 CHAPTER 5 (section 1) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Detective Antonio Martinez was one of those cops that were like bulldogs. Once they got a hold of something, they never let go until the whole thing was chewed up. But that didn’t mean that Martinez had to look like one too. He was tallish, maybe around five seven or five eight and lanky. However, more than one bad guy had incorrectly pegged him as a wimp and had paid for it by more than just a couple of bruises. The luckier ones got away with black eyes and maybe a sprained ankle. He had a rakish look about him, his dark hair slicked back with gel and a bad boy snarl permanently etched on his lips. Unlike the green leutinants or donut ladden sargents, he despised the uniform and instead regularly donned tough brown trousers and work shirt. His coat seemed to be made of a thicker material. He watched impassively as the occupants of the Greenville mansion stood gawk-eyed on the stoop, staring at the masked perp who was being shoved into the back seat of his unmarked police car by the private investigative team Dubois and Sung. “I’m not even going to ask this time,” Martinez drawled. “And good to see you too, Tony,” Adrian remarked. “Good timing.” Simone gave a short chuckle. “This is a special case.” “Aren’t they all,” the cop replied uninterested. “Sure he is,” Simone persisted. She lowered her voice. “We might not end up arresting him at all.” “Huh. Gathered as much.” Martinez slammed the door on the supposed perp who was sitting docily in the back seat. He headed to the driver’s side. “Are you guys going to hitch a ride too or do you have your own wheels?” “We’re taking my car,” Simone replied. As the cop got behind the wheel, Adrian turned to her. “I can drive.” “No way. You drove last time and even your brother said you needed a lesson on speed limits. The passenger seat for you.” She gently shoved him toward the direction of her small car. “Have you thought of getting something a little bigger?” he complained. “Like a truck or SUV. Or even a station wagon?” Simone climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. She gave him an amused glance, trying not to laugh. Her partner had managed to scrunch himself beside her, his legs filling up most of the room. His head nearly touched the ceiling of the car. “I hate those gas consuming monsters,” she said. She turned the key in the ignition and began backing out of the driveway. When they arrived at the police station, Martinez had wandered off to get a styrofoam cup filled with the sludge that was called coffee. Greenville sat slightly slumped on a waiting room chair flipping through a six month old copy of Reader’s Digest. “Drivel,” he told the detective succinctly as Martinez made himself comfortable by leaning against a nearby doorway. “What do you expect?” The detective smiled a little, his eyes glittering as he saw Simone and Adrian just entering the station. “It’s for little old ladies who have nothing to do but sit on their fannies and knit cute sweaters for non-existent grandkids.” Greenville snorted. “Ha ha.” “So,” Martinez turned to examine the two investigators. Simone was a petite woman whose figure wasn’t enough to knock a man out but her swagger did make a man look twice. She was smiling, a cold hard predatory curve that went well with her occassional sharp remarks that made him wonder. But he hoped he didn’t have too many stray thoughts. He had a wife back at home and well, Adrian didn’t look to amendable to nearby slavering males. “What happened this time?” “He’s supposed to be dead,” Simone said. “Ah. Did you forget to pull the trigger?” “Very funny, Tony,” she said crossing her arms. “I want to know why he’s alive while his wife thinks he’s dead.” Martinez chuckled. “Oh. I’ll like to hear this.” Greenville tossed the magazine into a nearby pile of newspapers. “I suppose I’ll start from the beginning. Everyone was becoming a distraction.” “Even your wife?” “Edna, if you would excuse the slang term, is an airhead. Dargood had her occupied. I’m not that much of a dunce to not notice that my wife was having an affair. But that is not the point.” “So what is?” Adrian asked dryly. “I am onto a very promising line of research,” Greenville said, his eyes brightening. “I had to get rid of everyone, so I came up with a brilliant plan. Make sure that the people nearest to me thought I was dead. So a few months before my supposed death, I had all my things sent to my ‘friend’ Mr. Marcus Thomson in Havan. It was just that I remembered that there were some things that I had left behind. No one knew about the hidden rooms so I had to get them myself.” “Likely story,” Martinez replied automatically. But the outlandish story did sound interesting. It beat the crap out of routine surveys on hit and run cases, domestic violence disputes, and gang-related instances. “Actually, I think there’s a bit of truth in there,” Simone said. “See?” Greenville announced triumphant. “But faking one’s death does seem a bit extreme,” she added. “It was necessary. There are others after the same piece of elusive research that I am pursuing. A few weeks before, I had hired a book dealer to help track down a trail I was on, but so far, he hasn’t reported anything yet.” Greenville frowned. “In fact, I haven’t heard anything from him at at. It seems as if he completely disappeared from the face of the earth.” Martinez pounced at that bit of news. “Missing person?” He grinned. “Why haven’t you reported this earlier to the authorities?” Greenville looked confused. “I didn’t think it was necessary. I mean, I didn’t think anything of it for a couple of days since I was busy with my own work, and after that, I just thought he bailed out on me. It was only yesterday after a couple of calls that I realized that he disappeared.” “Perhaps he skipped the country with the money you gave him,” Adrian suggested. “I don’t think so,” Greenville said. “This was a rather routine job. The book dealer had a good reputation and the fee I gave wasn’t that extravagant. There’s no reason from me that he would skip the country.” “Do you have any solid evidence of him, then?” Martinez asked hopefully. Greenville shook his head. “Sorry. I actually only dealt with him once in person. The rest of the time it was on the phone of via e-mail.” Simone shrugged. “This seems pretty straight-forward. I guess we’ll just call it a night.” Adrian nodded and they turned to go back out. “Do you need a ride back home?” Martinez asked Greenville. “ No. Wait.” They turned to look back at the older man. “I have a job for both of you.” “To look for the missing book dealer?” Adrian asked. “No. I don’t care where he went. He probably decided to go on vacation without telling me. I’ve heard that you also work with the paranormal. That’s probably what Edna hired you to look for in the first place.” Simone groaned out loud. “Not again.” Greenville ignored her comment. “I’m quite willing to pay whatever fee you have. You see, this job may involve some element of, let’s say, risk. But I’m not willing to explain in such an open environment.” He looked pointedly at Martinez. “Hey.” The detective held out his arms in surrender. “I’m not going to tell anyone if Dubois and Sung are going out to do a little ghost-busting.” |