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Suzie reads over my shoulder. “You’re no fun,” she pouts.
The security alarm beeps, and the outer door opens. “Hello!”
“I got this,” Suzie says before pivoting to greet our visitor. Phoebe waves and returns to her filing. I thought she would be finished with the filing by now. It’s not like we have heaps of documents to file.
“Mrs. Bostwick. How can I help you?” What is Mrs. Bostwick doing back here? I already told her I won’t take her case.
“Can I see Ms. McGraw? I don’t have an appointment, but maybe she can squeeze me in.”
Squeeze her in? If she’s trying to butter me up, it’s working. “Send her in, Suzie.”
Suzie shows Mrs. Bostwick into my office and shuts the door behind her, but not before mouthing What the hell at me. I shrug before turning my attention to Mrs. Bostwick.
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Bostwick?”
“Estelle, please call me Estelle.” I nod and wait for her to explain why she’s here. And I wait.
“What can I do for you today?” I repeat my question when the silence stretches too long for comfort.
“I was wondering if you’d reconsider taking my case.”
Damn. I was worried she was going to say that. “I’m sorry. You need someone specialized in murder investigations.”
She pulls two pictures out of her bag and then lays them on my desk. “This is Liam. And this is Sarah.” When I don’t respond, she continues, “Liam is six years old, and Sarah is four. Liam is a mama’s boy. He’s shy and hates to be out of my sight. Sarah is the exact opposite. She’d walk to pre-school on her own if I’d let her.”
I know what’s she’s doing. I’d be an idiot not to. But it’s not going to work. “They are lovely children.”
“Who are now going to grow up without their father. If I get convicted of his murder, they’ll lose their mother as well. You don’t want my children to grow up with their parents, do you?”
Oh goodie, here comes the guilt trip. Maybe it’s because I grew up without a mother for the most part, but guilt trips do not work on me. Ask Suzie. “Of course not. Which is why I recommend you find an investigator who can help you.”
I stand. She stares at me for a long moment before standing as well. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Good luck. I’m sure everything will work out in the end.”
I walk her out of the office. I breathe a sigh of relief when the door shuts behind her.
Phoebe comes out of the file room. “Why didn’t you take her case?”
“I’m not qualified to handle her case.”
Her brow wrinkles. “But you are a private investigator, aren’t you? You do have the proper qualifications?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have any experience with murder cases. She deserves someone who has the right experience to help her out.”
“Do you see yourself expanding your practice in the future to include these types of cases?”
“I haven’t thought about it. We have enough work dealing with adultery cases and insurance investigations.”
I suppose murder investigations would be lucrative, but I didn’t become a PI to solve murders. The police need something to do after all. No, I became a PI to help women like Suzie – women who were lied and cheated to. Adding insurance investigations seemed natural. After all, a cheater is a cheater is a cheater, whether cheating on a spouse or an insurance company. Plus – if I’m being totally honest – no one was exactly knocking down my door offering me a job.
I return to my office where I spend an hour calling prospective clients and doing a bit of research for a case I’m working on. I notice the husband of one of my clients mention on social media he’s going out to lunch at a restaurant. A restaurant conveniently located next to a hotel. Gotcha! I grab my camera and rush out of the office to see if I can catch him in the act.
When I reach my car, I notice a flyer on the windshield. I hate flyers. I grab the thing, intent on trashing it. Except it’s not a flyer. No, it’s a picture of Liam and Sarah. Someone is not giving up. My eyes rove the garage in search of Estelle. Sure enough, she’s standing behind a car two spots from mine.
“This is not okay.” I wave the picture at her before walking her way to return it.
“I’m sorry. I’m desperate.”
