A.G.E's Joint

  The key dongle produces a satisfying click and I’m in. I’m glad the guy was professional and didn’t screw the lock up. The hall looked normal, no footprints or smudges on the concrete. He was careful for sure. Looking each way, I ease towards my place. What I found suprised me. The visitor wasn’t coming to see me after all. The door across the hall was hanging on one hinge. The apartment belonged to a woman named Delores. Some would call her fat: nice breasts with a slight belly roll, chocolate almond eyes, and a snaggly smile. Her background was one you didn’t talk about in public-learned her skills early and used them often. She’d told me once about a couple of pimps who ended up  swiss cheese . The details were vague other than she didn’t physically do it. I could see stuff scattered on the floor around the sofa. They were looking for something. I hang an ear to see if I could hear anybody. I didn’t. Shutting my door, I say a prayer of  gratitude.  It wasn’t my circus and not a mo

  A couple of plates crash to the floor and I look up. The black waitress was standing next to the restroom, unsteady on her feet. I wonder if she’s drunk or just tired. Then I saw what it was. A naked dude ran out the door and down the sidewalk with just a smile on his face Another thing to remind me of my new project. Herrington’s nickname was “The Streak.” He’d gotten it after being caught by a jealous husband during a “negotiation” session for an investment. The thought of his pasty physique blowing down the dock made me laugh.  He was the fastest thing on two feet  and he lived to play another con. Last I heard, he had shacked up with a boat bunny who knew how to cook. My client wasn’t one of those. She just had bad taste in men. The setup sounded like one of his cons. Tell a fantastic story then blow the  flicker into a flame . It’s hard to think clearly when your breathless. I make a note to follow up on how long they had been together. I had fresh brew. It must have happened wh

 The reflected light from the pink moon reflected gave the table an eerie glow as she gets into the Range Rover. The car fits her. Both are high maintenance, high strung machines. The slight aroma of Chanel lingered. Old-fashioned for someone her age. Thinking back, the sundress was a 1960s clone, too. An off-white number with small daisies.  The hour and a half I spent was profitable to say the least. I got the job. But not her name. Making love to my beer, I look out over the water. I'm not sure what to make of her or the situation. Claims poverty and delivers cash. Something was off. The envelope containing the target information was still on the table. It could wait until I get home. Too many people here who could tie the pieces together. Draining the glass, I pay the tab with one of the hundreds, putting the rest in my jacket. The clock on the wall blinked 9:30. Time to go home. Driving down 85, I thought about what the Cad, as she called him, might look like. Given he'd s

On the surface, it was a normal client meeting at the Dockside Cafe, sitting on the patio making small talk. It wasn't. The Hazel eyes told a story. It was my job to find out what it was.  The server came with our drinks, beer for me, vodka and cranberry for her.  Over her shoulder,  a baseball game silently flickered over the bar. She might have been forty in a flowered sundress with a red carnation in her hair. The pink tints in her hair clashed. But who was I to judge? It was a possible job and the rent was due. The project was simple. Her estranged husband had hidden assets and she wanted me to find them. Usually, I was hired by an attorney for this kind of work, not directly by the client. When I told her, the excuse was she didn't trust the lawyer to do it. He was lazy. I'd heard this before. It made me wonder if was her stealing. I made a mental note to do an NCIC check if I took the job. An Aiding and Abetting charge would not make my day. As the sun sank close to