me the following afternoon. I wasn’t even on the payroll for twenty-four hours.”
“You might have gotten off lucky,” she said.
“By the way, I was working on something completely unrelated to your situation. To be honest, he thought someone tried to kill him. I think it was a simple hit-and-run. Along the way I learned you’d have to rent Carnegie Hall to hold all the people who don’t like the guy.”
“Yeah, well, you can still count Annie and me on that list.” She took a sip. “Not that we tried to do anything,” she added quickly.
“Not to worry, like I said , I’m off the case. Now, I just have to get paid.”
“Lots of luck.”
“I sent him my bill.”
She looked at me with a slight smile.
“He’s one of those people who figures that since he doesn’t owe you that much, you’ll only go so far in pursuing it. So if he just sits tight and doesn’t pay, he figures eventually you’ll just throw up your hands and write it off,” she said.
“That would be a mistake . Look, let’s not ruin the evening talking about creeps. You mentioned you had something you wanted me to look into.”
“Well, yeah, the fire.”
“Okay.”
“See, I got this call from someone across the street . A house full of college girls, they rent. Anyway they had a party, the thing begins to wind down about four in the morning, one of the girls goes to bed. She looks out the window, and there’s two guys outside of the Giant Scoop.”
“Yeah?” I said waiting for the real information.
“Well, then a little later the fire happened. At first she didn’t think much of it, but when she heard the news report saying arson was suspected, she phoned me.”
“Did she phone the cops?”
“I asked her to, I don’t know if she did or not.”
“I see,” I said , thinking this is really slim, but I didn’t want to sound discouraging.
“So , doesn’t that sound like a real clue or something?”
“Yes , it does,” I said, thinking two guys at four in the morning. What were the odds they just stopped to take a piss.
“So , now what do I say? Something like, will you take the case?”
“I’ll check it out for you, Jill . But I can’t promise anything. Do you know this woman’s name?”
She reached into her purse and handed me a slip of paper.
“Jennifer McCauley, she’s a student at the U . That’s her address and phone number. I think she’s a waitress, works nights. But I told her someone might call her so she’s sort of expecting it, you know, your call.”
“I’ll check it out,” I said.
“What’s this gonna cost me?”
“How about you just let me check this out and we’ll see w hat develops. Okay?”
“I don’t want to be a charity case,” she said with that sharp edge back in her voice.
“You’re not. Hey, don’t shoot me for trying to do you a favor. I can be a nice guy, once in a while. Look, let me check into this, see if anything turns up. If it looks like there’s something there, then we can start talking about my modest expenses. Fair?”
“Yeah, sorry I snapped. That’s fair. As long as you let me buy dinner,” she said.
“No argument, I’ll start with another Leinenkugel.”
Chapter Twenty
Jennifer McCauley was a waitress at a place down on West Seventh called Shamrock’s, not far from The Spot. She had dark curly hair, big brown eyes, a nice figure, and a twenty-something sense about her that suggested she was completely unaware of how the world worked.
We sat at the bar and talked once she finished her shift.
“Oh , my, god! You really are, like, a private investigator? That is so awesome,” she said reading the business card I had just handed her, then looked up wide eyed.
Just to keep up the professional impression I’d pulled on a relatively clean polo shirt, a sport coat, and pressed jeans.
“Like , do you arrest creeps for murder, chase kidnappers, and things like that? You know, like the CSI guys and stuff.” She took a healthy
“You might have gotten off lucky,” she said.
“By the way, I was working on something completely unrelated to your situation. To be honest, he thought someone tried to kill him. I think it was a simple hit-and-run. Along the way I learned you’d have to rent Carnegie Hall to hold all the people who don’t like the guy.”
“Yeah, well, you can still count Annie and me on that list.” She took a sip. “Not that we tried to do anything,” she added quickly.
“Not to worry, like I said , I’m off the case. Now, I just have to get paid.”
“Lots of luck.”
“I sent him my bill.”
She looked at me with a slight smile.
“He’s one of those people who figures that since he doesn’t owe you that much, you’ll only go so far in pursuing it. So if he just sits tight and doesn’t pay, he figures eventually you’ll just throw up your hands and write it off,” she said.
“That would be a mistake . Look, let’s not ruin the evening talking about creeps. You mentioned you had something you wanted me to look into.”
“Well, yeah, the fire.”
“Okay.”
“See, I got this call from someone across the street . A house full of college girls, they rent. Anyway they had a party, the thing begins to wind down about four in the morning, one of the girls goes to bed. She looks out the window, and there’s two guys outside of the Giant Scoop.”
“Yeah?” I said waiting for the real information.
“Well, then a little later the fire happened. At first she didn’t think much of it, but when she heard the news report saying arson was suspected, she phoned me.”
“Did she phone the cops?”
“I asked her to, I don’t know if she did or not.”
“I see,” I said , thinking this is really slim, but I didn’t want to sound discouraging.
“So , doesn’t that sound like a real clue or something?”
“Yes , it does,” I said, thinking two guys at four in the morning. What were the odds they just stopped to take a piss.
“So , now what do I say? Something like, will you take the case?”
“I’ll check it out for you, Jill . But I can’t promise anything. Do you know this woman’s name?”
She reached into her purse and handed me a slip of paper.
“Jennifer McCauley, she’s a student at the U . That’s her address and phone number. I think she’s a waitress, works nights. But I told her someone might call her so she’s sort of expecting it, you know, your call.”
“I’ll check it out,” I said.
“What’s this gonna cost me?”
“How about you just let me check this out and we’ll see w hat develops. Okay?”
“I don’t want to be a charity case,” she said with that sharp edge back in her voice.
“You’re not. Hey, don’t shoot me for trying to do you a favor. I can be a nice guy, once in a while. Look, let me check into this, see if anything turns up. If it looks like there’s something there, then we can start talking about my modest expenses. Fair?”
“Yeah, sorry I snapped. That’s fair. As long as you let me buy dinner,” she said.
“No argument, I’ll start with another Leinenkugel.”
Chapter Twenty
Jennifer McCauley was a waitress at a place down on West Seventh called Shamrock’s, not far from The Spot. She had dark curly hair, big brown eyes, a nice figure, and a twenty-something sense about her that suggested she was completely unaware of how the world worked.
We sat at the bar and talked once she finished her shift.
“Oh , my, god! You really are, like, a private investigator? That is so awesome,” she said reading the business card I had just handed her, then looked up wide eyed.
Just to keep up the professional impression I’d pulled on a relatively clean polo shirt, a sport coat, and pressed jeans.
“Like , do you arrest creeps for murder, chase kidnappers, and things like that? You know, like the CSI guys and stuff.” She took a healthy
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