Read Online Eoin Miller 02 - Old Gold by Jay Stringer - Free Book Online

control of the conversation. “I remember you on the force; you were good. Not very popular, though, with your family connections. Was that why you left?”
    “No.”
    Most people had stopped trying to get me to open up about why I left, but Perry hadn’t gotten the memo.
    He finally took the hint and moved on. “And now you’re private?”
    For some reason I wanted to be blunt with this guy. “I work for the Mann brothers, Mr. Perry. But I’m sure you already know that.” He didn’t nod or say yes, but he didn’t have to. “So what I’m wondering is, why not get the police involved officially? Surely you stand to lose out if people tie you to me. The press would love that.”
    “We like our privacy. I don’t want to sound cryptic, but I have enemies on the force. I’m not sure opening myself up like that would be any help to Chris.”
    “Fair enough. I appreciate the honesty. I’ll give you some advice now for free, and it could save you a lot of money.”
    They both looked at me in anticipation, wondering where my sales pitch was leading. I was wondering myself.
    “Students run away. All the time. Usually they come back after a few weeks; sometimes they stay away for a few years. It’s just the stress they’re under or money that they owe or a girl that they’re chasing across country. Hiring someone might make you feel better. But most likely? All it will do is drain your bank account.”
    I had amazed myself.
    That was possibly the worst sales pitch in the history of anything.
    They finished their drinks at the same time, and Michael looked at his wife.
    “You want another?”
    “No, I’ll have something harder, I think—a vodka orange.”
    Michael looked at me and pointed to my glass, still mostly full.
    “No, I’m all right, thanks,” I said.
    Michael had just stepped up to the bar when Stephanie looked after him and half stood up, saying, “I should remind him I don’t want ice.”
    “Just waters it down,” I said.
    “No, well, I used to grind my teeth, and if there’s ice in the glass…” She trailed off, shrugged, and sat back down.
    In a minute, Michael came back with a bottled orange juice for him and a glass of vodka orange for his wife. She pulled a face at the ice in the drink but sipped it nonetheless. They seemed distant from each other, but I wasn’t really in a position to judge other peoples’ marriages.
    “The thing is,” Michael said, “we don’t have a lot of money, but we need our boy found.”
    He put his hand on top of Stephanie’s as if to emphasize the point, but it came off as a somewhat awkward gesture, not something they would normally do. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to snatch her hand away. This was a couple with problems, I could tell. Still. Their concern for their son felt real.
    “How about this—I’ll give you five days of the best I can do for three hundred pounds. If you don’t like what I’ve found, or if you think someone else can do better, you can stop there and find someone else.”
    They looked at each other, having the wordless conference only parents can pull off. They turned to look at me at the same time, and Michael nodded.
    “That sounds like a good offer.”
    This was without a doubt the strangest job interview I’d ever had. Perhaps I’d been doing it wrong all my life. Instead of trying to convince the interviewers that I was indispensable to their organizations and pension plans, I should have been telling them that the job they were hiring for was a waste of time and money.
    “All right,” I said. “Let’s get started.”
    I pulled out my notebook and a pen.
    Now I was working for two different crime families and a politician.
    This kept getting better.

“So what do you need to know?”
    “That’s the trick,” I said. “If we knew that, we’d know where your boy is. I need you to tell me who he was. I need to understand him to find him.”
    Stephanie nodded and looked briefly on the verge of tears.