. It will be something that you can do for me that I can't do for myself."
When I said that, she looked worried and asked, "Will it be dangerous?"
"Again, I don't know," I said as I regretfully let go of her hand. I smiled and said, "That's something you will need to decide when the time comes."
Curious, she asked, "What happens if I refuse to do what you ask?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Nothing?" she echoed.
"Nothing," I reaffirmed. "If you refuse to help me after I've helped you, that's on your conscience for the rest of your life, not mine."
"And if I do what you ask, that's it?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied while flashing a reassuring smile at her. "Once I've asked you for a favor, and you do it, you will never hear from me again."
I noticed that she looked a little disappointed when I said that. Despite the flare of heat that I felt down below, I started thinking about how I would take care of her problem. I stood up and said, "I'll see myself out. Have a good day...."
June 1986
As I powered down the 405 in my Rally Red '66 Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray coupe, the 427CI big-block V8 engine growling its desire to be unleashed, I pondered my options for solving Beryl's problem. Traffic was heavy, and I was weaving in and out of traffic, changing lanes even though I knew it wouldn't get me there any faster in the long run. There were several things I needed to do before I got started. Among them was moving my base of operations closer to Northridge to avoid the time-consuming commutes I expected as I worked the case.
By the time I returned to my place in Manhattan Beach, I had roughed out how I would proceed. As I approached my house, I scanned the street in front of my house to see if anyone was hanging around that shouldn't be. Once I was sure nothing was out of order, I used my remote to open the garage door to pull my car off the street. As the garage door closed, I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned off the engine and climbed out of my car.
I looked over the other vehicles in the garage, my eyes settling on the partially disassembled 1980 BMW R100RT motorcycle, and clucked over it. I loved taking that bike out for a relaxing ride along the coast, but keeping it running was always a struggle. "I really need to get Rowan back over here to help me finish putting that back together," I thought as I walked over to the door leading into the house.
After disabling the alarm, the first thing I did when I entered the house was to call the L.A. Times and pull my ad from the Classifieds. Until I was finished with this job, I wouldn't be available to help anyone else. The next thing I did was log into my computer to access my database of clients who still owed me favors and run a search to see if any of them could help me with this case. I spent a minute building my search query, wanting to look for several different things. When I thought I had everything I needed in the search query, I started it. While it ran, I fixed a quick lunch and ate it while scanning the L.A. Times. I concentrated on the Local section, looking for anything out of the ordinary that could relate to my case.
After finishing lunch and finding nothing in the paper, I reviewed the results of the search I had run. Depending on how my investigation went, I found several possible favors I could call in. I came up empty on someone in the Northridge area who could lend me a place to stay, so I called and booked a room at the Panorama Motel on Sepulveda Blvd just south of Rosco Blvd.
With that done, all I needed was to get someone over here to house-sit while I was gone. I dialed a number, and when it was picked up, I said, "Jo, it's Ray."
"Hey, Ray," Jo's bedroom voice cooed in my ear. "You need a friend tonight?"
Just hearing her voice in my ear made my whole body heat up. Jo was my 'girl Friday' and 'friend with benefits.' I didn't know how I'd keep everything straight without her help, and it didn't hurt that she was easy on the eyes, having been a model with the Clyburn Agency for several years. Despite her 'dumb blonde' mannerisms, she had a brain, and I relied heavily on it to keep everything from falling apart.
"Oh, Jo, I always need a friend," I said with a chuckle. "However, I called because I will need a house sitter for a week or so. Can you help me out?"
"Sure, Ray," Jo said, immediately going into her no-nonsense 'girl Friday' mode. "I've got a couple of girls who need a place to stay for a few days. Whatever they can't cover, I'll make myself available to do so."
"That's great, Jo. Thanks!" I replied. "If you can, please try to get Rowan over to finish putting my bike back together."
"No problem," Jo eagerly answered. I chuckled at hearing that. For some reason, Jo had the hots for Rowan, who, sadly, didn't feel the same way toward her. However, Jo wasn't one to give up so easily, so I knew she'd somehow manage to talk Rowan into coming over to work on my bike.
"In the meantime, I'm not heading out until tomorrow, so you're welcome to come over tonight," I said.
"Great," Jo said. "I'll be there about seven. See you!" I heard the click as she immediately hung up, probably eager to get everything started before coming over.
With those details taken care of, I got on the phone and started working my contacts to determine where to start. Missing person cases were tricky because you couldn't always assume that the person reported missing needed or even wanted to be found. I'd had my share of cases where the person I was looking for went missing for a reason, many times to avoid abuse.
Nevertheless, if you didn't find the person in the first 96 hours, the odds of finding them decreased dramatically, especially if they were trying to disappear. While I haven't yet failed to find someone I was looking for, I certainly didn't want to end that streak now. The distressed look on Beryl's face had told me that wasn't the case this time, but nevertheless, I put out feelers.
One of my contacts was a detective in the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), based out of the Rampart Division. Her name was Chris, and I had done a favor for her in one of her cases, and she later returned the favor in one of my cases. I enjoyed working with her, so we stayed in contact; I acted as a Confidential Informant (CI) for her while she would feed me information on unusual events that she didn't have jurisdiction over or probable cause to be able to look into them.
I called Chris' number and was lucky to catch her at her desk. "Detective Graham," Chris said when she answered her phone.
I said, "Good afternoon, Chris. This is Ray."
"What have you got for me?"